Isn't that a sexy title? Sad to say, Dominique Browning's homage to unemployment is many things, but sexy is definitely not one of them. Reading this book was like running into a girlfriend I don't see all that often because of her bad choices in men. She's witty and charming and she makes me nutty.
I loved this book right up until that man arrived. Afterward, I turned each page in dread, fearing his reappearance. When the acknowledgments told me that he'd critiqued her manuscript I nearly threw the book across the room.
There is much to love about this memoir. I, too, have felt much better a little bit; There is exquisite writing - become insouciant, one of the desirable states of human evolution. There's her slacker's connection to cooking. There is the visceral connection to her sons and her books and her garden that felt as real to me as if I'd written the words myself. She is good with nuance and tone and I have to admit that I enjoyed her horror stories of Conde Nast just a little bit too much.
But I'm left feeling that this is a better series of magazine articles or blog posts than a stand alone book. Not much happens in the year Browning chronicles, though she would like us to think that it did. Ultimately, I didn't find her as interesting as she found herself.
This review of Slow Love by Dominique Browning is part of BlogHer's Book Club. Though I received the book for free and am being paid for this review, my opinions are, as always in The Burrow, my own.
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This review was limited to 250 words. I've never had to pare down my prose for money; it felt somewhat unseemly. But only for a moment. Yes, I've sold out to the women. Yes, I'm loving it.