I went through a phase of crushing on, and eventually dating musicians, and it sucked and I see what a cartoon I was and I’m embarrassed. But I won’t say that all musicians are jerks, or that I don’t know a lot of them that I think are great humans. I’m saying I don’t like to make grand, sweeping statements about a type of person, i.e. “All actors are megalomaniacs” or “Comedians can’t empathize” or “Lion tamers are surprisingly bad in bed,” because then, later, you look like an idiot if you end up marrying one of those types and have to eat your words. Julie Klausner’s new book seems, from the title, cover and description (…brimming with truisms to which any woman who’s been on a date will relate) like the kind of exception to my iron-clad sense of propriety that’s done with enough edge and humor and delicious observation that it’s worth the brief moral interlude. I mean, yeah, it’s bad to stereotype musicians as being egomaniacs that replace intellect with enigmatic brooding or with nothing at all, but if it’s just this ONE TIME, by the person who helped bring us Christmas Time for the Jews, then bring on the dish! But then you read it, and it’s somehow all of those things, cutting and brilliant and almost scarily funny, especially if you are one of the poor sacks that feature in her story. It’s all that and NSFWBS (Not Safe For Work Book Shelf), but, and here’s the surprising twist I’ve been clunkily leading up to, it’s not a bunch of sweeping generalizations! What The Christ?! Klausner dishes, but she’s telling you like she sees it, and there is an unwavering self-awareness and maturity that is shocking from someone so young, who furthermore has been on so many deeply shitty dates.
I want this book to be optioned, and not only because I want to play the lead role. But also because I want there to be a clutch cinematic montage of each time she cleans her apartment after a sleazy weirdo tries to camp out, or goes to the dermatologist, and the lead actress is a redhead and it’s me. You know?
Also, I would like to say that I finished this book the day it came out. That’s because I got an advanced copy from a friend, and if I didn’t tell you that you would think I was some sort of speed reader, or, alternately you know me and are reading this and would think it was 15 pages long. But the point is I haven’t been in the habit of finishing books or starting them, because I have been so darn busy, guys! But this one cannot be put down, and the ending is poignant, and satisfying. Be all “I am my OWN Valentine!” and pick up a copy from your local bookstore, which I can’t link to because I’m pretending not to know where you all live.
