Lawson, Jenny: Let's Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir
Let's Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir (2012)
Written by: Jenny Lawson
Genre: Memoir
Pages: 336 (Kindle)
Why I Read It: I've never read anything from The Bloggess until a friend of mine posted this entry on Facebook: And That's Why You Should Learn to Pick Your Battles. Curious (and let's admit, probably bored at the time), I clicked the link. And began reading. And starting laughing so hard I nearly cried. I don't know why this hysterical post didn't turn me into an immediate convert of the blog, but it definitely stayed with me when I learned that Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess, was coming out with a memoir. I wanted it, but I slacked. I figured I'd get it one of these day, you know? But right around Christmas, Dear Author posted a daily book deal that included Lawson's memoir for only $1.99, so I didn't think. I pounced. And as soon as I finished vN, I settled down with this book with glee.
The premise: ganked from BN.com: When Jenny Lawson was little, all she ever wanted was to fit in. That dream was cut short by her fantastically unbalanced father and a morbidly eccentric childhood. It did, however, open up an opportunity for Lawson to find the humor in the strange shame-spiral that is her life, and we are all the better for it.
In the irreverent Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, Lawson’s long-suffering husband and sweet daughter help her uncover the surprising discovery that the most terribly human moments-the ones we want to pretend never happened-are the very same moments that make us the people we are today. For every intellectual misfit who thought they were the only ones to think the things that Lawson dares to say out loud, this is a poignant and hysterical look at the dark, disturbing, yet wonderful moments of our lives.
Spoilers, yay or nay?: Nay. It's a memoir, what am I going to spoil? Read on, unless you're in a super-hurry and don't want to read about how my reading this book disturbed my husband. :)
Discussion: I don't get to read a whole lot of nonfiction. I've got so much fiction sitting on my shelves that it's hard to justify going out of my way to read something out of my wheelhouse, something I may not even like. And as I mentioned before, I don't even read The Bloggess, which just goes to show you what kind of crazy impression that ONE blog entry made on me to make me finally break down to get this Kindle edition.
And I must say, I laughed my way through most of the book, and every time I laughed or snickered, my husband would glare at me. Apparently, I'm only supposed to be a quiet reader, but I also think he doesn't like being outside of the joke. ;) I would've read stuff aloud to him, but frankly, this book is an experience, something you have to immerse yourself in and enjoy. So I just enjoyed the hell out of it.
How do you review something like this? Nonfiction, memoir…. I could whip out the "No Rating" and throw my hands in the air and say "Sorry! Not qualified to review!" But I've always said my blog was about my reactions to things, so let's talk about my reactions. I laughed my ass off. That's a plus.
But there's also some wonderfully yet disturbing moments of gravitas and truth to this. A friend of mine said she's read most of this novel at Barnes & Noble, and one of her complaints is that the writer seems "unpleasantly hyper." That's sometimes true, though it never grated on me so much as it made me wonder, People like this EXIST in this world? And I mean that in a good way. And honestly, it's those previous moments of gravitas that ground this memoir, make the author even more relatable and human, showing us that life isn't all fun and games and dead-squirrel puppets.
Lawson has a fantastic voice. It makes sense. She's a blogger, so she's constantly writing to entertain and engage her audience. My Kindle copy is littered with little notes where I laughed, or where I related to something she said or experienced. Like how she's got a scar from her cat falling on her head while she was sleeping. THAT WOULD SO HAPPEN TO ME. Hell, the bridge of my nose is STILL trying to heal from my fighting my 17 pound cat for my own pillow. He didn't scratch me on purpose, btw. It was between me and his back claw. I suspect I was asleep when it happened.
The point is, I found her entirely relatable. She's the first person I've been able to hear/read about who has a form of hypochondria that makes the condition funny for all its seriousness. Same with anxiety. And rheumatoid arthritis.
Please don't think I'm making light of these either: the fact that Lawson can write with grace and humor about very real and very disabling things is amazing, and that's what I admire. She helps you understand what she's going through, she can make you laugh about it, and then she make you count your blessings that YOU don't have to go through the same. But she can also make you sympathize, pulling you down to a point where you can't believe that someone so bright can and does go through such crappy shit.
And if you do have to go through that crappy shit (I have a friend I'm pressing to read this who also has RA and has her own sense of twisted humor), at least you'll be able to relate.
It's hard to quote this book without a whole lot of context, but there are a few moments I can point out as they relate to my own experiences, such as Lawson's difficulty making friends with girls (the chapter is about how she overcame that):
Even as an adult I had mostly male friends, and I looked at girls as judgy, cruel, fickle, and likely to borrow your Cabbage Patch doll and never give it back. Victor always pushed me to find girlfriends, but I'd convinced myself that girls are like small bears: cute to look at, but far too dangerous to have lunch with.
And here when she's talking about having RA:
Whenever I tell people I have arthritis they usually say, "But you seem so young," which is sort of a backhanded compliment that I never get tired of hating. I will probably only hate the phrase even more when I get to the age when people stop saying it, and suddenly begin saying, "Oh, arthritis. Of course you have it." Then I plan to run over them with my wheelchair.
I will say that it was hard to see the photos on my Kindle. I could zoom in, but only to a point, and often those photos were blurry. Regardless, I must thank the author profusely for the cat-on-head photos. Because that is my life now from the moment I go to bed to the moment I get up.
My Rating: 10 - My Precious
I made a conscious decision to STOP being so stingy with my #1 rating. I couldn't put this down. I laughed. I nearly cried. I kept recommending that my friends read this book before I was even done with it. I want to get a physical copy so that when I re-read the book, I can see the pictures and the captions better (and while I'd like the hardcover, word has it the upcoming trade paperback release will have an extra chapter. EXTRA CHAPTER!). And yes, I want to re-read this. Because the theme of this book, amongst all the craziness, the astounding stories and the heartbreaking ones, lies an important message that I wish I'd learned early and I'm still not sure I've taken to heart: life isn't defined by your perfect moments, but rather your imperfect ones, and how you react to those moments defines everything. Lawson writes about her unique upbringing in such a way that no matter how insane, it's relatable, and her humor had me constantly tickled. It's my kind of humor (see the wheelchair comment behind the cut). When she publishes her next book, I'll be there with bells on. Hell, I should be reading her blog religiously by this point, but I'm afraid of spoiling the next book!
I know this book isn't for everyone. Hell, I can barely coherently write about it myself (another hallmark of a 10 rating). But I do think there's something in here for everyone to enjoy, even if it's not every page. So read it however you're able, and come back and share your thoughts.
Cover Commentary: It's a Shakespearean, taxidermic mouse. What's not to love?
Next up: Star Wars: Galaxies: The Ruins of Dantooine by Voronica Whitney-Robinson