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. This overly manic collection from blogger Irby (We Are Never Meeting in Real Life) hints at the author's talent, but ultimately disappoints. is Irby at her most unflinching, riotous, and relatable.ĭon't miss Samantha Irby's new book, Quietly Hostile! The essays in this collection draw on the raw, hilarious particulars of Irby's new life. She goes on bad dates with new friends, spends weeks in Los Angeles taking meetings with "tv executives slash amateur astrologers" while being a "cheese fry-eating slightly damp Midwest person," "with neck pain and no cartilage in knees," who still hides past due bills under her pillow. This is the bourgeois life of a Hallmark Channel dream.
She has left her job as a receptionist at a veterinary clinic, has published successful books and has been friendzoned by Hollywood, left Chicago, and moved into a house with a garden that requires repairs and know-how with her wife in a Blue town in the middle of a Red state where she now hosts book clubs and makes mason jar salads. Irby is forty, and increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin despite what Inspirational Instagram Infographics have promised her. “Stay-up-all-night, miss-your-subway-stop, spit-out-your-beverage funny.” -Jia Tolentino, New York Times bestselling author of Trick Mirror
A rip-roaring, edgy and unabashedly raunchy new collection of hilarious essays from the New York Times bestselling author of We Are Never Meeting in Real Life.Lambda Literary Award for Bisexual Nonfiction Award Winner.She goes on bad dates with new friends, spends weeks in Los Angeles taking meetings with "skinny, luminous peoples" while being a "cheese fry-eating slightly damp Midwest person," "with neck pain and no cartilage in knees," and hides Entenmann's cookies under her bed and unopened bills under her pillow. She has left her job as a receptionist at a veterinary clinic, has published successful books and is courted by Hollywood, left Chicago, and moved into a house with a garden that requires repairs and know-how with her wife and two step-children in a small white, Republican town in Michigan where she now hosts book clubs. Irby is turning forty, and increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin. A new essay collection from Samantha Irby about aging, marriage, settling down with step-children in white, small-town America.
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