An oddly optimistic, witty and insightful generation-defining book for a lost generation, the miserable Millennials, from Bridie Jabour, opinion editor at Guardian Australia
In the last days of 2019, journalist Bridie Jabour wrote a piece for The Guardian about the malaise of 31 year-old millennials and how the painful, protracted end of their adolescence is finally hitting home; they're hitting their thirties and the vast majority are neither famous, award-winning or rich -and that's making them miserable.
The article went viral overnight, the response from readers was overwhelming, and Bridie decided the time had come to write a book about her generation - those much-maligned millenials. After all, she reasoned, this generation is coming of age in a fairly unique set of social and economic circumstances, including precarious work, delayed baby-making, rising singledom, a pandemic, a heating planet, loss of religion and increased unstable housing. But much to her surprise, despite her assumption that this generation of 31-year-olds is the most miserable ever, she discovered that wasn't the whole truth...
Forthright, incisive, provocative and insightful, Trivial Grievances is truly a book for our times, and for every twenty or thirty-something anxious about their place in the world.
Mixed feelings about this one. Light reading, interesting subject matter and sometimes insightful points. I liked her observations on the attraction of astrology, skincare regimes and Meyers-Briggs personality tests for millennials as a means of being in control despite their anxieties. I also liked the chapters on the influence of siblings on your identity and marriage as an act of optimism.
However I found she often dismissed the anxieties millennials have as "not that bad" which is a disappointing perspective to see her take considering she doesn't seem to have experienced any of them herself.
She says that the 30 year olds around her are miserable or at the very least dissatisfied, questioning their worth and identity by their failure to meet the previous generations milestones - e.g. purchasing property, job security, marrying a partner and having kids. However she herself has all those things, describes herself as happy (she says "lucky" but also says she always has a positive attitude and worked hard - continuing to perpetuate the idea that where you are in life is what you deserve). At the end of the book she indicates she earned over $120,000 the previous year, and then goes on to offer advice on how we too can be happy - value your time over money (easy for her to say!). Every so often she will throw in a line acknowledging her privilege but then immediately dismisses it with something along the lines of "everyone's feelings are valid". I agree - but the circumstances different people are in - particularly the dissatisfied millennials I thought this book was about are very different from her own, so I question why she feels expert enough to offer advice.
Look, I didn’t think I’d like this book. I usually don’t like personal books written by journalists and I’m disillusioned by nearly all commentary about millennials. But someone recommended this to me because I recently turned 30 - sending me into an existential crisis culminating with an awful panic attack at my family dinner, breaking up with my partner and applying to do a masters degree - and they thought Trivial Grievances would be validating in some way.
And I was right. I really didn’t like this book. Nor did I find it particularly validating. I thought it was dull, at times vapid, and did not gel with the tone. It’s like Jabour is writing a book about millennials for a boomer audience. Aren’t millennials so quirky, with their lack of financial security and long term relationships! Gals going to the wine bar because they have no kids! We like the internet! There is nothing original here.
Some chapters are more like Jabour playing agony aunt to younger millennials which were even worse - a well travelled person telling me travel won’t make me a better person because I can be inspired by experiences close to home (within 5km) as well? Someone who earns a shitload more than me (and who has a husband earning as well) telling me that money doesn’t buy happiness? Pfft. No thanks.
was under the impression that this would be an intelligent, funny, outlook on what it is like to be in your 30's in this day and age - an idea that the cover represents.
But this book is NOT any of those things. There are some interesting points, but the rest is just the author's opinion, which is entirely too smug. It isn't funny, it isn't insightful, it isn't deep, it wasn't as relevant or as relatable as I had hoped.
It was like I was stuck in a lecture by that friend who is vapid and ignorant, but has picked up few interesting points along the way - enough to sound just smart enough to get by - but never lets you get word in edge wise. While all her opinions are gospel.
A female journalist writes an article that goes viral about the millennial experience, and she lands a book deal to explore the ‘myths, contradictions and misery of your 30s’.
Cool. Sounds interesting.
The topic could have been something… but this book gave me nothing and I stopped reading about half way through.
Do not believe the blurb which says it’s ‘forthright, funny, incisive and provocative’.
Some food for thought…
On making yourself feel better when the world feels like it’s tumbling down around you: “If you can’t get a job or proper financial security, remember it’s not a reflection on you. You can work very hard and still come up short; it’s how the system operates sometimes.”
Yep, let’s be super flippant about income inequality. Such helpful advice for a single mum on minimum wage with no access to free childcare. Not. Reads like: ‘Don’t be too sad you’re poor - it’s the systems fault, not just yours.’
On whether or not the internet is destructive: “Black people are not the only marginalized group to benefit from the internet. It’s also where trans people have been able to build a platform, and where fat people could look at photos of other beautiful fat people after being all hit erased from mainstream media.”
Yuck. Let’s make a really broad generalization about the lived experience of entire communities. Back it up with no data. And ignore the dangerous and disgraceful online behaviour they are forced to deal with every day.
On being a working woman in the 2020s: “Yes, houses were cheaper in the 1980s, but I would not have wanted to be a woman in many workplaces in the 1980s. Unless maybe I was Tina Brown being made the editor of Vanity Fair in New York at the age of 30.”
This is just boring. We’re told that today’s workplaces are more open and supportive than ever for women and people of diverse backgrounds. But is that really the case for millennials of different and intersecting ethnicities, religions, sexual orientation and disability? Exploring this would have been much more compelling than a throwaway line that apparently, a white working mum is better off in 2020 than 1980.
Sigh. I walked straight into the trap on this one. And I’m very disappointed.
The first few pages of this book lost me a little – while I, like many of my millennial mates, have a softly simmering sense of rage about the injustices of housing inequality and the runaway calamity of climate change, I couldn't relate to the claims that we were all unsparingly sad. There is charm and cheer to be found in the arms of 30-something camaraderie.
Once I moved past the opening angst, it evolved into a gentler journal of personal parables. The thoughtful theorising about having children was a favourite feature.
I was reminded how very Gen X I am reading this book about millennial anxiety. I often think what is it with millennials and skincare? Is it wrong I only use the same brand cleanser and moisturiser I’ve used since I got my first full-time job? Seriously @brodielancaster, is it? Why are horoscopes such a massive thing? It was good to get some answers. I thought the chapters on whether or not to have children were particularly well done. I do think this will resonate more with millennials than it did with me and as it should. I am impressed Jabour concedes that she seems to have all the things that might cause this generational anxiety (prestigious job, decent income, children she adores, equal parenting partnership, investment property, close family relationships, good friends) but I wondered how that will read to the millennials the book is aimed at who don’t have those things. That’s the thing about malaise though – it doesn’t care what you have. I did my new thing of reading the book at home and listening to the audio book on walks which is my new favourite thing with memoir/non-fic.
I loved this book so much. Bridie is a beautiful writer and she captures so many elements of life in your 30s - from motherhood to friendship to work - so elegantly. I laughed out loud so many times and cried my eyes out at other points. It’s an emotional rollercoaster in the best possibly way
Rather than engage in a pithy analysis of the factors affecting millenials such as financial instability due to the increasing casualisation of the workforce, the housing crisis, and climate change, the author quickly decided that millenials are not noticeably better or worse off than previous generations, and the book promptly descended into memoir with a dash of self-help. It's lightweight and superficial, and at times vacuous. Pages 129-137 contain a spending diary that I'm guessing is meant to be humorous and self-deprecating but is just deadly dull; this was the second time I considered abandoning the book, and I really should've as it doesn't get better. There are a few decent insights scattered throughout that she's gleaned from a bit of research, but not enough to keep the reader engaged.
The author is awkwardly placed to be the voice of millenials because she's such an outlier: financially secure (six-figure income, good career), stable housing, happily married, two children. It's easy to be flippant and condescending about your peers when you have all the perks they don't. When the author bemoaned her forced isolation during the pandemic, I was astonished that she didn't think to link this back to the millenials who were poorly-paid frontline workers, risking their health and being verbally abused (often with the knowledge that, if they did fall ill, they had no sick pay to save them); when discussing how the internet 'benefits' POC and trans people, I was frustrated that she failed to mention the even greater platform it gives racists and transphobes; when she was extolling the joys of motherhood in her second chapter on whether or not millenials should have children, I couldn't believe that she didn't mention that IVF is out of reach for many infertile millenials due to the cost. (As she sarcastically exclaims later, when discussing which concerns it is acceptable to be preoccupied with, 'Of course, I feel like I should add a caveat here. What about poor people! What about POC! What about single people! What about infertle people! What about mothers with postnatal depression! What about people who live in a yurt for 17 days of the year! What about people who have less than a 23-month age difference with their brother!' (p. 157))
It would have been a more balanced, more insightful, and more engaging book if it had done what was promised on the blurb and explored and analysed the experiences of millenials as a generation, whether their circumstances are unique or not. It could even have given us a sneak peek at their successors, the Zoomers. Instead, after a few chapters, it devolved into a diary of one millenial's marriage, phone addiction, children, finances, career, travel, sibling interactions, and navel-gazing. Disappointing.
This book seems a bit confused about what it is. It's marketed as an analysis and encapsulation of the millennial experience, but by the second half it is mostly memoir as the author details various episodes from her life that don't really contribute to this original premise. As such it feels quite directionless - how is what I'm listening to contributing to a greater question/thesis? As such much of the last half feels like padding.
And unfortunately it is not even a particularly informed or researched commentary. There is the occasional expert interviewed or study cited, but most of what's in here are personal reflections at about the same level I feel like I could have written with a similar brief.
There are some enjoyable elements: it's a light read, and it has some amusing and interesting commentary on various millennial related things (career pressure, the decision to have children, the impact of social media, the glorification of over-work, the need to be productive, the importance and impact of siblings, etc.).
P.S. it's not relevant, and but I really want Bridie Jabour's hair.
There are good insights but… I mean the author is anything but a millennial. Married with an old guy, great secure job and two kids at 31? Why is she writing this? She knows nothing about millennials’ struggles…
Not a particularly groundbreaking perspective but a comforting observation of the subject: you are not special. Bridie is frank; our struggles aren’t that deep, but they are valid. She explores the mundane questions millennials face as they approach 30 – Do I want kids? Do I want my partner? Am I fulfilled by my career? Do I need to be fulfilled by my career? How much did my mother make me who I am? Is social media ruining my life? – and offers the answer: no, but also yes, not as much as you think, but also quite a bit, but not really. While she seemed to get a little side tracked during the final few chapters, writing personal essays about family and motherhood, I particularly enjoyed the very last chapter titled ‘How to like your life’ in which she takes her book and smacks you on the back of the head with it as a loving, optimistic reality check. I also dog-eared the chapter ‘Travel will not make you a better person’, see: wherever you go, there you are. 3.5. - “It turns out you can’t just get a book deal and be happy. You can’t just realise long-held career ambitions. You have to actually ‘work’ on ‘yourself’, not just external markers of success.”
I got halfway through this with increasing dissatisfaction, and, on revisiting the contents list after dragging myself through the reasons to/not to have kids chapters (from someone who was married in their twenties and has two kids and ergo cannot offer an unbiased thought on either side), skipped a further four chapters of this messy self-indulgence. Barely read the final chapter, which interested me most, as it was just a huge ‘I guess I am just happy lucky me tra la la’. A shame, as I was so excited for more of Jabour’s work.
Is there a single original sentence left to write about the Millennial experience? I’m not sure. I doubt it. There certainly weren’t many in Trivial Grievances, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it a lot. Sometimes you just want to have your own experiences and thoughts echoed back to you; to have the people you know pseudo-psychologically analysed by an author so you can nod along and be like “I also have friends who go to wine bars for fun!” I have a lot in common with Jabour. I’m the same age and life stage and have a journalism degree. I grew up rurally and have sisters etc. etc. For this reason, listening to this audiobook was a very safe and affirming few hours. Not as intellectually stimulating as Pandora Sykes’ essays on the same topics, but with colourful moments of memoir that were entertaining and humour that made me laugh out loud.
There were parts of this book I absolutely loved and parts I didn’t. I feel as if her voice comes across entitled and abrupt in certain sections, especially towards the end.
There were lots of parts I related to and it was definitely worth the read. I don’t think this book is for everyone as Bridie describes her life that me personally I do not have and that is somewhat triggering. So if you are struggling to find a well paying job even though you work hard, don’t have children or a great partner it could feel a little infuriating to read her story and feel good at the end.
I really enjoyed the first half of this book. It had very interesting opinions on astrology, marriage and being 30 in a covid era, but the second half seemed more a memoir style of writing.
I'm not yet 31 but I really felt many of her essays resonated with me already. They were thought provoking and humorous at times, even if I could not agree with all of them (the phone addiction/social media messages). It definitely speaks to a certain privileged population.
I really thought this was something different going in. The cover design screams “intelligent, humorous and witty female commentary on your 30s!”.
I am said target audience. Instead, this novel feels a little disconnected from my own experience as a 30 something (and a lot of my friends’).
A lot of time is spent whining about apathy you feel when you’ve hit certain life goals like buying a house, settling into a career or having a baby. I know for our generation there’s more choice than before and so this leads to analysis paralysis, something I struggle with. However when one DOES reach such life goals, I can only describe feeling eternally grateful and blessed that I am able to do such marvellous things! Friends who are wanting to get pregnant are finally having babies! I can only describe my 30s as being MUCH more stable than my 20s, and whilst I sometimes complain about my privileged life, I don’t need to read about someone else’s Xanax’ed account of theirs. Side note:the audiobook made things worse than reading.
Millennials will see a lot of themselves in this book in ways similar to reading Jia Tolentino. Jabour does manage to strike at the heart of things that we sorta think about a lot but don't REALLY think about and then dissect and unpack them in ways that make it seem simple and obvious. I admired quite a bit in the book, but as some other reviews pointed out, it can be a bitter pill to get an analysis of modern-day millennial anxiety and struggle from someone who has managed to nonetheless secure all the trappings that so many covet (again, kinda like Tolentino). Not everything has to be relateable to be good and she obviously shouldn't shy away from her own life and success, but in this context I think it helps to have a perspective a bit more from the trenches. Maybe I have internalised tall poppy syndrome.
I initially quite enjoyed this book and found it quite validating. The chapters on whether or not to have children were a particular highlight for me. Then from about 160 on it just became more of a boring memoir or random personal essays that offered nothing - written by a middle classed privileged, well travelled white woman with the perfect marriage, children, the house and the dream job. Waaaa This book definitely speaks to the more privileged population and I'd recommend avoiding it if you're constantly struggling to make ends meet. It's an interesting topic and I feel it could have gone a lot further in the hands of someone else.
I enjoyed the discussion of identity and am grateful for that chapter referring me to Tyson Yunkaporta’s Sand Talk, which is the first text on Indigenous Thinking that I have sought out and am currently being challenged and informed by. It is tricky to tease out how I feel about Trivial Grievances, as I respect the author’s vulnerability and the life experiences that she shares, however although she nods to different perspectives and life choices overall it felt self-affirming, without serious challenge to her worldview.
I got half way through and realised I've read enough to know I shouldn't persevere with this book. Another goodreads reviewer said "this is a book about millennials written for boomers" and I think that statement sums it up better than I ever could.
This is one of my favourite covers of the year. It went in directions I’m not overly interested in, but still well written and funny enough to continue cracking in!
The cover of the book is wonderful. It is provocative - and cynical. It features a chic young woman, balancing three fluffy pillows on her head, indicative of the trivia with which she is burdened. Instead of looking at life through rose coloured glasses her sunglasses have black lenses - so l guess that says much. This book is supposed to be an extension of an article written about the malaise of Millennials - their privileged musings and lofty personal expectations, not to mention the various reasons for the protracted time it takes Millennials to actually ‘grow up’. The cause of this generational malaise is the social, technological and economic upheavals of our times.
However, the author’s attempt to analyse such challenging changes in modern society is so vapid, lighthearted and conversational it trivialises the very topics under discussion. Jabour deals with serious topics - in a chapter a piece. She covers marriage, mobile phone addiction, to have or not to have children, money, ambition and even parenting. The references are extremely haphazard; some topics have one article of reference while others have a dozen.
Some interesting views are covered but the author tends to often be dismissive. A lot of this is tongue in cheek yet she sometimes comes across as patronising towards the malaise of her own generation - probably because she is having a pretty grand life herself which she does not mind boasting about. Millennials might be affronted by this tone. I’m no Millennial and l was annoyed.
A few strengths are to be found in the sections that are personal and read like a memoir. Incidentally, Jabour is of mixed origin, Lebanese and Irish, from a largish Catholic family. Her recounts of experiences with siblings and travel to those countries of her ancestry were insightful and at times l wished she could have just focused on these areas. That is until her discussion of a trip to Beirut in 2014 (already very dated) is rendered down to commentary of a 45 year old woman tour guide’s lament about refugees. This reads as if Jabour is saying ‘look, even here people are complaining’. I was irritated beyond words and knocked off a whole star for this - as if Jabour, living an affluent life in an affluent, multicultural country could possibly understand, let alone identify, with the travails of those who have lived in a war torn country for decades!
Paradoxically, she mostly sounded like the brat with attitude that she is trying to analyse.