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3.35 AVERAGE
3.35 AVERAGE
I'm still trying to figure out what I think about this. I hated "American Shiksa"; it could've been a brilliant satire but went a little haywire. The first few essays were well done; Daum's great at wrapping up her essays. She reminds me a lot of Didion (I know, what a refreshing, nuanced comparison). It's interesting to watch her strike a balance between detachment and investment. She claims the theme of this collection is the temptation of trappings to serve as life itself, and that much is evident, especially in essays like the titular one, where her whole life was constructed to land her in New York, living a certain kind of life, one that she vastly misunderstands. Her observations about debt in the '90s ring true today, and the end offers a touch of redemption. I'm interested in who ultimately decided the order of the collection, as it seemed to climb upward, plummet, and then plateau, until I could barely remember what I'd read in the beginning. I'd rather read Sloane Crosley, but I don't hate this book. 3.5 stars, if I could. Three for now.
Publishing and Other Near-Death Experiences
My Misspent Youth
Inside the Tube (flying)
American Shiksa
Music Is My Bag
Variations on Grief
My Misspent Youth
Inside the Tube (flying)
American Shiksa
Music Is My Bag
Variations on Grief
This collection of essay is what the characters in "Girls" would write if they were more intellectual and less concerned with mass-audience laughter. While most of the essays were interesting, I was a little disappointed that they weren't necessarily all about her youth and growing up. I wanted more concrete examples of being in her twenties. But it was still a decent enough, quick read.
reflective
fast-paced
I came to Daum's writing via The Unspeakable, and boy am I glad I did. Based on that collection, I was so looking forward to reading her other work; unfortunately, this one doesn't hold up the same. The writing is still great, but the author here - the noticeably younger version of the author I adored - mostly comes across as snobby and mean, without any of the bracing honesty and candid, often unflattering, self-reflection I so enjoyed and identified with in The Unspeakable.
I have read a couple of the author’s other books and I really enjoyed them, but this one, which she wrote when she was in her 20s, is nowhere near as well-written as her others. Of course that’s understandable, since she has gotten older and become more advanced as a writer, but if I’m to be honest with my rating, the only essay worth reading in this book is the last one. That essay is a beautiful piece about her reaction to the death of a friend of hers when they were both in their early 20s. It speaks to the ways in which we sometimes react strangely to grief or loss. There’s something about that essay that seems like a prophesy of the earnestness that appears in her later works— I’m reminded of the essay in Unspeakable about her mother’s death. Otherwise this book just seems to be the complaints of a judgmental 20-something. I know I was that 20-something at some point in my life, and thank god I didn’t publish a book or I’d probably be mortified by it now.
3.25 stars, I’m sure this book was somewhat groundbreaking in the time it was released, but so much of it seems dated now. It’s a cute time capsule of the mid-90s. It read like Elizabeth Wurtzel without the charm or self-awareness.
Based on the first couple of essays, I would have given it four stars as it hit all of my sweet spots. I felt the second half was uneven and I was downright uncomfortable with the last essay (certainly the intent). Daum comes across as completely self-aware at the same time that she seems clueless, which is ultimately all of us.