My rating: 5 of 5 stars
While reading Samantha Irby's We Are Never Meeting in Real Life, one of my cats passed away. Up until that point, I was really enjoying her humor and tell-it-like-it-is storytelling. I like an author who keeps it real. Like really real. Like ok maybe that was too much information real. But then I suddenly wasn't in the mood for comedy. I was torn because I didn't have much of the book left and yet my heart wasn't really in it. I decided to push forward, and it just happened that the next chapter up was about her own cat, Helen Keller. I cried until I was so dehydrated that I couldn't produce another tear and finished the book.
If you have Midwest roots but a razor wit, think people are the problem not their pets, are tired of societal beauty standards, or are just plain tired, I recommend this to you.
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