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3.38 AVERAGE
3.38 AVERAGE
Interesting bio of a comic who isn't necessarily mainstream, nor is she considered "P.C." But a good read and it gives some insight as to why her comedy comes across like it does.
This was a mixed bag which is how I view Sarah Silverman as a comedian. I am very underwhelmed by her performances, and after reading her book, my opinion hasn't changed much.
She has several funny lines, but overall, there wasn't enough substance (including both humor & autobiographical experience). Her bouts with adult bedwetting and depression were the most interesting parts of the book because it felt personal and sincere. I wish she had gone that far with the other parts of her autobiography. At times, I felt like she was whiny, epecially when trying to defend herself against her critics. She's trying to prove she's a smart, clever comedian, but she should let her work speak for itself.
The style of the book was also erratic. With this formatting, the timeline of events was confusing. It suits her personality though, so I can understand where she was coming from.
Overall, if you are a really big fan of Silverman, then I would recommend this book. However, if you're looking for a funny or poignant read, I would skip this.
She has several funny lines, but overall, there wasn't enough substance (including both humor & autobiographical experience). Her bouts with adult bedwetting and depression were the most interesting parts of the book because it felt personal and sincere. I wish she had gone that far with the other parts of her autobiography. At times, I felt like she was whiny, epecially when trying to defend herself against her critics. She's trying to prove she's a smart, clever comedian, but she should let her work speak for itself.
The style of the book was also erratic. With this formatting, the timeline of events was confusing. It suits her personality though, so I can understand where she was coming from.
Overall, if you are a really big fan of Silverman, then I would recommend this book. However, if you're looking for a funny or poignant read, I would skip this.
Listened to this book - read by Sarah - and it was funny, entertaining and enlightening. Definitely recommend!
I knew Sarah would be very funny and crude, but she was actually inspirational in her own way. Her battle with depression and bedwetting as a teen were heartfelt (still humorous of course). She's open and funny, and refreshingly un-PC, in that she recognizes that sometimes being PC is a way of talking down to those you don't mean to offend.
I did not love this bok. It was OK, but unless you realy like Silverman, there is not much to recommend it. I realy good memoir generally transcends the subject, you can cull something universal from the experiences of another. I didn't really get that from this. Neither did I get belly laughs, so it didn't quite succeed on that front either. It wouldn't be a waste of an afternoon if you needed something to read on the beach, though. I like Silverman a little more after reading it. Limited recommendation.
Hilarious book! It was just as funny as I expected it to be, with a teeny tiny bit of serious stuff thrown in.
This book has really poignant moments and incredible stories from her past, but I thought the organization was a bit muddled and found myself confused about points on the timeline. I think some better editing could have made this book a lot better, but I still enjoyed it. She jumps around, the ending is abrupt, and the whole thing lacked a well-defined throughline, but the individual stories of childhood mortification, career struggles, and family interactions were engaging, funny, and heart-felt.
I don't know, man. I keep jumping in to Sarah's various projects. Her TV show (which she talks about a lot, and with great import) is a fun way to spend a couple afternoons. Her stand up is-- granted, intentionally so-- mostly juvenile with a tendency towards big, bright red, easy-target hot-buttons. This book is much the same, only stretched out over a longer period, and with an even greater sense of self-importance. Her over-reliance on the old "well, like (exactly the thing she was trying to explain)" analogy is so distracting that, well, it's like she over-relied on... you get it. The Bedwetter finds an uneasy home somewhere between comedic essay collection and disjointed memoir, with a few large swaths of early 2009 correspondence. But multiple voicemails from her father and email chains with her publisher still had me cringing less than the late-book diversion into some weird fantasy self pity about a guy so allergic to her non-existent cat he had to leave her. Maybe a funny story in a different context (perhaps a straight-up book of comedic essays), but the nature of the book up to that point really didn't allow for that sort of business. And what really was the nature of the book? I'm still not quite sure I know. The foreword, written herself, the midword, also written herself, and the afterword, written by "God" (but guess who, really) certainly didn't help to figure it out. I guess that must just be it, this is a reproduction of the disjointed journal she had to be paid to write. I don't know, man.