Shut Up, You're Welcome
Thoughts on Life, Death, and Other Inconveniences
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- $18.99
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- $18.99
Publisher Description
From the author of Happy Birthday or Whatever, an outright hilarious and heartfelt collection of personal essays about everything from underwear to musical theater.
ANNIE CHOI HATES MUSICAL THEATER. SHE THINKS SANDWICHES ARE BORING. She likes camping, except for the outdoors part. At fifteen, her father made her read the entire car manual before allowing her to sit in the driver’s seat. Her neighbor, who has no curtains, is always naked. And she once chased down a man who stole her handbag.
All this is to say that Choi is one part badass and one part curmudgeon, with a soft spot for savage bears. Mostly she wants to ask the world: WTF?!
Written in Choi’s strikingly original and indignant voice, Shut Up, You’re Welcome paints a revealing portrait of Annie in all her quirky, compelling, riotous glory. Each of Choi’s personal essays begins with an open letter to someone (babies) or something (the San Fernando Valley) she has a beef with. From the time her family ditched her on Christmas to her father’s attachment to the World's Ugliest Table, Choi weaves together deeply personal experiences with laugh-out-loud observations, all of which will delight and entertain you.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In her second book, Choi (Happy Birthday or Whatever) writes letters to people, places, and things "Dear San Fernando Valley" or "Hi, Sandwich." These letters preface personal essays, some only peripherally related, but all of which revolve around quirks of her highly entertaining family. Choi doesn't shy away from the humor to be found in her experience as a second-generation immigrant her Korean parents speak broken English throughout, leading Choi's mother to enthusiastically proclaim she wants to dance the "Macaroon" but she doesn't rely on cultural misunderstandings to be the punch line of every joke. Her personality shines throughout, from the neurosis that makes her catalogue every possible disaster that might befall her on public transportation to the stubborn refusal to tolerate nonsense that leads to her mother's oft-repeated phrase: "Anne, you mouth!" Choi has her occasional missteps the essay on musical theater, the book's opener, begins with "I think my dad is gay" and refuses to let the already-tired stereotype die until the very last sentence. But it's not the jokes that carry this book Choi's baffled, exasperated love for her family is at the heart of every anecdote. Even though they did leave her behind on Christmas by mistake.
