Tag Archives: memoir

Burn It

Book Review of Burn It, by Jennifer Cie

Burn itI’ve had Burn It on my TBR for three years. I received it as a review request from the author, Jennifer Cie, but it never appealed to me. So, it languished. I randomly came across it on my kindle, this afternoon, and decided to give it a read.

Description from Goodreads:
With the rest of her life ahead of her, Jennifer Cie is taking a step back. As she reflects on what was once next, Jennifer dives into the past, finding mortality in no longer remembering how magical the world felt as a child, apologizing for the moment she realized she could not be her Prince Charming’s Cinderella, and lamenting the idea that in death people forget “there doesn’t have to be a dead body in the room”. A collection of “what I wish someone would’ve told me” narratives exploring youth, love, and death, the reader is taken on a riveting ride through Jennifer Cie’s past as she accepts the present.

Review:
Arg, reviewing memoirs of living people is hard. Reviewing living peoples’ memoirs that deal with their hurts and traumas is even harder. Because, in a very real sense, there is no way to separate the writing from the events. Oh sure, the author doesn’t have a firm grasp of formatting or needs to invest in far better editing is possible, but the writing of the story is irrevocably linked to the unchangeable events of their lives and criticizing one is critiquing the other. So, rather than try, I’m going to set down here a series of impressions I had while reading the book.

  1. Near the end of chapter one: This is the angst filled war cry of the Millennials—the 20-somethings fucked over by the baby boomers, fed a steady diet of ‘you can be anything you want to be,’ along side ‘you’re obviously too lazy to be successful, as you’ve not succeeded in this zero growth, zero opportunity, zero prosperity market that we’ve endowed you with.’ And it’s good. It’s emotive and moving, unfortunately it’s also pointless. It’s stream of consciousness, vignette rambling that never accomplishes anything, that never manages, despite it’s obvious intelligence and poetry, to cumulate into anything meaningful. And while I gather that’s sort of the point; it’s the perfect allegory for the position young adults find themselves in—the stranded, abandoned, farce of accountability—it’s frustrating to read. You start with such high expectations, are led along a pleasant, padded journey, to arrive nowhere.
  2. Early in chapter two: Oh, now we’ve hit the clichéd angst filled, ‘OMG love is so all-encompassingly horrible-wonderful.’ We all remember our early twenties being full of this same chaos of emotions.
  3. Tears. Not only for the things the author goes through, but for all the girls on college campuses everywhere going through the same thing. A huge emotional impact. I hope it was cathartic to write it and release it into the world.
  4. That’s a great wedding speech.
  5. Oh shit. Like one life shattering trauma wasn’t enough. Someone hug this girl…well, maybe she’s not the huggy time. But someone do what needs doing to comfort her. I demand it. Shelfish yes, but I demand it.
  6. This would be great for people in their early twenties to read. I’m almost forty and I can remember relating to some of it. But I’m too far removed for anything but the tragedies to truly move me. The rest, while relevant and real, feels over blown and dramatic. We all had to suffer through those same uncertainties, that lack of solid identity, that confusion and self doubt. That’s what growing up means. It’s not special or specific to anyone. But to those still mired in it, seeing another experiencing it could be really important. Or, might be their ‘this is what happens next’ moment.
  7. I really wish it wasn’t quite so poetry-journal in its format (including all the typos, missing words and homophones you would expect in a diary one keeps for themselves). It’s confusing and lacks any significant sense of purpose. The prose is great, but I need more structure.
  8. If I had a paper copy I just might burn it, as requested.

So, maybe not really a review, but there you have it. These are the main thoughts that jumped out at me while reading Burn it. Pass it out to female college Freshman.

Book Review of The Sexual Education of a Beauty Queen, by Taylor Marsh

The Sexual Education of a Beauty QueenI won a copy of Taylor Marsh‘s The Sexual Education of Beauty Queen through Goodreads.

Description from Goodreads:
“The Sexual Education of a Beauty Queen” is at once memoir, commentary, enlightenment, and a little dose of self-help. Taylor Marsh was Miss Missouri and performed on Broadway, hosted a radio show, and starred in a one-woman show. She was also a relationship consultant for the nation’s largest newsweekly, edited the web’s first megasuccessful women-owned and -operated soft-core pornography site, worked as a phone-sex actress, and studied sexuality and relationships for years. She’s been single, a girlfriend, a mistress, and a wife. She has the inside track to what men want, what women need, and how we all tend to muck it up. As a political commentator and popular writer, Taylor is intelligent and inspiring. She blends personal experience, pop culture, and the politics of sex in an entertaining, engaging, and inspiring read.

Review:
This was not a big winner for me, for several reasons. This despite the fact that I actually agreed with a lot of her final conclusions, appreciated her take on feminism and thought some of what she had to say, especially about the church, was very brave. The problem for me was that I think she should have stuck with an academic argument and left out the autobiography. Because often the biographical sections just came across as braggy and cluttered up the message she was trying to convey. But let me break down a few of my more specific complaints.

Marsh tried to simultaneously hold onto her “I’m so innocent,” Midwestern beauty queen person and tell the reader about all the sexually liberated, kinky things she was doing. And it just didn’t work. They really are kind of mutually exclusive.

Further, despite presenting herself as ultra liberal and accepting—she talked to prostitutes like people, after all—the book is full of micro-aggressions against the same people and demographics she’s claiming to liberate. For example, stating that managing circus talent was the perfect previous experience for corralling the misfit strippers, models and XXX-raters who worked at a porn startup and denigrating the men who called the phone sex line for some of the more deviant fantasies. She seems to want to simultaneously be believed to be open and accepting of all fantasy, while also making it clear she maintains the moral and societal high ground. Again, it just doesn’t work.

Also, several events in the book feel very re-remembered. For example, she claims to have started working in a sex phone bank explicitly for the opportunity to talk to men about why they call for phone sex. I seriously doubt she was being that introspective at the time. Some of these re-remembrances go all the way back to childhood. This goes along with how grandiose she seems to feel her contributions to feminism have been, though the scale doesn’t seem to have been borne out in reality.

I get that this is an autobiography of sorts, but it’s also presented as a bit of a self-help, behind the curtain look at various aspects of the sex industry. But very little of that materializes. The author says over and over again, “I was…” or “I did” or some variation there of. She was the first editor of a soft porn internet site. She was the first person to introduce an alternative personals page to a syndicated newspaper. She interviewed dominatrixes and prostitutes. She worked for a sex phone bank. But she says very very little about these things other than that she did them and even less that I would consider particularly enlightening on the subject. The whole thing just comes across as a self-centered brag book. We learn about her boyfriends and her relationships and she dropped several references to her own previous publications, but I finished disappointed. I mean a whole chapter in the beginning is dedicated to what she watched on television growing up. And while some of the feminist critique of early Hollywood was interesting, I just didn’t care.

Worst of all, after telling the reader how bad rules on how to get a man are, even taking a website to task for swearing they wouldn’t and then doing it, she ended the book on a list of rules for how to get your man. She didn’t call it that, but that’s what it was. Sure, it starts with know what you want, which is great and more female centric than a lot of lists, but it’s still a ‘what to do’ list!

Put simply, a whole lot of this is about Taylor Marsh, not sexual education or sexuality or sex. And while that might work for some, it wasn’t enough to keep me interested. I mean, where are all those “Relationship Secrets from the Trenches” we’re promised. We never take our gaze off the narrator long enough to even realize we’re in a trench, let alone learn anything from it.

Addendum: It’s not really relevant in the content review of the book, but for those looking to read the paperback, it’s worth noting that the font can’t be any bigger that 10pt (it’s notably  smaller than standard) and it’s single spaced. I found it hard to read and I don’t yet have age related eye constraints.


What I’m reading: Coffee with cream