After finishing reading Lena Dunham’s book, I’m still deciding how I feel about it.
As a millennial, reading this book requires a self-reflection. There were several times where I felt frustrated with Dunham’s vignettes, the same way I had grown accustomed being annoyed with Hannah’s character on Girls, but I soon figured out that I was more frustrated with myself that I could relate to Dunham… It’s a hard feeling to articulate.
Maybe it’s because Dunham’s honesty about her flaws, her less-than-picture-perfect stories, make me think about my own shortcomings and remind me that being a 20something is such a weird place in life.
I’ve read a lot of great things about Dunham–she’s undoubtedly talented, hard-working and has been described as incredibly kind. Perhaps the magic of her work is that she makes her viewers think–isn’t that the desired effect of a good story?
New England Parisienne 