I have managed to get my hands on a copy of Lena Dunham’s Not that kind of girl, one of the most hotly anticipated memoirs of the last quarter, mostly due to Dunham’s fee and her repeated use of the word ‘Vagina’ amoungst other ‘controversial’ elements of content.
Dunham barely appeared in the UK, she did an evening at The Southbank Centre in question with the legendary Caitlin Moran where the overpriced tickets sold it almost immediately and most of the audience appeared to have attended on comps. She appeared on a few tv shows, where she was soon by my Mum who was beyond confused by her presecence, attitude, deameanour and who the hell she actually was. She also edited an edition of Stylist and potentially did a book signing at Waterstones. The Stylist edit, from what I gather, was the highlight.
Yet the book managed to get its way into every nook and cranny of 21st century culture. I saw grown women clutching copies in the street and screaming with joy…
I had high hopes.
From the amount of the book i’ve read so far, my favourite bit is the art work. Don’t get me wrong I love Girls, even if I am much more of Jessa than Hannah, and I expected to like or at least tolerate this book and I think if I was 6-8 years younger then maybe I would. But I’m nearly 31 and despite only reading a couple of chapters It is very clear that in regards to the readership of this book? I am too old, too wizened, too jaded and I have seen too much to read about how someone spooned with boys for years… This book is very much suited in more eyes to me at 18, excited positive and with the world at my fingertips; before the real life bit kicks in. I just thought it would have more depth… Maybe I’m judging too soon, me it’s like Stoner, and you have to get through the first third to ‘getter’ but right now? I’m sorry Lena, i think your great. But, on this occasion? No.