I was unfamiliar with The Bloggess before this book started popping up in all the summer "Must Read" lists, but the buzz surrounding this one was enough to convince me to give Jenny Lawson a shot. In the end, I'm kind of underwhelmed. She started out strong; her childhood stories were flat-out hysterical. Reading about her father waking Jenny up with a puppet fashioned out of a dead squirrel had me laughing so hard I couldn't barely breathe. It's not necessarily new territory - the wacky parents are a staple of the humor memoir - but Lawson related the antics with a wry tone that killed me.
And then she grew up, and the stories became less funny than "Look at how weird I am, you guys. Ohmigosh, I'm so weird
." Maybe I'm being a little cynical but once the perspective shifted to her life as a wife, mother, HR specialist and socially awkward blogger, I got bored. I didn't feel like there was anything particularly unique about Lawson's story and the tales of her arguments with her husband and her inability to moderate her anxiety as she met with other bloggers for a spa weekend weren't amusing. It struck me as someone trying too hard to be funny and quirky without any idea of the point she was trying to make.