Delusions Of grandeur, of romance, of progress : essays

As her 20s come to an end, actor and screenwriter David (No One Asked for This) reflects on the absurdities of contemporary adulthood in this hilarious essay collection. Feeling the pressure to have life figured out by 30, she spends her 29th year trying (and failing) to end a decade-long situationship, find a hobby that gets her off her phone, cure her neuroses through self-care rituals, make friends who are emotionally mature, and finally decide if she wants kids. Throughout, she pokes fun at herself for being a nepo baby (her dad is comedian Larry David) and shows how the internet has exacerbated her anxiety and depression. Frustrated by the obligation to find "the right partner," she skewers the "romantic-advice-industrial complex" of influencers who dole out unhelpful, conflicting relationship guidance. When someone tweets she looks like "Nathan Fielder with a wig on," she spirals and obsessively researches nose types online. She attempts to get out of the house and escape the internet's grip, only to find herself at an "influencer gym" surrounded by people driven by their social media following. Sardonic and self-deprecating ("My body is not a temple. It is more like a loan shark, constantly holding my mind by the ankles, over a balcony"), David reveals how modern society has made growing up a harrowing, all-consuming worry. This is relatable company for anyone afraid they wasted their 20s. (Mar.)

Sardonic essays on the agony of turning 30. David, a comic memoirist (No One Asked for This) and indie filmmaker (I Love You Forever), structures her latest collection of essays around the final year of her 20s, beginning with a pretend 30th birthday party she throws herself when she turns 29, just so she can get used to the idea of turning 30, and ending with the awkward birthday party she throws herself when she actually turns 30. David, a self-avowed nepo baby--her father is comedian Larry David--has a gift for one-liners. "What if we both started trying to lucid dream?" she suggests to a boyfriend who is insistent that they pursue a shared hobby. She also can string out the flimsiest of premises--a gym specifically designed for influencers to take selfies, for example--into a much longer and more entertaining essay than one would expect. A couple of the essays exhibit a surprising maturity: "Romantic Advice to Ruin Your Life By," for example, savagely deconstructs statements like "Don't settle" and "When you know, you know," in favor of the down-to-earth "Find one person who has, let's say, 75 percent of what you want in a partner." Many more of them, however, focus on preoccupation with social media and an attendant urge to look closely in the mirror, with predictably unsatisfying results. One or two of these go a long way; half a volume of them is a lot. Some of them, even taking into consideration David's exaggeratedly self-deprecating stance, are actively uncomfortable to read, including one about a summer spent on Martha's Vineyard radically attempting to improve her appearance for the sake of a guy who shows only the most casual and occasional interest in her. Uncomfortably amusing. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.