If you like: Humor essays, feminism, Samantha Irby, Tina Fey, Jezebel.
Reading Shrill is like sitting down with one of your best friends, pouring a glass of wine, and delving in to a long night of good conversation.
In her book of essays, there aren’t a lot of groundbreaking a-ha moments where West ties together multiple threads of storytelling, but I don’t think that’s the point of Shrill. Everything West talks about, from her abortion, to embarrassing herself, to the callout of misogyny in comedy, feels personal. No explanations or waxing poetic is needed. I relate, I understand, and laughing along with West’s impeccable sense of humor provides a catharsis.
There really is a lot of humor, even in the most serious subjects. Lindy West is a weirdo in all the right ways, and manages to flawlessly translate that across the page.
For example: “Every human being is a wet, gassy katamari of triumphs, traumas, scars, coping mechanisms, parental baggage, weird stuff you saw on the internet too young, pressure from your grandma to take over the bodega when what you really want to do is dance, and all the other fertilizer that makes a smear of DNA grow into a fully formed toxic avenger.”
If you haven’t had the pleasure of playing Katamari, I don’t know whether to congratulate you or send you to Google.
One of my favorite messages (of many, really, she says a lot of great stuff) West writes about is the power of taking control of your life, no matter the failure or embarrassment that may be waiting ahead. Simply trying is empowering, acknowledging your faults is empowering, and tipping over an entire picnic table and personal pizza in front of a crowd of journalists is empowering.
“This is the only advice I can offer. Each time something like this happens, take a breath and ask yourself, honestly: Am I dead? Did I die? Is the world different? Has my soul splintered into a thousand shards and scattered to the winds? I think you’ll find, in nearly every case, that you are fine. Life rolls on. No one cares. Very few things—apart from death and crime—have real, irreversible stakes, and when something with real stakes happens, humiliation is the least of your worries.”
West seems to have reached a superhero-level of confidence, but it comes with insecurities that she has to choose to fight every day. And that’s what being a woman is all about: Fighting negative body images that are placed on us, having to explain to male coworkers why rape jokes aren’t funny, facing the fact that “we have proof, in exit polls, that white women will pawn their humanity for the safety of white supremacy.”
It is exhausting and disheartening, but then Lindy West will pour you another glass of wine after the hardest conversations, and tell you a story about spending a year banging a guy who lived in a basement and only ever wanted to talk about Sasquatch.
"Shrill" by Lindy West; Hachette; May 2016.
I loved this book, and you're right! Lindy does seem to have superhero-level confidence. And she's so funny. And she has such a wise (if sometimes shocking) sense of perspective. And she fights all the right battles. And... and... and you do feel like she would be your friend. Heck, she seems like an actual, real-life superhero. She would totally be right at home in a Marvel movie.