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3.55 AVERAGE
3.55 AVERAGE
I’ll go against the grain, I generally liked it. I went in knowing the reviews and read it like her diary more than a memoir. Therefore this review has two parts (literally no one gives a shit about this review but me but when I read it back in 3 years I want to remember).
As a memoir:
This book is self indulgence in an extreme. Everyone is right, there is no perspective and she doesn’t even point out that what she is saying is narcissistic or ridiculous until the (literal) last chapter. Also, the amount of times she mentions being small…. Like come on. Small wrists, her exact weight, her small hands compared to a basketball. This memoir lacked depth but also had moments of such severe heart break (F*** Dr. Karr) that it felt like whiplash. I think calling out your first heartbreak that impacted you as being a 15 year old date who stood you up at Abercrombie is diagnosable in and of itself. But wow, a wild ride.
As a diary:
After reading this book I listened to the Celebrity Memoir Bookclub podcast on it. Those hosts are evil… moments I found touching and reflective they glanced over and dissected in a way only someone not going through it or having experienced it could do. I found her love for the three other women in Dalby extremely heartwarming, and the fact she still waters their plants touching. At the end of the day, I think this book was for her way more than it was for an audience. My biggest peeve is she apparently marketed this heavily insinuating that Mulaney would be in it, and he is never mentioned by name even once.
In conclusion, I went in with bad expectations and was pleasantly surprised it wasn’t all that a tumblr 2011 blog post (which might I add, is what got her famous in the first place).
Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4/5 stars ~300 pages i don’t remember i don’t have it on me rn. i liked this! i related to a lot of it. definitely check ur tw before reading. the author recounts some of her past experiences w male romantic partners interspersed with her time spent in a mental hospital. i enjoyed following her healing journey where she learns to change the way she thinks while still allowing herself to feel and experience pain and grief and anger. i liked this but i didn’t connect w it as much as i thought i would or would have liked to. but it feels weird to critique/give a lower rating to a memoir for just not relating. but i do wish there had been more? i guess. idk im bad at rating memoirs
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
dark
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
reflective
I keep going back and forth on how to rate this book. Normally I reserve under-3 star ratings for those I don't finish, but although I finished reading this I wasn't left satisfied the way that a 3-star rating may imply. And while Men Have Called Her Crazy was an easy and engaging-enough read, I'm not satisfied that it achieved what Anna Marie Tendler set out to do in writing it.
Although the title establishes expectations that her memoir will be an examination of the ways sexism and misogyny systematically belittle, demean, and undermine womens' experiences, Men Have Called Her Crazy is ultimately a memoir of Anna Marie Tendler's experience with mental illness and the journey to recovery (with the occasional cut-away recounting her various experiences with men).
And ultimately that's where the book falls flat for me. In dividing its attention between misogyny and mental health, Men Have Called Her Crazy struggles to devote adequate attention to either of those issues, resulting in only surface-level examinations of both. I really think this memoir would have benefitted from a narrowed focus on either one of these issues over the other, allowing space for the deeper discussions to unfold.
This made the experience of reading Men Have Called Her Crazy frustrating at times, because I could see what Anna Marie Tendler was trying to do; what she was intending to say, but either couldn't or wouldn't expand upon. In a late chapter, she recounts the pure chance that lead to her discovering a latex allergy in her 30s. Because societal messaging had lead her to believe that pleasurable sex just wasn't something women experienced, she'd never thought to investigate why sex had continually been painful before, and goes on to blame this on the patriarchy.
And the thing is: I agree! Women should not have to face delays in elucidating key aspects of their health / medical history because the societal messaging they receive offers no alternative explanation other than that their experience is normal. When women's health and sexuality is stigmatised and shrouded, the lack of information to contextualise their experiences deprives women of the chance and the choice to better understand what's going on with their bodies and to seek help if needed.
However, Anna Marie Tendler says none of this. Instead, she settles for recounting this experience and blaming the patriarchy before moving on. Many such instances of this occur throughout the book, and every time it is a disservice to the audience. For someone who understands and / or agrees with these points already, Men Have Called Her Crazy offers nothing new; for those who don't, they're not being offered the chance to learn and are instead being asked to accept a blanket statement at face value.
Time and time again, Tendler brushed against points that I broadly agreed with but would have liked to have seen examined in greater depth. When I read a text like this, hearing about the author's specific experiences, and subsequent thoughts on structural issues such as misogyny broadens my own understanding of the ways their influences manifest in the world and affects people, and acts as an invitation to examine my own perspective.
Ultimately, Men Have Called Her Crazy felt more like reading a diary entry than anything else, and I kept getting the overwhelming feeling that anything Tendler said, I have already read in a more insightful and nuanced manner. Where I give her credit is the easy style of her prose, making the book a breeze to pick up and dive into, and -- as other reviewers have mentioned -- the sections devoted to Petunia were a highlight.
While I don't regret reading Men Have Called Her Crazy by any means, I also do not think I would have lost out on anything by having not read it.
Although the title establishes expectations that her memoir will be an examination of the ways sexism and misogyny systematically belittle, demean, and undermine womens' experiences, Men Have Called Her Crazy is ultimately a memoir of Anna Marie Tendler's experience with mental illness and the journey to recovery (with the occasional cut-away recounting her various experiences with men).
And ultimately that's where the book falls flat for me. In dividing its attention between misogyny and mental health, Men Have Called Her Crazy struggles to devote adequate attention to either of those issues, resulting in only surface-level examinations of both. I really think this memoir would have benefitted from a narrowed focus on either one of these issues over the other, allowing space for the deeper discussions to unfold.
This made the experience of reading Men Have Called Her Crazy frustrating at times, because I could see what Anna Marie Tendler was trying to do; what she was intending to say, but either couldn't or wouldn't expand upon. In a late chapter, she recounts the pure chance that lead to her discovering a latex allergy in her 30s. Because societal messaging had lead her to believe that pleasurable sex just wasn't something women experienced, she'd never thought to investigate why sex had continually been painful before, and goes on to blame this on the patriarchy.
And the thing is: I agree! Women should not have to face delays in elucidating key aspects of their health / medical history because the societal messaging they receive offers no alternative explanation other than that their experience is normal. When women's health and sexuality is stigmatised and shrouded, the lack of information to contextualise their experiences deprives women of the chance and the choice to better understand what's going on with their bodies and to seek help if needed.
However, Anna Marie Tendler says none of this. Instead, she settles for recounting this experience and blaming the patriarchy before moving on. Many such instances of this occur throughout the book, and every time it is a disservice to the audience. For someone who understands and / or agrees with these points already, Men Have Called Her Crazy offers nothing new; for those who don't, they're not being offered the chance to learn and are instead being asked to accept a blanket statement at face value.
Time and time again, Tendler brushed against points that I broadly agreed with but would have liked to have seen examined in greater depth. When I read a text like this, hearing about the author's specific experiences, and subsequent thoughts on structural issues such as misogyny broadens my own understanding of the ways their influences manifest in the world and affects people, and acts as an invitation to examine my own perspective.
Ultimately, Men Have Called Her Crazy felt more like reading a diary entry than anything else, and I kept getting the overwhelming feeling that anything Tendler said, I have already read in a more insightful and nuanced manner. Where I give her credit is the easy style of her prose, making the book a breeze to pick up and dive into, and -- as other reviewers have mentioned -- the sections devoted to Petunia were a highlight.
While I don't regret reading Men Have Called Her Crazy by any means, I also do not think I would have lost out on anything by having not read it.
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced