This was another book that I really wanted to like, but just didn't. The book spiraled out of the Instagram account Crazy Jewish Mom, which posts screenshots of real text conversations between a 20-something and her #CrazyJewishMom.
Turned into short stories, the concept didn't really land. The mom seems hilarious, but there are moments (the hyper-fixation on thinness) that are too much. The author tries to couch this by arguing that her mom wouldn't have to say such things if we didn't live in such a sexist world. That's a lukewarm argument if I ever heard one. And the writing simply isn't very good, unfortunately.
Oh boy. This is a memoir of a girl who was sexually abused by the same man for her entire childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood. It's hard to read. And it's complicated to think about why anyone would want to read a book like this. That's probably why it took me nearly three full weeks to slog through.
What's the benefit of reading horrifying, painfully detailed descriptions of molestation? And what does it mean when I find myself wishing the memoirist was a bit of a better writer? All in all, I did not enjoy reading this. It made me sad and uncomfortable. But it also gave me a lot to think about-- big questions to wrestle with. And I think that's ultimately a good thing.
I finally finished it! This book took me more than two weeks to slog through (I average a two day turnaround) which is seriously bizarre, because I really enjoyed it. Bill Bryson's writing is funny and captivating. I learned all kinds of cool stuff from reading this. I have no idea why I went through it at a snail's pace... I wonder if I'd have breezed through it if I were more familiar with or connected to Australia. At any rate, it was a fun and fascinating read.