A slyly constructed semi-autobiographical story about a young woman skirting the edge of the '90s, dealing with relationships, her less-than-perfect past, and artistic angst, Diary of an Emotional Idiot is edgy and entertaining--a mesmerizing story of the more surreal aspects of day-to-day living on country back roads and Manhattan's East Village. 192 pp. Author tour. National media & online publicity. 30,000 print.
Maggie Estep grew up moving throughout the US and France with her nomadic horse trainer parents. She attended the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics in Boulder, Co. and received a B.A. in Literature from The State University of New York.
Before publishing her first novel, Maggie worked as a horse groom, a go-go dancer, a dishwasher, a nurse's aide, and a box factory worker. Maggie has published seven books, DIARY OF AN EMOTIONAL IDIOT (Harmony Books 1997, Soft Skull 2003) SOFT MANIACS (Simon and Schuster 1999) LOVE DANCE OF THE MECHANICAL ANIMALS (Three Rivers Press 2003) HEX (Three Rivers Press 2003) GARGANTUAN (Three Rivers Press 2004) FLAMETHROWER (Three Rivers Press 2006) and ALICE FANTASTIC (Akashic Books 2009). HEX, the first book in Maggie's trilogy of crime novels, was chosen by the New York Times as a notable book of 2003.
Maggie has recorded two spoken word CD's, NO MORE MR. NICE GIRL (Nuyo Records 1994) and LOVE IS A DOG FROM HELL (Mercury Records 1997).
She has given readings of her work at cafes, clubs, and colleges throughout the US and Europe and has also performed her work on The Charlie Rose Show, MTV, PBS, and HBO's "Def Poetry Jam". Her writing has appeared in The New York Post, Self Magazine, Village Voice, New York Press, Harpers Bazaar, Spin, and Nerve.com, as well as in dozens of anthologies including but not limited to BROOKLYN NOIR, THE BEST AMERICAN EROTICA, and HARD BOILED BROOKLYN.
She is currently at work on The Angelmakers, a novel about female gangsters in late 19th century New York.
(from MaggieEstep.com 2-4-09)
Estep suffered a heart attack on February 10, 2014 and died from complications of it on February 12, 2014. She was 50. [Wikipedia]
"I looked at the ceiling, as if its cracks would let in crevices ofsome weird heaven."
Zoe spends her twenties progressing from speed freak punk chick, via post-punk detox good looks, to psycho existentialist, while experimenting in emotionless fucking with anyone who has a perverted appeal: "Sometimes the grotesque is incredibly erotic."
90's New York is like the 50's Morocco of William Burroughs and Paul Bowles where "Brilliant White Perverts" come "to churn out books and fuck half the population."
It’s a literary, introspective and incestuous milieu: "The poets were all fucking one another and writing about it," which describes Zoe’s "diary" perfectly, although professionally her role is to punch out erotic "fuck books" for $500 apiece.
She describes her fucks as "lovers", but it’s clear that there’s nothing more fulfilling than desire and lust going down. Not even friendship: "He is my lover. He is not really a friend. I have friends for that." And again: "[we] used to be lovers and are still sexually attracted to and emotionally dependent on each other, but we refuse to love each other. We save that for people different from us."
Zoe comes to realise that this is emotional idiocy. But how do you escape it? And when? Are we somehow perversely content to be emotional idiots now, maybe even just a little bit longer? Can we perpetuate this lifestyle through our thirties? Should we wait until our forties to get "serious"? What is the allure of the alternative? Is it worth it?
At times, the novel comes across as post-punk chick lit (with enough skill to place the emphasis on lit). Mostly, it's an hilarious catalogue of sexual adventures and misadventures, although when it deigns to get a little more reflective, it asks the right questions.
What do we all seek when we seek love? Do we crave a fairy tale, no matter how savvy and streetwise we think we are? Can lust and love be found in the one person? Can a friend be a lover? Can a lover be a friend? Can real life be fantastic? Does familiarity breed discontent?
"There’s no suspension of disbelief. I know you too well. You know me. That makes it awkward. I can’t project onto you. It won’t work. Not now...In ten years...[maybe] we’ll be tired of being Idiots. We’ll fuck each other senseless and love each other, too. But not now."
This first novel is equally contemporary to the last three or four decades, but still speedy, fun and relevant.
Maggie Estep has a unique, indie, alternative-cultural voice. I can't wait to see how she's utilised and developed it since this first novel was published in 1997.
"He smoothed my hair and kissed the back of my head. In doing so, he let in Tenderness, and our Experiment in Emotionless Fucking had come to an end. There was a feeling between us."
SOUNDTRACK: "Stay Away, Come Closer, Baby"
Maggie Estep - "Emotional Idiot" (on Def Jam Poetry)
I must have read this book at least 4 consecutive times during my teen years. Its racy, witty, fast, "raw", and touches on all things forbidden. It explores the psyche of an emotional idiot, thus the title, that is a young woman who is lets her self be carried by corrupt forces and hurts herself in the process. Interestingly, there is a great sense of detachment between the situations that she experiences and the narrative she shares. It is written as somewhat of a diary so the narrative is frank and self evaluative, which is part of its appeal for the reader who is detached and self evaluative him/herself. This book also allows you to live out your fantasies of self destruction. Judgmental and well adjusted people need-not read it. It speaks more to those of us who are not quite right in the head.
Stupid stupid stupid. I hate when crap masquerades as ‘literature. Like oh, you have had such a hard life, so lets be all over dramatic about it. Nothing happens in books like these. Luckily, they are pretty short and quick to get through, so I think I wasted like a day on this. I don’t know why I picked it up. I don’t think it was on my list, but I think because it sort of had to do with NY, so I sparked my interest. Otherwise, no thank you.
I'm re-reading "Outlaw Bible of American Literature", which contains an excerpt from this book. It was outrageously funny. I like Maggie's spoken word, as well, so I intend to hunt down this one.
3/15: Finished this a couple of days ago. It's entertaining enough, though the endless hook-ups/break-ups/Gen-X emotional turmoil gets a bit irritating; the narrator lets the reader know up front, however, and in the title even that she is an "emotional idiot", so I tried keeping that in mind. The peripheral characters are interesting, and I like how everyone has a nickname in the main character Zoe's mind - it also speaks to her putative emotional detachment from everyone. Former lovers, friends, and acquaintances become Satan, Long-Dicked Dave, Nicholas the Horse Thief, Chris the Philosopher, the Reader, Eye Guy, and Daisy the Fading Stripper.
Also, Maggie Estep has great friends. She name-checks M. Doughty from Soul Coughing and John S. Hall from King Missile in the acknowledgements.
Maggie Estep has a raw, intuitive writing style. She is not technically perfect, and it doesn't matter. This book first caught me at the perfect time in my personal development--like Catcher in the Rye or Atlas Shrugged or The Handmaid's Tale--and it is a perennial favorite.
Estep assails our senses with the rough and tumble history of her lovers, including a thinly veiled Mike Doughty as "Bev" from the band "Lotus Crew". It should be essential reading to all Soul Coughing fans, really, because of the insight into Maggie and Mike's relationship.
Plus, when I met her, she called me "radiant". How could I not adore her?
This book came out when I was sixteen. I should've read it then. It's delightful, in a mid-90s guilty-pleasure sort of way. Estep is obsessed with using the words "maw" and "paw" for "mouth" and "hand," respectively. Also, she drops $5 words every chance she gets, as if to remind us that she should be taken seriously, despite writing this book. Wow, was that harsh? Therapy has ruined carefree novels about junkies and sex addicts for me, perhaps.
I read this book a long time ago and loved it. Unfortunately I forgot the name and the author and have been looking for it for at least the past 10 years. I loved the writing style and loved the book and now that I finally found the title, I'm going to have to get another copy of this book. It's a fun fast read, and kind of a roller coaster ride. My suggestion is to find it and read, now, today!
I have a fondness for this book - I read it while going through a difficult breakup and Maggie's words kept me less lonely.
It's raw, bare, and written exactly in the right voice. It's a book that throws things in your face and doesn't apologize for it and it still comes off as honest. And the main character's insecurities make the reflecton somehow bearable.
To give you an idea of how much I disliked this book: I was using a cute bookmark my kid had made when they were small. I needed to remove it and instead use a generic type of bookmark because I did not want anything my child had made anywhere near this garbage book.
This is a re-read. It is an all time favorite and I recently bought myself a copy because it's going out of print.
It's really not for everyone. And it's really not that awesome. It's a cult classic, or at least, I am betting it is. There's a lot of shock for the sake of shock, which I usually am not a fan of. However, this book is sort of canonical in a genre I can't really define. Something like the trashy hipster version of urban fiction.
This book was very disturbing to me. I'm not sure why...I think that it reminded me in someways of my life. Im not sure how--I'm not a dope fiend. I don't know but it really disturbed me yet I couldn't put it down. Very quick read about a girl, her life, her parents, her drugs, and her boys.
Made me laugh a lot. Maggie's adorable. It's a bit like Bukowski in that it's a recounting of a self destructive life with little to no self reflection. I didn't really enjoy Bukowskki, and I think the reason was it wasn't entertaining enough and unless you're really into the "beat" philosophy of carpe diem and the like there's just not much there for you. This book was hilarious though, and moving in just how honest she is about her dysfunctional life. She has this rare quality of never trying to make herself look cool in he slightest. She seems to do everything she can to dissolve any sense of the author of this distant omnipotent figure. She's just an emotional idiot who does things for purely impulsive an emotional reasons. (I don't actually think she was an idiot. I think it takes a lot of intelligence and self awareness to write this way) Kinda made me understand the appeal of that kind of storytelling, because I usually lean very heavily towards more philosophical self reflective storytelling.
Ricetta per un libro di fine ventesimo secolo: fare la lista di tutte le droghe che si assumevano all'epoca, creare un personaggio femminile estremo e scombinato che parla peggio di quelli di Irvine Welsh e fargli inventare la sua vita fatta di traslochi, amori tossici, disagi sociali e nefandezze degradanti, inframmezzate dall'assunzione di una delle droghe della lista di cui sopra. Ci ha pensato Maggie Estep, e glielo hanno pure pubblicato e tradotto!
An example of "auto-fiction" that succeeds massively where other books of a similar ethos have recently failed. There's no self-effacement or self-aggrandizement here, no tedious forays into the mind where action can speak just as well if not better. Maggie Estep is one of those writers who should be more ensconced in the canon than she is, and my one hope is that more and more people will come across this touching, sometimes bizarre, always entertaining story.
A quick and enjoyable read. I think if I read this when published it might have been more shocking, but these days it seems sort of quaint. However, I did really enjoy reading it - it was funny, deep, endearing, and an eloquent photograph of an era I missed, the punk rock drug scene of NYC in the 80s, early 90s
The way that time was displayed as a stream of consciousness made this one of the best takes on a fictional diary template. It was very disturbing, almost to the point of absurdity. I’m only giving it three stars because some of the plot was too problematic for me to look past, which is a testament to when it was written.
This honestly started out so boring and RIdiculous and remained kind of boring and ridiculous until about halfway through when it randomly picked up and became interesting and luckily worth the boring beginning and the over all read.
Un po’ troppo psicoterapia del tossico ninfomane, ridotta ad una serie di avventure buttate lì a caso come in una centrifuga. E anche l’ironia delle prime pagine si rivela essere tale solo nelle prime pagine.
If you're a fan of the kind of sardonic, witty humor in works like Ottessa Moshfegh's "My Year of Rest and Relaxation," this book is for you! The story of a woman who isn't afraid to get lost in emotional and physical addictions, this is a great read.
Stumbled on Estep's work because of Chloe Caldwell's "I'll Tell You in Person" and am thoroughly glad I did. She brings you through the messy labyrinth of her life in chapters that are simultaneously disjointed and cohesive. This book is honest and inspiring and makes me want an "Idiots Anonymous" club of my own. Estep reminds me that our most enduring relationships are those with friends.
I read this novel a few years ago and had forgotten I read it. I read it again last month and remembered why I'd forgotten. It's a typical Generation X narrative. The characters are screwed up for various reasons but it's terribly transgressive because the characters play in terribly clever rock bands and engage in terribly transgressive sex and of course they have tattoos and of course they do all kinds of drugs so people like Henry Rollins slobber all over it and declare it Bold Transgressive Literature. I did read the book all the way through but I also buy US Weekly on occasion and read that all the way through, as well. The characters shrug a lot in this novel. The word "shrugged" appears at least ten times. Soft Maniacs, Estep's collection of short stories, is a much better read. I've returned to that book many times over the years. I won't return to this one.
A (self)love story... kinda. I cannot explain why I love this book, but I found it easy to identify with, though there is some suspension of the imagination. If you have thought "What was I thinking? Maybe it was the drugs..." this is the book for you.