Scan barcode
A review by nssutton
Getting the Pretty Back: Friendship, Family, and Finding the Perfect Lipstick by Molly Ringwald
2.0
Ruminations on life, love and make-up from everyone's favorite 80s everygirl.
So.
I have a confession to make.
I frequently read books without really having any idea what they're actually about beforehand.
In early January, I went on an e-book buying blitz. I bought easily a dozen titles and sat on my Nook unread, because holiday cash provides you that sort of decadent luxury. I handpicked these titles based on what my current library of choice wasn't carrying. I was so sad they had refused to purchase this title, because who doesn't want to read Molly Ringwald's memoir?
Well, obviously someone who realized that this isn't, in fact, Molly Ringwald's memoir.
It's her thoughts on turning forty, purchasing Hermes scarves, the shade of lipstick she uses, the parenting styles she's observed, her opinions on how to get through breakups and makeups and falling in love. With a side of stories. No, wait, a dollop. A particle of stories. They read exactly like the teen magazines and life tutorials for girls that came out around the time I watched each of Ringwald's movies in constant rotation. But they're not actually for girls, or for 40-somethings as is originally stated, or really, for anyone. They seem to be for Ringwald herself.
It's okay, she owns that. And I own that in my own life I often like to refer to my digital warehouse of information -- my Evernote, Delicious account, this blog -- to be reminded of who I am and what my taste is. I say that I do it for you, for social purposes, for reaching out into the unknown to find like-minded community, but it's for the reflection of seeing myself as a whole. These are the items that I choose to recommended to you because I want you to like them or use them or read them too. Or so I tell myself. When I see someone else do it, however, I'm reminded of that sense of entitlement that inherent in that kind of sharing. I put these things out there in the world because I believe my taste and point of view has some sort of value and currency, a uniqueness, that requires it be represented in the world. And -- mostly -- I want it as a point of reference to see myself looking back at me.
Since you can't fault someone's first published book for a fault you are clearly guilty of, I will fault this book because of the frustration I had completing it. I was woefully disappointed because I couldn't quit. I had paid for it. I own it, even if it's just a little digital file. So I forced myself to read every last word of it as punishment for not having read a review or two to make an educated purchase, the way I would purchasing a physical, real-life book.
That's why e-reading is going to become incredibly successful. You make these impulse purchases, which sit collecting virtual dust and later don't even satisfy the merest of reader's cravings. And you purchase them so easily. Oh, look, my finger slipped again just now. And now again...
So.
I have a confession to make.
I frequently read books without really having any idea what they're actually about beforehand.
In early January, I went on an e-book buying blitz. I bought easily a dozen titles and sat on my Nook unread, because holiday cash provides you that sort of decadent luxury. I handpicked these titles based on what my current library of choice wasn't carrying. I was so sad they had refused to purchase this title, because who doesn't want to read Molly Ringwald's memoir?
Well, obviously someone who realized that this isn't, in fact, Molly Ringwald's memoir.
It's her thoughts on turning forty, purchasing Hermes scarves, the shade of lipstick she uses, the parenting styles she's observed, her opinions on how to get through breakups and makeups and falling in love. With a side of stories. No, wait, a dollop. A particle of stories. They read exactly like the teen magazines and life tutorials for girls that came out around the time I watched each of Ringwald's movies in constant rotation. But they're not actually for girls, or for 40-somethings as is originally stated, or really, for anyone. They seem to be for Ringwald herself.
It's okay, she owns that. And I own that in my own life I often like to refer to my digital warehouse of information -- my Evernote, Delicious account, this blog -- to be reminded of who I am and what my taste is. I say that I do it for you, for social purposes, for reaching out into the unknown to find like-minded community, but it's for the reflection of seeing myself as a whole. These are the items that I choose to recommended to you because I want you to like them or use them or read them too. Or so I tell myself. When I see someone else do it, however, I'm reminded of that sense of entitlement that inherent in that kind of sharing. I put these things out there in the world because I believe my taste and point of view has some sort of value and currency, a uniqueness, that requires it be represented in the world. And -- mostly -- I want it as a point of reference to see myself looking back at me.
Since you can't fault someone's first published book for a fault you are clearly guilty of, I will fault this book because of the frustration I had completing it. I was woefully disappointed because I couldn't quit. I had paid for it. I own it, even if it's just a little digital file. So I forced myself to read every last word of it as punishment for not having read a review or two to make an educated purchase, the way I would purchasing a physical, real-life book.
That's why e-reading is going to become incredibly successful. You make these impulse purchases, which sit collecting virtual dust and later don't even satisfy the merest of reader's cravings. And you purchase them so easily. Oh, look, my finger slipped again just now. And now again...