Now that I'm an adult with a stable income, I preorder books occasionally instead of just adding myself to the hold list at the library. Samantha Irby's books are a no-questions-asked-don't-even-read-the-description-just-take-my-money preorder.

As expected, these essays are brash and unapologetic, full of Sam's signature sarcasm and the strong sense of eye rolling. But beyond the wit there's a ton of heart, a clear vulnerability that's not shy or shameful. Well —mostly not shameful.

This collection felt a less thematically connected than previous work, but it didn't harm the flow. Covid of course plays a big part, as does Irby's role as a writer on the Sex and the City reboot (and subsequent threats around maintaining Big and Carrie's relationship issued by die hard fans). But wait, there's more! A portrait of her new dog, Abe, a Chihuahua with dark circles under his eyes and a bad personality. A breakdown of Sam's favorite nun-centric porn. The fretful opportunity to reconnect with a long-lost brother. And, finally, Sam's accidental self-poisoning with ancient probiotic gummies.


As a fat woman with IBS and who adores Sex and the City, Sam feels like my literary soulmate in many ways. I've also had embarrassing bathroom problems while at a club, and knowing Sam's not only experienced but written about it makes me a loyal reader for life. Listen, you're not going to regret reading this collection. And you're especially not going to regret consuming it via audiobook format, read by Mrs Irby herself. The charm of Sam's thick cynicism, her wit, and her relatable spectrum of sins, makes anything she's written a no-brainer.