If you’re reading my review, I’m going to assume you’ve read Katie C.’s review. I will admit here that I am the one who suggested this book for The Bookly Club, and I was SO NERVOUS to read it because I knew not everyone was so excited to do so. What if it was terrible or disgusting? Or what if it just made you really dislike Amy? That has happened to me before. I won’t say who, but there is a person I adore(d) whose book I read and it just made me not like them. I was petrified this would happen again and everyone would blame me for making them read an awful book about someone who turned out to be an awful person. I was thrilled when Katie C. like the book.
Because I liked the book, loved it even. When I would chuckle or straight up laugh while looking at my Kindle, my husband would say “Amy Schumer’s book?” And I would snort out a “yes,” and proceed to read him whatever line/paragraph/page made me giggle.
Saying that The Girl With the Lower Back Tattoo was funny is almost pointless. If you like Amy Schumer, you’ll think the book is funny. If you’re not a fan, you still might find it funny. If you really really don’t like her, you probably won’t read this book. Bottom line – I would venture to guess that if you have chosen to read the book, you will laugh at least once, hopefully more than once.
What I loved about the book was that she was vulnerable, honest, self aware and so incredibly relatable. I found myself highlighting all over the book. She would occasionally say something profound (see second pull quote in Katie C.’s post). She would occasionally make the most perfect metaphor/description (e.g., “[Women] are basically unpaid geishas”). And damn if this book wasn’t a feminist rally cry. Multiple times I thought, “Yes! Women! We are amazing!”
Making a new friend. When you’re over your twenties it’s hard, but once in awhile someone comes along that you really want to invest time in and it’s so special.
I could point to so many individual passages or chapters that I enjoyed, but I’ll stick to one. In “Athletes and Musicians,” Amy writes, “I’ve always assumed that men see me as just one of the guys, so when someone is interested in me as a girl I’m floored. This hang-up has gotten better over time, but it’s not completely gone.” I could have written that last sentence. I’m guessing so could all of you. Maybe you’re convinced your one of the guys. Maybe, like me, when you are in a group that is being reprimanded, you assume that you are the actual problem, even if you know there is literally no possible way that you were involved in this problem. But maybe they think it was you? My point is, everyone has their “thing” that they just can’t shake. And it was so refreshing to read something written by someone who is as self aware as Amy.
This was my first experience of the stripped-down, cold, unprotected space where vulnerability meets either confidence or shame. It was my choice, and I had to learn (I’m still learning) how to choose to be proud of who I am rather than ashamed.