Fifty Things That Aren't My Fault Essays from the Grown up Years by Cathy Guisewite

c​   Do you want to be comforted when you spent an entire day shopping and nothing fits? When you put off a workout yet again? When you ate an entire bag of snacks? When your kid acts like a stranger and your parents act like kids? Do you want to know you’re not the only one? Do you want to be hugged, clothed in old comfy sweats and told it isn’t your fault and it’s ok? Well, there’s a book for that and here it is. A comfort blanket of a book for the ladies of all middle ages.
      Ok, through no fault of my own (to stick with the books’ theme) I grabbed this book from the library expecting cartoons. Or maybe it was my fault…not enough research, should have read some reviews first. That right there is a fine example of taking personal responsibility that the author systematically shirks for comedic effect throughout the book.
    So, no cartoons, except for the tiny squiggles between the chapters. Despite the fact the fact that author’s main claim to fame is cartoons, specifically a newspaper comic she did for the very impressive 34 years, named, after its creator, Cathy.
    I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of it, certainly never read it, but after this book I can imagine it. Not quote for me. Much like this book. But then again I’m not the intended audience. I work out daily, don’t obsess over clothes or calories, don’t have hoarding tendencies, I don’t have to deal with a teenage daughter or elderly parents, etc. This is a book for the ladies (said with drag queen attitude), moms and daughters of a certain (middle to late middle) age, specifically I’d say the fairly traditional, cisgender heterosexual female of the species. Those are the people who’ll find these essays relatable, who’ll recognize themselves in their struggles to stay in shape or find a perfect pair of jeans or a decent bathing suit or nagging their children or being exasperated by their elderly parents and their seemingly backwards ways and so on. I bet that was the reason the comic found such success and longevity, the ladies just like her (and the comic seems to have been autobiographical to some degree) must have ate it up.
    To anyone who doesn’t fit into that category, the book doesn’t have much to offer outside of some interesting thoughts on generational differences and the psychological effects of feminism through time. The author is funny enough, entertaining enough in her own right to make these essays readable and at times mildly amusing, but in the end it seems that the enjoinment of reading this book is going to be directly proportionate to its relatability.
   This book seems like a logical next step for the author who seems to have given up the comic for no good reason outside of a desire to suddenly be more present as a mother and daughter, it’s essentially a continuation of a long lasting confessional, albeit more properly biographical. Bet it would have been more fun if done in cartoons, though. Then again this book basically comes with a built in audience who are sure to adore this literary equivalent of mom jeans. To each their own.