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In her
new memoir It's Not Me, It's You, beloved author (at
least per the jacket copy) Stefanie Wilder-Taylor mines new
territory not covered in her earlier drunk mommy memoirs Sippy
Cups Are Not for Chardonnay and Naptime Is the New
Happy Hour. She reaches way back to a time before motherhood,
when she was a young woman just making her way in a new city
with no sense about how to live an adult life. Wilder-Taylor's
avoidance of introspection allows the reader to laugh unapologetically
at her issues with food, alcohol, money, and men. Good storytelling,
laugh-out-loud funny scenes and a lack of sentimentality make
It's Not Me a fun book, but ultimately the stories
are not memorable.
The author
paints herself as a clueless young lady who is at a loss regarding
the completion of basic tasks such as renting an apartment
or buying a car, but somehow these things fall in her lap
anyway. This seems done for comic effect, as Wilder-Taylor
has had a successful career as a producer, comedian, and writer;
even as a 20-something, she could not be as goofy as she claims
she was. It doesn't seem possible that someone smart enough
to become a producer could be dumb enough to do crack "accidentally."
But Wilder-Taylor knows that comedy is funnier when the subject
is ditzy, and self-deprecation is more fun to read than smugness.
Wilder-Taylor
is a woman of a certain age, and she references silly '80s
pop cultural touchstones for comic effect. No doubt readers
of her mommy memoirs will be familiar with things like Hollywood
Squares, Kajagoogoo, and the Tori Spelling opus Mother,
May I Sleep with Danger. But her reliance on these
references for humor dull the universality of the struggles
of youth she attempts to depict. Young adults who are currently
dealing with these struggles and may need a little humor may
not understand how difficult it was to make frequent trips
to pay phones.
All that
aside, It's Not Me, It's You is very funny. In "Chubz,"
the young, unemployed Stefanie applies for a job in telemarketing,
cold calling and selling office supplies. After interviewing
with "Genie with a G," she's allowed to interview with the
company owner. She recalls: "The door swung open and standing
there was a humongous Hungarian version of Brando in his bloated
final fays. For a second I thought, How cute, someone dressed
up a bear in people clothes! " Stefanie starts right away,
as in that very day, and notes that most of the other women
who work with her tend toward the scantily-clad, fake blonde,
big-boobed sort who spend their work hours talking about how
drunk they got the night before.
When
Friday rolls around and Stefanie, who has not made any sales,
gets her first check—a very large check—the Hungarian
bear gives it to her personally and says that she is "veddy
good," and "gifted." Then he says, "You have very large breasts.
… I give you a television set." Though Stefanie is sentient
enough to get that there is something amiss, the author doesn't
allow her misgivings about the situation obstruct the humor
of the story. She just says, "[S]ure, I may have been a natural
at this wholesales business, but wasn't it just a little premature
to reward me with a television?" Her boss has a huge TV delivered
to her house the next day and then demands that she accompany
him to Las Vegas. Like a good sitcom, in the end all goes
back to exactly the way it was before—and Stefanie has
no job and no TV.
Almost
all the stories are like this—an innocent let loose in
1980s L.A., getting into ridiculous situations but usually
winning in the end. It's Not Me, It's You is enjoyable
reading, but like Kajagoogoo, it will most likely quickly
recede from readers' memories.
(July
2009)
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