mehastings
Active Member
First off, I should make a note that I did not seek this book out. Just by looking at the cover, I could tell I wasn't going to enjoy it, but the book was foisted on me by a friend who insisted I would "love it".
My Horizontal Life is another one of those oh-so-trendy comedic memoirs that have sprung out of the success of authors like David Sedaris and Dave Eggers. The problem being, that Chelsea Handler isn't funny and her life isn't interesting enough to make up for it. So, instead of smartly sticking with her "career" as a B list comedienne and television variety show panelist, Handler writes about the men she has slept with. The reader is regaled with tales of how she spent her twenties perpetually unemployed, drunk and sleeping with loser after loser. All of the stories are essentially the same. Handler and at least one of her four female friends get drunk and Handler sleeps with a guy she has just met. Sometimes she writes about the subsequent relationship (as although the title infers otherwise, few of the stories are about one night stands) and sometimes she writes about how her clichéd "loving but dysfunctional family" deals with her assorted men. A few of the stories are about men she never even slept with. The "highlight" is the mildly amusing first story about her successful childhood mission to photograph her parents having sex. From there, it all goes downhill. The language throughout is special only if you enjoy authors incapable of writing above a sixth grade level (that means age eleven for you non-Americans). Over and over I wanted to chuck it, but hung on so I could tell its owner that I had finished it. Next time I'm tempted to read about women in their twenties acting stupid I'll go back a few years in my journals to read about the adventures my friends and I had. At least I know I won't feel the need to break out the red pen while reading.
Don't buy this book. In fact, don't even borrow it from the library.
My Horizontal Life is another one of those oh-so-trendy comedic memoirs that have sprung out of the success of authors like David Sedaris and Dave Eggers. The problem being, that Chelsea Handler isn't funny and her life isn't interesting enough to make up for it. So, instead of smartly sticking with her "career" as a B list comedienne and television variety show panelist, Handler writes about the men she has slept with. The reader is regaled with tales of how she spent her twenties perpetually unemployed, drunk and sleeping with loser after loser. All of the stories are essentially the same. Handler and at least one of her four female friends get drunk and Handler sleeps with a guy she has just met. Sometimes she writes about the subsequent relationship (as although the title infers otherwise, few of the stories are about one night stands) and sometimes she writes about how her clichéd "loving but dysfunctional family" deals with her assorted men. A few of the stories are about men she never even slept with. The "highlight" is the mildly amusing first story about her successful childhood mission to photograph her parents having sex. From there, it all goes downhill. The language throughout is special only if you enjoy authors incapable of writing above a sixth grade level (that means age eleven for you non-Americans). Over and over I wanted to chuck it, but hung on so I could tell its owner that I had finished it. Next time I'm tempted to read about women in their twenties acting stupid I'll go back a few years in my journals to read about the adventures my friends and I had. At least I know I won't feel the need to break out the red pen while reading.
Don't buy this book. In fact, don't even borrow it from the library.