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The New Me
In a windowless office, women stand in a circle. One explains something from her real, nonwork life - about the frustration and indignity of returning an item she bought online. One wears a topknot. Another checks her pedometer.
Watching them all is Millie. Thirty years old and an eternal temp, she says almost nothing, almost all of the time.
But then the possibility of a permanent job arises. Will it bring the new life Millie is envisioning - one involving a gym membership, a book club, and a lot less beer and TV - finally within reach? Or will it reveal just how hollow that vision has become?
193 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 5, 2019
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60702 people want to read
About the author
Halle Butler
7 books1,463 followershere you can find a pretty lazy selection of a few books i've read. still haven't gotten around to the pillowman.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 4,020 reviews
March 10, 2019
Yeah, having to work sucks. Bosses suck. Having to pay the rent sucks. And reading nothing else for 200 pages is just, well, boring.
1.5*
1.5*
January 9, 2021
(4.5) When I first heard about The New Me – the plot (the life and times of a misanthropic young woman who ‘oscillates wildly between self-recrimination and mild delusion’), the blurb from Catherine Lacey proclaiming it ‘a dark comedy of female rage’ – I instantly thought ‘this sounds like an Ottessa Moshfegh novel’. And I wasn’t wrong: after all, the protagonist says things like I get into bed... longing for someone to talk to, or longing for no one to ever look at me or talk to me ever again. Either one. I don’t care. Like the narrator of My Year of Rest and Relaxation, she’s miserable and inert and hates her best/only friend, and like
Eileen
’s titular antiheroine, she has poor personal hygiene and an overactive imagination. Away from the Moshfegh-verse, her series of thankless temp jobs also put me in mind of an American Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere.
Millennial burnout has been on everyone’s lips lately, and I couldn’t help but think about the concept while reading The New Me. 30-year-old Millie (even her name sounds millennial) epitomises the stereotypes about this generation, both negative and positive. She’s unable to get out of a pattern of unfulfilling, barely skilled temp roles despite a middle-class background and good education. She’s only able to afford her apartment with her parents’ help. She’s depressed, finds it difficult to perform basic acts of self-care like cooking and cleaning, and repeatedly returns to self-destructive behaviours. She’s psychologically astute and understands a lot about where she’s going wrong... but that doesn’t necessarily help her very much.
It sometimes feels like these moments of lucidity are the author’s commentary on the narrator’s self-indulgence. Additional interjections come from other characters – Millie’s colleagues and neighbours – who’re occasionally dropped into the narrative so we can get an understanding of them without Millie’s horribly distorted filter. This is an unusual and welcome approach for this type of narrative, typically so tightly focused on one person’s inner voice. Around the halfway point, the other points of view also become crucial to the plot: they make it clear to the reader that what Millie thinks is a life-altering breakthrough is actually a misunderstanding. After that, we read with a mixture of dread, pity and schadenfreude as Millie hurtles blithely towards a reckoning of sorts.
Butler’s skill is obviously most evident in how she writes Millie, a character who ranges from sympathetic to infuriating to hateful and right back to sympathetic again. Yet her minor characters – portraits that capture worlds in miniature – are just as good. Each person is likeable in some ways, awful in others, a bit cringe-inducing, caught up in their own personal dramas: in other words, they’re human.
One sequence that particularly sticks in my mind begins when Millie resentfully listens to her colleague Elodie discuss the trials of finding a good dog walker: I feel very far from this woman and her problems. I feel it as a kind of unfairness. In Millie’s fantasy, Elodie is so paralysed by indecision that she ultimately gives the dog away. When we switch to Elodie’s perspective, we are party to her own fantasy of introducing the dog-walker question to her friends with a hilarious joke: in her mind her friends all buckled over with laughter, saying things like “Fuck you” or “Oh my god, shut up” because that was really just her kind of sense of humor. In the event, they don’t laugh, and the conversation moves on before she can ask her planned questions. Moments like this are so painfully true. We don’t return to Elodie – but this single scene is so acute that we don’t need to.
It’s mildly irritating that Millie has the get-out clause of well-off parents who send her money all the time. (And that her parents are also largely non-judgemental, supportive, and don't appear to be in any way dysfunctional themselves.) Similarly convenient sources of cash pop up in Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation and Juliet Lapidos’ recently published Talent; what would a novel of the burned-out-over-educated-fucked-up-millennial-woman look like if it was about someone without family money to fall back on? But I AM indescribably glad and grateful that The New Me doesn’t focus on romantic relationships or sex or Millie’s attractiveness to men. At all. What a breath of fresh air. More of this please.
And I fucking loved the ending.
Bottom line: if you’re bored to death of books about young women with messy lives trying to figure themselves out, The New Me will probably not be your jam. If you do like this sort of thing, it’s essential: terrifyingly precise, darkly humorous and masterfully written.
I received an advance review copy of The New Me from the publisher through Edelweiss.
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I wake up ill. I feel trapped in a loop. I stare at the big pile of clothing on the floor. I eat some dry cereal. I wash my armpits. I go to work. I think things on the train. I ride the elevator. I walk to Karen’s desk. I am either calm or hollow, hard to say.
Millennial burnout has been on everyone’s lips lately, and I couldn’t help but think about the concept while reading The New Me. 30-year-old Millie (even her name sounds millennial) epitomises the stereotypes about this generation, both negative and positive. She’s unable to get out of a pattern of unfulfilling, barely skilled temp roles despite a middle-class background and good education. She’s only able to afford her apartment with her parents’ help. She’s depressed, finds it difficult to perform basic acts of self-care like cooking and cleaning, and repeatedly returns to self-destructive behaviours. She’s psychologically astute and understands a lot about where she’s going wrong... but that doesn’t necessarily help her very much.
No one is talking to me or looking at me, as usual. I say almost nothing, almost all the time. Obviously, I recognize, in a grander sense, that I have a tendency to alienate myself and blow things out of proportion, and that these women are basically guiltless from a certain perspective. I fully recognize the concept of perspective.
It sometimes feels like these moments of lucidity are the author’s commentary on the narrator’s self-indulgence. Additional interjections come from other characters – Millie’s colleagues and neighbours – who’re occasionally dropped into the narrative so we can get an understanding of them without Millie’s horribly distorted filter. This is an unusual and welcome approach for this type of narrative, typically so tightly focused on one person’s inner voice. Around the halfway point, the other points of view also become crucial to the plot: they make it clear to the reader that what Millie thinks is a life-altering breakthrough is actually a misunderstanding. After that, we read with a mixture of dread, pity and schadenfreude as Millie hurtles blithely towards a reckoning of sorts.
Butler’s skill is obviously most evident in how she writes Millie, a character who ranges from sympathetic to infuriating to hateful and right back to sympathetic again. Yet her minor characters – portraits that capture worlds in miniature – are just as good. Each person is likeable in some ways, awful in others, a bit cringe-inducing, caught up in their own personal dramas: in other words, they’re human.
One sequence that particularly sticks in my mind begins when Millie resentfully listens to her colleague Elodie discuss the trials of finding a good dog walker: I feel very far from this woman and her problems. I feel it as a kind of unfairness. In Millie’s fantasy, Elodie is so paralysed by indecision that she ultimately gives the dog away. When we switch to Elodie’s perspective, we are party to her own fantasy of introducing the dog-walker question to her friends with a hilarious joke: in her mind her friends all buckled over with laughter, saying things like “Fuck you” or “Oh my god, shut up” because that was really just her kind of sense of humor. In the event, they don’t laugh, and the conversation moves on before she can ask her planned questions. Moments like this are so painfully true. We don’t return to Elodie – but this single scene is so acute that we don’t need to.
I get socked in the chest, thinking about how things never change. How they’re on a slow-rolling slope downward, and you can think up a long list of things you’d rather do, but because of some kind of inertia, or hard facts about who you are and what life is, you always end up back where you started, sitting drunk on a hard, sticky chair with someone you hate.
It’s mildly irritating that Millie has the get-out clause of well-off parents who send her money all the time. (And that her parents are also largely non-judgemental, supportive, and don't appear to be in any way dysfunctional themselves.) Similarly convenient sources of cash pop up in Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation and Juliet Lapidos’ recently published Talent; what would a novel of the burned-out-over-educated-fucked-up-millennial-woman look like if it was about someone without family money to fall back on? But I AM indescribably glad and grateful that The New Me doesn’t focus on romantic relationships or sex or Millie’s attractiveness to men. At all. What a breath of fresh air. More of this please.
And I fucking loved the ending.
Bottom line: if you’re bored to death of books about young women with messy lives trying to figure themselves out, The New Me will probably not be your jam. If you do like this sort of thing, it’s essential: terrifyingly precise, darkly humorous and masterfully written.
I received an advance review copy of The New Me from the publisher through Edelweiss.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
June 12, 2022
“Should I read a book, I should make some friends, I should write some emails, I should go to the movies, I should get some exercise, I should unclench my muscles, I should get a hobby, I should buy a plant, I should call my exes, all of them, and ask them for advice, I should figure out why no one wants to be around me, I should start going to the same bar every night, become a regular, I should volunteer again, I should get a cat or a plant or some nice lotion or some Whitestrips, start using a laundry service, start taking myself both more and less seriously”
Misanthropic and morose, thirty year old Millie spends her days killing time at a temp job until she can return home to her empty apartment, where she oscillates wildly between self-recrimination and mild delusion, fixating on all the little ways she might change her life. Then she watches true crime on her laptop until she drops off to sleep, and the cycle begins again. (Basically my early 20s in a nutshell) lol
Millie is unlikeable but deeply relatable. She's a bitter, apathetic mess dripping with sarcasm and her inner monologue voices thoughts that we have all most likely had. What am I doing? How do other people seem to be so happy? Should I be further along at this age? Who decided what further along means? What is even the point sometimes? Though this is mostly a hilarious satire, the author really taps into the darker side of life for 20 and 30 somethings and it hits uncomfortably close to the bone.
This book is very witty in its writing style. It wasn't a comedy, or belly laughing material, but it was casually written and made me smirk. There's something refreshing and anxiety inducing about reading messy, disillusioned, isolated women.
If you've ever questioned your place in society and wondered how to separate self worth from a career or the expectations of society then there'll be something in here for you. The New Me is short and immensely readable, with my beloved flowery, witty writing and a phenomenal voice. Halle Butler writes addictive repulsive realism so well.
Highly recommended if you want a gut-punch of self awareness wrapped in a delightful package.
"You can't ask someone to help you without letting them know you're different than advertised, that you've been thinking and feeling strange things this whole time. That you're uglier, weaker, more annoying, more basic, less interesting than promised. Without letting on that your feelings are easily hurt, and that you are boring, just like everyone else. Once you expose yourself as insecure, it's easy to feel resentment if you're not immediately put back at ease. If there's even a flicker, a tiny recognition of your bad qualities, the resentment kicks in, the deal is broken, and suddenly you're both angry strangers, spending hours alone in a room together and completely unsure of why.”
Misanthropic and morose, thirty year old Millie spends her days killing time at a temp job until she can return home to her empty apartment, where she oscillates wildly between self-recrimination and mild delusion, fixating on all the little ways she might change her life. Then she watches true crime on her laptop until she drops off to sleep, and the cycle begins again. (Basically my early 20s in a nutshell) lol
Millie is unlikeable but deeply relatable. She's a bitter, apathetic mess dripping with sarcasm and her inner monologue voices thoughts that we have all most likely had. What am I doing? How do other people seem to be so happy? Should I be further along at this age? Who decided what further along means? What is even the point sometimes? Though this is mostly a hilarious satire, the author really taps into the darker side of life for 20 and 30 somethings and it hits uncomfortably close to the bone.
This book is very witty in its writing style. It wasn't a comedy, or belly laughing material, but it was casually written and made me smirk. There's something refreshing and anxiety inducing about reading messy, disillusioned, isolated women.
If you've ever questioned your place in society and wondered how to separate self worth from a career or the expectations of society then there'll be something in here for you. The New Me is short and immensely readable, with my beloved flowery, witty writing and a phenomenal voice. Halle Butler writes addictive repulsive realism so well.
Highly recommended if you want a gut-punch of self awareness wrapped in a delightful package.
"You can't ask someone to help you without letting them know you're different than advertised, that you've been thinking and feeling strange things this whole time. That you're uglier, weaker, more annoying, more basic, less interesting than promised. Without letting on that your feelings are easily hurt, and that you are boring, just like everyone else. Once you expose yourself as insecure, it's easy to feel resentment if you're not immediately put back at ease. If there's even a flicker, a tiny recognition of your bad qualities, the resentment kicks in, the deal is broken, and suddenly you're both angry strangers, spending hours alone in a room together and completely unsure of why.”
Want to read
October 28, 2023short literary satire about the impossibility of achieving meaningful life under capitalism...gimme!!
July 12, 2019
Office temping jobs are unfulfilling, beyond boring and deeply depressing – who knew?! Working in a call centre is worse! Whaaa….?! It’s almost like Halle Butler’s stating the bleeding obvious while having an extended moan about her own crappy life and trying to pass it all off as a literary novel! But that would mean she’s a hack and The New Me isn’t worth reading? Now who’s stating the bleeding obvious!
It’s beyond me how books like this get published to begin with. Butler’s first effort is amateurish, uninsightful and unoriginal garbage through and through. Millie (geddit – cos she’s a stand in for millennials!), like all the characters, is unpleasant and pathetic. She ping-pongs around from hating her job to desperately wanting a full time position to hating everything and everyone.
Yeah, the job market stinks and millennials probably have it tougher than the previous couple of generations, broadly speaking, in getting secure jobs, buying a house, etc. But this extended bellyache doesn’t shed any light on how or why this is, frame it imaginatively or offer up any possible solutions as to how to overcome/help cope with this. Highlighting Millie’s empty life is probably the point – assuming it has one - but what a tedious reading experience it makes!
Butler attempts a feeble plot where Karen, a jealous and rather sad secretary in the showroom, stitches Millie up, but that ends as weakly as it started and then it’s back to more moaning. There’s a pointless chapter about Millie’s downstairs neighbours complaining about the smells coming from her apartment. Why…? Oh right: padding!
If the ending is meant to make Millie a kind of cautionary thing, first, don’t literally SAY that’s what Millie is, and second, it fails anyway as it’s unclear what Butler is trying to say people should do differently. Go to grad school? Yeah, because that’s within most people’s income levels! Get married? Don’t be crazy? It’s a terrible ending to an equally terrible narrative.
Unskilled jobs can suck, not knowing what you want to do in life sucks – fine, but reading this mirthless drear over and over does not make for a good book. I’m sure there’s a decent novel to be written about millennials and the modern workplace by a talented writer but Halle Butler’s The New Me isn’t that.
It’s beyond me how books like this get published to begin with. Butler’s first effort is amateurish, uninsightful and unoriginal garbage through and through. Millie (geddit – cos she’s a stand in for millennials!), like all the characters, is unpleasant and pathetic. She ping-pongs around from hating her job to desperately wanting a full time position to hating everything and everyone.
Yeah, the job market stinks and millennials probably have it tougher than the previous couple of generations, broadly speaking, in getting secure jobs, buying a house, etc. But this extended bellyache doesn’t shed any light on how or why this is, frame it imaginatively or offer up any possible solutions as to how to overcome/help cope with this. Highlighting Millie’s empty life is probably the point – assuming it has one - but what a tedious reading experience it makes!
Butler attempts a feeble plot where Karen, a jealous and rather sad secretary in the showroom, stitches Millie up, but that ends as weakly as it started and then it’s back to more moaning. There’s a pointless chapter about Millie’s downstairs neighbours complaining about the smells coming from her apartment. Why…? Oh right: padding!
If the ending is meant to make Millie a kind of cautionary thing, first, don’t literally SAY that’s what Millie is, and second, it fails anyway as it’s unclear what Butler is trying to say people should do differently. Go to grad school? Yeah, because that’s within most people’s income levels! Get married? Don’t be crazy? It’s a terrible ending to an equally terrible narrative.
Unskilled jobs can suck, not knowing what you want to do in life sucks – fine, but reading this mirthless drear over and over does not make for a good book. I’m sure there’s a decent novel to be written about millennials and the modern workplace by a talented writer but Halle Butler’s The New Me isn’t that.
May 6, 2019
The New Me is a claustrophobic and brilliant novel that takes a good long look at what's on offer to millenials these days and tears open the relentless yammering maw of "if you just try, you can do it/tomorrow is another day/just eat better, exercise more/try meditation/just do one small thing and change your life!" to show that it's just noise and, at the end of it all, past the self-help, self-care, and "adulting" is just you and who you are.
And that is usually, according to the notions of being happy enough/successful enough--not enough. It's a bleak thought, that you, just as you are, can never get to where you want to be but The New Me makes you see what the cost of living trying over and over to be "enough" is.
Everything.
There are occasionally articles, usually by Gen Xers, about how there's no "definitive" millennial novel. As a Gen Xer, I have to say we're full of it. There are definitive millenial novels out there--and this is one of them. The New Me is about life in a world where "good" is defined and out of reach and all that's left is platitudes. Millie sees this, rages against it, and it seduced and trapped by it all the same.
The nihilism of The New Me is relentless, but is there a freedom in it? I don't think so, and that is what makes the book so fascinating and so utterly, thoroughly, raw and uncompromising. It's not a comforting read, but it doesn't want to be. It's screaming into the void and aware there will never, ever be a reply.
Or, to use the bitter, unflinching last line: "The countless hours between now and the end."
Very highly recommended.
And that is usually, according to the notions of being happy enough/successful enough--not enough. It's a bleak thought, that you, just as you are, can never get to where you want to be but The New Me makes you see what the cost of living trying over and over to be "enough" is.
Everything.
There are occasionally articles, usually by Gen Xers, about how there's no "definitive" millennial novel. As a Gen Xer, I have to say we're full of it. There are definitive millenial novels out there--and this is one of them. The New Me is about life in a world where "good" is defined and out of reach and all that's left is platitudes. Millie sees this, rages against it, and it seduced and trapped by it all the same.
The nihilism of The New Me is relentless, but is there a freedom in it? I don't think so, and that is what makes the book so fascinating and so utterly, thoroughly, raw and uncompromising. It's not a comforting read, but it doesn't want to be. It's screaming into the void and aware there will never, ever be a reply.
Or, to use the bitter, unflinching last line: "The countless hours between now and the end."
Very highly recommended.
February 15, 2020
Umm okay, but what was The Point™? To me, this tried to do what Ottessa Moshfegh does really well in her books — throwing you right into the mind of an entirely unlikable, self-loathing person, making you listen to their bleak, repetitive thought spirals and then, surprisingly, remarkably, twisting it into something that completely sucks you in and makes you empathise with the protagonist without you even realising it. I think this is what Halle Butler was aiming at with this, but it didn't work in my opinion. I feel like there was a layer to the protagonist's characterisation that was missing, maybe I needed more backstory, more explanation or psychological insight, and this book didn't offer that. Instead, there was no discernible narrative arc to this book and while I really enjoyed the sharp, witty humour and underlined a few memorable passages, it all felt a bit pointless in the end.
March 20, 2019
First place ‘prize-of-the-year’, for the most critical- cynical - inner voice - nagging voice - with repetitive destructive thoughts towards herself and others goes to 30-year-old
*Millie*.
It’s easy to see Millie as pathetic....a woman with low self esteem- angry at the world - depressed - she’s smarter than most - educated - bitter - teetering between feelings of self hatred without motivation to change - and wishing she wasn’t alone - wanting somebody to notice that she could actually be a great conversationalist.
AND ALL THIS WOULD BE TRUE.....
“I’m fat, I smell, no one likes me, my clothes suck, I’ll never amount to anything, everyone around me is an idiot, self involved, judgmental, stupid, too dumb to know the harm they’re doing, too dumb to know they’re not happy inside, not like me, I know. Ha ha ha”.
“Work again”, (thankless temp job), .....”another fucking waking nightmare”.
Agony - frustration- hope - and hopelessness of the human divided inner voice is brilliantly explored in this novel.
Halle Butler is a force to be reckoned with. Her writing is smart, witty, snarky, achingly raw exposing enormous vulnerability.
The reader can easily feel their own emotions and judgements about Millie. It’s agonizing to stay present with her negative thoughts, beliefs, and attitudes -and her defensive behaviors.
At the same time Millie sees change is possible. Isn’t that what our conflicting minds do?
I was rooting for Millie to tip the scale....perhaps find a little more balance between her negative feelings and positive.
Millie tells herself she can make a few simple behavior changes. She wasn’t sure she could change her thoughts and opinions, at least not right away, but she felt confident she could change her behavior.
She made a list of things she could do to secure a potential job offer. She could call her mom, wash her tights, stop drinking, think about a book she might read, or take a yoga class.
Millie realize she could apologize to her mother....let her know she has been depressed but wasn’t blaming her for it.... hoping to have a better, but low-key relationship with her mom.
With new added positive thoughts, Millie began to feel rosie and happy....
Her hygiene improved. She was making an effort.
But then something disappointing happens again....
No spoilers - not necessary to spill the beans on how things wrap up .....or give detail specifics ....( friends, job, boss, other work colleagues, etc.)...
Other than to say...this novel is written with outlandish prose. Definitely dark comedy ....daunting...
It’s a satire of the human condition on steroids!
I really liked this novel.
To varying degrees, all of us are divided within ourselves. From warm self-regard, and traits and behaviors we like or feel comfortable within ourselves.
On the other hand we also have harsh, judgmental and critical views of ourselves.
ESPECIALLY AT 30 years of age....
Excellent emotional chaos.... with astute observations.
High Five to Halle Butler!
*Millie*.
It’s easy to see Millie as pathetic....a woman with low self esteem- angry at the world - depressed - she’s smarter than most - educated - bitter - teetering between feelings of self hatred without motivation to change - and wishing she wasn’t alone - wanting somebody to notice that she could actually be a great conversationalist.
AND ALL THIS WOULD BE TRUE.....
“I’m fat, I smell, no one likes me, my clothes suck, I’ll never amount to anything, everyone around me is an idiot, self involved, judgmental, stupid, too dumb to know the harm they’re doing, too dumb to know they’re not happy inside, not like me, I know. Ha ha ha”.
“Work again”, (thankless temp job), .....”another fucking waking nightmare”.
Agony - frustration- hope - and hopelessness of the human divided inner voice is brilliantly explored in this novel.
Halle Butler is a force to be reckoned with. Her writing is smart, witty, snarky, achingly raw exposing enormous vulnerability.
The reader can easily feel their own emotions and judgements about Millie. It’s agonizing to stay present with her negative thoughts, beliefs, and attitudes -and her defensive behaviors.
At the same time Millie sees change is possible. Isn’t that what our conflicting minds do?
I was rooting for Millie to tip the scale....perhaps find a little more balance between her negative feelings and positive.
Millie tells herself she can make a few simple behavior changes. She wasn’t sure she could change her thoughts and opinions, at least not right away, but she felt confident she could change her behavior.
She made a list of things she could do to secure a potential job offer. She could call her mom, wash her tights, stop drinking, think about a book she might read, or take a yoga class.
Millie realize she could apologize to her mother....let her know she has been depressed but wasn’t blaming her for it.... hoping to have a better, but low-key relationship with her mom.
With new added positive thoughts, Millie began to feel rosie and happy....
Her hygiene improved. She was making an effort.
But then something disappointing happens again....
No spoilers - not necessary to spill the beans on how things wrap up .....or give detail specifics ....( friends, job, boss, other work colleagues, etc.)...
Other than to say...this novel is written with outlandish prose. Definitely dark comedy ....daunting...
It’s a satire of the human condition on steroids!
I really liked this novel.
To varying degrees, all of us are divided within ourselves. From warm self-regard, and traits and behaviors we like or feel comfortable within ourselves.
On the other hand we also have harsh, judgmental and critical views of ourselves.
ESPECIALLY AT 30 years of age....
Excellent emotional chaos.... with astute observations.
High Five to Halle Butler!
February 1, 2019
Misanthropic Millie is the main character in Halle Butlers debut novel, The New Me. If you are a fan of Ottessa Moshfeghs work then you'll likely enjoy this one. I'm sure there will be some readers that wonder what the point of this book is. I, personally, love snarky humor so it was bound to be a win for me.
Mille is 30 years old and lives alone in NYC. She separated with her boyfriend of 4 years over a year ago and has yet to be touched since. She works at a temp job she hates with people she loathes. She is a bit socially awkward, slovenly by nature, full of internal rage, and desperate for a change in life. That pretty much sums up the story.
I highlighted so many passages in this book. Passages that delighted my cold black heart.
Millie at work:
"She seems to be showing me how to use a paper clip. She holds it in her hand demonstrating both the right and wrong way. Holy absurdity, little side on top, big side on bottom. I guess I did it wrong. I say "Oh okay, that makes sense.""It's a matter of style," she explains. "I totally get it," I say in low tones, soothing and reassuring, nodding, and to keep the indignant scream from leaving my lips, I imagine that she needs to poop all the time. "
Millie at a party:
"Sarah list facts about their mutual friend who now lives in LA. He's bored. She's boring. And I feel bored, and then feel annoyed, and I wonder why no one ever wants to talk to me. I'm a great conversationalist, it just takes me a minute to get into it. But once I get into it I really roll. I remember a lot of times I've been downright charming. I also remember a few times I've been abruptly aggressive, sure, but it's unhealthy to dwell on the past."
Millie on the family dog, her replacement:
"The dog, my replacement, a taut, bitchy terrier named Cindy, approaches me barking nervously, tail between her legs. I ignore her. This is the only instance in my entire life where someone's shitty behavior toward me is actually rooted in jealousy. I feel almost complimented."
I really enjoyed this book. It's a quick read that made me smile often and downright laugh the next. Oh, I may have cringed a time or two or a dozen as well.
Thank you to Edelweiss & Penguin Publishing Group for providing me with a digital ARC in exchange for my honest review.
Mille is 30 years old and lives alone in NYC. She separated with her boyfriend of 4 years over a year ago and has yet to be touched since. She works at a temp job she hates with people she loathes. She is a bit socially awkward, slovenly by nature, full of internal rage, and desperate for a change in life. That pretty much sums up the story.
I highlighted so many passages in this book. Passages that delighted my cold black heart.
Millie at work:
"She seems to be showing me how to use a paper clip. She holds it in her hand demonstrating both the right and wrong way. Holy absurdity, little side on top, big side on bottom. I guess I did it wrong. I say "Oh okay, that makes sense.""It's a matter of style," she explains. "I totally get it," I say in low tones, soothing and reassuring, nodding, and to keep the indignant scream from leaving my lips, I imagine that she needs to poop all the time. "
Millie at a party:
"Sarah list facts about their mutual friend who now lives in LA. He's bored. She's boring. And I feel bored, and then feel annoyed, and I wonder why no one ever wants to talk to me. I'm a great conversationalist, it just takes me a minute to get into it. But once I get into it I really roll. I remember a lot of times I've been downright charming. I also remember a few times I've been abruptly aggressive, sure, but it's unhealthy to dwell on the past."
Millie on the family dog, her replacement:
"The dog, my replacement, a taut, bitchy terrier named Cindy, approaches me barking nervously, tail between her legs. I ignore her. This is the only instance in my entire life where someone's shitty behavior toward me is actually rooted in jealousy. I feel almost complimented."
I really enjoyed this book. It's a quick read that made me smile often and downright laugh the next. Oh, I may have cringed a time or two or a dozen as well.
Thank you to Edelweiss & Penguin Publishing Group for providing me with a digital ARC in exchange for my honest review.
July 16, 2021
The protagonist Millie is strikingly accurate at times in her often bleak observations on modern life while often being somewhat self deluded. Overall I found this book sort of relatable and it made me feel slightly less alone.
July 17, 2022
If you wanted to read David Graeber’s Bullshit Jobs: A Theory in fiction form, this book would be a good pick. It has all of it: the drudgery of an everyday meaningless office job, the stress of having to pretend you’re busy, the alienation and distance that capitalism fosters so that you cannot form any genuine bonds with your co-workers since you’re always being watched and judged and you are watching and judging in return too and you delude yourself into thinking you’re being discreet about it, the psychological and spiritual debilitation, the misery of not feeling entitled to one’s misery.
There has been a proliferation of books like The New Me in recent literature. A privileged, white woman with enough financial backing from daddy dearest to stay unemployed for months on end, actually does so because she is so disillusioned with everything that modern work culture entails. They are well aware of this privilege, they talk about it often and they are also despised for it by other characters in the book. I couldn’t help but think of the white women who fought to enter the workforce that they insisted lacked women (even though women of color had long been exploited by the same workforce.) Except nobody really knows how to be in this workforce, because it is mostly a void. What’s fascinating is also that these women are temps, they do menial office jobs. These books are not about women in powerful positions who insist that theirs is the only way to empowerment while also exploiting and robbing resources like the very men they wanted to replace. No, the authors seem to deliberately place privileged women in situations where they are rendered helpless which sends them on a downward spiral of feeling anxious, depressed, empty, and useless all the time.
The corrosion of character and identity under capitalist work culture is well represented here. You will not feel sorry for the women, you will not empathize. You might even be disgusted by them. But that seems to have been the author’s intention all along.
Remember the annoying black and white static you’d see on old television sets when you switched them on sometimes? It was migraine-inducing, but stare at it long enough and you’ll just feel empty. That’s what reading this book was like. All that is solid melts into air.
There has been a proliferation of books like The New Me in recent literature. A privileged, white woman with enough financial backing from daddy dearest to stay unemployed for months on end, actually does so because she is so disillusioned with everything that modern work culture entails. They are well aware of this privilege, they talk about it often and they are also despised for it by other characters in the book. I couldn’t help but think of the white women who fought to enter the workforce that they insisted lacked women (even though women of color had long been exploited by the same workforce.) Except nobody really knows how to be in this workforce, because it is mostly a void. What’s fascinating is also that these women are temps, they do menial office jobs. These books are not about women in powerful positions who insist that theirs is the only way to empowerment while also exploiting and robbing resources like the very men they wanted to replace. No, the authors seem to deliberately place privileged women in situations where they are rendered helpless which sends them on a downward spiral of feeling anxious, depressed, empty, and useless all the time.
The corrosion of character and identity under capitalist work culture is well represented here. You will not feel sorry for the women, you will not empathize. You might even be disgusted by them. But that seems to have been the author’s intention all along.
Remember the annoying black and white static you’d see on old television sets when you switched them on sometimes? It was migraine-inducing, but stare at it long enough and you’ll just feel empty. That’s what reading this book was like. All that is solid melts into air.
January 17, 2019
Give me a disaffected, apathetic, embittered female protagonist in a dead end job having an existential crisis about the meaning of life and I’m yours. Butler, I salute you. This has a strong My Year of Rest and Relaxation vibe which is a very good thing.
‘I try to assess the things that bring me pleasure, and how those things might bring me a fulfilling career. I think about how I spend my time. Where my interests lie. The questions come naturally, as if supplied by the ether, and the answer sits in my empty skull: nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.’
‘I try to assess the things that bring me pleasure, and how those things might bring me a fulfilling career. I think about how I spend my time. Where my interests lie. The questions come naturally, as if supplied by the ether, and the answer sits in my empty skull: nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.’
June 25, 2019
There’s a lot of grumbling misery going on in this book and I’m here for it. Stuck in a rut job, in a rut life Millie can’t seem to feel any joy at all, life is one mundane chore after another and work being the biggest burden of all. In and out of temp office jobs, her personal life is almost non existent and the one friend she has, she has mostly contempt for. The beauty of this book is how clever the author is at depicting the inner rage and disdain of working meaningless jobs and the soul destroying emptiness of putting on a brave face everyday. Having worked office jobs in the past, I feel her pain so acutely. In the vein of Ottessa Moshfegh’s My Year Of Rest and Relaxation the character of Millie is dripping in apathy and rage at everything and nothing in particular, if you love your characters full of flaws and hopelessness with lots of fresh humour look no further this book will bless you with that and so much more. I never thought someone hating on their boring mundane life would give me so much joy! This has become an unexpected favourite read of the year. It’s one of those rare books I instantly wanted to read again.
March 15, 2019
My review for the Chicago Tribune: https://www.chicagotribune.com/lifest...
At its worst, the doctrine of self-improvement can be dehumanizing — pressuring individuals to treat themselves like products or apps perpetually in need of touch-ups or updates, the better to accommodate themselves to a fast-paced, mechanized and alienating world. In her short, satirical and cautionary second novel, “The New Me,” Halle Butler explores self-improvement at its absolute, impractical, soul-crushing worst.
A 2008 graduate of the Art Institute of Chicago, Butler published her darkly brilliant feel-bad debut novel, ��Jillian,” with local publisher Curbside Splendor in 2015. Centered on the deluded friendship of two awkward, self-loathing co-workers, that book examined the disappointments of the American workplace and the diminished rewards of the so-called American dream.
Masterfully cringe-inducing and unsparingly critical, “The New Me” extends Butler’s interrogation of those subjects, making the reader squirm and laugh out loud simultaneously.
Butler bases the daily struggles and workplace indignities of the protagonist, 30-year-old Millie, on her own experiences working as a temp. Millie’s rep tells her things, like “I’m so excited for you, this one has possibility for temp to perm,” and when we first meet her. Millie expresses her desire for a permanent position, but wonders “how I would have to behave, how many changes I would have to make to tip myself over the edge into this endless abyss of perm.”
Millie possesses the perversely satisfying aimlessness and near-silent frustration of a Jean Rhys protagonist, obsessing about clothing, money, and what it might be like to find love and to live a value-expressive life while never quite being able to achieve any of those objectives. Incisive and judgmental, depressive and hostile, Millie perceives the world as “a symphony of bullshit.” As the story unfolds, Butler makes it difficult to disagree.
The point of view consists primarily of first-person, present tense chapters from Millie’s perspective, but Butler intersperses a few close third-person, past-tense chapters from the perspectives of those around her. This fluctuating structure creates an effect that is layered and dynamic, deliberately distancing and cinematic at some points and almost claustrophobically intimate at others.
We see Millie’s supervisor Karen’s banal yet ruthless calculations of how to cut costs and rid herself of Millie. We see her co-worker Kristin contemplating how her newly acquired habit of meditating every morning may have accidentally enabled her to pick up “on some kind of collective, gentle human loneliness.” We see another co-worker, Jessica, repeating to herself “that she didn’t feel guilty for skipping out on her friends to stay home, get high, and eat with abandon. This was a conscious choice she was making, not some weird antisocial reaction to stress and pressure.” And because of this ingenious construction, we realize, with the full force of dramatic irony, that just when Millie thinks she has cause to feel “sunny and positive” about her future, she is about to learn that she has been devastatingly incorrect.
Millie finds almost everything — from her self-absorbed friend Sarah to her ill-fated stint volunteering at a women’s shelter as an attempt at “misguided emotional remodeling” to her mother to herself — “boring,” yet Butler manages to write a novel that is anything but.
Her wit and insight keep the pages turning, and while Millie is well beyond concerns over being likeable, Butler has created in her a Bartleby the Scrivener-esque character who is nevertheless engaging in her refusals. When she asks of herself “Who cares? Nobody” the reader actually does.
Whether Millie is slathering herself in coconut oil in a rare spate of self-care, or vowing to “practice gratitude and acceptance,” the reader sees vividly that self-improvement, at best, treats the symptoms of a sick society and not the disease. It would be easier to be grateful and accepting, for instance, if structural inequality and stacked economic competition did not require workers to be grateful for pittances or to accept countless petty quotidian humiliations.
“The New Me” is an unapologetic and effulgent bummer of a book. The closest it comes to hope is to imply that maybe, when one finally has and desires nothing, then one is free to be free. And maybe that’s just as terrible as having had a dream in the first place.
At its worst, the doctrine of self-improvement can be dehumanizing — pressuring individuals to treat themselves like products or apps perpetually in need of touch-ups or updates, the better to accommodate themselves to a fast-paced, mechanized and alienating world. In her short, satirical and cautionary second novel, “The New Me,” Halle Butler explores self-improvement at its absolute, impractical, soul-crushing worst.
A 2008 graduate of the Art Institute of Chicago, Butler published her darkly brilliant feel-bad debut novel, ��Jillian,” with local publisher Curbside Splendor in 2015. Centered on the deluded friendship of two awkward, self-loathing co-workers, that book examined the disappointments of the American workplace and the diminished rewards of the so-called American dream.
Masterfully cringe-inducing and unsparingly critical, “The New Me” extends Butler’s interrogation of those subjects, making the reader squirm and laugh out loud simultaneously.
Butler bases the daily struggles and workplace indignities of the protagonist, 30-year-old Millie, on her own experiences working as a temp. Millie’s rep tells her things, like “I’m so excited for you, this one has possibility for temp to perm,” and when we first meet her. Millie expresses her desire for a permanent position, but wonders “how I would have to behave, how many changes I would have to make to tip myself over the edge into this endless abyss of perm.”
Millie possesses the perversely satisfying aimlessness and near-silent frustration of a Jean Rhys protagonist, obsessing about clothing, money, and what it might be like to find love and to live a value-expressive life while never quite being able to achieve any of those objectives. Incisive and judgmental, depressive and hostile, Millie perceives the world as “a symphony of bullshit.” As the story unfolds, Butler makes it difficult to disagree.
The point of view consists primarily of first-person, present tense chapters from Millie’s perspective, but Butler intersperses a few close third-person, past-tense chapters from the perspectives of those around her. This fluctuating structure creates an effect that is layered and dynamic, deliberately distancing and cinematic at some points and almost claustrophobically intimate at others.
We see Millie’s supervisor Karen’s banal yet ruthless calculations of how to cut costs and rid herself of Millie. We see her co-worker Kristin contemplating how her newly acquired habit of meditating every morning may have accidentally enabled her to pick up “on some kind of collective, gentle human loneliness.” We see another co-worker, Jessica, repeating to herself “that she didn’t feel guilty for skipping out on her friends to stay home, get high, and eat with abandon. This was a conscious choice she was making, not some weird antisocial reaction to stress and pressure.” And because of this ingenious construction, we realize, with the full force of dramatic irony, that just when Millie thinks she has cause to feel “sunny and positive” about her future, she is about to learn that she has been devastatingly incorrect.
Millie finds almost everything — from her self-absorbed friend Sarah to her ill-fated stint volunteering at a women’s shelter as an attempt at “misguided emotional remodeling” to her mother to herself — “boring,” yet Butler manages to write a novel that is anything but.
Her wit and insight keep the pages turning, and while Millie is well beyond concerns over being likeable, Butler has created in her a Bartleby the Scrivener-esque character who is nevertheless engaging in her refusals. When she asks of herself “Who cares? Nobody” the reader actually does.
Whether Millie is slathering herself in coconut oil in a rare spate of self-care, or vowing to “practice gratitude and acceptance,” the reader sees vividly that self-improvement, at best, treats the symptoms of a sick society and not the disease. It would be easier to be grateful and accepting, for instance, if structural inequality and stacked economic competition did not require workers to be grateful for pittances or to accept countless petty quotidian humiliations.
“The New Me” is an unapologetic and effulgent bummer of a book. The closest it comes to hope is to imply that maybe, when one finally has and desires nothing, then one is free to be free. And maybe that’s just as terrible as having had a dream in the first place.
July 7, 2022
i like sad girl books; i AM a sad girl book. i’m like balls deep into my depression right now so i just feel like i found /my/ thing but honestly i found mollie really annoying and extremely insecure. i just can’t relate to her and that’s okay! i read these books to relate to the characters and with this one i just don’t. nor do i like her really, at least it was a fast read.
April 11, 2019
There's this whole microgenre now, the "lazy millennial", of millenials (mostly women?) who live in big cities, hate their jobs, and are lonely and unsatisfied. It seems to be like extensions of the TV series Girls, except generally they have actually managed to alienate their friends (which seemed like it should have happened in Girls too, but I digress).
I generally don't enjoy these types of novels, since they don't usually end up in a different place than they started, the protagonists tend to be not great people, and it's so much stuck in one person's mind that there are few interesting settings or events. It's not to say I can't find parallels to my own life, as I, too, am a lazy millennial, but those aspects of my life are not ones I like to read about. If anything, it makes me want to try harder to build communities and support networks so people aren't stuck in these types of scenarios.
There were parts of the story I appreciated: the writing was good and the satire was biting and realistic; I also appreciated the way the ending was handled. Unfortunately, the story as a whole felt a little unfinished; there were lots of subplots and other characters that entered for one or two scenes and then disappeared again, and I couldn't tell why. It averaged out to a "meh". Ultimately, I felt like I had previously read or watched similar plots before, and this didn't bring anything new to the table.
I generally don't enjoy these types of novels, since they don't usually end up in a different place than they started, the protagonists tend to be not great people, and it's so much stuck in one person's mind that there are few interesting settings or events. It's not to say I can't find parallels to my own life, as I, too, am a lazy millennial, but those aspects of my life are not ones I like to read about. If anything, it makes me want to try harder to build communities and support networks so people aren't stuck in these types of scenarios.
There were parts of the story I appreciated: the writing was good and the satire was biting and realistic; I also appreciated the way the ending was handled. Unfortunately, the story as a whole felt a little unfinished; there were lots of subplots and other characters that entered for one or two scenes and then disappeared again, and I couldn't tell why. It averaged out to a "meh". Ultimately, I felt like I had previously read or watched similar plots before, and this didn't bring anything new to the table.
April 16, 2019
This book careened between two stars and four stars at various points for me, and I spent the first several chapters thinking it was just a poor man’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation. But in the back half, it becomes a more textured and compassionate portrait of millennial burnout (or maybe just burnout? is it generational? maybe in some ways, but the book also seems to be making the case that deadening malaise is a fairly prevalent condition of the modern age). It might be a bit too nihilistic for me at the end of the day, but I’ll have to spend a little more time mulling it over... Worth the quick read, as long as you know it’s going to taste like bile going down.
April 11, 2020
She seems to be showing me how to use a paper clip. She holds it in her hands, demonstrating both the right and the wrong way.
With the grubbiness of Eileen and the millennial malaise of My Year of Rest and Relaxation this seems to be channeling Moshfegh in its smart exposé of meaninglessness. The sharp and snappy writing is what I wanted from Sally Rooney but somehow didn't get.
Following Millie's ennui from daily commute to dispiriting low-level corporate jobs to friendless evenings with another desperate 30-something who is equally lost could be depressing - it's only Butler's spot-on observation and mordant humour that keeps this buoyant.
November 16, 2018
I wish I could read a new Halle Butler book every day.
March 9, 2024
I have conflicting feelings about this book. I can see what the author was trying to do here, pointing out the mundane, ridiculous reality so many of us live in, yoked to capitalism, seeking connection while pushing it away with an equal and opposite force of disdain and jealousy, constantly pledging to reinvent ourselves, to find meaning, to become a better version of ourselves, while always falling back into old patterns. It also works as an exploration of burnout and depression, two states I am intimately familiar with.
But while there were certainly moments that drew me in, quips that made me emit a singular chuckle under my breath, or peeks behind the curtain of Millie’s misanthropy that humanized her and made me feel for her, it just didn’t quite land for me. Even as someone who has described myself as a misanthrope on a global scale (though not on an individual one), I struggle with portrayals of characters who simply hate everyone around them. It wasn’t till very near the end of the book that we saw Millie spend time with her parents and finally, for the first time, witnessed her interacting with other human beings without a deep, enduring hatred and judgment. I would have loved to see a little more growth in this area, whether she made an effort to reconnect with Beth or took steps to meaningfully improve her relationship with Sarah, but that’s clearly not the direction Butler wanted to take the narrative.
Millie is a very frustrating character, clearly educated and intelligent but struggling with basic people skills and responsibilities, aimless and without passion or joy. She does personify burnout and depression quite well, but her massive superiority complex made it hard to feel for her through her struggles and self-sabotage and broke the portrayal a bit for me (as a hallmark of depression and burnout tends to be low self-esteem and struggling with self-worth). Millie has a lot of growing and maturing to do. And while there is a glimpse that that maturation is at the very least possible, spending an entire book with her in her unevolved state was grating, to say the least.
I can see why this book is often compared to My Year of Rest and Relaxation, as they share a similar vibe and unlikeable privileged protagonist. Though this book didn’t deliver everything I wanted from it, I still preferred it by a long shot. This novel won’t be for everyone, but I found it compelling and worth a read, despite my qualms.
Trigger/Content Warnings: alcoholism, toxic friendship, body shaming, physical assault in the workplace, suicidal ideation (I would consider all of these to be on the milder end of the scale in comparison to the content in similar books)
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But while there were certainly moments that drew me in, quips that made me emit a singular chuckle under my breath, or peeks behind the curtain of Millie’s misanthropy that humanized her and made me feel for her, it just didn’t quite land for me. Even as someone who has described myself as a misanthrope on a global scale (though not on an individual one), I struggle with portrayals of characters who simply hate everyone around them. It wasn’t till very near the end of the book that we saw Millie spend time with her parents and finally, for the first time, witnessed her interacting with other human beings without a deep, enduring hatred and judgment. I would have loved to see a little more growth in this area, whether she made an effort to reconnect with Beth or took steps to meaningfully improve her relationship with Sarah, but that’s clearly not the direction Butler wanted to take the narrative.
Millie is a very frustrating character, clearly educated and intelligent but struggling with basic people skills and responsibilities, aimless and without passion or joy. She does personify burnout and depression quite well, but her massive superiority complex made it hard to feel for her through her struggles and self-sabotage and broke the portrayal a bit for me (as a hallmark of depression and burnout tends to be low self-esteem and struggling with self-worth). Millie has a lot of growing and maturing to do. And while there is a glimpse that that maturation is at the very least possible, spending an entire book with her in her unevolved state was grating, to say the least.
I can see why this book is often compared to My Year of Rest and Relaxation, as they share a similar vibe and unlikeable privileged protagonist. Though this book didn’t deliver everything I wanted from it, I still preferred it by a long shot. This novel won’t be for everyone, but I found it compelling and worth a read, despite my qualms.
Trigger/Content Warnings: alcoholism, toxic friendship, body shaming, physical assault in the workplace, suicidal ideation (I would consider all of these to be on the milder end of the scale in comparison to the content in similar books)
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August 28, 2021
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The New Me is a book that has been on my periphery since it first came out. The cover, title, and summary were relatively intriguing as they gave me some very strong Ottessa Moshfegh/The Bell Jar vibes. Still, it wasn't anywhere close the top of my TBR until I saw that Halle Butler is going to introduce a new edition of The Yellow Paper.
The New Me shares much in common with My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Pizza Girl, Luster, Severance (and many others): we a rather nondescript main character, thirty-year-old Millie, who is leading an unfulfilling and rather meandering existence. She is a temp worker who doesn't really know what she wants to do or what she likes. Her latest assignment finds her working as a receptionist. The job is boring and Millie spends most of her shifts screening calls. Her mostly female colleagues are depicted as gossipy and self-centred. Karen, her sort of superior, hates Millie and decides that she wants her out. Millie's first person narration is often interrupted with short snippets following Karen, other female colleagues, and at one point her downstairs neighbours. These segments detract from Millie's narration as they don't really add a lot to her story. They simply portrayed people being or acting in horrible way all the while believing they are right or good.
I did find Millie's dark, and occasionally caustic, humour to be fairly entertaining. Yet, while Butler succeeds in satirising the modern work place and female friendships, her novel did feel a bit basic. It doesn't take much to poke fun at women like Karen or Millie's other colleagues. And part of me wishes that there had been some variations in the female dynamics (all female friendships in this book are the same: one of them whinges about life/work/whatever being unfair, the other one listens while internally whinging about having to put with her 'friend's' whinging).
At the end of the day I probably wouldn't recommend this book to a lot of readers (this type of story has been already been told...and dare I say better?). Still, it definitely had its moments now and again and I do think that Butler is a writer to watch out for.
Hilary Leichter's Temporary is not only a far more entertaining novel (in my personal opinion) but it manages to capture the gig economy in a way that The New Me doesn't.
The New Me is a book that has been on my periphery since it first came out. The cover, title, and summary were relatively intriguing as they gave me some very strong Ottessa Moshfegh/The Bell Jar vibes. Still, it wasn't anywhere close the top of my TBR until I saw that Halle Butler is going to introduce a new edition of The Yellow Paper.
The New Me shares much in common with My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Pizza Girl, Luster, Severance (and many others): we a rather nondescript main character, thirty-year-old Millie, who is leading an unfulfilling and rather meandering existence. She is a temp worker who doesn't really know what she wants to do or what she likes. Her latest assignment finds her working as a receptionist. The job is boring and Millie spends most of her shifts screening calls. Her mostly female colleagues are depicted as gossipy and self-centred. Karen, her sort of superior, hates Millie and decides that she wants her out. Millie's first person narration is often interrupted with short snippets following Karen, other female colleagues, and at one point her downstairs neighbours. These segments detract from Millie's narration as they don't really add a lot to her story. They simply portrayed people being or acting in horrible way all the while believing they are right or good.
I did find Millie's dark, and occasionally caustic, humour to be fairly entertaining. Yet, while Butler succeeds in satirising the modern work place and female friendships, her novel did feel a bit basic. It doesn't take much to poke fun at women like Karen or Millie's other colleagues. And part of me wishes that there had been some variations in the female dynamics (all female friendships in this book are the same: one of them whinges about life/work/whatever being unfair, the other one listens while internally whinging about having to put with her 'friend's' whinging).
At the end of the day I probably wouldn't recommend this book to a lot of readers (this type of story has been already been told...and dare I say better?). Still, it definitely had its moments now and again and I do think that Butler is a writer to watch out for.
Hilary Leichter's Temporary is not only a far more entertaining novel (in my personal opinion) but it manages to capture the gig economy in a way that The New Me doesn't.
November 22, 2019
"Karen, the senior receptionist, and technically my supervisor, smiles at me like I can't tell she's faking, and says 'Hi, Maddie' and I say 'Hi!' but that's not my name. It's Millie, not Maddie. I want to go up to her and prostrate myself on her desk, my ribs activating her ****** gold stapler, the one I know she loves so much, over and over, by thrashing, sending staples all over her desk, while I explain to her the difference between Mildred and Madison . . ." -- Millie (not Maddie!), on page 7
Butler's The New Me was an especially aggravating reading experience. For about the initial 80% or so of the book I was really hooked, with the quasi-realistic storyline - about a lonely 'temp' office worker in Chicago, 30 year-old college-educated Millie, who is unhappily single and lives alone - successfully switching back and forth between some very sassy or biting humor (*see that quote above) and then vexing drama. Millie toils away at the undemanding position before virtually going on autopilot, which more-or-less leads to her being fired and then blackballed by the temp agency. Her mental health appears to become a serious issue, and it seems like the story is heading towards a rage-filled or full breakdown conclusion. (Maybe I watch too many movies?) However, it doesn't go that way at all, and I thought it ended with an underwhelming, dissatisfying non-ending.
Butler's The New Me was an especially aggravating reading experience. For about the initial 80% or so of the book I was really hooked, with the quasi-realistic storyline - about a lonely 'temp' office worker in Chicago, 30 year-old college-educated Millie, who is unhappily single and lives alone - successfully switching back and forth between some very sassy or biting humor (*see that quote above) and then vexing drama. Millie toils away at the undemanding position before virtually going on autopilot, which more-or-less leads to her being fired and then blackballed by the temp agency. Her mental health appears to become a serious issue, and it seems like the story is heading towards a rage-filled or full breakdown conclusion. (Maybe I watch too many movies?) However, it doesn't go that way at all, and I thought it ended with an underwhelming, dissatisfying non-ending.
March 22, 2019
If you've ever sat and wondered why it is your friends seem to have the impression that you need a lot of help and constructive advice when internally, you really think you're doing fine, this is the book for you. If you've ever had a soul-deadening job that's truly your best prospect right now and your goals have been reduced to a fuzzy concept of maybe being happy at work one day, this book is for you. I live in the suburbs of a big city, not the actual big city, but I love this book because it so keenly shows the way we are all the center of our own world and so many of us are trying to self-improve, but no amount of positive thinking changes the fact that we are annoying specks of lint to be brushed off the sweater of someone else's life.
Halle Butler gets added to the ever-growing must-read author list too.
Halle Butler gets added to the ever-growing must-read author list too.
October 23, 2022
a brutal yet boring tale of a 30-something woman whose life is not going as she once expected - she hops from temp job to temp job, isolating herself due to her spiralling mental health issues.
a strength of the new me, and for me the only strength, was that it never once shies away from the reality that for some of us, this is life in all its cyclical glory. it’s mundane, we struggle, and we lose parts of ourselves every day as we go through the same day over and over - there is no hope, even if you want there to be. due to this, i would not recommend reading it if you are struggling because it will not offer any comfort or respite, instead it will fill you with the dread that our titular character feels as she deludes herself into thinking that life is working for her the way she is living it. spoiler alert, it is not.
if this was not a quick read, thanks to it spanning under 200 pages, i doubt i would have finished it. i read it in three parts across the day on breaks from studying and found myself becoming more miserable as the pages went on. for some people, this will work and will speak to them, but for me, unfortunately, it was a miss.
- 1.5 stars rounded up to 2 because i’m feeling generous.
a strength of the new me, and for me the only strength, was that it never once shies away from the reality that for some of us, this is life in all its cyclical glory. it’s mundane, we struggle, and we lose parts of ourselves every day as we go through the same day over and over - there is no hope, even if you want there to be. due to this, i would not recommend reading it if you are struggling because it will not offer any comfort or respite, instead it will fill you with the dread that our titular character feels as she deludes herself into thinking that life is working for her the way she is living it. spoiler alert, it is not.
if this was not a quick read, thanks to it spanning under 200 pages, i doubt i would have finished it. i read it in three parts across the day on breaks from studying and found myself becoming more miserable as the pages went on. for some people, this will work and will speak to them, but for me, unfortunately, it was a miss.
- 1.5 stars rounded up to 2 because i’m feeling generous.
March 7, 2019
This one is a tough one to rate. On the one hand, it's a blisteringly fast read, the kind that gives you paper cuts (metaphorically). Millie is all of us who entered the workforce during the recession or just after, all of us millennial who are so often mocked for all of our 'problems'. I don't want to associate with her, but I do. I don't want to think she's a bad person, because I also see myself in her -- and yet, it's like "get your shit together!"
So the book is a good book, told interestingly, but I'm not sure if I liked it. You know what I mean? And yet I think the book is all the better for my not necessarily 'liking' it because, well, it's a damned accurate portrait of the present.
So I don't know. Could be 5 stars under that metric, could be 2. Who is to say?
So the book is a good book, told interestingly, but I'm not sure if I liked it. You know what I mean? And yet I think the book is all the better for my not necessarily 'liking' it because, well, it's a damned accurate portrait of the present.
So I don't know. Could be 5 stars under that metric, could be 2. Who is to say?
June 16, 2024
i didn’t hate it but it was really just a privileged woman complaining about having to work an office job :/ no thanks
December 2, 2024
ultimate « cog in the capitalistic machine » core
March 6, 2019
This was bleak and boring! Nothing noteworthy happened in this book. Another novel about a millennial who doesn't know what to do with her life, can't keep a job and spends her time drinking or/ and letting other people walk over her.
Compared to "Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine", "My Year of Rest and Relaxation", and "Convenience Store Woman", this book was just meh.
Compared to "Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine", "My Year of Rest and Relaxation", and "Convenience Store Woman", this book was just meh.
January 8, 2022
i didn’t really know what to expect going into this since the ratings are pretty low but i really enjoyed this! books about grumpy women doing nothing just hits the spot haha
April 6, 2022
i've honestly never related to a character more in my life than millie.
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