Somehow, I hadn’t heard of Ms. Ajayi until a couple of months ago. Clearly, I have been missing out. Thankfully I learned of her via this great collection of essays.

When, after seeing the entertaining cover, someone asked what I was reading, I described it as a little bit silly but a lot serious. Some of the topic areas might be considered lighter fare, which is what I was expecting for the whole of the book (again, my fault, as I wasn’t familiar with the author). But it’s so much more than an amusing frolic through modern-day ways people act like asshats; it’s also a collection of essays on serious topics.

These topics benefit from Ms. Ajayi’s talented way with words; she can drop in a clever aside or snide remark into a very serious essay without breaking up the flow. It doesn’t lessen the impact; instead it reminds the reader that these issues are not so esoteric that we can’t all have a vested interested in addressing them.

Ms. Ajayi discusses rape culture, racism, religion, fame, feminism and more in this collection, and I felt I either related to or learned something from nearly every one. The only section where I felt some measure of disagreement (and it was such a tiny measure) was with her description of atheists. I appreciate that as an atheist I was already going to be a bit sensitive to what anyone says about this group, and others might read it and totally agree with her take on us. Regardless, even that bit was edifying to a degree.

I was expecting an entertaining etiquette book and instead got deep social criticism, and that ended up being exactly what I needed.

Four Stars

Even if you don’t live in NYC, it’s possible you’ve heard of Bellevue hospital. If not by name, then by the stories told about it. It was the facility that treated the man who had Ebola in New York, and it is the one that had to evacuate patients in plastic medical sleds down over a dozen flights of stairs during Hurricane Sandy when the building lost power. And that’s just the headlines from the last five years.

Bellevue is a public hospital, providing care mostly to those who cannot pay or who other facilities will not see. It has been providing this care in some form or another since the 1700s, which, given how relatively young the U.S., is impressive as hell. It was on the front line of so many outbreaks, including the AIDS crisis in the 1980s. But it’s the stories from the 1700s and 1800s that I found to be especially fascinating. I know we’re all familiar with the fact that anesthesia didn’t used to exist (but amputations did), and that germ theory took a while to catch on, but reading the background behind these discoveries and their introductions, set against this amazing institutions history, is just incredible.

I’ve started a couple of large histories of medical conditions or healthcare facilities this year. I gave up on Emperor of All Maladies, and I’m struggling to get past the first chapter of Blood. However, this one, released just four weeks ago, was not hard to get through at all. If you have any interest in New York history, or medical history, or just good non-fiction, I think you will find this a worthwhile read.

Four Stars

I will see any film if Anna Kendrick is involved. I’ve watched Pitch Perfect at least monthly since it was released on blu-ray (and three times in theaters before that); I watch videos online of her appearances on late night TV when I’m in a shit mood and need a boost. So obviously, I pre-ordered the shit out of this book.

It did not disappoint. Unfortunately, it came out a week after the election, so it is possible that it didn’t get the attention it deserved, since we are all (rightfully) freaking the fuck out about actual neo-Nazis in the White House. But if you need a mental health break from calling and writing your representatives, or marching in support of Black Lives Matter or protesting the DAPL, I would like to recommend this to you.

Her essays are laid out in (mostly) chronological order; some are quite intimate, but none delve into the uncomfortable. But the best part is that they all sound exactly like her – or at least the her we see in the media. I don’t know Ms. Kendrick, so theoretically this could all be an elaborately maintained ruse, but more than likely this is just an example of a clever, self-deprecating, strong but at times insecure woman living her life. Yes, she might have a job that is slightly more glamorous from the outside than, say, literally every other job, but she manages to make the challenges she faces as a well-known actress as relatable as her days with no money and no car trying to make it in Los Angeles.

I think the fact that she is incredibly self-aware helps. She doesn’t sell herself short in unbelievable ways, she doesn’t fish for pity or accolades, she is just sharing some stories that readers will find endearing or entertaining (and usually both).

Near the end of the book, she mentions writing a tell-all when she is 70 and done with her career. Again, I’d like to pre-order that one now, because if I’m alive then, I’m going to read that one, and I have no doubt it will be delicious.

Four Stars

I was lucky enough to learn about Phoebe Robinson when a friend recommended I listen to Two Dope Queens, the comedy podcast she hosts with Jessica Williams (of The Daily Show fame). She is a stand-up comedian and writer, and You Can’t Touch My Hair is her first book. It’s a collection of essays that take on topics as varied as black hair, guilty pleasures, and advice for her niece.

I write in my books, and I found myself underlining a lot in this one. I wasn’t just underlining the funny one-liners that had me chuckling out loud; mostly I was marking up her social commentary. Her chapter on “The Angry Black Woman Myth” should be required reading for white people. She also weighs in on the challenges people of color face in the entertainment industry, illustrating that section with sample composite casting calls that are both hilarious and deeply fucked up.

I could probably sit with this so I can provide a more thorough review, but I want to get this up there in case someone is looking for their next good read. If you like good writing, and serious issues discussed with a clever, strong voice, I think you’ll enjoy this one.

Also, check out the 2 Dope Queens podcast.

Four Stars

A memoir. Written by a woman. About soccer. I’m surprised my local book store didn’t just automatically set it aside for me. This shit is my jam.

If you aren’t a fan of women’s soccer (and if you enjoy sports, you should check it out), you probably hadn’t heard of Carli Lloyd before last summer. She’s been playing for the US Women’s National Team since the early 2000s, but she stepped hard into the spotlight during the World Cup in Canada last year, when she scored three times in the final win over Japan, including a shot basically from mid-field.

Of the memoirs I’ve read recently that involve a co-writer, this one reads the smoothest. I don’t know Ms. Lloyd, and I haven’t seen her interviewed much, but the voice, while a bit stiff, feels genuine. The book follows her journey from player in her New Jersey hometown, through college, and into her professional career. It has much more soccer in it than Abbi Wambach’s memoir from earlier this year, and I loved that. Ms. Lloyd also discusses some of the same incidents that Ms. Wambach did, with a different perspective, which is fascinating for someone like me.

Ms. Lloyd is dedicated as hell, a hard worker, and talented. She says repeatedly she doesn’t like drama, but also says she tells it like it is, and in my experience drama and a lack of desire to choose one’s words carefully almost always go hand in hand. At the same time, I do think Ms. Lloyd is self-aware; she is open about her flaws and how they have impacted her life, especially her relationship with her immediate family (spoiler alert: it’s not a good one).

If you like sports and a bit of an underdog story, I think you’ll like this. But if you don’t enjoy sports, I think there might just be too much technical discussion for this to be a good read.

Three Stars

This is 2.5 stars for me, but I’m giving it three starts because of the first 150 pages of the book. However, I think the title is misleading, because this is much, much more about the true story of Ms. Ensign’s experience working in a clinic that served low income and homeless individuals in the mid-late 80s. That story is interesting, well-written and raises some great questions, but it is not the story that I think the blurb and the title suggest. Some spoilers below.

The first 150 pages or so are fascinating. Ms. Ensign opens this clinic with a grant, and runs it as the sole clinician. She is also the wife of a Christian who is pursuing seminary school, so she also has these expectations put upon to her to be a ‘good southern Christian woman.’ Reading about her patients, as well as her own awakening to what she wants in her life (spoiler alert: it isn’t to be with her husband) brings up so many great questions to pursue further. At one point the church becomes even more involved, reprimanding her for her counseling style with women who become pregnant out of marriage and people who have AIDS.

Ms. Ensign does end up without quality housing, but I find it odd that she doesn’t talk about that much. She lives in a storage facility on a camp her parents own, and apparently also lives in her car, but most of that is mentioned in passing. It feels almost like she ran out of steam, or felt that she didn’t want to reveal too much about that time in her life, yet the book was supposedly meant to be the insight of someone who has both served the homeless and experienced homeless herself. It just feels that the connections are missing. Especially because at one point she is working three jobs and then miraculously can just decide to turn one of those jobs into full-time work so she can have health insurance. And then … she moves to Seattle. We don’t learn why, or how that happens, or even when. It just feels so disjointed for the last 50 pages or so, and that bums me out. As this is Ms. Ensign’s first book, I think part of the blame lies with her editor.

Homelessness is such a huge issue in cities right now, and there are so many competing ideas about the root causes and the ways to support the individuals experiencing it, so I had such high hopes that this would be discussed deeply in this book. But it just wasn’t. And this seems like a huge missed opportunity.

Ms. Ensign now teaches at the University in my town, and is instructing students in the school of public health. In fact, this book was chosen as the one that incoming master’s students will be reading this fall. Unfortunately, there is an odd two- or three-page stretch of what I view as anti-feminist judgment of sex work (and the unironic use of the words “politically correct” as though that is a bad thing, which pisses me off) and those who provide non-judgmental health care to sex workers, so I’m saddened that young folks will be reading this book and being exposed to that thinking.

It is possible my opinion will change after book club this week, and if so, I’ll come back and amend this review, but for now, I just can’t recommend this book.

Three Stars

The Story
I want to start this review with a discussion of the story Ms. Guerrero tells. It is a fascinating, interesting, sweet and inspirational story. You likely know Ms. Guerrero from her roles on Jane the Virgin and Orange is the New Black – she’s tiny, Colombian and talented as hell. A couple of years ago, she shared that her parents had been deported after authorities learned they were undocumented. This left Ms. Guerrero – then 14 and a US citizen – to essentially fend for herself.

We learn about her childhood, which included fears that deportation might come. But reading it happen – and recognizing that the US government either didn’t know or didn’t care that their actions left a 14-year-old with nowhere to live – infuriated me. I was pissed on her behalf, mad at an immigration system that does this to thousands of families ever year. I was also impressed with her ability to finish high school, enroll in college, and eventual deal with unaddressed issues that her parents’ deportation had created inside her.

We also learn about how she made her way into acting as well as her decision to get publicly involved in immigration reform and other political issues. It’s a compelling tale but it wasn’t an entirely positive reading experience, as the second half of my review will explain.

The Telling
When you were in school, did you ever have the dreaded ‘group project?’ You know, the one where someone wouldn’t do anything, someone would do too much, and the rest of the group just tried to get a word in? And did any of those group projects involve a group PAPER? The way Ms. Guerrero’s story is told feels a bit like a group paper where one person did most of the writing, but someone else insisted on interjecting in each section. And their interjections might even be good (or perhaps better than the bulk of the paper), but they just don’t … flow? That’s how this book reads.

I didn’t realize until the acknowledgments that Ms. Guerrero had a co-author assist her. Ms. Burford has assisted a few other memoirists, so she seems like a good fit for this project; unfortunately, this book is a case where the two authors just don’t seem to have found a good flow or fit. I don’t know how much of this is Ms. Guerrero’s work and how much is Ms. Burford’s; did Ms. Guerrero tell her the story and Ms. Burford write it? Did Ms. Guerrero write it but Ms. Burford filled in some of the information to build out a longer story? Something else entirely? I don’t know, but I feel like it could have benefited from some stronger editing and cohesion.

There are certain things that come up – such as Ms. Guerrero’s depression and the serious ramifications – seemingly out of the blue, and are handled in a couple of pages without a lot of exploration. And I’m not saying she needs to provide more detail than she does; it’s more that the detail provided is so specific and jarring that it stands out. There’s no build or come down – it’d be like watching Law & Order with 30 seconds of Hairspray cut in, then returning right back to Law & Order. There’s nothing off or bad about either, but you’d probably be wondering what the hell that was about. Many chapters left me feeling that way.

Three Stars

I purchased this book on Tuesday as part of my women-authored-memoir spree. So far I’ve read Mara Wilson’s and Abby Wambach’s; I have two book club books to read before I can dive into Diane Guerrero’s book. As evidenced by the photo I’ve included, this book was perfect as the fall equivalent of a good beach read – enjoy it with a cup of cocoa or tea, and be ready to go through it in one sitting.

Ms. Rivera is best known to most of us as Santana from Glee, but this is not a Glee memoir (and that is a good thing). The ten chapters each focus on different phases or components of her life, whether her early days acting as a preschooler, her financial troubles as a young woman, or her love life. Each chapter wraps up with a few bullet points under the ‘sorry’ banner, and a few under ‘not sorry.’

Some phrases or attitudes bummed me out (while at the end of her chapter on her anorexia she acknowledges therapy and/or medication might be helpful for some, earlier in the chapter she makes it seem as though anorexia is generally something one can get one’s self out of), but overall she’s an interesting storyteller who has some good advice to share with the world. I mostly enjoyed her writing, and some of the throw-away sentences are laugh-out-loud funny.

There are some stories in here that some people might consider ‘gossipy,’ but this is not an industry tell-all. This is someone who has led both an interesting and at times very relatable life telling her story. It’s definitely at least worth picking up from the library.