More Please

I love Parks and Recreation, and I think Leslie Knope is a heroine for the ages–fierce, funny, sweet, occasionally wrongheaded, but mostly blazing with the desire to make the world, or at least the small, quirky town of Pawnee, a fairer, healthier, and more beautiful and fun place. The woman behind Leslie’s defiant curls, bright eyes and mercurial expressions, Amy Poehler, is more flawed, more mixed-up–but, judging by Yes Please, also someone you’d want to go for a hike with, followed by dancing at the Snakehole Lounge and breakfast at J.J’s.

Yes Please has received a (mostly) positively response from Cannonball Readers such as Badkittyuno and ModernLove, and I don’t really have much to add to their points–Poehler talks about her early days in improv, there’s something about her family and kids, occasional mentions of her divorce and coping with it, something about her friendship with Tina Fey and Saturday Night Live (which I’ve actually never seen), and not as much as I’d hoped about Parks and Recreation. Although, mind you, despite Leslie Knope being the flaming sun at its centre, it’s such an ensemble show that any attempt to cover it in detail would veer inexorably into other people’s lives and stories. But still, I’d have loved to have read more about Poehler’s thoughts on Leslie, and how the character was built and developed, to what extent she agrees with her politics, and so on. I’d also have loved to have read more backstage stuff about hosting award shows–the snippets that we do get are fascinating.

Nevertheless, Yes Please is funny, sweet and intelligent–and occasionally slightly risqué. The pieces of advice, particularly related to relationships, chime with my own views to a great extent, which is always nice, there are some great anecdotes, and Poehler’s obvious respect and liking for her colleagues in her various shows–as well as the bursts of anger at some instance of injustice or condescension–makes this a generally warm and sometimes heated read. Oddly, for a memoir by a comedian whose talent for both pratfalls and satire I respect so much, it was the streak of melancholy that runs through the book that I found most appealing. Celebrities, or their publicists, tend to have certain stock responses to life events–there’s “everything’s wonderful and I am naturally perfect,” “something bad happened but it taught me a lot and I am now inspirational and relatable in a very real sense”, “I’m sorry you feel that way,” “looming downward spiral, sympathise with me”, “conscious uncoupling,” etc. Poehler’s honesty cuts through the headline clickbait bullshit, showing what seems a rare instance of a famous person who faces problems, does bad things, acknowledges being sad and sorry, acknowledges that being sorry doesn’t fix everything, and gets on with her life and her family and friends, not to project an image of triumph over suffering, but because that’s what people try to do.