I Remember Nothing by Nora Ephron is a book of essays ranging from old age to famous people in journalism. Two things I know nothing about.
But that didn’t stop me from reading it when my sister passed it along to me a couple weeks ago. She said I would like it and find it funny.
I was hopeful.
Then I read it and was disappointed.
Not that it’s a bad book. There were some laugh-out-loud paragraphs and I enjoy her style of writing. She can, in the same sentence, be sarcastic and heartfelt. I envy that about Ephron. But I read so many of the essays and couldn’t make a personal connection to them. I, like most people (and especially young adult readers [sorry, English teacher moment]), need to see something I can relate to in a text or I won’t engage in the book in a real way.
I think that’s what happened with this book. I read it, but I didn’t engage.
While I often read point of views that are different than mine, she littered so much of her stories with her political opinions that I got distracted many times on things that shouldn’t have been that important. It made me uncomfortable how blatantly she voiced her political agenda. I wasn’t expecting that and it was a turnoff (her shameless plugs, not the actual politics even if I didn’t agree with them either).
I Remember Nothing was a quick read. If you are well-versed on newspaper and new magazine writers, you’ll probably enjoy this a lot more than I did. The stories would have been memorable, perhaps, if I had any idea who she was talking about. The stories about old age and memory loss were the highlights of the book and if there were more of those and less of the others, I feel I would have enjoyed this book much more.