My rating: 2 of 5 stars
Genre: Nonfiction, Contemporary, Humor
The first time I binge watched “Parks and Recreation,” I couldn’t believe how much I loved Leslie Knope. Like, I’m pretty sure we would become best friends in a matter of seconds. Basically, I would be Ann.
(I want to take a moment of respectful silence for this gif, which unexpectedly fit my review perfectly. It came to me when I needed it most. Like the sword of Gryffindor.)
Moving on. Because I love Leslie Knope so much, I was more than prepared to love this book. And then tragically (because it truly is tragic), this book was simply not funny to me. I could count on one hand how many times I laughed (this even includes just smiling or chuckling to myself) while reading this.
This is not one of those books who should be worried about reading in public because you might burst out laughing to yourself. You probably won’t.
I liked some portions of the book: Amy’s trip to Haiti, which was interesting and heart-breaking at the same time. The woman-on-woman violence that happens in motherhood (Doesn’t this sound reminiscent of “Mean Girls?” And as an active member of the student activities committee, I love “Mean Girls.”). The apology letter from the brain (captures me perfectly–unfortunately!). And Amy’s stories about her childhood.
But there aren’t enough stories about real events in this book. It’s mostly just Amy’s thoughts on things, drawn out over pages and pages. And generally, drawn-out thoughts are simply not interesting. Also, her history of improv was interesting for a couple pages, but definitely not for the pages and pages and PAGES it went on. Also, please stop talking about how hard it is to write a book. I am sure it is (because I’m too afraid to attempt it myself right now), but sheesh. I don’t need a whole chapter telling me how hard it was for her to write this book.
I liked her stories of celebrities at SNL, but overall, it felt like she was name-dropping through basically the whole book. And maybe it’s not name-dropping because it’s her reality and these are her actual peeps, but it was just way too much. We don’t need to know all those names. At first, I was Googling who she was talking about, but after the 50th or so person, I just didn’t care anymore. Someone should count how many celebrities are mentioned in this book. It would probably be in the hundreds.
This book could have been a lot more funny. It just wasn’t. And as difficult as it is to admit, I don’t think Amy and I would be friends. (She would probably say something rude about how she’s not interested in being my friend, anyway.)
I really wanted to love this. Sorry, Amy.
Let’s have a moment of silence (or laughter) and remember one of the funniest Leslie Knope moments ever. It’s classic.
Because I might not have loved Amy’s book, but I still love Leslie Knope.