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![Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She’s “Learned” by [Lena Dunham]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/51kulHbgi8L._SY346_.jpg)
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Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She’s “Learned” Kindle Edition
Lena Dunham
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LanguageEnglish
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PublisherFourth Estate
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Publication date30 September 2014
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File size14052 KB
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Product description
Review
#1 National Bestseller
A Globe and Mail Best Book of 2014
“Dunham has become a sort of cover girl for millennial women, but I think pretty much everyone could be well-served by reading these essays. . . . you’ll see how intelligently she approaches topics like creating art, and dating, and mental health. Dunham is incredibly skilled at describing the seemingly mundane details of life—there are passages in the book that literally took my breath away with their observational powers.”
―Huffington Post Canada
"There's something so familiar and honest about [Lena Dunham's] writing. It's as if your best friend is casually telling you about her successes and her failures and what makes her tick. . . . She's able to make us feel a bit less crazy for being authentic. . . . So run, don't walk, to pick up Not That Kind of Girl.” —InStyle Magazine
“Dunham’s memoir serves up laugh-out-loud one-liners and quippy snippets of wisdom gleaned from parents, friends and personal experience (e.g., the least pleasant way to disengage from water skies).”
—Richmond News (British Columbia)
“[One of] the best . . . memoirs of 2014. . . . Dunham’s book tackles life issues every woman can relate to, and includes everything from her first sexual experience to her obsession with death.” —Business Insider
“[Dunham] is a talented writer. Her stories are beautifully crafted, and her voice is very much her own, with acute and sometimes laugh-out-loud-funny observations about the world she lives in.” —Highbrow Magazine
“I can safely say I have never read, watched or listened to anything that resonated with me as a young woman the way Lena Dunham’s Not That Kind of Girl did.”
―Women’s Agenda (Australia)
“[Not that Kind of Girl] is enlightening, especially if you want to get inside the reality of being a clever, extremely open, well-to-do miss coming of age in downtown Manhattan. . . . this precocious undisputed talent is known for pushing the envelope.”
—Sarah-Kate Lynch, author of The Wedding Bees
“Precocious yet clumsy, outspoken and inappropriate at times, young and relatable. . . . Dunham is divulging thoughts, feelings, and encounters shared by many young people today. . . . Not That Kind of Girl feels like a collective experience in many ways.”
—Georgia Straight
“In an era where twenty-something women are told how to think, where to work, who to date, and what to wear, it's refreshing that a voice has broken the mold to empower women to do one thing--be yourself, flaws and all. In Not That Kind of Girl, Lena Dunham takes readers on a voyage of self-discovery as she successfully navigates the often-perilous facets of womanhood, from dating and friendships to self-love and careers. Through her series of essays, Dunham shares what she's learned on her path to self-awareness with a refreshing candor and raw honesty that emboldens readers. Her painfully-relatable stories of graduating from one-night stands with toxic men and dead-end jobs with no purpose, to loving relationships and a fulfilling career will leave you laughing, cringing, and sighing ‘me too.’”
—Huffington Post
“Hilarious, sweet, raw and surprising. . . . It’s Dunham’s knack for the absurd that consistently and delightfully transforms these raw portrayals from coming-of-age stories into history.”
—Sydney Morning Herald
“An uncompromising storyteller, one who isn't afraid to get real even if that makes other people uncomfortable. . . . The best books are the ones that feel like friends. Not That Kind of Girl is that kind of book.”
—Winnipeg Free Press
“Wunderkind Lena Dunham proved she's no slouch as a writer.”
—USA Today
“[Dunham] shares so much of herself on her show that it's easy to assume you know her personally. . . . This honest and emotional collection of essays will make you once again feel like maybe you really are best friends. It'll also make you cry.” —Cosmopolitan “Dunham’s writing is beautiful and vulgar. . . . [Her] strength lies in essays that find a bridge between the personal and the universal. . . . Stunning.” —Toronto Star
“Brilliant.”
—Huffington Post
“Dunham’s essays demonstrate her wonderfully flawed, quite romantic humanity. With unfiltered frankness, poetic exposition and great humour she tells us what she’s learnt and the mistakes she made. . . . Dunham is with a little subtlety placing herself in the canon of modern feminism. And she’s right to do so.”
—The Times (UK)
“Having a young, inspiring role model bare all to help other young women to avoid the same pitfalls and teach them that it’s fine to make mistakes can only be a good thing. . . . Not That Kind of Girl is funny, empowering and as good a millennial guide for navigating and laughing at your foggy adolescence and murky twenties as there can be: I only wish it had been around earlier.”
—The Sunday Times (UK)
“It’s as funny, filthy and open as the TV show that made her a household name. . . . What is most appealing about Dunham and her book [is] not just her honesty, but her nonjudgmental attitude.”
—The Sunday Times (UK) “Eloquent and often hilarious.”
—Toronto Star
“We are comforted, we are charmed, we leave more empowered than we came. . . . Lena Dunham is passionate, talented, hardworking. . . . A force to be reckoned with.”
—NPR Books
“Dunham has a knack for minute observations and wanton exaggerations about everyday experience and a breezy-yet-droll delivery that could easily be compared to David Sedaris or Jon Ronson. . . . This book is funny. Not woman-funny. Not man-funny. Human-funny. And really, as we stumble through life trying to make sense of ourselves and each other, all with our metaphorical skirts tucked into our metaphorical tights, that’s all we could ask.”
—Esquire
“Raw and devastatingly real. It’s hard not to wish for more of those stories . . . ones that tell us more about how she became someone singular; a young woman whose work and words have put her at the center of a major pop culture conversation.”
—Entertainment Weekly
“Girls viewers have seen all sides of the show’s creator and star, Lena Dunham. Or so they think. While the actress’s life experiences have always informed her work, here she trades character Hannah’s voice for her own more self-aware voice. But fans needn’t fret: as they’d expect, this collection of essays—part memoir, part advice tome—is candid and humorous. And it’s heartfelt, too.” —Hello! Canada“The sharp observation and distinctive voice she honed in Girls and in her 2010 movie, Tiny Furniture, are translated to the page. . . . She is, by turns, acerbic and vulnerable; self-absorbed and searching; boldly in your face and painfully anxious. . . . The gifted Ms. Dunham not only writes with observant precision, but also brings a measure of perspective, nostalgia and an older person’s sort of wisdom to her portrait of her (not all that much) younger self and her world. . . . By simply telling her own story in all its specificity and sometimes embarrassing detail, she has written a book that’s as acute and heartfelt as it is funny.”
— Michiko Kakutani, The New York Times
“Very funny, occasionally painful and frequently inspires snorts of oh-no-she-didn’t disbelief. Unlike the television show, there is no thin veil of fiction here, there is none of the ‘privilege checking’ that a hit sitcom demands. This is Dunham’s life, from childhood to now. . . . It is honest to the point of making you squirm, often admiringly. . . . It’s like Judy Blume but with rough sex and prescription drugs.”
—The Independent (UK)
“A lovely, touching, surprisingly sentimental portrait of a woman who, despite repeatedly baring her body and soul to audiences, remains a bit of an enigma: A young woman, who sets the agenda, defies classification and seems utterly at home in her own skin. . . . Her power is in her willingness to carve a path not yet taken.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Dunham has crafted warm, intelligent writing that is both deeply personal and engaging. . . . We are forever in search of someone who will speak not only to us but for us. . . . Not That Kind of Girl is from that kind of girl: gutsy, audacious, willing to stand up and shout. And that is why Dunham is not only a voice who deserves to be heard but also one who will inspire other important voices to tell their stories too.”
—Roxane Gay, TIME
“Dunham tells her readers so much that it seems silly to hope for more. But because this very inviting voice has spilled intimacies on every page, I want her to keep talking.”
—The Washington Post
“Dunham opens her memoir by reminding readers of the audacity inherent in believing one’s own story is worth telling—especially if one happens to be a woman—and her commitment to this belief is an invisible footnote on every page of her adroit, funny first book. Dunham . . . plunges to deep-sea depths of young womanhood with this collection of keenly felt childhood memories and adult ruminations that often seem told expressly to you, the reader she sometimes addresses. . . . But most arresting are her achingly self-aware and mirthful portrayals of the particular and peculiar sadnesses of growing up, the recurring realization that the many milestones one is led to believe will usher in the next step to adulthood with a distinct ‘ping’ rarely make a sound at all until one writes about them.”
—Booklist, starred review
“[Dunham] has the exceedingly rare ability to be 100 percent herself, 100 percent of the time. . . . This would be a remarkable achievement for anyone, and for someone who is both young and female (conditions that historically have not been the most favorable for marching to the beat of your own drum), the combination of extreme self-reference and extreme lack of vanity feels almost like a supernatural power. . . . Dunham is an extraordinary talent, and her vision . . . is stunningly original.” —Meghan Daum, The New York Times Magazine “A memoir in essays crammed with frightful and delightful detail and Lena-ish quips. It is, says Lena, a sort of guide to getting the best out of life. Reading it is an intense experience—more shocking than I was expecting, sadder and more beautiful—anyway; within a few pages I have become Lena’s nanny, her mum, the older sister she never had but would have loved, and her best sensible friend. I’m charmed, anxious, furious and totally committed. . . . Beautifully written.”
—The Guardian (UK)
“For people who watch Girls . . . it may be difficult at first to divorce Hannah’s voice from Dunham’s written one. . . . Like Hannah, Dunham is flip, recklessly goofy, and prone to saying shocking, self-deprecating things about herself in service of a joke. Unlike Hannah, Dunham is wholly in possession of her faculties and well aware of her place in the world. . . . Funny and incisive.” —The Boston Globe
“A precociously smart and supple writer. . . . A brilliant talent.”
—The Guardian (UK)
“Not That Kind Of Girl is about Lena Dunham, and only Lena Dunham. The answer is . . . to stop listening to the people who have the definition of ‘all’ and want to sell it back to us. I prefer the individual approach: here’s one woman telling us, for better or worse, the stories she wants to tell. That’s the kind of girl Lena Dunham is.”
—National Post
“Very funny. . . . Her lively, precise writing slips the reader easefully into her states of mind. . . . An exciting novelist.”
—The Telegraph (UK)
“It's . . . brazen willingness to bare all that drives Dunham's work, and readers of this collection of smart, funny and poignant essays will thank her for it. . . . Every piece bears her original humor, but Dunham digs deeper into her arsenal of personal stories and finds extra courage to reveal some tough life experiences. . . . Although she's become known for exposure (often appearing naked on her show), she makes herself more vulnerable in this book than ever before, conveying deep emotion with poetic grace.” —ABC News
“Dunham’s tales of creative origin speak to a generation of young women slouching toward adulthood amid an obliterating sea of possibility, upending our sense of what our bodies should look like, what sex should be like—and what, in an age defined by the funhouse mirror of social media, a woman should aspire to become.”
—Vogue
“[Dunham] offers tales of her own experiences being overlooked and underloved. If that sounds corny or overly earnest, the essays that compose the book are neither. They're dark, discomforting, and very funny. . . . One of the things she grapples with throughout these essays [is] how we become accepted and loved and popular, without casting aside, or trying to hide, the unloved, unpopular people we once were. In fact, Dunham seems to want to revel in the dark spaces—the terrifying and awkward moments in life—which is pretty great.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Dunham’s writing is just as smart, honest, sophisticated, dangerous, and charming as her work on Girls. Its essential quality is a kind of joyful super-awareness: of herself, the world, the human. Reading her makes you glad to be in the world, and glad that she’s in it with you.”
—George Saunders
“Very few women have become famous for being who they actually are, nuanced and imperfect. When honesty happens, it’s usually couched in self-ridicule or self-help. Dunham doesn’t apologize like that—she simply tells her story as if it might be interesting. Not That Kind of Girl is hilarious, artful, and staggeringly intimate; I read it shivering with recognition.”
—Miranda July
“It’s not Lena Dunham’s candor that makes me gasp. Rather, it’s her writing—which is full of surprises where you least expect them. This is a fine, subversive book.”
—David Sedaris
“Always funny, sometimes wrenching, these essays are a testament to the creative wonder that is Lena Dunham.”
—Judy Blume
“This book should be required reading for anyone who thinks they understand the experience of being a young woman in our culture. I thought I knew the author rather well, and I found many (not altogether welcome) surprises.”
—Carroll Dunham --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
About the Author
Lena Dunham is the creator of the critically acclaimed HBO series Girls, for which she also serves as executive producer, writer, and director. She has been nominated for eight Emmy awards and has won two Golden Globes, including Best Actress, for her work on Girls. She was the first woman to win the Directors Guild of America award for directorial achievement in comedy. Dunham has also written and directed two feature-length films (including Tiny Furniture in 2011) and is a frequent contributor to The New Yorker. She lives and works in Brooklyn, New York.
Joana Avillez is an illustrator and the author of Life Dressing, a tale of two women who live to dress and dress to live. Her artwork has been featured in The New York Times, New York, and The Wall Street Journal. More of her illustrations can be seen at joanaavillez.com.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Just recently graduated, I had stormed out of my restaurant job on a whim, causing my father to yell, “You can’t just do that! What if you had children?”
“Well, thank God I don’t!” I yelled right back.
At this point, I was living in a glorified closet at the back of my parents’ loft, a room they had assigned me because they thought I would graduate and move out like a properly evolving person. The room had no windows, and so, in order to get a glimpse of daylight, I had to slide open the door to my sister’s bright, airy room. “Go away,” she would hiss.
I was unemployed. And while I had a roof over my head (my parents’) and food to eat (also technically theirs), my days were shapeless, and the disappointment of the people who loved me (my parents) was palpable. I slept until noon, became defensive when asked about my plans for the future, and gained weight like it was a viable profession. I was becoming the kind of adult parents worry about producing.
I had been ambitious once. In college, all I seemed to do was found literary magazines with inexplicable names and stage experimental black--box theater and join teams (rugby, if only for a day or so). I was eager and hungry: for new art, for new friendship, for sex. Despite my ambivalence about academia, college was a wonderful gig, thousands of hours to tend to yourself like a garden. But now I was back to zero. No grades. No semesters. No CliffsNotes in case of emergency. I was lost.
It’s not that I didn’t have plans. Oh, I had plans. Just none that these small minds could understand. My first idea was to be the assistant to a private eye. I was always being accused of extreme nosiness, so why not turn this character flaw into cold hard cash? After hunting around on Craigslist, however, it soon became clear that most private eyes worked alone—-or if they needed an assistant, they wanted someone with the kind of sensual looks to bait cheating husbands. The second idea was baker. After all, I love bread and all bread by--products. But no, that involved waking up at four every morning. And knowing how to bake. What about preschool art teacher? Turns out that involved more than just a passion for pasta necklaces. There would be no rom--com--ready job for me.
The only silver lining in my situation was that it allowed me to reconnect with my oldest friends, Isabel and Joana. We were all back in Tribeca, the same neighborhood where we had met in preschool. Isabel was finishing her sculpture degree, living with an aging pug named Hamlet who had once had his head run over by a truck and survived. Joana had just completed art school and was sporting the festive remains of a bleached mullet. I had broken up with the hippie boyfriend I considered my bridge to health and wholeness and was editing a “feature film” on my laptop. Isabel was living in her father’s old studio, which she had decorated with found objects, standing racks of children’s Halloween costumes, and a TV from 1997. When the three of us met there to catch up, Joana’s nails painted like weed leaves and Monets, I felt at peace.
Isabel was employed at Peach and the Babke, a high--end children’s clothing store in our neighborhood. Isabel is a true eccentric—-not the self--conscious kind who collects feathers and snow globes but the kind whose passions and predilections are so genuinely out of sync with the world at large that she herself becomes an object of fascination. One day Isabel had strolled into the store on a dare to inquire about employment, essentially because it was the funniest thing she could imagine doing for a living. Wearing kneesocks and a man’s shirt as a dress, she had been somewhat dismayed when she was offered a job on the spot. Joana joined her there a few weeks later, when the madness of the yearly sample sale required extra hands.
“It’s a ball,” said Isabel.
“I mean, it’s awfully easy,” said Joana.
Peach and the Babke sold baby clothes at such a high price point that customers would often laugh out loud upon glimpsing a tag. Cashmere cardigans, ratty tutus, and fine--wale cords, sized six months to eight years. This is where you came if you wanted your daughter to look like a Dorothea Lange photo or your son to resemble a jaunty old--time train conductor, all oversize overalls and perky wool caps. It will be a miracle if any of the boys who wore Peach and the Babke emerged from childhood able to maintain an erection.
We often spent Isabel’s lunch break in Pecan, a local coffee bar where we disturbed yuppies on laptops with our incessant—-and filthy—-chatter.
“I can’t find a goddamn fucking job and I’m too fat to be a stripper,” I said as I polished off a stale croissant.
Isabel paused as if contemplating an advanced theorem, then lit up. “We need another girl at Peach! We do, we do, we do!” It would be a gas, she told me. It’d be like our own secret clubhouse. “You can get tons of free ribbons!” It was such an easy job. All you had to do was fold, wrap, and minister to the rich and famous. “That’s all we did as kids, be nice to art collectors so our parents could pay our tuition,” Isabel said. “You’ll be amazing at it.”
The next day, I stopped by with a copy of my résumé and met Phoebe, the manager of the store, who looked like the saddest fourth--grader you ever met but was, in reality, thirty--two and none too pleased about it. She was beautiful like a Gibson girl, a pale round face, heavy lids, and rosy lips. She wiped her hands on her plaid pinafore.
“Why did you leave your last job?” she asked.
“I was hooking up with someone in the kitchen and the dessert chef was a bitch,” I explained.
“I can pay you one hundred dollars a day, cash,” she said.
“Sounds good.” I was secretly thrilled, both at the salary and the prospect of spending every day with my oldest and most amusing friends.
“We also buy you lunch every day,” Phoebe said.
“The lunch is awesome!” Isabel chimed in, spreading some pint--sized leather gloves that retailed for $155 out in the display case next to a broken vintage camera (price upon request).
“I’m in,” I said. For reasons I will never understand but did not question, Phoebe handed me twenty--five dollars for the interview itself.
And with that, Peach and the Babke became the most poorly staffed store in the history of the world.
The days at Peach and the Babke followed a certain rhythm. With only one window up front, it was hard to get a sense of time passing, and so life became a sedentary, if pleasant, mass of risotto and tiny overalls. But I will reconstruct it for you as best as I can:
10:10 Roll in the door with a coffee in your hand. If you’re feeling nice, you also bring one for Phoebe. “Sorry I’m late,” you say before flinging your coat on the floor.
10:40 Head into the back room to start casually folding some pima--cotton baby leggings ($55 to $65) and roll--neck fisherman sweaters ($175).
10:50 Get distracted telling Joana a story about a homeless guy you saw wearing a salad spinner as a hat.
11:10 First customer rings the bell. They are either freezing and looking to browse before their next appointment or obscenely rich and about to purchase five thousand dollars’ worth of gifts for their nieces. You and Joana try to do the best wrapping job you can and to calculate the tax properly, but there is a good chance you charged them an extra five hundred dollars.
11:15 Start talking about lunch. How badly you want or don’t want it. How good it will be when it finally hits your lips or, alternately, how little mind you even pay to food these days.
11:25 Call next door for the specials.
12:00 Isabel arrives. She is on a schedule called Princess Hours. When you ask if you can also work Princess Hours, Phoebe says, “No, they’re for princesses.”
12:30 Sit down for an elaborate three--course meal. Let Phoebe try your couscous, since it’s the least you can do. Split a baguette with Isabel if you can have half her butternut squash soup. Eat a pot of fresh ricotta to finish it off.
1:00 Joana leaves for therapy.
1:30 The UPS guy comes and unloads boxes of rag dolls made of vintage curtains ($320). You ask him how his son is doing. He says he’s in jail.
2:00 Isabel leaves for therapy.
2:30 Meg Ryan comes in wearing a large hat, buys nothing.
3:00 Phoebe asks you to rub her head for a while. She lies on the rug in the back and moans with pleasure. A customer rings the doorbell. She says to ignore it, and when her massage is done she sends you around the corner for cappuccino and brownies.
4:00 You leave for therapy, collecting your hundred dollars.
6:00 This is the time work was actually supposed to end, but you are already home, half asleep, waiting for Jeff Ruiz to finish his landscaping job and meet you on the roof of his building to drink beer and feel each other up. Only once in nine months does Phoebe admonish you for your poor work ethic, and she feels so guilty about it that at lunch she goes across the street and buys you a scented candle.
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Product details
- ASIN : B00IAEVJEO
- Publisher : Fourth Estate (30 September 2014)
- Language : English
- File size : 14052 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Print length : 289 pages
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Best Sellers Rank:
#210,679 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #139 in Letters & Correspondence
- #773 in Cinema & Broadcast (Kindle Store)
- #811 in Diaries & Journals
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Item sold 'as new' but shouldn't have been listed like that as it has gross yellow stains on the pages inside.

Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 4 August 2018
Item sold 'as new' but shouldn't have been listed like that as it has gross yellow stains on the pages inside.


