Guts: The Endless Follies and Tiny Triumphs of a Giant Disaster
by Kristen Johnston
My brother and I love watching 3rd Rock from the Sun episodes together; it’s our thing. And my brother tends to give me very thoughtful gifts, so when he gave me Kristen Johnston’s memoir Guts, I knew I was in for a treat.
Unfortunately, I didn’t even make it all the way through. As much as I loved her on television and in the movie Music and Lyrics, I found her “real life” voice utterly unlikable. From the introduction:
I didn’t set out to write an addiction memoir. Really. In fact, I remember thinking I’d probably be checking out of the hospital by the end of Chapter One (as opposed to it becoming the crux of the entire book). Subsequent chapters would of course be stuffed with all the hilarious and embarrassing and sad and uncomfortable and awesome moments that make up my life as a newly sober person. Dating? Let me tell you, nothing beats the simple pleasure of experiencing your very first sober date at forty years young. (Especially if your date gets drunk. And then shoves his fermented tongue down your throat.) A sober Christmas? Ho ho ho, oh dear God, no. And the only purpose a sober New Year’s Eve could possibly have would be to serve as a gentle reminder that you hate everyone on Earth.
So, if you think her tone is frank and refreshingly charming, go out and buy the book! I did not. To me, it sounded like she either spoke into a tape recorder and made herself unavailable for rewrites, so the direct transcript is the finished product, or she thought that tone of voice was frank and refreshingly charming. And when someone thinks they themselves are frank and refreshingly charming, sometimes it just comes across as conceited and rude.
Since that passage was from the introduction, I thought maybe once the actual memoir started, she’d tone down her…well, tone. The meat of the book was more of the same, and after about fifty pages, I just couldn’t take it anymore. If you particularly like reading addiction memoirs, or if you liked the tone set in her introduction, I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable. It just wasn’t the right book for me.
Unfortunately, I didn’t even make it all the way through. As much as I loved her on television and in the movie Music and Lyrics, I found her “real life” voice utterly unlikable. From the introduction:
I didn’t set out to write an addiction memoir. Really. In fact, I remember thinking I’d probably be checking out of the hospital by the end of Chapter One (as opposed to it becoming the crux of the entire book). Subsequent chapters would of course be stuffed with all the hilarious and embarrassing and sad and uncomfortable and awesome moments that make up my life as a newly sober person. Dating? Let me tell you, nothing beats the simple pleasure of experiencing your very first sober date at forty years young. (Especially if your date gets drunk. And then shoves his fermented tongue down your throat.) A sober Christmas? Ho ho ho, oh dear God, no. And the only purpose a sober New Year’s Eve could possibly have would be to serve as a gentle reminder that you hate everyone on Earth.
So, if you think her tone is frank and refreshingly charming, go out and buy the book! I did not. To me, it sounded like she either spoke into a tape recorder and made herself unavailable for rewrites, so the direct transcript is the finished product, or she thought that tone of voice was frank and refreshingly charming. And when someone thinks they themselves are frank and refreshingly charming, sometimes it just comes across as conceited and rude.
Since that passage was from the introduction, I thought maybe once the actual memoir started, she’d tone down her…well, tone. The meat of the book was more of the same, and after about fifty pages, I just couldn’t take it anymore. If you particularly like reading addiction memoirs, or if you liked the tone set in her introduction, I’m sure you’ll find it enjoyable. It just wasn’t the right book for me.