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on 24 April 2015
Moran is interesting in 200-word newspaper columns. But in large doses? I enjoyed the book for a while. Then its louchely elbowing insistence became tedious. I finished it without enthusiasm.
It's of a piece with her rushed, tumbling speech in interviews, thrusting forward, interrupting, rattling through rehearsed anecdote after rehearsed anecdote inappropriate for the conversation but ! It will get a laugh ! It will hold centre stage ! Pay attention ! Pay attention ! Pay attention to ME ! ! ! -- Yes. We're paying attention. What would you like us to learn from you? -- Er... There isn't enough love in the world, and we should be nicer to one another! -- Ah. Thank you.
Maybe that's what one has to do as one of a dozen children if one is to be noticed at all; be the one who never walks, only tap-dances. "If I can't be graceful, I'll be loud." But oh, what a relief for everyone else, when Caitlin leaves the room, when the clatter stops.
It's of a piece with her rushed, tumbling speech in interviews, thrusting forward, interrupting, rattling through rehearsed anecdote after rehearsed anecdote inappropriate for the conversation but ! It will get a laugh ! It will hold centre stage ! Pay attention ! Pay attention ! Pay attention to ME ! ! ! -- Yes. We're paying attention. What would you like us to learn from you? -- Er... There isn't enough love in the world, and we should be nicer to one another! -- Ah. Thank you.
Maybe that's what one has to do as one of a dozen children if one is to be noticed at all; be the one who never walks, only tap-dances. "If I can't be graceful, I'll be loud." But oh, what a relief for everyone else, when Caitlin leaves the room, when the clatter stops.
on 26 August 2014
It’s ironic that a novel about a young woman who becomes a music journalist is like listening to a monkey endlessly pounding out the same two notes on a piano.
Moran is a good writer, stylistically you cannot fault her, but her subject matter has now officially not just worn thin, but completely and utterly worn through. Despite the disclaimer at the beginning, this is really just a warming-over of her own story, already well and truly milked in How to be a Woman and squeezed even further dry by her columns.
The only thing that I can see is different between her own life is the number of siblings. As is well documented, Moran is one of eight, in this novel there are “only” five children, with the youngest twins. Mercifully, this lets the reader off of her regular entrenched proselytising about the welfare state and her belief that having almost a football team of children when you have no hope at all of financially supporting them at all is some kind of noble enterprise.
Most worrying of all is the ending; it is left quite open, with the heroine’s move to London. I have a feeling that this is not the last we’ll hear of Dolly Wilde.
Water finds its level; Moran is unlikely to rise any furhter than this until she finds some new subject matter. Even enfants terribles all need to grow up some day.
Moran is a good writer, stylistically you cannot fault her, but her subject matter has now officially not just worn thin, but completely and utterly worn through. Despite the disclaimer at the beginning, this is really just a warming-over of her own story, already well and truly milked in How to be a Woman and squeezed even further dry by her columns.
The only thing that I can see is different between her own life is the number of siblings. As is well documented, Moran is one of eight, in this novel there are “only” five children, with the youngest twins. Mercifully, this lets the reader off of her regular entrenched proselytising about the welfare state and her belief that having almost a football team of children when you have no hope at all of financially supporting them at all is some kind of noble enterprise.
Most worrying of all is the ending; it is left quite open, with the heroine’s move to London. I have a feeling that this is not the last we’ll hear of Dolly Wilde.
Water finds its level; Moran is unlikely to rise any furhter than this until she finds some new subject matter. Even enfants terribles all need to grow up some day.
on 31 August 2014
Readable but bland. Goes nowhere for a bit in the middle. Tries to philosophise at the end which killed it - no need to spell out the messages.
on 18 October 2014
After a heavily fought battle, I lost the will to read any more at page 219. I think that there is a novel somewhere within the content, but, I think that Caitlin Moran should've found out where exactly before she wrote the thing...
It isn't all bad - there are some nice little bits about society, giving a good sense of time and place, and some of the characterisation - particularly the narrator's father - is quite good .However, these bits are too few and far between, suffocated by the pondering and neurosis of the narrator's stream-of-consciousness-with-anecdotes-and-observations that tend to make the writing self-indulgent - I imagine that Caitlin Moran would enjoy reading it more than anybody else.
I had real issues with believing the narrator. If becoming a music journalist/writer is as easy as it is shown in this book, then, just how many are there out there? If this is inspired by Moran's own experience with getting into the industry, then, she has been a very lucky girl, and shouldn't put it across as the norm.
It could have been made more plausible had the narrator been a confident, extroverted, outgoing person, with a high opinion of themselves, that 'blagged' their way in. Maybe then I could swallow it. But, I didn't buy that this character, this sixteen year old self-loathing and neurotic girl, would be able to get into this fortuitous position, just from sending a music magazine twenty-odd reviews before inventing a poorly executed fake persona to take with her to the interview.
Another gripe I had was the inconsistency of the tense, jumping from past to present, back and forth, even going as far as describing back-story in present tense. I didn't think that this could be done...? There were also problems with formatting, for example, a decision needed to be made on whether to put album/song titles in italics or inverted commas. It seems a small thing, but, it shows a dedication to the craft, something that I deserved to receive for my outlay.
Like I've said, there is a novel somewhere within the content. I think that if Caitlin Moran had planned it more, been more disciplined and self-critical in her approach, removing a lot of the 'filler', she would've had a much tighter and concise novel.
It isn't all bad - there are some nice little bits about society, giving a good sense of time and place, and some of the characterisation - particularly the narrator's father - is quite good .However, these bits are too few and far between, suffocated by the pondering and neurosis of the narrator's stream-of-consciousness-with-anecdotes-and-observations that tend to make the writing self-indulgent - I imagine that Caitlin Moran would enjoy reading it more than anybody else.
I had real issues with believing the narrator. If becoming a music journalist/writer is as easy as it is shown in this book, then, just how many are there out there? If this is inspired by Moran's own experience with getting into the industry, then, she has been a very lucky girl, and shouldn't put it across as the norm.
It could have been made more plausible had the narrator been a confident, extroverted, outgoing person, with a high opinion of themselves, that 'blagged' their way in. Maybe then I could swallow it. But, I didn't buy that this character, this sixteen year old self-loathing and neurotic girl, would be able to get into this fortuitous position, just from sending a music magazine twenty-odd reviews before inventing a poorly executed fake persona to take with her to the interview.
Another gripe I had was the inconsistency of the tense, jumping from past to present, back and forth, even going as far as describing back-story in present tense. I didn't think that this could be done...? There were also problems with formatting, for example, a decision needed to be made on whether to put album/song titles in italics or inverted commas. It seems a small thing, but, it shows a dedication to the craft, something that I deserved to receive for my outlay.
Like I've said, there is a novel somewhere within the content. I think that if Caitlin Moran had planned it more, been more disciplined and self-critical in her approach, removing a lot of the 'filler', she would've had a much tighter and concise novel.
on 30 July 2014
...best for teenage girls or mothers of teenage girls. This book has a few words of wisdom and warning for teenagers and is well written but...I didn't warm to the characters or setting. Although fictional it felt like Caitlin Moran's initial biography. I would recommend other books by the author but not this one. Not my cup of tea.....
on 20 October 2014
I like Caitlin Moran, don't get me wrong bit I really felt like I'd read this book before and only kept reading to check nothing had changed.
She is a great writer but this book is pretty much a repeat of her life.
Please keep writing your funny worry stories and I am a total believer in 'fake it till you make it'
She is a great writer but this book is pretty much a repeat of her life.
Please keep writing your funny worry stories and I am a total believer in 'fake it till you make it'
on 28 August 2014
Was so looking forward to this but was disappointed. It's just a fictionalized rehash of HTBAW but not as funny.
on 8 August 2014
I love Caitlin Moran's articles in The Times and adored "How to be a Woman", but this was a bitter disappointment. It appears to be "How to be a Woman" in "novel" form: young girl in Wolverhampton within a large family with parents on the dole. Then she becomes a music journalist. Really? Couldn't she be more inventive and have the heroine brought up in Bradford? An only child? And becoming a footballer? Or Whatever. Like other reviewers, I believe this is a clear re-hash of Moran's autobiography. Very disappointing.
on 25 August 2014
I found this book, especially the first half, very similar to the first few chapters of How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran. I loved that book but I just had a huge sense of déjà vu when reading this one. It didn't feel very original because the story is just the same one being retold and whilst there were some laughs it never really had me hooked. I finished it out of principle because I'd spent money on it not because I was especially enjoying the story. I would probably have enjoyed it had I not already read Caitlin Moran's earlier work.
