Book Review: Everything is Perfect When You’re a Liar by Kelly Oxford

Kelly Oxford rose to fame on Twitter with her pithy, clever updates.  In this funny memoir, she shares more of her personal stories.  Essay topics range from her experiences as a precocious child growing up in suburban Canada to her experiences as a mother.

The stories present in Oxford’s book are loosely chronological, starting with her precocious childhood (these stories are often gratingly obnoxoious) and moving into her young adulthood.  The book also deals with Oxford’s experiences with parenthood, and she often takes a no-holds-barred approach to storytelling.  This works, sometimes: her voice as a child and a teenager comes across as incredibly entitled (which was the point, I think), and it makes it hard to like her.

The strongest parts of the book are near the end, when Oxford seems to grow into her voice. Standout essays include “How I Met Your Father” and “An Open Letter to the Nurse Who Gave Me an Enema Bottle,” but many of the other stories sort of blend into the background.  These are funny, heartfelt, and entertaining.

Of course, the problem here is that Oxford isn’t much of a writer.  Her true calling is as a funny voice on Twitter, and what’s disappointing about this collection of essays is that she stays far away from that topic.  The most interesting thing about her is her celebrity-persona on the social networking site, and her decision to only briefly mention it feels like a mistake.

Although this is a sometimes funny memoir, it’s also totally forgettable.  Recommended to hardcore fans of Oxford or readers looking for a light collection of autobiographical essays, but there’s better stuff out there. A tendency to be a grating personality will alienate some readers.

Everything is Perfect When You’re a Liar by Kelly Oxford. Harper Collins: 2013.  Electronic copy accepted for review via Edeweiss.

Book Review: How to be a Woman by Caitlin Moran

Throughout Caitlin Moran’s humorous memoir, she interweaves observations about women’s lives today with anecdotes about her own experiences in becoming a woman.  Nothing is taboo or out of bounds for Moran, who covers issues such as Brazilian waxes, abortion, pregnancy, weddings, and popular entertainment without even pausing to catch her breath.  Equal parts funny and thought-provoking, Moran’s memoir is sure to delight while it also inspires.

Except that Moran spends too much time trying to delight, and not enough time actually thinking about her arguments and the kind of message they send.  It isn’t that Moran hasn’t done her homework–because it’s clear that she has–it’s more that she seems to subscribe too often to the classic white-feminist viewpoint and completely ignores intersectionality.

This is too bad, because Moran has some good stuff present in her humor-memoir-manifesto.  She doesn’t shy away from any topics, and her honesty is refreshing.  There are whole chapters that are particularly effective, including the one on abortion, which is searingly honest.  Her anecdotes about her childhood growing up in a poor, large family also lend humor and color to the book.

But there are so many moments where Moran goes off the rails that it’s hard to remain on her side throughout the book’s pages.  Moran tries so hard to hit all the marks of feminism while also remaining pithy and cool, and while this in and of itself gets a little grating, it’s her blind spots when it comes to intersectional feminism, transgenderism, and cissexism that are the most jarring in a book that’s supposedly a call to arms for all women.

Moran tends to see issues in a very black-or-white way.  While this is partially put into place to add to the humor of Moran’s book (and she is very funny), it’s also quite polarizing.  Of course, reader sensitivity will play a role in how all of her statements are taken, but the fact remains that her humorous tone often comes off as a little too dismissive:

Even the most ardent feminist historian…can’t conceal that women have basically done fuck-all for the last 100,000 years. Come on — let’s admit it. Lest stop exhaustively pretending that there is a parallel history of women being victorious and creative, on an equal with men, that’s just been comprehensively covered up by The Man. There isn’t.

It seems odd that Moran is making the argument that women have done nothing in the history of humankind.  While she is clearly exaggerating, it is this same kind of dismissive attitude that is so often applied to the histories of people of color by white people.  It is a slippery slope, and it’s also kind of offensive.

Unfortunately, that isn’t the end of Moran’s lack of empathy for marginalized groups.  Take, for example, Moran’s distinction between stripping and burlesque dancing:

With burlesque, not only does the power balance rest with the person taking her clothes off…but it also anchors its heart in freaky, late-night, libertine self expression: it has a campy, tranny, fetish element to it.

There’s a lot to unpack there, and whether or not the reader agrees with Moran about burlesque being so different from stripping is beside the point when one unpacks the offensive, loaded terms she uses to describe burlesque.  This sort of language is rife with cissexism connotations and feels particularly insensitive, given what Moran is trying to accomplish.

Not all readers will have the same reading experience, and many will enjoy Moran’s very British take on the current state of women’s issues.  However, anyone who is interested in a dialogue about intersectional feminism will have to look elsewhere, as Moran turns a complete blind eye to it in her memoir (and hasn’t been great about it on Twitter, either).

How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran. Ebury Press: 2011. Library copy.

Book Review: Behind the Bell by Dustin Diamond

In Dustin Diamond’s memoir about his time as Screech on the much-mocked and much-beloved (ironically?) 80s sitcom Saved by the Bell (as well as its spin-offs), he takes a no-holds barred approach to spilling the dirt on his cast mates.  Diamond recounts his days on the set with his much-older peers, his brushes with other celebrities of the day (as much as Jaleel “Urkel” White can be counted as a celebrity), and his myriad sexual encounters with women.  Be prepared, readers, for you’re in for a bumpy ride.

There are so many problems with Diamond’s memoir that it’s hard to know where to start.  This might be the biggest disasterpiece I’ve ever read (and I’ve read a lot of really, really crappy books).  Perhaps the biggest problem is that from the onset, Diamond presents himself of the voice of authority and experience.  This is even present in the book’s subtitle, which states that it goes “behind the scenes of Saved by the Bell with the guy who was there for everything.”  The problem is that not only was Diamond not there for most things, but he’s clearly also delusional, or a pathological liar.  That works for Diamond’s purposes, though, because the only way that readers are going to believe the contents of this book is if they are very stupid or total superfans who want to be scandalized.

The fact remains, though, that Diamond doesn’t present anything particularly scandalous or shocking, and the allegations he does make are not backed up by facts or anecdotes or even tidbits of stories.  All of the alleged bad behavior that went on onset is the stuff of normal teenagerdom, and it becomes clear, early on, that Diamond wasn’t actually present for any of it.  Once readers realize this, the book alternately bores and grosses out.

Diamond is incredibly bitter about his entire life, and much of his vitriol is aimed at his fellow cast members.  There doesn’t seem to be any legitimate reason for Diamond’s hatred of his costars, but it’s present all the same.  He takes them all to task for various reasons: Mark-Paul Gosselaar was fawned over by the producers and was thus “the Golden Child;” Mario Lopez was a womanizer who started working out too early in life; Tiffani-Amber Thiessen was a whore; etc.  Particularly disturbing is Diamond’s weird obsession with Gosselaar’s heritage: more than once, he makes comments about Gosselaar’s Thai heritage that are blatantly racist.  There are moments where you realize that this can’t all be true: there’s several anecdotes about Diamond playing around with Lopez and Gosselaar on set, and when he had a stalker, he lived with Thiessen and her family until the situation was handled.  These things don’t add up.

If the book were being honest–if, indeed, Diamond could be honest with himself–this memoir would talk about the fact that Diamond was on a show where he was surrounded by people both older and cooler than him, and that despite his desperate desire to belong, he never did.  This would be an interesting memoir: one in which Diamond is capable of being both vulnerable and self-reflective.  Of course, none of that is present here, as Diamond puts on an air of smugness and weird superiority from the first line.

Instead of offering any sort of actual content, though, Diamond prefers to focus on sex.  He spends a great deal of time hinting at all the sex his cast members were having with one another, but there’s no evidence to support this.  There’s a fairly lengthy passage where Diamond makes the claim that he’s pretty sure both Gosselaar and Thiessen were having a threesome with producer Peter Engel in order to curry favor.  In these (frankly, imagined) scenes, Diamond sits outside the office and stares at a closed door.  Never is it more clear that most of–if not all–this is in his head.

This review wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t talk about Diamond’s preoccupation with sex.  In the memoir, he claims to have slept with over 2,000 women, the majority of whom he picked up at Disneyworld.  Diamond also repeatedly refers to his penis as “the monster in [his] trousers.”  It’s not the claims that I take issue with–I don’t really care if he’s slept with that many people, and it’s certainly not my business–it’s the vulgar way he goes about describing these encounters.  He talks about women he’s slept with with the kind of callousness you expect from some drunk old douche in a bar, and his disregard for them as human beings is repulsive.  All of this frank discussion about sex hints at what is really going on, of course.  Saved by the Bell took away his sexuality (watch an episode–any episode–of SbtB and you’ll see it immediately), and Diamond is on a mission to reassert his masculinity and sexuality.  It’s gross and sad and more than a little pathetic.

This revisionist history of the cult-classic 80′s sitcom is worth skipping, even for the die-hard fan.  Diamond’s recounting of his time on the show and his life afterwards is almost impossible to slog through.  It’s not just his insufferable tone or the fact that he’s clearly lying: the book is not well-written and doesn’t appear to have been edited at all.  Mistakes and typos abound.  With nothing new to offer readers, nothing about this memoir is worth reading.  Pass on it, and watch the series again instead.

Behind the Bell by Dustin Diamond. Transit Publishing: 2009.  Borrowed copy.

Book Review: Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? by Mindy Kaling

Part memoir, part humorous essay, Mindy Kaling’s first book aims to be a little bit of everything.  She offers stories about growing up the obedient child of immigrants, offers a list of commandments for a best friend, and offers some tidbits about what it’s like to be a writer for The Office.  A quick, breezy read, Kaling’s book offers some gentle laughs and some genuine insights into a very bright, very funny woman.

It’s impossible for Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? to live up to its own hype.  When the publisher released a sneak peek of the book on the internet last year, the outlook was exceptionally good: the parts of the book readers were privy to were well-written, funny, and warm.  While this is true of most of Kaling’s book, the thing as a whole doesn’t quite work.  Although it is often funny, Kaling’s odd detours from personal memories–like when she talks about why guys should wear pea-coats–detract from the book’s resonance.

The best parts of the book are the parts where Kaling writes about the entertainment industry.  Her keen observations about being a female writer in comedy are particularly astute, and it is here that she really shines.  Her observations about life as a writer on the set of The Office and her struggles to make it as a writer/actress in Hollywood in general are some of the book’s strongest moments.  She writes about her coworkers with grace and admiration, and there’s nothing saccharine or fake about it: she genuinely admires these people.

There’s no doubt that Kaling is funny.  It’s also clear that she’s a good writer, as her conversational tone throughout the book is part of its appeal.  In fact, it often reads like a more verbose version of her Twitter feed, which isn’t a bad thing at all.  This reader just wishes the book had been more focused and that Kaling had allowed herself to be as funny as we know she is.

Recommended to fans of Kaling’s Twitter, fans of The Office, fans of light comedy.

Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) by Mindy Kaling. Crown Archetype: 2011.  Purchased copy for Kindle.

(#91) Book Review: Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang by Chelsea Handler

Chelsea Handler is back with a third collection of stories about her crazy life.  These stories run the gamut from her weird youth to her even weird family to the nasty pranks she likes to play on her friends.  As each story seems to get crazier and even more ludicrous, Handler still manages to top it with the next.  Anecdotes from her life continue to entertain in this collection of conversational essays.

The problem with Handler’s third collection of essays about her life is that the joke is starting to wear thin.  Whereas Handler’s first two books were very funny and seemed generally focused, this one feels rushed, a little forced, and completely disjointed.  There’s no cohesive feeling to this one, and when I read about the fact that Handler has talked openly about how hard this one was to write and how much she hated doing it, it made sense.  There’s an undercurrent of resentment running through this one, and it made for a rather unpleasant reading experience.

That’s not to say that there aren’t moments where Handler is particularly funny or on-point.  The early parts of the book are its strongest moments, including the story about how Handler discovered masturbation as a child & the story about the day she stayed in bed and watched the Sex & the City movie twice in a row.  These bits give way to meandering stories about vacations with her friends and elaborate pranks she’s played on employees, and it is here that I started to get uncomfortable as a reader.  Not only were the stories overly-long to the point where I wondered where it was all going, but some of them were so mean-spirited that I no longer felt comfortable reading about her exploits.

Some readers have taken issue with what they think is Handler’s tendency to grossly exaggerate her stories.  This makes some people question the legitimacy and veracity of the stories Handler weaves, but that isn’t my issue.  Handler is a comedian; exaggeration is comedy’s bread and butter.  My issue lies with the fact that in this third book, Handler is not very funny, nor is she very unique.  This book read like a woman who has run out of good stories and resents the fact that she’s expected to keep coming up with stuff.  Give this one a pass and revisit one of Handler’s first two collections.

Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang by Chelsea Handler.  Grand Central Publishing: 2010.  Borrowed on Kindle.

Book Review: Record Collecting for Girls by Courtney E. Smith

Here’s the problem with Courtney E. Smith’s new book: it’s got an inflammatory title, and it’s being marketed as a how-to guide when it’s really part memoir and part music history lesson.  It’s also really awesome, but I’m afraid that fact will get lost in the shuffle of trying to categorize the book based solely on its title.  That being said, you guys, I really enjoyed this book.

Smith worked as a music programmer for MTV for eight years (cue the jokes about how these days that would be easiest gig in the world) and had a hand in “discovering” (hate that word) a lot of bands that went on to become big sensations (The Shins, Fall Out Boy [she actually apologizes for that one], etc.).  So Smith’s music credibility is at least pretty basic.  It helps that she clearly has a love for music and has pretty wide-reaching tastes.  It also helps that she’s written a book that’s fun to read.  Although the book is marketed as a how-to (for girls), it’s actually much more informal than that.  Full of personal anecdotes and top five lists that would make High Fidelity proud, Smith’s book reads more like a conversation with a good girl friend than a non-fiction tome about what you’re doing wrong when it comes to listening to and collecting music.  It’s funny and sweet and really smart, and Smith’s focus on females in music is a welcome change from the deluge of dudes talking about dudes.  Plus it’s really interesting.

The book is fairly loosely organized, using top 5 lists as conversation pieces and moving through music history.   Starting in the 1950s and 1960s with the first girl groups, Smith moves through the 70s and 80s chronicling the rise of punk before traipsing through the 90s with the rise (and fall) of grunge, and then finally tackling the new millennium, providing an analysis of pop stars such as Madonna and Britney Spears.  Smith’s done her homework, to be sure, but it never feels too didactic, and there’s something here for everyone, whether they’re a music neophyte or a seasoned audiophile (I fall somewhere in between).

In addition to ruminating on the presence of music in our lives, Smith offers a little advice to readers about music.  All of it is good, but the most meaningful piece might be the idea of owning your individual tastes.  Music is both polarizing and uniting.  You are not going to like every single band that someone else does, and that’s okay.  Being able to own your likes and dislikes and talk about them in real ways is what’s important, and it’s one way that we connect with one another.  Even if you don’t consider yourself much of a music fan, music has an influence in your life.  This book just might help you see that.

I devoured this book in two days, and I was sad to see it end.  More than once I laughed out loud because what Smith was saying was both funny and true.  Seriously, this book was a lot of fun.

Highly recommended.

Record Collecting for Girls hits bookshelves on September 7, 2011.

Record Collecting for Girls: Unleashing Your Inner Music Nerd One Album at a Time by Courtney E. Smith.  Mariner Books: 2011.  Electronic galley from publisher via Netgalley.

(#79) Book Review: Just Kids by Patti Smith

Patti Smith moved to New York and soon met photographer and lost boy Robert Mapplethorpe.  The two of them began an unlikely romance marked by innocence and enthusiasm for life and art.  The two found in each other their muse to create art in its various forms.  Because the two began their journey to becoming artist in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the two rubbed elbows with some of the most famous faces and voices of the time.  While Smith’s memoir is partly a love story to Mapplethorpe, it is also partly a love story to the City of New York.  The overall outcome, however, is the making of an extremely talented artist.

In the interest of full disclosure, I gave serious consideration to not reviewing this book.  It’s not that I didn’t like it–I did–but I felt overwhelmed about how to even begin reviewing Smith’s poetic, lovely memoir of her relationship with Mapplethorpe and her awakening as an artist.  I’m still not sure that I’m going to be able to do the book justice, but in the interest of reviewing nearly everything I read, I’m going to try.

Smith’s imagination is nearly limitless, and she demonstrates its powers again and again in this memoir.  When she moved to New York in 1967, she wasn’t even 21 but had already suffered a great deal personally, having given up a baby for adoption.  She was also demonstrating a natural proclivity for the arts, specifically with regard to reading, writing, and drawing.  When she met Mapplethorpe one afternoon, it is clear that there was an instant connection.  Despite the fact that the two had extremely different personal styles and outlooks on life, something between them clicked.

It helps that Smith is a gifted writer, and her detailed journals from the time period in question have helped her craft a rich, satisfying memoir.  Smith succeeds in many aspects of this book, but she is most successful in describing their love affair: it is at times very tender and also painful.  It is this relationship that drives the book: Smith’s naivete regarding Mapplethorpe’s homosexuality is both believable and hard to read about, but her unflinching support of him is amazing.

This is a book on becoming an artist, to be sure.  The transformation from obscurity to stardom without compromise is well-traveled in the literary world, but Smith’s child-like innocence gives this story a refreshing feel to it.  Despite being about the quest for art and success, the story is also largely universal: a struggle to survive while also struggling to figure out who you are within the context of the larger world.

Recommended for fans of Smith’s music especially, this book will also resonate with those who hold a fascination for the tumultuous 60s and 70s.

Just Kids by Patti Smith.  Ecco: 2010.  Library copy.

(#63) Book Review: Bossypants by Tina Fey

Tina Fey’s story could only be told by Fey herself.  The topics covered in her humor-memoir range from her awkward childhood spent doing community theater to her experience working with comedy troupes to her experience being a mother to her time working on Saturday Night Live and 30 Rock.  With self-deprecating humor, a keen sense of dry wit, and a voice that’s very unique, Fey’s Bossypants is a funny, warm look at a remarkable woman who insists that she’s very ordinary.

Bossypants is less of a cohesive memoir and more of a collection of biographical essays.  Readers looking for Fey to drop the comedy and bare her soul are likely to be disappointed (and there are more than a few of those types of reviews on Goodreads, though often the reviewer can’t even articulate this disappointment so much as whine about how if she hates show business so much, why doesn’t she just quit?)  Those looking for sharp, clear writing that is at times full of introspection and critical thinking are likely to really enjoy Fey’s book.  A bit of advice: if you have the chance, listen to it as an audiobook.  Hearing Fey’s words in her own voice makes the experience even better.

Make no mistake about it, Fey is very, very funny.  Her sharp wit shines throughout the book, but it is the times when she is being particularly self-deprecating that she is at her sharpest and funniest.  Early in the book, she talks about all the things women try to correct about their bodies, and then goes on to list all the things that are “wrong” with her own body.  Not only is this part of the book unbelievably funny, but it’s also unbelievably true.  (Fey also takes the time to coin the phrase “crotch biscuits” to describe the “wobbly triangles on your inner thighs.”)

Despite Fey’s reluctance to get serious for very long, her writing is strong enough and engaging enough to give readers at least a little insight into the strong woman that she is.  There is a juxtaposition between who she is as a business woman in the professional world and who she is in her private life (kind of a homebody, actually), and it provides for some compelling thinking on Fey’s part.  She is smart, she is strong, and she has fought for her success while remaining classy and (mostly) dignified.  That in itself is admirable.

Recommended.

Bossypants by Tina Fey.  Reagan Arthur Books, 2011.  Library copy.

 

(#54) Book Review: Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler

Chelsea Handler’s second memoir doesn’t revolve around a theme the way her first one did.  In this collection of humorous stories about her life, Chelsea pulls stories from her past that help illustrate who she is and how she got there.  From telling lies about working on a movie with Goldie Hawn when she was in elementary school to her obsession with little people, Handler leaves no stone unturned in this very funny collection of stories.

Handler takes what worked especially well in My Horizontal Life and runs with it.  Stories about her childhood and about her family are arguably her strongest pieces.  By choosing to tell stories about herself that don’t necessarily all revolve around a theme, Handler opens up her comedy in a way that her first book never allowed her to.  This book is much funnier than her first, and it also tackles darker material.  The story of her first (and only) DUI is both very funny and also unsettling, but Handler manages to toe the line without dipping too much into serious territory.

Like her first book, though, there are drawbacks to Handler’s brand of comedy.  Some readers will find her stories repetitive and overly-long.  Others will wonder at the overarching triviality of Handler’s memoir.  Of course, Handler’s memoirs are more a parody of memoirs than anything else, and when readers approach her stories with this in mind, they’re much more enjoyable.

Recommended to die-hard fans of Handler’s comedy.  Very good summer reading.

Are You There, Vodka? It’s Me, Chelsea by Chelsea Handler. Regan Books: 2007.  Library copy.

 

 

 

(#52) Book Review: My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler

A collection of stories about all the one-night stands that she’s had, Chelsea Handler’s first memoir (she’s written several) is not for the faint-of-heart.  Handler takes an unapologetic, unflinching look at her sex life.  Nothing is taboo for Handler, who finds humor in the most surprising of places.  Make no mistake about it: this book is a fun, slightly trashy read, perfect for the summer.

If I had my way, this would not be the book to serve as an introduction to Handler’s brand of humor.  Readers new to Handler’s world would be better-suited to start with her talk show on E!.  Even her follow-up memoir, Are You There, Vodka?  It’s Me, Chelsea would be more accessible for those unfamiliar with Handler’s brash humor.  That being said, this is a book that fans of Handler’s should probably read.

For a book about one-night stands and random hookups, Handler’s description of the actual events is pretty tame.  She wisely chooses to focus largely on the hook-ups that went wrong or were weird, mining these for comedy whenever possible.  Those worrying about prurient details should rest assured that they are few and far between.  Handler chooses instead to focus on the social aspects of hook-up culture, and it is here that she is at her best: she’s funny and quick, and when she finds a man who can keep up with her, it’s pretty entertaining.

Ultimately, the book suffers from being uneven.  This is not unusual for a story collection, of course, but the first half of the book is funnier and stronger than the second half.  Anecdotes about her totally racist father and about her friend Shaniqua are some of the highlights, but some readers will be turned off by her frequently off-color humor.

Recommended for hardcore Chelsea Handler fans.

My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler.  Bloomsbury: 2005.  Library copy.