Adhering to the stringent restrictions of ancient Jewish laws gave author Jennifer Traig's Obessive Compulsive Disorder something of a purpose: instead of simply washing her hands, she was purifying herself of sin; rather than zealously patting an item, she was laying on hands. At first amused, later baffled, and finally pragmatic, her parents drew up a contract limiting hand-washing, alter-building, and other rituals, but it was the amendment allowing Traig's sister to divulge the odd behavior to the world at large that put a stop to the compulsions. For a while, anyway.With all the harrowing candor of Running with Scissors and the irresistible details of A Girl Named Zippy, Traig has created a memoir that captures the struggles of OCD sufferers without a hint of self-pity; at the same time, her descriptions of an extraordinary adolescense is smart, no-hold-barred honest, and exceptionally funny.