My Fair Lazy Examines Reality Television, Fine Art, & Opera (and Tells Us Why Survivor Isn't All That Bad)

Jen Lancaster is one of my favorite authors, and also one of my favorite bloggers. Her humorous memoirs are based on her life, from her growing up days (Pretty in Plaid) to her fall from CEO to the gutter (Bitter is the New Black) to her issues with neighbors (Bright Lights, Big A**) to her struggle with weight loss (Such a Pretty Fat).

Her latest is My Fair Lazy: One Reality Television Addict's Attempt to Discover If Not Being A Dumb A** Is the New Black, or, a Culture-Up Manifesto, with a focus on her quest to raise her intellect level by watching less reality television and attending more cultural events. She sets off across the country (and in her hometown of Chicago) to eat ethnic foods, watch Broadway plays, examine fine art, and listen to classical music. Along the way she learns that being high-class isn't as bad as she thought -- but neither is watching an episode of Survivor every now and then. Turns out both "cultured" events and reality TV have a thing or two to teach us (like, um... don't cheat on your significant other on national television -- Temptation Island, I'm looking at you).

I really liked the book, but I don't think its Lancaster's best effort. I think she really came into her own with Pretty in Plaid and Such a Pretty Fat. I would recommend those two to anyone; My Fair Lazy is a good addition to her canon, and fans should definitely indulge in it. New readers might want to go back to the good stuff and then wait for Lancaster's upcoming novel to be released in May.

Also, a word of caution. I read this book in eBook format, and I wouldn't recommend doing that with Lancaster's books. Some of what makes them so incredibly funny is her footnotes. Each page has footnotes, and they are truly witty and clever. However, in eBook format, the footnotes are clickable rather than on the page. Each time you come to a footnote numeral, you click. Then wait. Then finally (several seconds), it takes you to a footnotes-only page. I often forgot which number I had clicked, then had to click back and forth to make sure the footnote I was reading coincided with the paragraph I was reading. And sometimes another once or twice to make sure I made the connection and got the joke. Not pleasant. (Not to mention I'm reading eBooks on an iPod touch, which means sometimes I clicked on the wrong number on the footnotes page and was sent somewhere else in the book when I tried to return to my reading.) I can't say I recommend reading her books in eBook format for this reason only. Julie at Book Hooked posted about this while I was reading My Fair Lazy and listed this exact annoyance in her review, also.

Overall, Lancaster is hilarious and I highly recommend her writing -- both in books and on her blog Jennsylvania. I can't wait to read her fiction debut in May; If You Were Here promises to be just as good as her previous nonfiction titles.

'Bitter Is The New Black' Prompts Me to Say: O Jen! My Jen!

Get it? In the spirit of "O Captain! My Captain!" from Walt Whitman -- but more importantly, the line from Dead Poets Society (which is from Walt Whitman)? After reading Jen Lancaster's first memoir (which has since been followed by three others and a soon-to-be-published fifth), I just have to say: Jen is my hero. Thus, the reference to "captains" which evokes (I hope) feelings of idolizing someone, which (in the case of Jen Lancaster) I do.

In her first memoir, Bitter is the New Black : Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass,Or, Why You Should Never Carry A Prada Bag to the Unemployment Office (no, seriously -- that's the title), Lancaster writes about her fall from grace. Grace being a several-thousand-per-month penthouse apartment in a swanky Chicago neighborhood, and the "fall" landing her and boyfriend Fletch in a $1600 per-month 2 bedroom in a lesser neighborhood which is truly more of a 'hood. And therein lies the loving her/ loathing her conundrum that is found in all of Lancaster's memoirs. She's hilarious (loving her). She is also, however, a "condescending, egomaniacal, self-centered smartass" (loathing her). And seriously -- can I feel sympathy for a person who lives in an apartment that cost (almost ten years ago) almost four times my own rent? Granted, I live in small town America, while Lancaster lives in big city Chicago. But really? I'm expected to believe $1600 = the 'hood, just because the neighbors speak languages other than English? Lancaster needed a second wake-up call -- a second fall, period.

And she gets it. Although I would NEVER (can I say that again? NEVER) say I was hurting for money while having a lavish Vegas wedding at the Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino (I've never even been to Vegas! Well, okay. I was in their airport once for an hour or two.), Jen gets a bigger reality check when she and Fletch are almost evicted. And she has to sell all her former fashion "prizes" on eBay to keep them in food and electricity. Somewhere along the way, she realizes that her $800 handbags and $600 pairs of shoes were a wee bit much. In other words, things that no one would ever need. She comes to hate the Prada bag she once loved because it represents all that went wrong for them. As she and Feltch scramble to find jobs first at big firms, then at Starbucks and Pottery Barn to no avail, you begin to feel a little bit of sympathy for her. That, and she's really, really funny. And abundantly able to make fun of herself.

Why, you might ask, is Jen Lancaster my hero? She's funny. I get it. She learned an important lesson (maybe). I get that, too. But hero? Well, at the end of the book, Lancaster makes an important decision. She decides to embark on chasing her dreams -- real dreams, based on what she enjoys, not on a quarter of-a-million-dollar salary at a marketing firm. And she succeeds (as evidenced by her now-five published books). That (and the sense of humor) makes her idol-worthy in my opinion.

Pick up a copy of Bitter is the New Black and prepare to have your socks knocked off because you're rolling around on the chair/floor/couch/bed laughing so hard.

For your enjoyment, a video interview with Jen:


(**Note: Remember when I liked but didn't love Jen's second memoir Bright Lights, Big Ass? And I said that she had obviously grown as a writer, making her last two books a bit better than that one? Yeah, forget that. It must have been an off week when I read memoir #2, because this first one rocks just as much as the last two did.)

To Kindle or Not to Kindle... That Is the Question

One of my favorite funny memoirists is Jen Lancaster. Her upcoming book My Fair Lazy: One Reality Television Addict's Attempt to Discover If Not Being a Dumb A** Is the New Black; Or, A Culture-Up Manifesto will be in bookstores (and on Amazon.com & on their Kindle) on May 4, 2010. Until then, you can read her recent article written for NPR about the Kindle and why it is good. And also, why it won't replace the old bound-paper version -- at least not yet.

As someone who hasn't gotten her hands on a Kindle quite yet, I found Lancaster's reasoning fair; however, I still have to say that I'm not so sure I would ever like it. After all, I stare at a computer screen for only so long as I can stand whilst checking my email, Facebook, & browsing a bit. It doesn't take long for me to want to rest my eyes on something less straining -- like actual pages of a hard-copy book. Still, Lancaster's finished-my-book-while-on-the-beach-and-needed-a-new-one argument is compelling...

Just Another Jennsylvania Memoir

I have this little OCD issue -- when I do something, I do it all the way. I mean ALL the way. Therefore, if I start reading an author & I find that I like that author immensely, I will read all of his or her books (see multiple previous posts about Michael Connelly). Even if it kills me to find those books in used book stores, Targets, and Barnes & Nobles across the land -- or Amazon.com.

Why am I rambling on about OCD & reading all of the books written by an author & searching for difficult-to-find titles? Well, I finished Jen Lancaster's second book this week (after stumbling upon it in Target's excellent book department). It has a doozie of a title -- Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly, Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why it Often Sucks in the City, or Who are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me? You really can't find better titles & subtitles than on Lancaster's memoirs. Actually, I'm not sure longer titles exist anywhere in the history of book titles.

In reading my way backwards through Lancaster's works I have learned something: she became a better writer over time. Her last two books were hilarious and genius and entertaining. This second book was funny and insightful and relate-able. But I'm not sure it was quite as good as those that follow. It chronicles Lancaster's life as she finishes her first novel and readies it for publishing. While that is a theme throughout the book, the memoir lacks direction and often reads as a series of essays rather than one continuous story. Complaints though they may be, I still enjoyed the book enough to complete it and even recommend it.

Lancaster still has some of the funniest email inclusions, one-liners, and comedic situations that I've ever read. One particular favorite was the story of her (only) friendly neighbor who has a friend come stay with her to detox. Said neighbor has to leave on an extended business trip, leaving the A&D-treatment-needing houseguest to terrorize the neighborhood with her loan inquiries and drunken (and once naked) escapades. Lancaster is also the master of making you laugh out loud with ordinary moments. Here's an outtake from the book:

"Hold on, let me check with my wife -- Jen, how about a noon appointment with the apartment brokers on Sunday?"
We haven't found anything yet, the rain's coming down harder in the kitchen, Tracy [neighbor's addict houseguest] has yet to be carted off to proper rehab, and I'm starting to feel desperate. "Sounds good."
Five minutes pass as we both quietly work on our laptops. The icon blinks telling me I have mail, so I log on. "Hey, Fletch, I got an email from you."
"Uh-huh, I know."
I open the email and scan it's contents. "Whoa, is this a meeting request to look at apartments on Sunday?"
"Yes."
"Are you trying to be funny?"
"No. I used the Yahoo Scheduler. Now you can add this to your Yahoo Calendar so you can manage your personal affairs."
"But I don't have a Yahoo Calendar an I was sitting ten feet away from you when you made the call. And as eager as I am to move out of Melrose freakin' Place, chances are good I won't forget this appointment."
"Au contraire. You do have a Yahoo Calendar. I set it up for you."
I'm getting agitated. "You're missing the point -- I don't need a Yahoo Calendar to manage my personal affairs, nor do I want to receive meeting requests from you."
He is resolute. "It's very handy."
"That may be, but when you email your wife to schedule an appointment, you set an ugly precedent. What's next, sending me a request to clean the bathroom on the third floor?"
"Now that you mention it..."
"Sweetie, I love you, but I promise that I will smother you in your sleep if you ever assign me a chore via email."
Five more minutes go by while we both quietly work on our computers, and then Fletch asks me, "So, are you going to respond to that request?"
"Fletch? This? Right here? Is exactly why you used to get beat up in junior high school." (p. 272-273)

Lancaster has a blog which you can follow if you're interested in her life & public appearances. She also has a new book coming out sometime soon (I hope!). And yes, although I have found that quality somewhat diminishes as you go back in time with an author, I will be searching for a copy of Lancaster's first book so that my reading will be complete (and so that my OCD will be appeased).

"Pretty" Memoirs

I finished Jennifer Lancaster's Such a Pretty Fat in the wee hours of morning today. Let me just say "aahhhhh". It was so refreshing and so well-written and just darn good! It is the opposite of what I go looking for on a library or bookstore shelf (my go-to musts are southern/ female author/ modern fiction), but I am so glad I have discovered her.

I read her newest book Pretty in Plaid a week or so ago because it was on the "new book" shelf at my local library; well, that and it was so cute with it's pink and green argyle tights on the cover. It was hilarious and fantastically written. I placed a hold on Such a Pretty Fat the day I turned Pretty in Plaid back in.

Such a Pretty Fat was so captivating I found myself sneaking glances at red lights and straight stretches of long roads... Don't call the highway patrol, please. I pay attention to the roadway, and I'm an excellent driver. I just need some entertainment every now and again during those boring parts of driving. Lancaster's escapades definitely offer her readers entertainment. From tales of her personal trainer Barbie (yes, that is her name... and don't think Barbie dolls & ball gowns... think Jillian from The Biggest Loser) to tales of the mole on her Jenny Craig counselor's chin, Lancaster hits the nail on the head each time. I laughed uproariously (even when other people in the room looked at me strangely), but she isn't outrageous. She's the girl-next-door, your best friend from the office, saying all the things you wish you could say.

As she writes in her footnotes (a personal-writing-style plus, in my opinion, because they often deliver the funniest lines in the book), all these books and more "are available now at your local booksellers. Purchase your copy today!" Now having read Pretty in Plaid and Such a Pretty Fat, I'll have to purchase the other two: Bitter is the New Black and Bright Lights, Big Ass.

If you finish all the books and you're left feeling utterly Jen-less, you can always visit her blog Jennsylvania for continuous updates and humorous stories.

Just to brighten your day, here's a look at Jen herself talking about the book (and you get a glimpse of the real-world trainer Barbie!):

Julie Powell Would Never Say Julia Child Was Adorable

I picked up a bargain-priced paperback version of Julie Powell's Julie & Julia during a midnight Wal-Mart run a few weeks ago. I wasn't sure if I would like it. After all, I'm not much of a blog reader, other than for a few friends and family.

Well, I should say I WASN'T much of a blog reader. That is, until I found a couple of good blogs via www.blogger.com's "Next Blog" feature. I began "following" them, for something interesting to read. Then I bought Julie & Julia. I didn't begin reading it until just a few days ago. In between the buying date & the beginning-the-book date, I browsed the web for Julie Powell's actual blog. I found her (now-defunct) original Julie/Julia Project blog. I wasn't really that impressed. Now, because I had neither read the book or watched the movie, I must admit I didn't have a vested interest in reading the blog. I was just browsing/ scanning.

Then I read a story on CNN.com about bloggers who were formerly anonymous and who were fired after they "came out," among them Heather B. Armstrong. So, of course, I googled Heather and found her blog Dooce. And started following it. And read about three months' worth of back blogs. Then I continued my blog-craziness by reading Jennifer Lancaster's blog Jennsylvania because I read her (very fabulous and funny) memoir Pretty in Plaid recently. So in short, I became very interested in not only writing a blog, but also in reading them. They're pretty good. You should try them out (especially the ones mentioned above!).

Anyway, after/during all of this blog madness (which I must admit, partially came because for a week or two I could just not find a book I wanted to read -- which KILLED me), I finally pulled the Julie & Julia paperback off the shelf and started reading. And loved it.

Julie Powell is intensely funny, extremely profane, and -- most importantly -- a "real" character. I suppose this might be because she is a real person... But in saying she's "real," I mean more than that she is simply alive. She's flawed, and she loves her husband but is annoyed by him, and she loves her mother but is annoyed by her, and she has wonderful (crazy) friends who she loves but doesn't always treat properly. She's stuck in a dead-end secretarial job and she feels sometimes that even though she has a good husband and an income and an apartment in New York, she might never want to get out of bed (or stop drinking gimlets). THAT is why I like Julie Powell. And it's also why I have been devouring her book, much as she devoured every meal Julia Child lays out in Mastering the Art of French Cooking during her year of cooking and blogging.

As soon as I'm done, I'll read the backlog of blogs on Julie's current blog What Could Happen?