I couldn't put this book down, but I'm not sure if that means I liked it. Memoirists are often accused of being whiny, and I often find that accusation unfair. In this case, however, the author comes off as so unashamedly self-absorbed that I kept reading in part to understand what her friends see in her. I get the sense that the book is composed of journal entries edited for clarity but not social acceptability. The entire book has the tone of "things most people know better than to say out loud." Though it seems that to some degree, the author's personality is generally unfiltered, I did think this was an especially ugly view of her. There is something honest, brave, and compelling about this. I have been thinking recently about the tyranny of "likeability" in books—does every person actually need to be so likeable? Why is it not okay to read and write about people who aren't? On the other hand, I suspect the author may have given herself short shrift. She enjoys multiple loyal, devoted, lifelong friendships with appealing people. I assume she must contribute to these relationships more than the book reveals or they would not be so healthy and robust. As I read, I wondered if this was a sort of flip side of honesty—where most people present their most likeable self, perhaps the author did the opposite?
I confess that I bought the book because I was interested in the title. However, as I read it, I wasn't sure how I felt about the title. I think it suggests that being "lesbian" is part of what made her pregnancy "miserable" and "lonely," whereas that doesn't seem to me to be the case. In general, the author talks in a very offputting way about various people and social groups. This is an excellent example of how being part of one or more marginalized groups does not render one immune from giving offense to others. In particular, I cringed at insults to butch lesbians, inner city kids, and an alarming amount of fat hatred. (The author goes on at length about her "hideous fat-girl underwear" while pregnant with no empathy or awareness of the underlying body image or social justice issues. I also found it very ironic when she revealed that the "huge" bra she had to wear was a 38C. I'm sure I have my own biases, but besides thinking that it would be great to be more thoughtful about body image and fat hatred etc. regardless of the actual sizes in question, I also wouldn't call 38C fat.)
I got caught up in the mystery of the picture presented, no matter how offputting the author seemed to be. For example, she starts a nonprofit for seemingly frivolous and selfish reasons, then devotes herself to it for five years, then leaves it abruptly. As a person very interested in how other people think, I was pretty fascinated, even if I never quite understood. Then there is the matter of the pregnancy. She goes forward with it despite being alone, then struggles through the entire pregnancy with being lonely. This strikes me as the sort of true and unfortunate thing that is endemic to human nature.
People have called the book funny. My interior voice doesn't work well with its type of humor, if there is humor. I could not help taking the author seriously and, as a result, cringing frequently.
So what is so compelling? The author writes in a lively, vivid tone. She is not boring. I often did not like her, but I always wanted to know what she would say next. I spent a lot of time asking myself what it would be like to live with the sort of freedom and entitlement that she seems to feel. I wondered how I would react to her if she was a man (could that "bitchy" tone seem different in a man's voice?).
Also, I have no children and am interested in people's descriptions and experiences of pregnancy. I appreciated that this one was unfiltered. Like many pregnancy narratives, there is an abrupt change once the baby is born. I am mystified by this. Suddenly, the author sounded like a different, better person. People say pregnancy does this to people, but I don't understand it. There was a bit more self-awareness at the end of the book, but not as much as I would hope.
I'm not sorry I read this book. I feel as if I got a voyeuristic view particularly because the author made so little effort to get me to like her. I often wonder if this sort of shamelessness is a requirement when writing a memoir. This book gave me plenty to think about. I wondered how I would come off if I could write as honestly, but I also wondered if this was negativity masquerading as honesty.