Book Reviews

It's hard to resist the comparison between this book and Lena Dunham's, not least because Amy Poehler herself refers to it in her introduction (alongside other wonderful books like Tina Fey's Bossypants). I will start by saying that I didn't think Yes Please was very funny. I mean, I didn't laugh once, and I'm the kind of person who laughs so much that I have to be sent away. I'm also a huge fan of Poehler and have Parks and Recreation repeating 24/7 on a dedicated television in my formal lounge area.

Late in the night, I sometimes click on New Post and unravel two-to-three hundred words of some memory I have: bushwalking with shoes full of leeches, the vinyl couches in my childhood doctor's waiting room, buying clay from the little studio down the road. I love these stories. I write and reminisce and smile and cry and laugh. Here are my stories. Here is my patchwork quilt of life. Somewhere during the writing process, I realise that I'm the only person who will care about it. No one else can relate to the memory. No one else will have an emotional response to catching two buses to visit my boyfriend, or to eating bain-marie noodles in a dirty food court. So I save the draft and never look at it again.

Did you know that women who earn more than 66% of the total household income actually spend more time doing housework than women who earn 50% of the total household income? The Wife Drought offers this and all manner of other depressing factoids, and they are certain to resonate with women (especially mothers) everywhere. When I was a new parent, I had a "wife". Lily was a little baby, and I worked for myself full-time. I was 23 and I was tired for every waking moment, and all the times in between. My then-husband worked on Saturday nights, but otherwise his role was to undertake parental duties while I worked. I had an office away from the house, but I also worked from home sometimes.