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funny
medium-paced
funny
lighthearted
medium-paced
funny
reflective
medium-paced
Jessie Klein is a comedy writer best known for her work on Inside Amy Schumer. This was a quick read. It made me smile and chuckle a few times.
Ugh. I vacillated between liking Jessi Klein and hating her while listening to this audiobook as read by her. Some chapters were totally relatable (GET THE EPIDURAL!) and some chapters her head seemed so far up her own ass I thought my eyes were going to roll out of my head. I’m giving it 3 stars because ultimately, I enjoyed most of it. And her writing is good. Funny and descriptive and even poetic at times. I just needed a little less narcissism and more self-awareness from her.
I couldn't finish this. I gave up at 50%. I listened to the audiobook, narrated by Klein herself, and I'm really not sure if it was her terrible personality or her ingratiating poor-me voice but this book was painful. The most entertaining part of this whole ordeal was deciding what I hated most about Klein. Was it the fact that she's married to a man-child who at 40 years old told her he was going to propose, then he wasn't ready, nope still not ready? Was it the fact that she pays $150 an hour to listen to her therapist talk about her life so Klein doesn't have a chance to speak? Was it the fact that she is too lazy to keep up with barre classes so she has to tell us how great her butt looked while she was doing them and then disdain the whole business so she doesn't have to feel bad about not going? Is it the fact that she has an entire chapter devoted to how all women fall into one of two categories, Wolves or Poodles?
This was the most woman-hating, self-involved, irritating book I've encountered in a long time.
This was the most woman-hating, self-involved, irritating book I've encountered in a long time.
funny
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
WTF did I just read?
I'm not sure why this book was on my to-read list, other than my current voracity for devouring memoirs. (To be fair, my to-read list is excessive and often impulsive but still.)
I had high hopes when this book began. The writing is quite good so it is easy to read. Sadly, the content is just...at best, boring. The author begins the book (memoir? essays? short stories?) coining a phrase for girls who take the tomboy phase to adulthood. Nice. This is a good concept, although it's possible there's already a word for it: 'butch'. However, I saw no evidence of the author as one of these girls. She's obsessive over Sex and the City, knows all the words. She drops designer names like confetti at a parade. She spends endless sentences telling us about her waxing, shopping, dating. She lunches, spas, shops for lingerie and wedding dresses (but only with friend approval). She seems to hold no solid convictions of her own. She gets married, doesn't want children. Her husband decides he wants children, so she does too! Hooray! (*saaaarcasm*) She then relates her trials of infertility. Let me tell you, the last person you want relating their conception and birthing stories is someone who thinks "fallopian tube" and "cervix" are dirty words.
Another reviewer listed this book as a must have for the feminist bookshelf. I wonder what book they read because there's no way this one qualifies for that shelf. Pretty sure this one should've ended up on my "did not finish for my sanity" shelf. Too late, but I was only on the edge of sanity to begin with so it's probably a net gain of 0
I'm not sure why this book was on my to-read list, other than my current voracity for devouring memoirs. (To be fair, my to-read list is excessive and often impulsive but still.)
I had high hopes when this book began. The writing is quite good so it is easy to read. Sadly, the content is just...at best, boring. The author begins the book (memoir? essays? short stories?) coining a phrase for girls who take the tomboy phase to adulthood. Nice. This is a good concept, although it's possible there's already a word for it: 'butch'. However, I saw no evidence of the author as one of these girls. She's obsessive over Sex and the City, knows all the words. She drops designer names like confetti at a parade. She spends endless sentences telling us about her waxing, shopping, dating. She lunches, spas, shops for lingerie and wedding dresses (but only with friend approval). She seems to hold no solid convictions of her own. She gets married, doesn't want children. Her husband decides he wants children, so she does too! Hooray! (*saaaarcasm*) She then relates her trials of infertility. Let me tell you, the last person you want relating their conception and birthing stories is someone who thinks "fallopian tube" and "cervix" are dirty words.
Another reviewer listed this book as a must have for the feminist bookshelf. I wonder what book they read because there's no way this one qualifies for that shelf. Pretty sure this one should've ended up on my "did not finish for my sanity" shelf. Too late, but I was only on the edge of sanity to begin with so it's probably a net gain of 0
Awesome read.
The level of unabashed honesty and openness was refreshing.
It made me want to be friends with Jessi.
Although I know she's probably too busy for me, with her writing career and all.
And I'm sure she's likely working on her next book.
...I hope!
Loved the format too.
I'm a one-chapter-a-night kind of reader and the independent stories were complete and left me wanting more without feeling like anything was missing.
The level of unabashed honesty and openness was refreshing.
It made me want to be friends with Jessi.
Although I know she's probably too busy for me, with her writing career and all.
And I'm sure she's likely working on her next book.
...I hope!
Loved the format too.
I'm a one-chapter-a-night kind of reader and the independent stories were complete and left me wanting more without feeling like anything was missing.
The word “sartorial” is used no less than five times in this book.