After reading Not That Kind of Girl in two days (thank you mono for giving me nothing to do other than read, catch up on The Vampire Diaries, and sleep) I thought I enjoyed it but ended up feeling stale.
Dunham's book, while being glorified as embarrassingly funny and an honest, fresh view on life just left me feeling sad for her... but also grateful I don't have OCD or HPV or any negatively-impacted acronym.
While Dunham's book is briefly summarized by a "young girl telling you what she has 'learned'", I honestly don't think I learned anything from it. I learned that casual sex in college will give you major anxiety, I learned that some people meet with their therapist four times a week, and I learned that you should always pack extra underwear on trips.
I was attracted to Dunham's novel due to her insane success as a young female in a male--dominated Hollywood world of execs and producers looking for the next hit, regardless of genuine plot or character, just the next big thing to roll in cash. Dunham started making satirical short-films with two friends while working in SoHo after college. After her short films gained notoriety in the arts world of New York, her career seemed to slowly but surely start.
However, a reader wouldn't know any of this from reading her book.
Not That Kind of Girl was filled with dieting logs, sexual exploits starting from a bizarre young age, accounts of drunken nights and coming to grips with her sexuality.
So the success and acclaim of a twenty-something year old female creating, producing, writing, directing and starring in her own HBO television series? Not included.
I was let down and disappointed slightly by Dunham's book.
Granted, it was humorous and an interesting look on another human being's life... but if Lena has "learned" anything after all of these years (as her book blurb suggests she has), I as a reader did not learn anything.
