Sloppy
Or: Doing It All Wrong
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- $13.99
Publisher Description
From the James Beard Award-nominated author of Tacky, a boldly funny, warts-and-all tour of the bad habits that make Rax King who she is
"Most writers are boring people. King, though, seems different: Bettie Page meets Carrie Bradshaw."—Washington Post
With Rax King's trademark blend of irreverent humor and heartfelt honesty comes a new collection of personal essays unpacking bad behavior. Sloppy explores sobriety, begrudging self-improvement, and the habits we cling to with clenched fists.
In “Proud Alcoholic Stock,” King examines her parents’ unwavering dedication to 12 step programs and the texture her family history has lent to her own sobriety. “Shoplifting from Brandy Melville” is a lighthearted look at, what else?, shoplifting from Brandy Melville—one of her few remaining indulgences now that she doesn’t drink. King writes about her overspending and temper control issues as well as her poorly managed mental health. These seventeen essays capture the personal and generational vices that make us who we are. From being a crummy waitress to using uppers to force friendships, from obsessing over the Neopets forums to lying for no discernable reason, these essays approach bad habits with emotional intelligence, kindness and—most importantly—humor.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Memoirist King (Tacky) tackles grief, addiction, shoplifting, and mental illness in this brash, darkly funny essay collection. "Sloppiness," King argues, isn't just a trait—it's an identity, as essential to her as her asthma ("and I take medicine for both"). Early essays cover her family's alcoholism; her habit of cutting class to nurse hangovers, go to IHOP, or celebrate a liberating breakup; and her practice of swiping clothes from Brandy Melville to "stave off the DTs." Her father's death prompts some of the collection's most poignant reflections: his ashes now share space in her apartment with his beloved Big Mouth Billy Bass statues and ashtrays ("In death, he too has become crap"). The subject matter is often bleak—King writes candidly of her suicide attempts and calls sobriety "the birthplace of boredom" (she's sober now)—but her razor wit ensures the tone never veers into self-pity. Instead, she provides a bracing, brutally honest account of living outside the bounds of respectability. This will resonate with fans of gallows humor and readers who feel stifled by restrictive definitions of normality.
