Riverhead Books, April 2008
The back cover of I Was Told There'd Be Cake says that "Sloane Crosley can do no right." This is not quite true. Although these essays detail the many misadventures of Sloane, clearly she's done something right indeed in this witty and entertaining book.
Sloane Crosley is a young New Yorker. She's heard every Ferris Bueller's Day Off joke (for a grand total of 3,567 times) about her name. She attended a Christian-based summer camp for eight years, despite being "one hundred percent Jewish," and once ended up with the part of Mary in the Christmas-in-July nativity play. She had an impressively complicated time moving to a new apartment in New York City. And she has a knack for making just about any experience into a funny story.
I Was Told There'd Be Cake features fifteen essays ranging from childhood to present, some with coming-of-age themes, others about making transitions and embracing change, many about the ways in which we discover our own identities. The stories vary in length and can be read in any order; you can easily take a piece or two of Cake at a time or devour the whole thing in one sitting.
The back cover of I Was Told There'd Be Cake says that "Sloane Crosley can do no right." This is not quite true. Although these essays detail the many misadventures of Sloane, clearly she's done something right indeed in this witty and entertaining book.
Sloane Crosley is a young New Yorker. She's heard every Ferris Bueller's Day Off joke (for a grand total of 3,567 times) about her name. She attended a Christian-based summer camp for eight years, despite being "one hundred percent Jewish," and once ended up with the part of Mary in the Christmas-in-July nativity play. She had an impressively complicated time moving to a new apartment in New York City. And she has a knack for making just about any experience into a funny story.
I Was Told There'd Be Cake features fifteen essays ranging from childhood to present, some with coming-of-age themes, others about making transitions and embracing change, many about the ways in which we discover our own identities. The stories vary in length and can be read in any order; you can easily take a piece or two of Cake at a time or devour the whole thing in one sitting.
Some highlights:
"There are little elements in a person's life, minor fibers that become unintentionally tangled with our personality... For me, it is the constant referencing of ponies." In "The Pony Problem," Crosley ponders both how to free oneself from the past and how to ensure one doesn't leave embarrassing trinkets for discovery if one were to die unexpectedly.
In "The Ursula Cookie," she tells of her first book-publishing job, working for a woman who once threw a four-hundred-page manuscript at her head. Yet she finds it difficult to quit. "The search for one's first professional job is not unlike a magical love potion," she notes. "When one wants to fall in love with the next thing one sees, one generally does." Not only does Crosley learn how to transition to and from that first professional position, she also discovers that making a cookie in her boss's likeness and presenting it to her is not the answer to office strife.
While others were feeding their Tetris addictions, Crosley found pre-driving-age fun in her Mac Classic game, Oregon Trail. "Bring-Your-Machete-to-Work Day" describes her glee over a game that allowed her to purposely endanger a character named after her math teacher, "the woman who called my differential equations 'nonsensical' in front of fifteen other teenagers," by nefarious means such as overloading the wagon. It is a tale of equal parts nostalgia and the joys of virtual revenge.
"There are little elements in a person's life, minor fibers that become unintentionally tangled with our personality... For me, it is the constant referencing of ponies." In "The Pony Problem," Crosley ponders both how to free oneself from the past and how to ensure one doesn't leave embarrassing trinkets for discovery if one were to die unexpectedly.
In "The Ursula Cookie," she tells of her first book-publishing job, working for a woman who once threw a four-hundred-page manuscript at her head. Yet she finds it difficult to quit. "The search for one's first professional job is not unlike a magical love potion," she notes. "When one wants to fall in love with the next thing one sees, one generally does." Not only does Crosley learn how to transition to and from that first professional position, she also discovers that making a cookie in her boss's likeness and presenting it to her is not the answer to office strife.
While others were feeding their Tetris addictions, Crosley found pre-driving-age fun in her Mac Classic game, Oregon Trail. "Bring-Your-Machete-to-Work Day" describes her glee over a game that allowed her to purposely endanger a character named after her math teacher, "the woman who called my differential equations 'nonsensical' in front of fifteen other teenagers," by nefarious means such as overloading the wagon. It is a tale of equal parts nostalgia and the joys of virtual revenge.
Experienced bridesmaids will appreciate "You on a Stick," about Crosley's stint as bridesmaid to a friend she hadn't been in touch with for about ten years. "Weddings are like the triathlon of female friendship: the Shower, the Bachelorette Party, and the Main Event. It's the Iron Woman and most people never make it through. They fall off their bikes or choke on ocean water." After a series of awkward events, her moment of clarity comes from looking an old group photo of friends, arms around each other. Smiling or grimacing? Unified forever or about to say goodbye? "We see the world as we are," she concludes.
The titles of some essays missed their mark for me ("Fuck You, Columbus," "Sign Language for Infidels," "The Height of Luxury") and the odd tangent appears here and there, but the stories are too engaging for these things to matter much.
I Was Told There'd Be Cake fits cozily between self-reflective tales of quarter-life crisis, such as those in Generation What?, and highly sardonic works such as Laurie Notaro's. If you're a young urban professional, if you have been young at some point, perhaps recently, or if you simply enjoy snarky humor with a little reflection (and much truth), I Was Told There'd Be Cake is an excellent choice for your summer reading list.
The titles of some essays missed their mark for me ("Fuck You, Columbus," "Sign Language for Infidels," "The Height of Luxury") and the odd tangent appears here and there, but the stories are too engaging for these things to matter much.
I Was Told There'd Be Cake fits cozily between self-reflective tales of quarter-life crisis, such as those in Generation What?, and highly sardonic works such as Laurie Notaro's. If you're a young urban professional, if you have been young at some point, perhaps recently, or if you simply enjoy snarky humor with a little reflection (and much truth), I Was Told There'd Be Cake is an excellent choice for your summer reading list.
