February 1, 2020
More humorous life reflections from a seasoned raconteur. In this third volume of essays (this one "dedicated to Wellbutrin"), outspoken blogger and essayist Irby offers opinions and reactions to many of life's more uncomfortable and inconvenient episodes. Among countless other topics, the author discusses her confusion about health bloggers' obsessions with "adaptogens and other beneficial herbs," her "hostile, elusive, disrespectful" menstrual cycle, and her body. "I have been stuck with a smelly, actively decaying body that I never asked for," she writes, "and am constantly on the receiving end of confusing, overwhelming messages for how to properly care for and feed it." A linear timeline chronicling Irby's attempt at partying while "staring middle age right in its sensible orthopedic inserts" is particularly hilarious and relatable for readers of a certain age. Even when the author describes pitching show concepts to Netflix or battling Crohn's disease, her one-liners and comic timing remain intact. A lot of the best anecdotal material springs forth from the more embarrassing and cringeworthy moments of the author's life. She envies those who can go out on the town and not become hindered with bathroom issues or people who effortlessly manage a household. Regarding children, she writes, "I jump away from children the way most people jump away from a hot stove--though she doesn't "dislike them." Some of the material in this latest collection has been covered in her previous two books, but Irby's devotees won't mind because her personal hyperawareness, brazen attitude, and raunchy sense of humor are in fine form, even when the writing is haphazard and frenetic. Ultimately, though, the author manages to shake things up and keep most of her observances fresh and funny, and she also incorporates more details of life with her wife. There's lots to chuckle at here, as Irby remains a winning, personality-driven, self-deprecating essayist.
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Starred review from March 1, 2020
Written in signature Irby style, this third volume of essays (after We Are Never Meeting in Real Life) from the laugh-out-loud comedian and excruciatingly relatable author/blogger (bitchesgottaeat.com) sees the writer abandoning Chicago singledom for suburban married life while navigating chronic illness with humor and a vivid, resonant voice. Topics ranging from "Into the Gross" and "Love and Marriage" to "Body Negativity" and "Detachment Parenting" are explored in pieces that are both funny yet deeply sad and occasionally try too hard. That is, they are human in the very best way. A recurrent theme is how the author has dealt with unpredictability in her life. Whether growing up destitute (and still having a fraught relationship with financial matters) or being at the mercy of her bowels and the exhausting indignity of planning life around Crohn's disease, Irby has longed for stability and dependable affection, and has often not found it. Love, she notes, is boring, which is a wonderful thing. VERDICT A sheer delight for Irby's legions of fans. For those new to her work, or who enjoy Jenny Lawson, Roxane Gay, Jenny Slate, or Nora Ephron, this should be obtained immediately.--Audrey Snowden, Milford Town Lib., MA
Copyright 2020 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
February 1, 2020
In her third essay collection, Irby shares what she's been up to since We Are Never Meeting in Real Life (2017): leaving Chicago to live in Michigan, becoming a kind of parent to her wife's kids, writing for the Hulu show, Shrill, turning 40 ( the hilarious thing about being forty is this: I don't know anything ) and lots more. One essay is a 1990s mixtape, complete with track listings and their explanations. Lesbian Bed Death is a series of statements that begin with Sure, sex is fun and end with things like but have you ever watched PBS? Hello, 911? catalogs everyday emergencies like stepping onto a moving walkway, or being the first person at a party. And despite Irby's claim that It is not that helpful!, the collection-closing story of getting her first book published will especially speak to budding writers. Irby has an uncanny ability to punctuate all the funny stuff with well-placed moments of true tenderness, making this exactly what her longtime and new readers will love and LOL over.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2020, American Library Association.)
May 4, 2020
This overly manic collection from blogger Irby (We Are Never Meeting in Real Life) hints at the author’s talent, but ultimately disappoints. In recounting a period in her life that saw her attain success as an author, endure a frustrating flirtation with Hollywood, and move from Chicago to Kalamazoo, Mich., “where the most popular bar has a mechanical bull,” Irby primarily aims to amuse, but the humor is one-note, leaning too much on double exclamation points, triple question marks, and caps lock, and too little on original observations. She also overemphasizes showbiz references—at one point, she imagines her life as a wacky Hollywood comedy, and at another point, as several seasons of a TV show. Irby can be remarkably candid, as when she admits to having a “running inner monologue recounting every horrible thing I’ve said or done since I can remember first publicly humiliating myself,” one that “never shuts the fuck up or goes away even for a minute.” This emotional honesty is the book’s best feature, but is less appealing than it might have been, due to the hectic tone. Readers will be disappointed by this strained attempt at comedic memoir.