pedestrienne

I've read Samantha Irby's essays online and thought they were funny and smart. But reading a bunch of them all together in book form made me sad. first of all, I'm not sure if new essays were written for this or what, but it reads like the blogs were just reprinted all together with no thought to repeat anecdotes/subject matter - it could have been edited and made to flow better with just a little effort (not to mention copyedited). secondly, the self-deprecating humor soon turned from funny to "please save money for a therapist". hearing so much about her "meat beard" and how disgusting she thinks bodies are was obviously hyperbole, but also I felt like there were some real body issues coming through. many of the essays started strong but lost focus and ended up being stream of consciousness lists, which is okay once, but repeated in many essays reads like a weakness in writing style. in short, Meaty is the book equivalent of a friend who has the same jokes that are always funny when you hear them every couple of weeks for coffee but not if you're on a weeklong vacation with her.

exceptions: the essay about her mother was really powerful. the essay about how she's not jealous of people who are married/have boyfriends was a welcome change in tone and I felt like it was closer to her real voice.