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terrygirl's review against another edition
3.0
A readable somewhat relatable collection of short stories of Hardy's life. Cartoonish in places, touching on achingly real in others, Hardy doesn't let the reader get too close (otherwise she would have tried a straight autobiography instead of edited highlights).
klb72's review against another edition
3.0
I love Marieke on First Tuesday Book Club and follow her tweets, so wanted to support her by actually buying the physical book from an Australian bookstore (usually I cheat and get books from the library, book depository, or iPad versions). And yes, it was nice to own a brand spanker book again. Must do it more often.
I felt very much like I was reading Marieke's diaries, yes its self absorbed, but hey, why not. I get to live a little vicariously through this, and believe me, the lifestyle described is so very different from my own. So thank you Marieke for being so incredibly frank, and sharing as much as you do. You're there with Stephen Fry, two individuals with 'me' books that I love to watch from afar, and if I ever got the chance to meet, would want to give you both a big hug!
I felt very much like I was reading Marieke's diaries, yes its self absorbed, but hey, why not. I get to live a little vicariously through this, and believe me, the lifestyle described is so very different from my own. So thank you Marieke for being so incredibly frank, and sharing as much as you do. You're there with Stephen Fry, two individuals with 'me' books that I love to watch from afar, and if I ever got the chance to meet, would want to give you both a big hug!
brocc's review against another edition
4.0
Moments of laughing out loud mixed in with moments of devastating clarity and sadness. Marieke Hardy has always been a favourite writer of mine in Frankie magazine, and the glimpses into her life set in this book just cement my adoration.
This isn't to say I always agree with what she's saying. But she argues in such a way that I find myself really thinking things over - a novel experience in this day and age.
Overall, enjoyed her sharp and cynical wit as much as ever.
This isn't to say I always agree with what she's saying. But she argues in such a way that I find myself really thinking things over - a novel experience in this day and age.
Overall, enjoyed her sharp and cynical wit as much as ever.
glenng's review against another edition
4.0
better than i expected. don't let the pinkness of the cover fool you - to me this book looked to be aimed at women but i quite enjoyed it. am now more interested to read more by marieke in frankie or wherever her pieces are published. i found the way she makes everyday, normal scenes really interesting very appealing and quite enjoyed most of the pieces.
larrys's review against another edition
3.0
I only know Marieke Hardy from The First Tuesday Book Club, and I like that she is never afraid to say what she thinks of a book, even if her opinion is different from that of everyone else on the panel. I respect that, and I sometimes think of Marieke Hardy when I'm in that exact position at my own book club, in which I am often the only one who sees things the way I do. (Including the fact that I'm the only one who doesn't mind Marieke Hardy. "Oh, you *would*," said the 80 year old, accusing her of nepotism - a charge which Hardy briefly tackles in this book.)
I appreciate the fact that Hardy opens with reference to (female) masturbation, and has the (figurative) balls to talk about her love of alcohol while, as she points out, she's still in the midst of it. Women only tend to write about their alcohol-fuelled days long after they've given it up. There aren't many women around who are as willing to be upfront and candid about the things men have been upfront and candid about, at least in writing circles, for several generations already.
On the other hand, I flinch and hear an intake of breath, because isn't it... reckless, to write about real people using their real names when you have only just hit middle age? This is Australia after all, and the literary hippie set in Melbourne is even smaller. In short, I think this frank memoir might be more foolish than brave, though if a lot of it has been pre-published, I suppose gathering it all into a single volume might at least form some sort of figurative containment. And this kind of equality, this riot-girl-esque equality, is it really the kind of equality I want to see? While I have no intentions of joining Marieke in her binge drinking and public descriptions of sex life, I *think* I can appreciate that some other woman has done it. It had to be someone with Marieke's unusual combo of extroversion and reflection.
I did get a lot of laughs out of this memoir, and love Hardy's narrative voice. I knew this from reading her blog, which she'd already put to sleep before I discovered it. I read a lot of her archive, trying to remember various phrases for use at a later point. Naturally, I can't remember a single one, because they wouldn't fit me anyhow. I realised when I got to the chapter on Bob Ellis that Bob Ellis is probably who Hardy models herself on when summoning up the courage to say what she thinks, contrary opinion be damned, in the same way I think of Hardy when I say what I think at book club, granted in a much diluted form.
I suspect Marieke Hardy would despise me, if we ever sat down and had a chat in person -- I am the dreaded teetotaler she resists, and I feel my youth was far less exciting than hers (at least, the way she tells it to an audience) yet there was a chapter where I had felt exactly the same way she had. My interest in Hardy is mainly because I feel she is so completely different from myself. Yet in this book I did find some sort of shared experience. That was unexpected.
It's nice, too, to read a book from 'home', even though Australia was not my home in my twenties and I therefore lost a lot of the 80s and 90s pop culture references, but so often I end up reading this sort of thing but written by an American or a Brit, only but guessing at the kinds of foodstuffs they're eating, probably getting it all wrong. (For ages I wondered why Americans ate little saveloys for breakfast -- then, much later, I realised Cheerios are a type of breakfast cereal.) Marieke Hardy has a never-ending supply of oddly specific similes and recollections, and I can identify with thumbing posters to my bedroom walls with 'blu-tack' and eating banana sandwiches, though in my case, I never needed the excuse of a hangover.
In sum, part of me wonders why this book exists -- probably because there are people like me to read it -- and another part of me waits for the next one. We'll probably be in our sixties by that time, and I wonder if we'll see the world more similarly by then. I hope she continues to enjoy a scandalous middle age.
I appreciate the fact that Hardy opens with reference to (female) masturbation, and has the (figurative) balls to talk about her love of alcohol while, as she points out, she's still in the midst of it. Women only tend to write about their alcohol-fuelled days long after they've given it up. There aren't many women around who are as willing to be upfront and candid about the things men have been upfront and candid about, at least in writing circles, for several generations already.
On the other hand, I flinch and hear an intake of breath, because isn't it... reckless, to write about real people using their real names when you have only just hit middle age? This is Australia after all, and the literary hippie set in Melbourne is even smaller. In short, I think this frank memoir might be more foolish than brave, though if a lot of it has been pre-published, I suppose gathering it all into a single volume might at least form some sort of figurative containment. And this kind of equality, this riot-girl-esque equality, is it really the kind of equality I want to see? While I have no intentions of joining Marieke in her binge drinking and public descriptions of sex life, I *think* I can appreciate that some other woman has done it. It had to be someone with Marieke's unusual combo of extroversion and reflection.
I did get a lot of laughs out of this memoir, and love Hardy's narrative voice. I knew this from reading her blog, which she'd already put to sleep before I discovered it. I read a lot of her archive, trying to remember various phrases for use at a later point. Naturally, I can't remember a single one, because they wouldn't fit me anyhow. I realised when I got to the chapter on Bob Ellis that Bob Ellis is probably who Hardy models herself on when summoning up the courage to say what she thinks, contrary opinion be damned, in the same way I think of Hardy when I say what I think at book club, granted in a much diluted form.
I suspect Marieke Hardy would despise me, if we ever sat down and had a chat in person -- I am the dreaded teetotaler she resists, and I feel my youth was far less exciting than hers (at least, the way she tells it to an audience) yet there was a chapter where I had felt exactly the same way she had. My interest in Hardy is mainly because I feel she is so completely different from myself. Yet in this book I did find some sort of shared experience. That was unexpected.
It's nice, too, to read a book from 'home', even though Australia was not my home in my twenties and I therefore lost a lot of the 80s and 90s pop culture references, but so often I end up reading this sort of thing but written by an American or a Brit, only but guessing at the kinds of foodstuffs they're eating, probably getting it all wrong. (For ages I wondered why Americans ate little saveloys for breakfast -- then, much later, I realised Cheerios are a type of breakfast cereal.) Marieke Hardy has a never-ending supply of oddly specific similes and recollections, and I can identify with thumbing posters to my bedroom walls with 'blu-tack' and eating banana sandwiches, though in my case, I never needed the excuse of a hangover.
In sum, part of me wonders why this book exists -- probably because there are people like me to read it -- and another part of me waits for the next one. We'll probably be in our sixties by that time, and I wonder if we'll see the world more similarly by then. I hope she continues to enjoy a scandalous middle age.
boobooks's review
2.0
Oh how it breaks my heart to give Marieke Hardy's book so few stars. It just didn't live up to my wild expectations.
spilling's review
4.0
Very amusing and witty, but it also has some really interesting moments. Hardy shares some intensely personal moments, but you often get the sense that there is far more care and brilliance than the drunken debauchery that gets trotted out for our entertainment.
kialynne's review
4.0
This is a woman even more wild than I'd imagined. I love her brutal honesty and her descriptions of Melbourne's bar scene.
gilmae's review
4.0
Witty, brave, raw, bon vivant, beautiful. Would that we were all so brave as Marieke.