My new most favourite narrative voice

So I have to take a moment right away to thank Kat of www.nowopentosuggestions.blogspot.com (check out her blog, it's deep, and spunky, and quirky, and abstract, and thought provoking, and features way less run-on-sentences than mine) for lending me her copy of "Let's Pretend This Never Happened" and introducing me to the wonderful fucked up world of blogger Jenny Lawson. 

For those of you, like myself,  who had never heard of Lawson, allow me to explain.  She is an American blogger who has a very popular blog at www.thebloggess.com (subscribe to her feed now, you'll thank me later) who has now written a book that she has humbly sub-titled "a mostly true autobiography."

Lawson has a penchant for the whimsical, a wonderfully broken verbal filter, and a view of the world that is delightfully askew.

Her utter and total lack of a filter switch has catapulted her to the #1 spot as my new most favourite narrative voice.  Wether she is waxing poetic about the fact that Jesus was obviously a zombie, (one could likely argue that he was infact the original zombie, if one were so inclined) or sharing horrific childhood stories of her mis-guided, but obviously well intentioned  Father waking her in the middle of the night to introduce her to a magical squirrel...Lawson has a graphic, yet coy way with words that is guaranteed to confound the Glitterati.  I'm not even sure what that means, but it is actually a very Lawson-esque structured statement, so I'm keeping it.  Deal with it.

Lawson writes with such natural flow and rhythm about such odd ball, abstract, everyday, quasi-mundane topics that the reader can't help not only relate, but get utterly sucked into the twisted accounts of actual occurrences  from her life.  I found myself laughing out loud, much to the consternation of my oblivious co-workers, on more than one occasion during my initial read of this book.  My mirth at Lawson's anecdotes was so contagious that 3 other coworkers had asked to borrow this book before I was even half way through it.

This is ultimately the greatest praise that I can give this gifted word-smith.  Her work has so deeply inspired, and simultaneously unsettled me, that I urge everyone to pick up this book and read it for yourself.  Be warned, you will be offended.  Lawson actually guarantees it in an early chapter, in which she also expressly apologizes for whichever anecdote has managed to elicit an unfavourable response in you, the reader.  For me, it was the chapter focused specificially on a long string of dead fetuses...but everyone is different, and while this particular chapter got under my skin, you may think it is a barrel of laughs, only to be offended by the suspected reanimation of a beloved pug, or possibly the shear weight that taxidermy plays in Lawson's formative development.  Hard to say.  There are plenty of options. The important thing is that you read this book yourself, and form your own opinions.  Lawson isn't afraid of the fact that her voice may not fit certain socially acceptable standards.  She puts herself out there, with all her  naughty bits on display, daring you to delve deeper into her twisted little take on life. 

Most importantly in my mind, hidden amongst the rants and the shear shock value of the material are a few solid life lessons.  The one that resonated most with me: "We are defined not by our imperfect moments, but by our reactions to them." 

Truth Bomb. 

PS - Pull your socks up.

PPS - Confused?  Read the damn book y'all.