"This book is something new and wonderful—honest, funny, positive, completely original, and inspiring in the very best way: it made me remember I was alive."—GEORGE SAUNDERS
"A man on the 2 Express Train read some of Jenny Slate's Little Weirds over my shoulder. 'What kind of book is this?' he asked. 'The best kind,' I replied."—JOHN MULANEY
"This book is like a stovetop goulash, delicious and varied ingredients,
prepared perfectly and excellent with bread...I'm sorry, I lost track of the simile."—AMY SEDARIS
"Luminous,
emotional, lovely, and a little mysterious, this book is something you will savor like a half-remembered, gorgeous dream. You'll finish it feeling like
Jenny Slate is your new best friend."—SUSAN ORLEAN, author of THE LIBRARY BOOK and THE ORCHID THIEF
"Indescribable, but eminently readable, the actor-comedian's book consists of a carnival of observations, ideas and events that may or may not make up a memoir. Basically, Little Weirds is performance art in high-caliber prose."—THE WASHINGTON POST
"Jenny's writing is wide open, tuneful, tender. She sees the world (and feels the world) like a bug might, two antennae poking out from her head like sensory wands. Reading Little Weirds made me feel tipsy."—DURGA CHEW-BOSE,author of TOO MUCH AND NOT THE MOOD
"Slate invites us for a glorious swim inside her imagination as she explores romance, heartbreak and self-love in this poetry-memoir-fiction mash-up. It's a work that breaks the mold."—PEOPLE
"At once warm, heartbreaking, and erotic...a strange, witty,
sad journey into the depths of their author's imagination...devastating in their unfiltered honesty, even optimism...showcasing [Slate's] singular poetic forms of expression."—ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY
"A singularly hilarious and horny, but also poignant and tender, collection of writing that beautifully captures Slate's inimitable voice, which is one that, once you've heard it, you want to listen to forever."—NYLON
"Reading Jenny Slate's Little Weirds is like digesting Shakespearean sonnets: It's different enough from ordinary English that it takes your brain a few, very-long sentences to adjust to its sweet, flowery prose. But once you've recalibrated, the actress/comedian's book becomes a dreamy dessert for the eyeballs that uses playful language to express deep sentiments about heartbreak, anger, wonder and friendship."—USA TODAY
"A poetic and dreamlike book, a testament to the power of fantasy and language to hit your feelings where facts and pictures can't. . .Slate's voice never loses its capacity for strangeness, for finding it in the littlest,
weirdest corners. And it's this mix of sweet and sadness, real stakes and dreamy prose, that gives this book its soft, sharp, and altogether overwhelming power. Like René Magritte crossed with Lana Del Rey, with strong notes of
Patricia Lockwood. Like a carnival ride caught in a tornado, candy-colored shards of metal sparkling in the sky."—TEEN VOGUE
"If you hadn't previously been aware of Slate's dexterity as a storyteller, [Little Weirds] will be your awakening...The thing about Jenny Slate is that her warmth doesn't just come from her openness. It also comes from her ability to say, with her whole chest, something others would keep hushed away. It's why she's the receptacle of the stories people are normally too embarrassed to tell. When someone articulates so clearly her own hopes and worries and small shames, it feels like an opening to share your own in return."—IN STYLE
"The inside of Jenny Slate's mind is a fascinating, if unusual, place.
In this collage of essays, stories, dreams (both night and day), and pieces that defy easy categorization, the actor and comedian invites readers to pay an extended visit, one that will leave them enlightened, moved and sometimes pleasantly puzzled... a refreshing, original journey."—SHELF AWARENESS
"Jenny Slate, the polymathic actress, writer and comic, presents a delightfully odd assemblage of vignettes whose magical-realist absurdity is a style all her own."—LOS ANGELES TIMES
"Across pieces that vary in tone and style, a vulnerable account of losing love and wanting desperately to re-find it emerges. . . This unconventional collection gives true insight into Slate as both an artist and a person."—BOOKLIST (Starred Review)
"Every so often, someone will decide to stray from the outline and gift us with something so unexpected that it may not tickle our funny bone but it might tickle us pink. Jenny Slate's nonfiction collection Little Weirds is one such book. It's an extremely personal narrative, and there are elements of humor in it, but that may be all it has in common with the efforts of her peers. . . A collection that relies so heavily on whimsy shouldn't be this effective, but the emotions in it are so raw that delving into her words creates an intimate connection to the work."—AV CLUB
"A collection of not quite stories and not quite essays that are somehow more than both...Holding the book together is Slate's intelligence and eye for the absurd, which is to say her voice... pure joy for her subtlety,
sensitivity, and comic timing...Few books explore self-doubt and loneliness with as much fun or creativity...Jenny Slate very much a writer."—LITERARY HUB
"Humorous, whimsical essays about things that are on Jenny
Slate's mind. With a light touch, she tells us honestly what it's like to be her and how she sees the world, one little, weird piece of it at a time."—BOOKRIOT
"Jenny Slate is an artist in the broadest sense of the word. . . . Adjust your expectation of a run-of-the-mill memoir and ready yourself to drop straight into Slate's imagination. Her ability to paint a meticulous mental picture with nothing but words on a page can only be described as gifted."—ASSOCIATED PRESS
"Slate offers an intimate window into not only her mind, but her heart. The result is a dazzling, sensory gift for poetry lovers and fans of Slate's distinctly odd, but deeply charming humor."—PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
"Little Weirds explores the oddities-and magic-of everyday life...Less an essay collection and more a map of her brain...Little Weirds chattily chronicles Slate's highs and lows and dips and swoops as if the actress is absorbing sunshine through an I.V."
—MARIE CLAIRE
"The mind that made you fall in love with a tiny shell hang-gliding on a Dorito does similarly strange,
albeit more grown-up work in this collection of essays, which touches on everything from haunted houses to a vagina singing sad old songs."—BUSTLE
"Slate's voice remains an eccentric and powerful central force as she comments on politics, patriarchy and her personal life."—TIME
"She can act! She can do stand-up! And yes: Jenny Slate can write, too. Slate gets vulnerable in Little Weirds, a memoir that touches on her first marriage, her post-election anxiety, and new beginnings."—REFINERY29
"A delight to read. It's a collection of beautiful, hilarious, genuine essays and really is meant for times when you feel heavy. Slate jumps between deeply considering a dead deer on her parents property, to transcribing her borderline surrealist dreams, to poignantly investigating heartache and the forms it takes in such a genuine way I couldn't help but feel that it was written by a friend for me."—VANITY FAIR
"Slate seems to fit so comfortably inside the poetic realms of her impressive imagination that she has no need to abandon them,
not even when she is rebuking the pernicious ugliness of male patriarchy, another element that has heavily impacted her life. In one particularly powerful interlude, the author achieves biblical grandeur, envisioning herself ripping out the ancient evil root and stem...A uniquely talented writer and performer offers up an unexpectedly uncommon approach to autobiographical writing."—KIRKUS REVIEWS
"Little Weirds is full of soft and lovely moments... Slate beautifully evokes the pleasures of female friendship."—NPR.ORG
"Slate got what most major comedians get — a book deal
— and the result is wholly original and uniquely hers...She writes in this lyrical,
musical, even poetic way. The guardedness typical of the comedian memoir is thus gloriously stripped away... She manages to be whimsical but hilarious but vulnerable."—VULTURE, The 10 Best Comedy Books of 2019
06/24/2019
In an impossible-to-categorize adult debut, actor and comedian Slate (Marcel the Shell with Shoes On, coauthor) meditates on topics profound and ephemeral with wonder and stark honesty. The unaffectedly whimsical, direct tone is established quickly, with the opening piece’s assertion that “I am actually a homemade Parisian Croissant,” followed by the dictate, “Pair me with jam. Treasure me for my layers and layers of fragility and richness.” Something of a personal narrative does emerge; she describes her childhood in hilarious pieces such as “Fast Bad Baby,” about the troubles she inflicted on her mother by being “so rowdy and speedy.” She ruminates on growing up in a haunted house in Massachusetts, and on leaving it knowing the ghost of her former self would always live there. She admits to debilitating self-doubt (and explains how she moved past it) and celebrates female friendships and self-care. The most moving piece, “I Died: Bronze Tree,” the only work of (overt) fiction, unfolds from the perspective of a recently deceased old woman, whose death follows shortly after her husband’s. Here, and elsewhere, Slate offers an intimate window into not only her mind, but her heart. The result is a dazzling, sensory gift for poetry lovers and fans of Slate’s distinctly odd, but deeply charming humor. Agent: Claudia Ballard, William Morris Endeavor. (Nov.)
11/01/2019
With this collection of short essays, Slate (coauthored with Dean Fleischer-Camp, "Marcel the Shell" picture books) paints a self-portrait of, as she tells herself, "all the little weirds that make up who you are." The resulting amalgam of prose comprises doubt and exuberance, examining self-concept, gender roles, and everything that makes the author a unique human. The overall portrait depicts Slate opening herself up to life, drinking in as much of it as possible, and relating fully to a world with all its joys, disappointments, and everything in between. Those familiar with Slate's previous works will recognize her slightly askew perception and delightful way of reframing the familiar. Here she has full rein with language, and her style is less precise than fulsome, throwing lots of things at the wall and seeing what sticks. Her subject is her whole self but fragmented, in her words, "a weird party for a woman who has returned from grief," both vulnerable and moving, a party even non-partygoers might like to attend. VERDICT This volume mixes the oddball self-examination of Jenny Lawson with moments of poetic insight. Recommended for lovers of fizzy memoirs.—Audrey Snowden, Milford Town Lib., MA
2019-10-08
Tough times spur a popular stand-up comedian and actor to dive deep into her own inimitable psyche.
In Slate's (Marcel the Shell With Shoes On: Things About Me, 2011) intriguing inner world, raindrops are "wet water bloops" that fall unexpectedly from the sky, and brassieres are "cotton cup bags" that respectable ladies are obliged to don before heading out to dinner. The use of deconstructed language allows the author to move beyond the banal and replace it with something that more closely approximates her singular experience of being alive. Whether joyous or sad, Slate's personal journey hasn't always been lighthearted. Indeed, the author feels moved to describe herself as "dying" on multiple occasions throughout her life. She is concerned with many other things, as well, including the nature of lovelorn ghosts and the ethereal goodness of dogs. Underneath the gauzy, shimmering scaffolding, however, is an all-too-universal story about heartbreak, depression, and a failed marriage: "One man was gone from my life just about the time that another man pig-snorted his way into the presidency….I didn't know how or why to give myself small pleasures." Through it all, she has found solace in a circle of good friends and the redemptive powers of a neat house and an incredible garden. Slate seems to fit so comfortably inside the poetic realms of her impressive imagination that she has no need to abandon them, not even when she is rebuking the pernicious ugliness of male patriarchy, another element that has heavily impacted her life. In one particularly powerful interlude, the author achieves biblical grandeur, envisioning herself ripping out the ancient evil root and stem. "I take one last good look at that poison pod and I just go ahead and fling it," she writes. "I fling that pod back into the gloomy section of outer space that is for bad gods with sickly and sour spirits."
A uniquely talented writer and performer offers up an unexpectedly uncommon approach to autobiographical writing.
