Book Review: I'm Sorry You Feel That Way by Diana Joseph

2009 at 3pm     Posted by Rebecca Schinsky

imsorryyoufeel

Set for publication March 5, 2009 from Amy Einhorn Books (a division of Penguin)

Diana Joseph’s memoir I’m Sorry You Feel That Way: The Astonishing True Story of a Daughter, Sister, Slut, Wife, Mother and Friend to Man & Dog isn’t really a memoir in the traditional sense. But that’s kind of okay with me. Rather than starting at the beginning and moving through a linear narrative of her life, Joseph presents her life in a series of fifteen essays that range from humorous to insightful to sad to unfulfilling. Think of the organization of a David Sedaris book—repeating characters and themes, a touch of “Hey! Look how weird/funny/unusual/mundanely boring my life is,” and just a few laugh-out-loud moments—and you’ve got I’m Sorry You Feel That Way.

At just 224 pages, this is a quick and generally pretty light read. Joseph explores some of the heavier issues of motherhood, womanhood, and marriage, but she does so with tongue planted firmly in cheek. This approach, combined with her blatant disregard for commas and her stream of consciousness-ish style, often make it a bit too easy to overlook the serious topics at hand and just allow the words to wash over you. I enjoyed most of these essays, but I must say that contrary to what the title might claim, there is nothing truly astonishing about any of them.

And again, that’s kind of okay. Joseph is a middle-aged English professor married to another middle-aged English professor, raising a teenage boy. She had her wilder times when she was young; she’s smoked weed and said “yes” to a few too many boys; and though not very religious, she’s worried about the Satanist who lives upstairs and where he’ll go when he dies.

Of the fifteen vignettes, three really stood out to me.  In “Love in the Age of Ick,” in which she contemplates the what-was-I-thinking dating decisions of her teenage years, which led to a relationship with an older guy who called her his “old lady” and about whom she says “I felt sorry for him, and I called it love.”  I think we’ve all been there and done that, and Joseph hits the nail on the head in both her reflection on and analysis of that stage of life.

“The Devil I Know Is the Man Upstairs” starts off as a story about the aforementioned Satanist neighbor but quickly becomes Joseph’s reflection on her own religious upbringing—during which she was “saved” more than once—and her memories of a particularly insistent Sunday School teacher whose voice she hears in her head during the moments when she is considering less-than-savory behavior. Anyone who grew up in the mid-west knows someone like Joseph or has had similar experiences herself (I went to high school with a boy who went forward to at least one altar call every month), so many readers will relate to this story. Though, I should warn you, it doesn’t cast the most positive light on religion, so if that’s something you’re sensitive to, you might just move on to the next chapter.

In the piece that made me laugh the loudest, “Humping the Dinosaur,” (how can you not love a chapter with a name like that?) Joseph discusses the family dog who, though neutered, wouldn’t stop humping everything in sight. When a trainer she consulted informed her that the dog was humping to express his dominance and the she should dry hump him to straighten him out (yep, you read that correctly), Joseph was initially shocked and disgusted. Then this happened:

I’d been napping on the couch, one of those late-afternoon naps I always regret because I wake up crabby and still tired. Even though I was groggy, even before I opened my eyes, I knew the puppy was standing there. I sensed him. He was staring at me.

He locked his gaze on mine. I saw there was a yellow dinosaur pinched between his teeth. He kept his eyes on me as he drew that thing up between his legs and humped it.

I’m the baby, I’m the baby, I’m the baby, the yellow dinosaur squeaked, and as the puppy humped it, he maintained eye contact with me. I felt like he knew my shyest secrets.

I leapt off the couch, and in a fury, I yanked it from him, and I beat him with it, and I’m embarrassed to admit what else I did.

It’s not like afterward the puppy took a nap while I smoked a cigarette, though that is indeed what happened.

Now, it could just be that I was reading that at bedtime and was already feeling a little punchy, but that story dissolved me into a fit of giggles that was only made worse by my attempts to read it to my husband so he could also appreciate the hilarity (and join me in imagining how ridiculous it would be if one of us decided to dry hump our basset hound in order to show her who’s boss).

I don’t think I’m Sorry You Feel That Way is going to change my life or be one of my favorite books of the year, but it was an enjoyable and mostly satisfying read. 3 out of 5.

Visit the author’s website for more information, and definitely check out her blog.  If you buy the book and send her a copy of the receipt, she’ll send you an I’m Sorry You Feel That Way tote bag that she made herself! What’s not to like about that?