Meaty: Essays

Meaty: Essays is Samantha Irby’s first book, but I read her second book, We Are Never Meeting in Real Life. Essays, first. If I had read Meaty: Essays first, I’m not sure if I would have felt compelled to read everything that Irby wrote, but because I did read it out of chronological order, I was willing to stick with Meaty: Essays and as her book unfolded, I began to recognize the voice that I love.
Irby’s books are like deconstructed memoirs. I initially thought that I was reading standalone humorous essays, but as I progress in reading her books, I could see her growing as a person, which is maybe why I found it harder to get into Meaty: Essays. Irby is incredibly harsh with herself at the beginning of the book, but gradually eases up as she progresses. Imagine that you are listening to a friend who is criticizing herself incessantly, and you just want to jump in, stop her and show her all the ways that she is wrong. Irby even devotes an essay to that phenomenon and dismisses it so it just seems like she was going through an incredibly hard phase with herself.
Meaty: Essays is an incredibly raw book in tone and writing style. It is very rooted in the physical reality of biology, and all bodies, even seemingly perfect ones, can be a bit much to delve into, especially combined with Irby’s early condemning self judgment. It is almost gynecological in its exploration of her disgust with her body, sex and bodily functions. Whereas her second book is too grown for me, but still funny in its universal approach to the human experience so I could enjoy it, this book is too grown for me and really feels like she is on the threshold of hating herself specifically. Once she realizes that she is suffering from an illness and begins to swear off of bad relationships, the tone lightens, and she becomes the person that we know and love because she can finally love herself; however that does not make for easy reading.
I enjoyed Meaty: Essays because it is a privilege to see someone become herself, realize that while her physical characteristics are unique, they are emblematic of everyone’s awkwardness in navigating life and discover her voice in exploring that reality, but in comparison to her second book, it is not always enjoyable or easy to read. It is still a quick one, but because it was difficult to read her kick herself incessantly, it probably took longer than it should have. The book gets better as it unfurls, but the best essay that embodies what Irby means to me is titled “The Triplets.” It is literally laugh out loud funny like her second book and is the perfect mix of honesty, absurdity and rawness that makes me love her.