Sara Barron is really not afraid of embarrassing the hell out of herself for the sake of a good story. Unlike the Olivia Munn memoir I just finished, in which Munn constantly has this tone of “Oh, I’m such a dork, such a loser, ha ha ha” which makes her seem desperate to be laughed with, not at, Barron simply lets you laugh without coaching it to make herself seem better. After all, there’s an entire chapter in this book devoted to her horrific flatulence, something I doubt Olivia Munn would ever cop to.
Barron has a great way of telling a sad story in a way that seems kind of funny because of the crazy (there’s lots of crazy in this book), but the sadness just lingers after the funny-crazy has faded. For instance, one of the chapters is about an invisible dog she creates for herself. The root of this dog is Barron’s incredible loneliness. She invents it to keep her company. Then, she starts talking to it. Using it as an excuse to avoid social experiences. Finally, one day she finds herself leaving plates of food around the house for it. That’s crazy. But she tells it so sympathetically, that you kind of get why someone would invent an invisible bulldog in order to have another being around to share a life with.
The book alternates between funny and poignant, and strikes a good balance. It’s also a quick, wineglass in the bathtub read, which is one of my favorite genres.
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