Everything Is Wrong With Me
While I'm finally getting traction on The Brothers Karamazov, I took a few nights off last week (the only time I get to read any more is right before bed) and read Everything Is Wrong With Me, a memoir by Jason Mulgrew. The book was sent to be by the fine people at HarperCollins, and I definitely thank them for the thought.
|Kid in a suit. Always funny.|
That's not actually right; what is clear is that Mulgrew can spin a good yarn, especially about his family (mostly his parents) who were a rowdy bunch. I'm fairly sure that if I sat at an adjacent barstool from Mulgrew, I'd have a pretty fun evening listening to his tales.
That being said, as a complete book, even as a memoir of a guy who is still just in his early thirties, it feels decidedly incomplete, and sometimes disjointed. The stories themselves are pretty amusing and sometimes quite entertaining. But ... they are mostly stories that were previously told to him. As you near the end of the book, you start to wonder who, exactly, this is a memoir of. The sub-title of the book is "A Memoir of an American Childhood Gone, Well, Wrong." So, I'll grant Mulgrew the cheekiness of writing a memoir of only the first third of his lfie. But even the stories of his childhood are really stories about what his parents were doing then. It feels unconnected, and ultimately isn't that satisfying.
I would like to read more by Mulgrew (and certainly, more from the generous folks at HarperCollins) as he shows a lot of talent, humor and skill. But it doesn't quite come together here.