Let's Pretend This Never Happened
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4.8 • 4 Ratings
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- $20.99
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- $20.99
Publisher Description
'Even when I was funny, I wasn't this funny.' Augusten Burroughs. For fans of Tina Fey, David Sedaris and anyone who's ever felt like a misfit, an outrageously funny and disturbing memoir from Jenny Lawson, aka The Bloggess.
'When I tell people that my father is kind of a total lunatic, they laugh and nod knowingly. they assure me that theirs is too, and that he's just a "typical father". And they're probably right, if the typical father runs a full-time taxidermy business out of the house, and shows up at the local bar with a miniature donkey and a teddy Roosevelt impersonator, and thinks other people are weird for making such a big deal out of it. If the typical father says things like "Happy birthday! Here's a bathtub of raccoons!" or "We'll have to take your car. Mine has too much blood in it," then yeah, he's totally normal.' 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 childhood of wearing winter shoes made out of used bread sacks. It did, however, open up an opportunity for Lawson to find the humour in the strange shame-spiral that is her life, and we are all the better for it. 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. Like laughing at a funeral, LEt'S PREtEND tHIS NEVER HAPPENED is both irreverent and impossible to hold back once you get started. 'the Bloggess writes stuff that actually is laugh-out-loud, but you know that really you shouldn't be laughing and probably you'll go to hell for laughing, so maybe you shouldn't read it.' Neil Gaiman 'Even when I was funny, I wasn't this funny.' Augusten Burroughs, author of RUNNING WItH SCISSORS
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In punchy chapters that cover a fairly uneventful life in the southern Republican regions, blogger Lawson achieves an exaggerated sarcasm that occasionally attains a belly laugh from the reader ("I grew up a poor black girl in New York. Except replace 'black' with 'white' and 'New York' with 'rural Texas' "), but mostly descends into rants about bodily functions and dead animals spiced with profanity. The daughter of a taxidermist whose avid foraging and hunting filled their "violently rural" Wall, Tex., house with motley creatures like raccoons and turkeys and later triggered some anxiety disorder, Lawson did not transcend her childhood horrors so much as return to them, marrying at age 22 a fellow student at a local San Angelo college, Victor, and settling down in the town with a job in "HR" while Victor worked "in computers." In random anecdotal segments Lawson treats the vicissitudes of her 15-year marriage, the birth of daughter Hailey after many miscarriages, some funny insider secrets from the HR office, and an attempt to learn to trust women by spending a weekend in California wine country with a group of bloggers. With little substantive writing on these subjects, however, Lawson's puerile sniggering and potty mouth gets old fast.
Customer Reviews
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