Bossypants vs the book I can’t name
So I just read two books in the last month, both by 40-ish women authors, both nonfiction, both at least somewhat about what it is like to be a working mother of small children. One was “Bossypants” by Tina Fey. The other I don’t want to name because I have been a fan of the author. I know — I’m a total wuss, to feel strongly enough to write about this and yet wimpy enough not to want to “out” a book I didn’t like. I expected to love both books. What I didn’t expect was to shake with laughter at Tina Fey’s book and after finishing it, to feel like I had a new friend. I had read excerpts of the book in the New Yorker and thought the writing was good, funny, honest. I’m not in the entertainment business, so I can’t commiserate with any of that industry’s ups and downs. But because Tina Fey was so skillful, I could relate.
The other book was about a subject I care about, education. I knew that it was going to be polemical, about domestic life and parenting in Los Angeles, and navigating the complicated and dilapidated Los Angeles school system.
As she named truisms for women of a certain age (my age) and talked about the frustrations of work-family balance, I started off thinking, yes, yes, I’m with you, sister. The exclamation points after almost every sentence started to get me down pretty quickly, and the book began to feel like a chore — a non-edited chore. And then, things went south.
The book, which a number of friends had recommended to me, was billed as nonfiction but so quickly veered from “humor” writing to absurdity that wasn’t funny and made me think that the author’s oft-mentioned therapist was doing a terrible job of shrinking her head. Early on, I was worried about her and annoyed by her rather than riding the narrative stream. What was intended to be a meta-writing of a woman losing it while trying to do it all was just irritating the bejesus out of me. And I was seriously bummed, because a decade ago, I thought this author was compelling and relevant.
On the other hand, Bossypants makes me want more of Tina Fey’s writing. I think part of what I’m reacting to is my experience of having become a parent — that it can be lonely. Finding like-minded people with children is not always easy. Reading about like-minded people is a pale substitute. Like Facebook, reading is a facsimile of human relationships that can often feel lame but can surprise you with meaning when you least expect it.
