Memoir Armoire

I love the Queen. No, not that Queen. Queen Latifah. She’s so talented and self-confident, and she flies the self-esteem flag for all women in Hollywood (and elsewhere) who aren’t the stereotypical deal (which must be harder to do in Hollywood than elsewhere, let’s face it). So she seems like the perfect choice to write Put on your Crown, a guide to self-esteem for young women using examples from her own life. I’d still prefer to worship at her feet while she dispenses her wisdom, but I guess this is the next best thing.

Who knew that when Arabella Weir was saying “Does My Bum Look Big in This?” every week as part of The Fast Show (not to mention giving her chick lit debut the same name) that she was actually reflecting her own life-long insecurity? From an early age, Weir’s parents made her feel paranoid about her weight (even when she wasn’t overweight), restricting her potato intake and humiliating her in front of others until she hated her body and ending up over-eating in response. She’s been stuck in a cycle of binging and low self-esteem (with occasional bouts of ego, she says) ever since.

The Real Me is Thin will sadly strike a chord with millions of women who have been taught or have picked up that their weight is the most important thing about them, and it’s a “what not to do” manual for raising children to feel good about themselves. Arabella comes off as well-adjusted, funny, and kind but her story of disordered eating doesn’t have a neatly resolved happy ending. At least, not yet.

I’d been looking forward to reading My Fair Lazy since Jen Lancaster first announced it about 18 months ago. Her attempt to become more cultured and less reality TV-obsessed, it involves her “eating the world”, learning about wine, trying smelly cheese (and liking it!), falling in love with Edith Wharton and in hate with Eudora Welty, and learning to make polite conversation rather than getting drunk and talking about The Real Housewives of Wherever.

I have to admit to being a little disappointed that so much of Lancaster’s “Jenaissance” is reported to us after the fact, in conversations with her friends rather than a play-by-play of events themselves, and I would have loved it if she’d taken etiquette classes rather than just had lunch with a posh blogger, but she moved house, had pet problems, and was on a book tour during much of her research time, which all clearly put a crimp in her style.

Still, any book of Lancaster’s is always full of her trademark humour, and having read most of her previous memoirs, a glimpse into her world is like a visit from a very funny old friend (the Twitter transcript — the result of an Ambien + wine induced intoxication — is worth the cover price alone). Plus, it totally made me want to try some weird new food. What more do you want from a memoir?

*Thank you to Penguin/NAL for the review copy.