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georgebcrawford's review against another edition
4.0
A fun little book. I wondered if David Foster Wallace dominated the second half a bit much, but it's clear how much Miller cared for him. Something that resonated is how many of the men she comes across have no sense of doubt or identity. She sees them as just existing with the world as a backdrop. I found myself wondering to what extent I obliviously blunder through the world.
skmiles's review against another edition
5.0
Absolutely excellent. One of the best I've read all year. Miller not only sheds a light on the experience of being a woman in the land of elite male writers and editors, but on her unusual experience with one writer in particular: David Foster Wallace.
The very structure of the book tells you everything you need to know about emotional abuse and "a man like that." It demands all your time, your attention, your energy. Miller's book is, for much of it's length, about her career, her experiences with sexism and her work in the industry. And then suddenly, startlingly, it pivots to be all-consumed by Wallace.
I am amazed by the beauty of Miller's writing, the quality of her prose, and the importance of her conclusions about her experiences. Despite the grief of her relationship with Wallace, she holds the trauma and joy in tension and challenges her reader to see the complexity of people rather than condemning them. Though she can be uncompromising in her critique of sexism, she maintains some awareness of all of our flaws. It may not be a response to abuse common at our particular historical juncture, but it's a fascinating one and perhaps has a lesson as well.
The very structure of the book tells you everything you need to know about emotional abuse and "a man like that." It demands all your time, your attention, your energy. Miller's book is, for much of it's length, about her career, her experiences with sexism and her work in the industry. And then suddenly, startlingly, it pivots to be all-consumed by Wallace.
I am amazed by the beauty of Miller's writing, the quality of her prose, and the importance of her conclusions about her experiences. Despite the grief of her relationship with Wallace, she holds the trauma and joy in tension and challenges her reader to see the complexity of people rather than condemning them. Though she can be uncompromising in her critique of sexism, she maintains some awareness of all of our flaws. It may not be a response to abuse common at our particular historical juncture, but it's a fascinating one and perhaps has a lesson as well.
kristianawithak's review against another edition
4.0
I loved this memoir. I underlined and sent screen shots to friends, a lot.
Adrienne Miller does the impossible job of writing about her time as the Literary Editor of Esquire and discussing her relationship with David Foster Wallace.
Miller discusses how men-centric the magazine world was at the end of its Golden Era. The year is 1997 and she’s the first female literary editor. These parts of the novel sing. It’s filled with all the literary name dropping and behind the scenes magazine life one could hope for. I mean, her coworker was Dave Eggers.
It is her more complicated relationship with David Foster Wallace where the memoir hurts. Readers know this story is not a happy ending, they know the fate of Wallace, and can assume the fate of Miller's relationship with him. There is sorrow and future loss streaking every page he's on. The foreshadowing of an unhappy end.
But these two stories cannot be untangled. To write about her time at Esquire, she must write about Wallace, and to write about Wallace she must tell of the relationship’s dysfunctions.
Her insight into power dynamics in relationships are especially poignant. It is a bittersweet read.
Adrienne Miller does the impossible job of writing about her time as the Literary Editor of Esquire and discussing her relationship with David Foster Wallace.
Miller discusses how men-centric the magazine world was at the end of its Golden Era. The year is 1997 and she’s the first female literary editor. These parts of the novel sing. It’s filled with all the literary name dropping and behind the scenes magazine life one could hope for. I mean, her coworker was Dave Eggers.
It is her more complicated relationship with David Foster Wallace where the memoir hurts. Readers know this story is not a happy ending, they know the fate of Wallace, and can assume the fate of Miller's relationship with him. There is sorrow and future loss streaking every page he's on. The foreshadowing of an unhappy end.
But these two stories cannot be untangled. To write about her time at Esquire, she must write about Wallace, and to write about Wallace she must tell of the relationship’s dysfunctions.
Her insight into power dynamics in relationships are especially poignant. It is a bittersweet read.
anchorlouise's review against another edition
2.0
Maybe it’s because I’ve worked in news, but I found this book to just simply be boring. I wanted more, and it seemed that the author had to justify her existence or what made her interesting in relation to the men in her life. I was surprised by the choices of stories that were included about working for her magazines, because they were just so uninteresting and so uninspiring that I couldn’t understand why that particular story or memory was included. This felt like a book without a purpose. I would have loved to hear more about the author as an individual, her own vulnerabilities, how she saw herself as a pioneer, how she really enacted change in her industry, but this didn’t deliver. I think part of the issue is that this book is packaged as something it is not. This becomes more of a biography of David Foster Wallace than a memoir. And if that’s what it was intended to be, that’s fine. But that’s personally not what I wanted to read about.
remlezar's review against another edition
4.0
This is an excellent memoir - women who read it, especially those who work in male-dominated fields, will certainly find much to identify with. Reading it as a man made me feel uneasy - I frequently cringed and thought about the past behaviors of both myself and men around me.
Miller's writing reads as clear-eyed and honest, and somehow manages not to feel exploitative, even though half of the book is about her relationship with David Foster Wallace, that tortured genius author.
DFW is certainly the reason why I picked this book up. His writing was formative for me, both personally and professionally. Wallace's work is sometimes frustrating, but almost always leaves me breathless, in complete awe of his ridiculous, almost inhuman talent. One of the things that always struck me about his writing was how he could write like that, so complicated and spiraling, while simultaneously being so humble, down-to-earth, practical, humorously observational, and empathetic. I admired his writing, and because of the content and philosophy of much of that writing, I always admired him as a person as well. When he died, it felt like a punch in the gut.
As the years went by, more and more stories came to the surface about DFW. Some reinforced what I thought about him - the tortured, gentle, empathetic genius. Others were much more disturbing, revealing someone who could be cruel, sexist, narcissistic. A true monster. Hearing these stories was akin to hearing that, say, Mr. Rogers actually hated children and slapped them around as soon as the cameras stopped rolling. (Luckily, this was not the case with Rogers, and he appears to have been nearly as kind and well-intentioned as we all hoped.)
As much as I wished this information about Wallace wasn't true, I knew I wanted to hear more, if nothing else just so I could try to make sense of how someone could write like he could (gentle, empathetic, etc.) while being like he was (terrible).
Here, too, Miller does an excellent job of painting a more full picture of the man. As it turns out, according to her, Wallace was both what I thought and what I feared. He was sweet and charming and timid, but apparently used those attributes to exploit those around him - especially women. He was an addict in the truest sense of the word. A recovering alcoholic, fighting a nicotine addition, and based on my reading of this book, likely indulging a sex addiction. He was emotionally manipulative in some disgusting, passive aggressive, horrifyingly subversive ways.
Miller does not shy away from the many dark sides of Wallace, but at the same time she acknowledges that she fell for it and did love him, even though she was never sure if he was even capable of loving her in the same way. He was addicted to her support and constant reassurances of his genius, while being supremely dismissive of her job, ambition, and writing.
All in all, this book made me feel proud of Miller, for surviving playing a game with the deck stacked so squarely against her. It also broke my heart in the ways I feared it would, by reforming my mental image of Wallace from gentle but broken genius to pathetic narcissist... genius.
Will I be able to enjoy Wallace's writing anymore? I don't know. Probably not in the same way, at least. I suppose I still admire and enjoy Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining," although when I watch it, it is impossible for me to not think about the way in which Kubrick abused Shelley Duvall on set.
Still genius, but forever tainted.
Miller's writing reads as clear-eyed and honest, and somehow manages not to feel exploitative, even though half of the book is about her relationship with David Foster Wallace, that tortured genius author.
DFW is certainly the reason why I picked this book up. His writing was formative for me, both personally and professionally. Wallace's work is sometimes frustrating, but almost always leaves me breathless, in complete awe of his ridiculous, almost inhuman talent. One of the things that always struck me about his writing was how he could write like that, so complicated and spiraling, while simultaneously being so humble, down-to-earth, practical, humorously observational, and empathetic. I admired his writing, and because of the content and philosophy of much of that writing, I always admired him as a person as well. When he died, it felt like a punch in the gut.
As the years went by, more and more stories came to the surface about DFW. Some reinforced what I thought about him - the tortured, gentle, empathetic genius. Others were much more disturbing, revealing someone who could be cruel, sexist, narcissistic. A true monster. Hearing these stories was akin to hearing that, say, Mr. Rogers actually hated children and slapped them around as soon as the cameras stopped rolling. (Luckily, this was not the case with Rogers, and he appears to have been nearly as kind and well-intentioned as we all hoped.)
As much as I wished this information about Wallace wasn't true, I knew I wanted to hear more, if nothing else just so I could try to make sense of how someone could write like he could (gentle, empathetic, etc.) while being like he was (terrible).
Here, too, Miller does an excellent job of painting a more full picture of the man. As it turns out, according to her, Wallace was both what I thought and what I feared. He was sweet and charming and timid, but apparently used those attributes to exploit those around him - especially women. He was an addict in the truest sense of the word. A recovering alcoholic, fighting a nicotine addition, and based on my reading of this book, likely indulging a sex addiction. He was emotionally manipulative in some disgusting, passive aggressive, horrifyingly subversive ways.
Miller does not shy away from the many dark sides of Wallace, but at the same time she acknowledges that she fell for it and did love him, even though she was never sure if he was even capable of loving her in the same way. He was addicted to her support and constant reassurances of his genius, while being supremely dismissive of her job, ambition, and writing.
All in all, this book made me feel proud of Miller, for surviving playing a game with the deck stacked so squarely against her. It also broke my heart in the ways I feared it would, by reforming my mental image of Wallace from gentle but broken genius to pathetic narcissist... genius.
Will I be able to enjoy Wallace's writing anymore? I don't know. Probably not in the same way, at least. I suppose I still admire and enjoy Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining," although when I watch it, it is impossible for me to not think about the way in which Kubrick abused Shelley Duvall on set.
Still genius, but forever tainted.
jlauf1996's review against another edition
4.0
I thought this book was interesting but for a few things. Miller lets DFW off way too easy. But that's how she experienced it. And often Adrienne's own writerly-ness gets in the way of her narrative.
egould1's review against another edition
3.0
Like other reviewers, I found this book to be uneven to the point of distraction. The author often jumps around in time, especially in the first 2/3 of the book. But then that largely stops and the story continues in a mostly linear fashion. The important topics of working with men in the literary world and experiencing sexism are also discussed unevenly. It makes for a lopsided but interesting read.