One of the perks of being a stand-up comedian is that it is their job to entertain audiences. Whether it is through personal stories or takes on world events, it has been a tradition as old as time. True, it comes with a lot of downsides including occasional rejection from the audience, but the thrill is enough to keep going. Since every experience seems to be different, comedian memoirs are a dime a dozen and rarely have more follow-through than the familiar life struggles. Jen Kirman's "I Can Barely Take Care of Myself" isn't quite a road warrior story. It is actually about how children are not in her future. Is she able to take this motive and make a compelling story, or is it a familiar case study?
Kirkman has proven herself to be an exceptionally funny performer. Having released two comedy albums, almost regular appearances on the Paul F. Tompkast podcast (as well as her new show I Seem Fun), and writing on Chelsea Lately, she is pretty much established enough to share a tale or two. That is why it is shocking though not entirely out of the blue that her entire book is all about how people insist that she has children to be happy. Through several chapters, she attempts to debunk the myth that happiness is more dependent on the familiar marriage principles and actually more about being happy with yourself.
It helps that Kirkman is very frank about almost every detail of her life. From her relationship with her mother to her numerous relationships and defining divorce, it is amazing that one simple thing has been there the entire time: children. It almost comes across as a subject beating the readers over the head. Still, through numerous anecdotes, it is very clear that this is not going to be a positive story about settling down. In fact, the subtitle "Tales From a Happy Life without Kids" attempts to prove that one can grow old alone and not be a loser.
In a sense, this book blatantly tries to reach that goal with excessive insults towards the numerous encounters. It paints parenthood not as a glorious time in someone's life, but one that isolates everyone else. Gone are the days of friendships built on interests and activities. In come the days of sitting around talking about pregnancy and children for the rest of your life, forming a sort of cult-like atmosphere everywhere you go. They say it is worth it, but as Kirkman proves, it isn't. If you're doing it to please society, you'll let yourself down if not emotionally, then financially, which ties into emotion somewhere.
The children themselves are also nightmares, especially as the parents write off their immature behavior as being young. Raiding adult pools at hotels and even playing psychological mind games are all explored in this story and almost makes children seem like a hell, especially for the ADHD diagnosed author who couldn't have the least bit of maternal skills necessary. Maybe it is all done through manipulation, but through these life stories, it is almost like a war against taboo. Kirkman's goal of living in a world where it is okay to be single is radical, especially as it is compared to being gay or having cancer. She isn't trying to take down families, she is trying to take down taboos.
It helps that she is vulnerable in most of her pieces. Comparing a bullying incident as a child or an encounter in a stand-up club's bathroom, she almost always seems to be thrown into situations where at best parenthood is an illogical tangent. It does seem unfortunate that when read as a whole, the consistent cynicism and reliance on stating that these questions are ludicrous does weigh the book down slightly. While each story has a fascinating prose to it, as the author translates her vulnerable, personal stories into book form successfully, there's only so many ways to suggest aggravation at the world.
At 210 pages, it does feel a little long, though only in its hypnotic, repetitious nature. As individual chapters, it is a collection of brilliant essays of what it means to be a modern, independent woman. There is frank discussion of sex and even a personal exploration of what physical issues she faced as a child that makes the author seem more tangible. She claims that having a life mapped out makes one a weirdo. In that regards, she is a fascinating one. She may not be a typical nerd, but her consistent outsider nature creates a sense that she is a voice worth listening to.
Like most great stand-up performers, she has a clear voice and is able to mine her past for laughs. The book is very funny and never feels like it bullies the bullies that are in discussion. By the end, "I Can Barely Take Care of Myself" should be seen more as a collection of essays than as a book in order to understand the full enjoyment. There's plenty of insight and exploitation of a world with dated values about family. It may not change the world and this may all just be well written ventilation, but Jen Kirkman's plea to not be bugged about your children may be one of the more entertaining books about families (which are more nuclear than traditional in her world) that comes out this year.
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