Tiny Ladies in Shiny Pants
Based on a True Story
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- ¥1,800
発行者による作品情報
From the creator and director of Transparent and Emmy-nominated writer for Six Feet Under comes a hilarious and unforgettable memoir.
When Jill Soloway was just thirteen, she and her best friend donned the tightest satin pants they could find, poufed up their hair and squeezed into Candies heels, then headed to downtown Chicago in search of their one-and-only true loves forever: the members of whichever rock band was touring through town. Never mind that both girls still had braces, coke-bottle-thick glasses and had only just bought their first bras—they were fabulous, they felt beautiful, they were tiny ladies in shiny pants.
Now that Jill is all grown up and a successful writer and producer, she can look back on her tiny self and share her shiny tales with fondness, absurdity, and obsessive-compulsive attention to even the most embarrassing details. From the highly personal (conflating her own loss of virginity and the Kobe Bryant accusations), to the political (what she has in common with Monica and Chandra), to the outrageously Los Angelean (why women wear huge diamonds and what they must do to get them), Tiny Ladies in Shiny Pants is a genre-defying combination of personal essay and memoir, or a hilarious, unruly and unapologetic evaluation of society, religion, sex, love, and—best of all—Jill.
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There's one joke that Soloway, writer and co-executive producer of Six Feet Under, keeps coming back to, about a little girl who tells her mom a boy has paid her to climb a telephone pole. Her mom keeps telling her he just wants to see her panties... so the girl says she's "fooled" him, by taking them off. It's an apt metaphor for Soloway's view of women's situation today, which, she says, is ruled by the "Porno-ization of America," with younger women wanting breast implants and white boys thinking pimps are the height of cool. Soloway's rants are right-on and entertaining, too, probably because she includes herself among the occasionally deluded. She recounts her own 1970s upbringing as a liberated child who thought she might become president, only by seventh grade she'd "forgotten what Bella Abzug looked like" and gotten her "Ophelia card stamped." Fortunately, she recovered to become a delightfully sex-positive "Jewess" ("a word invented by others to conjure someone bossy... that I have reappropriated as prideful") who can joke about her cute "Jewish bush," her fun lesbian sister and her own unaccountable attraction to "Toolbelts" (hunky construction worker kind of guys). Soloway's book is an amusing work of feminist humor.
