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3.73 AVERAGE
3.73 AVERAGE
adventurous
funny
inspiring
fast-paced
First couple of chapters hooked me, last chapter sold it. Middle chapters made me laugh at how terrible a person the author could be while also hoping she found her happy ending. Newman has great, vivid descriptions of the places she visits and now I must go to Iceland!
I didn't like this at first, finding the author to be (in her own words) self-involved and to have a tendency to inflict misery upon herself in the midst of a pretty amazing life. (I was also very jealous of her ability to travel wherever she wanted all over the world!) By the end, however, I was rooting for her and happy with how things turned out. It is a good read, whether you are interested in relationships or travel (or how Hollywood sitcom writing works), and at times, laugh-out-loud funny. A perfect summer vacation book (for those who aren't offended by frank discussions of casual sex).
Entertaining, especially if you've had these moments in your own life.
Funny but I'm not in the point in my life to really appreciate it right now. Maybe if I were single.
I had a lot of hope for this book but honestly, it was boring and dull. While all her friends were finding mates, getting married, and having babies, Kristen Newman was traveling around the world, sleeping with a new person in each country (or more), doing drugs, and drinking her life away. All the while claiming her life is awesome because she writes TV show scripts. Boring as hell. If I cared about someone doing a bunch of empty traveling (she doesn't tell us about the cities, instead focuses on the people she sleeps with), brags about her job (I don't care about hollywood and I find it all shallow and boring) and talks about how her life is not weighed down with a spouse or children, all the while lamenting she is alone. Pretty much watch any stupid reality tv show where people hook up, put a different country backdrop on it, and voila you have the majority of this book.
Huge disappointment, especially as a CFer.
Huge disappointment, especially as a CFer.
I felt like this book was a bit snarky and unnecessarily defensive about her relationship status as compared to others. But when I read it, many moons ago, it was pretty inspirational to see a woman go out there and do all the traveling adventure I wanted to do, and do it by herself.
Sadly it did not age all that well, since what I remember about it seems a bit sad and trying to justify her life choices.
This book did inspire me to go to the Blue Lagoon in Iceland, which was wonderful.
So it is a mixture of "you go get it, girl" and a bit sad she had to feel so defensive about it.
Sadly it did not age all that well, since what I remember about it seems a bit sad and trying to justify her life choices.
This book did inspire me to go to the Blue Lagoon in Iceland, which was wonderful.
So it is a mixture of "you go get it, girl" and a bit sad she had to feel so defensive about it.
This was an interesting book. I love that it's a fast and easy read. My only issue is that for a book about her travels, there were more details on the men she slept with than on the countries she saw. I do give her a lot of credit for sharing so much...quite brave! I think I would recommend this.
This book is a delicious bowl of popcorn that I gobbled up in fistfuls. Easy-reading, funny, and a little bit sexy, it's a delightful memoir of travel (and vacation boyfriends).
I received What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding for free at my desk one day. (The beauty of working in publishing, right?) And I immediately got a good chuckle at the title. Oh, Ms. Newman--you clearly get me. I am a twentysomething woman with no foreseeable plans for reproduction. A quick flip between the front and back cover's reviews also sold me: "David Sedaris, but with more joy." "If Eat, Pray, Love were written by your funniest friend." And Kristin Newman, sitcom-writer, would seem to be the perfect storyteller for the comedic hijinks of her own scandalous life.
The prologue, too, delivered on its promises:
Delightful! Fun! Clever! I was on board--and quickly--to a number of exotic places where Newman would recall her splendid affairs with some of the most beautiful men around the world, even though sometimes the connection just wasn't there ["Aleg leaned over and screamed at me (it was very loud), 'I speak small of English!'" (38)].
Because for Kristin Newman, the key to love and travel is this: Doing the thing you're supposed to do in the place you're supposed to do it. She mentions this a few times, like a mantra, while also detailing other rules of traveling: the qualities you should seek in a traveling companion, how long to carry on an affair after the trip is over, how many men to juggle is too many.
But somewhere in the midst of it all, I got tired. I put the bookmark in between pages 132 and 133 and stuck the book in various places--my gym bag, my work shelf, my desk drawer--all the while planning to definitely pick it up and finish it. It was a quick read, right?
So, last night, in an attempt to start cleaning up my half-finished books of 2014, I decided to dive back in. In doing so, I quickly remembered why I struggled the first time around.
The entire memoir feels like one giant digression. Which, I guess, is sometimes a product of conversational tone. But within four pages, the following paragraph transitions occur:
"Anyway, our trip to Brazil happened before Marco came along..." (132)
"But back to Salvador." (133)
"So back to Cristiano." (135)
And then, blatantly, on the next page:
"A brief digression into the notion of 'bases.'" (136).
Oh my god. No more digressions, please! Are we in Argentina? Brazil? Who is Cristiano? Is Salvador a city or a man? When I was reading this book straight through, I couldn't figure out exactly what was causing the story to drag, but when I tried to pick back up in the middle, it became painfully obvious.
This book was full of too many escapades, too many characters I didn't care about. And, no offense to Ms. Newman intended, but I don't even watch any of the sitcoms she's written for, so I found it difficult to muster up any sort of curiosity about her life.
OVERALL RATING (within genre): 2/5 Stars
TL;DR: Although a memoir about independence, promiscuity, and travel has a certain allure (especially to someone of the female, childfree, twentysomething crowd), Newman's style and aimless narrative causes the book to feel like one giant digression, and before long, it becomes impossible to keep track of which man she bedded in which place--and it leaves you wondering why you should care.
This and more reviews at http://anagiovinazzo.com.
The prologue, too, delivered on its promises:
"I am not a slut in the United States of America. ... I don't kiss married men or guys I work with, I don't text people pictures of my genitalia, I don't go home with boys I meet in bars before they have at least purchased me a couple of meals ... I do not sleep with more than one person at a time, and sometimes, no more than one per year. In America.
But I really love to travel."
Delightful! Fun! Clever! I was on board--and quickly--to a number of exotic places where Newman would recall her splendid affairs with some of the most beautiful men around the world, even though sometimes the connection just wasn't there ["Aleg leaned over and screamed at me (it was very loud), 'I speak small of English!'" (38)].
Because for Kristin Newman, the key to love and travel is this: Doing the thing you're supposed to do in the place you're supposed to do it. She mentions this a few times, like a mantra, while also detailing other rules of traveling: the qualities you should seek in a traveling companion, how long to carry on an affair after the trip is over, how many men to juggle is too many.
But somewhere in the midst of it all, I got tired. I put the bookmark in between pages 132 and 133 and stuck the book in various places--my gym bag, my work shelf, my desk drawer--all the while planning to definitely pick it up and finish it. It was a quick read, right?
So, last night, in an attempt to start cleaning up my half-finished books of 2014, I decided to dive back in. In doing so, I quickly remembered why I struggled the first time around.
The entire memoir feels like one giant digression. Which, I guess, is sometimes a product of conversational tone. But within four pages, the following paragraph transitions occur:
"Anyway, our trip to Brazil happened before Marco came along..." (132)
"But back to Salvador." (133)
"So back to Cristiano." (135)
And then, blatantly, on the next page:
"A brief digression into the notion of 'bases.'" (136).
Oh my god. No more digressions, please! Are we in Argentina? Brazil? Who is Cristiano? Is Salvador a city or a man? When I was reading this book straight through, I couldn't figure out exactly what was causing the story to drag, but when I tried to pick back up in the middle, it became painfully obvious.
This book was full of too many escapades, too many characters I didn't care about. And, no offense to Ms. Newman intended, but I don't even watch any of the sitcoms she's written for, so I found it difficult to muster up any sort of curiosity about her life.
OVERALL RATING (within genre): 2/5 Stars
TL;DR: Although a memoir about independence, promiscuity, and travel has a certain allure (especially to someone of the female, childfree, twentysomething crowd), Newman's style and aimless narrative causes the book to feel like one giant digression, and before long, it becomes impossible to keep track of which man she bedded in which place--and it leaves you wondering why you should care.
This and more reviews at http://anagiovinazzo.com.