I’m going to be straight with you. I bought your book because it was on sale at Half-Priced books (my inner indie book girl says with much shame) and because I liked the title. I’ve been traveling non-stop lately, and a snarky memoir seemed the perfect thing for when I was too tired to work any more, so I chucked you into my roller bag.
What I discovered, as you so aptly describe in your last chapter, was a validation of living in 3D emotions. It wasn’t so much a memoir about hate (although I will be saying “its hard not to hate you” for months), but a story about a woman both coming to terms with her own mortality while finding ways to balance self-empowerment and overt b!tchdom.
In many ways, your search for depth made me feel more secure in my often “too muchness,” too emotional, too self-critical and analytical, too needful to discuss and analyze feelings. So thanks.
Let me just say I think you are a wildly under-rated novelist. While I love the show Sex & the City, your treatment of “Smart vs. Pretty” is a stand-out for me. Keep writing. I suspect I will be ordering a second copy of your book (from my local indie bookstore Left Bank to properly atone) and placing it in many hands).
Perhaps your books are like your discussion of friends. Kinsella and Bushnell come and then make it into the “to sell pile” (how I ended up in the Half-Priced joint in the first place). Yours stay. They are lifers. And for a memoirist, who likes to think she is funny and loves to read, this was a particular treat. You finding your emotional intelligence and depth was a validation of my own.
Thank you for this hidden gem. And for making this fat jewish girl giggle and laugh and tear up.
PS: I’m kind of in love with Howie.