Petulance, perhaps?
"... if a soup kitchen is set up in a forest and no news crews are around to see it because they all saw THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT and they'll be damned if they're setting one foot in the woods for some stinkin' homeless people, does it count? Somehow I don't think so." - Author Sloane Crosley
I've been considering the title of Sloane Crosley's book, I WAS TOLD THERE'D BE CAKE, trying to perceive the message it sends to the potential reader. I can't quite put my finger on it. It's catchy, though; I like it.
The volume itself is a series of essays on the author's reactions to the minor injustices, unmet expectations, petty annoyances, imponderables, absurdities, and anxieties of her young life. As of today, she's still in her late twenties.
Perhaps the best chapter is the one entitled "You on a Stick", wherein she describes the experience of being chosen as the maid-of-honor by an engaged, former high school "friend" that she barely remembers. A deer caught in headlights is less inconvenienced, apparently.
Perhaps my favorite essayist that ruminates on life and the human condition is Barbara Holland (Endangered Pleasures: In Defense of Naps, Bacon, Martinis, Profanity, and Other Indulgences, When All the World Was Young: A Memoir, Wasn't the Grass Greener?: Thirty-three Reasons Why Life Isn't as Good as It Used to Be). Her view of the world incorporates a certain wisdom and common sense that have evolved from several decades of living beyond what Crosley has experienced. The point I'm trying to make is that Sloane's musings, while certainly diverting and engaging, might perhaps only be taken seriously and thought profound by someone no more than thirty. She has a flair for expression, however, that, seasoned by the years to come, should result in a perception and literary talent that rivals Holland's. Thus, and perhaps unfairly, I'm awarding I WAS TOLD THERE'S BE CAKE only three stars not for what it is now but rather in comparison to the book it could become in 30-40 years.
Of course, somebody age 90, or thirty years older than I am now, may comment that this review is nonsense and I should give credit where credit is due. As a matter of fact, you're welcome to say that no matter what your age.
Returning to the mood conveyed by the title. Petulance, perhaps, or a growing sense of disappointment? I really do like it for its cleverness.
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