You'll Never Believe Me
A Life of Lies, Second Tries, and Things I Should Only Tell My Therapist
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- ¥1,700
Publisher Description
"A captivating, sharp and very funny memoir." —New York Times Book Review
The compelling, edgy, compassionate, laugh-out-loud memoir from Kari Ferrell, formerly known as the "Hipster Grifter"
Before Anna Delvey, before the Tinder Swindler, there was Kari Ferrell. Adopted at a young age by a Mormon family in Utah, Kari struggled with questions of self-worth and identity as one of the few Asian Americans in her insulated community, leading her to run with the “bad crowd” in an effort to fit in. Soon, stealing from superstores turned into picking up men (and picking their pockets), and before she knew it, Kari had graduated from petty theft to Utah’s most wanted list. Though Kari was able to escape the Southwest, she couldn’t outrun her new moniker: the Hipster Grifter.
New York City’s indie sleaze scene had found its newest celebrity—just as Kari found herself in a heap of trouble. Jail time, riots, bad checks, and an explosion of internet infamy and fetishization put her name in the spotlight. Beyond the gossip and Gawker posts, there’s a side to Kari the media never saw—until now.
By turns rollicking and irreverent, warm and compassionate, You’ll Never Believe Me tells Kari’s story for the first time. A heartfelt narrative of redemption and reconciliation as Kari eventually dedicates her life to activism, social justice, and setting the record straight, this memoir introduces a fresh, hilarious new voice to the literary stage and offers readers a nostalgic, uplifting, and at times unbelievable book that grapples with truth, why we lie, and what it means when our pasts don’t paint the whole picture.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Ferrell debuts with a raw and riveting account of how she became infamous for scamming New York City's hipsters. Adopted from South Korea as a five-month-old by Mormons in Salt Lake City, Ferrell weathered both the church's religious strictures and casual racism from classmates and acquaintances. Insecure and lonely, she fell in with a bad crowd after her parents' divorce, shoplifting and committing check fraud as a teenager. In 2008, Ferrell moved to New York, where she charmed a string of men—mostly Brooklyn artists—whom she subsequently fleeced. The New York Observer nicknamed Ferrell "the Hipster Grifter," and, while serving nearly a year in jail for her crimes, she began to drop her hard-edged persona as she met and bonded with her fellow inmates. After her release, Ferrell became a prisoners' rights advocate and developed a production company that focuses on work from women of color. With a combination of bruising vulnerability and self-deprecating humor ("I was like a law-breaking Martha Stewart. Oh, wait"), Ferrell's audacious coming-of-age tale pairs the thrill of true crime with the redemptive arc of a good memoir. It's a deliciously edgy testament to reinvention.
