I'm a strong, grown-ass woman who's been physically, sexually, and emotionally abused by men and women I trusted and cared about. I've broken hearts and had mine broken, too. Beautiful, ugly, funny, boring, smart or not, my vulnerability is my ultimate strength. There's nothing anyone can say about me that's more permanent, damaging, or hideous than the statement I have forever tattooed upon myself. I'm proud of this ability to laugh at myself – even if everyone can see my tears, just like they can see my dumb, senseless, wack, lame lower back tattoo.In the beginning of The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo, Amy Schumer states that, “This book isn't my autobiography” and that it has “NO SELF-HELP INFO OR ADVICE FOR YOU”. Neither of those statements is technically correct: this book is a series of autobiographical essays – sharing stories from Schumer's family and childhood, teenaged to early adult years, through to the genesis and development of her stand-up, television, and movie careers – and as most of these stories contain a nugget of pain, Schumer concludes each with an acknowledgement that this particular event either made her personally stronger in some way or she is sharing it now so that others can find a way to deal with their own pain; kind of self-helpy. Overall, this was a very interesting read – if, like me, you only know Amy Schumer from her TV show, you don't know her at all.
I read this book on the beach without marking any passages, so I'm just going to memorialise a few interesting Schumer-facts I learned that have stuck out in my mind (skip if you don't want spoilers): her parents were millionaire entrepreneurs who lost everything while Schumer was still little, but she never felt the sting of going from riches to poverty; her parents divorced when she was 13 (and the story of the reason for the breakup that appears late in the book was a shocker that demonstrates why Amy had a late-in-life reevaluation of her “goddess” mother) and her father went on to be diagnosed with and deteriorate from MS; she lost her virginity through nonconsensual sex with her boyfriend (and ended up consoling him when he felt bad about it); she lived with an abusive man, and even after barely escaping from him with her life, she later moved back in with him; her act wasn't ready for the big times when she became a finalist on Last Comic Standing (and while she was offended by the grizzled and rejected pros who told her she hadn't earned it yet, she later agreed with their assessments and recognised that she had been sent through solely as a character-type for the reality TV show), but after touring with some veterans based on that appearance and building her act fifteen seconds at a time over the next decade, Schumer has totally earned the success that she has lately enjoyed. I found it interesting that the entire Schumer family has a habit of disassociating during stressful times (as when the teenaged Amy and her sister were arrested for shoplifting and Amy had to keep cracking jokes to keep her sister present), and in Amy this has manifested in blackouts during drinking (which, as an adult, she now avoids). Certainly in all of this there were some important truths to be found (sexual assault will remain under-reported for as long as young women question their roles in provoking it; even a “strong ass woman” can find it hard to leave an abuser; after two young women were shot and killed at a showing of her movie Trainwreck, Schumer has become a voice for gun control [and really, she's after some common sense restrictions, not prying all the guns from the cold, dead hands]) and despite being only thirty-five, Schumer has stuffed enough life into her years to merit a memoir at this point.
Here would be my only criticism: The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo doesn't feel written; it is totally in Amy Schumer's conversational voice (which, I do understand, I have only heard from written material) but it really doesn't come off as self-reflective. Even the comedy isn't hilarious – sure there are some snarky asides and provocative material, but the essays aren't really crafted as complete funny narratives; they go bang, bang, bang, story, something conclusive, when I was expecting bang, bang, bang, story, something reflective, something conclusive, hopefully with a punchline. Does that make sense? There repeatedly felt like something was missing; like these were just interesting stories that someone was telling me instead of interesting stories that someone had taken the time to sit down and type out and craft as literary narratives. It's a small complaint though: I did enjoy this book very much – it's always fascinating to see how much hard work it takes to become an overnight success – and I wish Amy Schumer all the future happiness she can grab for herself.
Most of all, I think it's important for women to support each other; to ensure that we maintain a public presence in this world; to acknowledge that just because our comedic voices don't sound like those of men, that doesn't mean that we can't be funny, too. As I said, I read this book on the beach, and coincidentally, I saw on my phone that my local newspaper had reviewed it (favourably) the same day I finished it. I was then unsurprised but disappointed to see the comments section, with all these male naysayers:
I couldn't capture all the comments in one screenshot, but one guy said "I haven't read this book but I'm sure it's as unfunny as her TV show", another said, "She should make like the unknown comic and perform with a bag on her head", and another said, "She's only famous because her uncle is a famous politician, Chuck Schumer, and he made Hollywood take her". Leave alone the fallacy of that last comment (Chuck Schumer is a distant cousin that has questionable pull in Hollywood) and just consider the nerve of someone who would say "I haven't read this but I hate it" as a comment on a positive book review, or some man who would say that an attractive woman like Amy Schumer should put a bag on her head for his delicate tastes. I get that the unabashedly feminine Inside Amy Schumer might make some men uncomfortable, and no sketch comedy show is going to be funny all the time, but I think it's a long overdue addition to the TV landscape: women are 50% of the viewing audience and very little is created by women. I don't know how, in the face of so much ugliness, Amy Schumer has the fortitude to carry on, but I'm glad she does. And I'm glad to have read the book.
