Welcome to Litsy!

The day I decided I was more miserable than ever, my boss said, “You know what I like about you, Chelsea? Nothing is ever wrong.”

I almost bailed, but I‘m glad I stuck with this #audiobook narrated by the author. I found myself experiencing a very different life through essays that are more like prose poems. Hodson‘s subjects can be disturbing: dating bad men, for example. Her writing style is arresting & even though her sentences don‘t always work for me, they make me take notice. “If I don‘t get what I want, I‘ll die. If I get what I want, I‘ll die. Either way, I lived.”

I‘m trying to write something so good, so pure, so perfect that I‘ll never have to have children. I‘ll have created something that can stand in for me, that can live on after me.

Don‘t you know you can‘t trust a writer? She‘ll see a cigarette and call it a house fire. She‘ll take a suggestion and turn it into a crime scene. She‘ll wrap herself up in caution tape. She‘ll write you down.

(Author photo from internet)

5🌟/5 I absolutely loved it!
Books like this are hard to review as a whole. Usually you dont end up enjoying every single essay. I did! And I ended up writing down several quotes from it. It was poetic and reminiscent of youth. Vulnerable and raw. This girl can write! This was some of the best narrative prose I have read in a while actually. So looking forward to more from this author.
#bookreview #bibliophile #bookblogger #bookblog #essays

Sometimes I need to have a book of essays going to mix up my fiction. Starting this collection that everyone seems to be buzzing about.

"Last week, I decided my friend, Erik, was both beautiful and impossible, and I felt it save my life in a way."

I predict that your feelings about this book will relate to your reaction to the quote. If you rolled your eyes, you are likely not to warm to it.

Themes of finding identity by subverting expectations, the pursuit of freedom, which could also be selfishness (nobody knows where she has gone) or recklessness (nobody knows where she is!)

sometimes, I chain myself to you and call it a day, I touch the back of your head and call it a nightmare, I trail one scent and call it two lives,

I‘ll meet you at the barstools and you‘ll touch my hair and I‘ll take home everything you say. Don‘t you know you can‘t trust a writer? She‘ll see a cigarette and call it a house fire.

How can I trust love if I can‘t ever truly touch it? I can touch a body, a face, a man, I can even feel a heart beating—what other proof of life is there? But physicality is not love. Bruises on a shoulder blade, a body on my body, a paycheck, a love letter—all innocent symptoms of a hungry disease. I starve myself until I can‘t. I love until I die.

I was crazy-excited to receive this book, so I painted my nails to match. 💜🖤💜