My rating: 1 of 5 stars
My third 1 star read of the year 🥴🥴🥴
I’d never heard of Jenny Lawson before coming across this book, but it was on sale for KES 200 (less than $2) and after reading this glowing review from Patrick Rothfuss I decided to buy the book as I was certain I was in for a good time.
This was pretty fucking terrible. I was meant to start this on September 18th but I wasn’t feeling it for some reason, so I decided to start it on September 27th as I had finished The Godfather two weeks prior on 14th and I didn’t want to go more than two weeks without reading anything. I still didn’t read anything on that day and only got around to reading this on October 1st but I only managed to read the Note from the Author. I finally started reading this frfr on October 4th but by then I was certain I was not going to enjoy the book. I mean, I had a long weekend between October 9th and 11th but I didn’t pick up the book even once because the thought of forcing myself to read it when I could be catching up with my favourite TV shows was not at all appealing. On 12th, after the long weekend, I decided that I either finish the book by the end of the week or I dnf it as I no longer wanted it to keep holding me hostage. So technically I read this in 4 days as I read 54 pages on 4th, 101 on 12th, 125 on 13th and 45 on 14th.
My biggest problem with this book is that for a humour memoir I did not find it funny AT ALL!!! I think I’d have connected with her humour if I was a reader of her blog beforehand, because fucking hell I didn’t LOL even once reading this and I can count on one hand the number of times I so much as chuckled. I also couldn’t stand the over-the-top conversations and arguments she had with her husband. I even had to Google her to see if they’re still together because yikes there was nothing funny about any of the conversations she wrote about her husband. And yes I know their conversations didn’t actually occur the way the author depicted them, she was just trying to be funny, but 🥴🥴🥴
The second half of my 33rd year was rough AF on my mental health and I decided that I want to be furiously happy in my 34th year, which is why I deliberately picked this as my book 34/30. I appreciate the author’s candour in speaking openly and honestly about her mental health, but that’s the only good thing I can say about this book. When the author was writing about her mental health I, as someone who has three anxiety disorders, was so moved and inspired by what she wrote I wanted to share her words with someone in my life who’s currently struggling with their mental health so they can realise they are not alone. Maybe if she wrote more about her mental health I’d give this 2 stars instead of 1, but alas here we are. Instead the beautifully written chapters on mental health are in between chapters about Voodoo Vaginas, Cat Laminations and other weird shit. The haphazard, nonsensical chapters were completely lacking in flow of any kind and left me baffled as to why she wrote them, never-mind included them in the final product. They made me think of those patchwork dolls made up of all sorts of different fabrics that works for dolls, but not for books.
What the shit is something the author says often in this book and it perfectly sums up my sentiments on my first and last ever Jenny Lawson read.
View all my reviews
** A guide to ratings **
1 star – did not like it
2 stars – it was okay
3 stars – liked it
4 stars – really liked it
5 stars – it was amazing