Book Review: 'Daisy Jones & The Six' by Taylor Jenkins Reid

"Women will crush you, you know? I suppose everybody hurts everybody, but women always seem to get back up, you ever notice that? Women are always still standing."

No one is more surprised than me that I loved Daisy Jones & The Six. But in order to understand why I was surprised that I loved it, I must first explain some of the beef that I've had with Taylor Jenkins Reid in the past. So, about three years ago, I decided I was going to buy a copy of Reid's novel Maybe in Another Life after reading the premise and thinking that it sounded like a really good idea for a cute contemporary fiction novel. Right? Wrong. I hated it. It was awful. The writing was terrible and the characters were even worse. It had no depth and felt like a Danielle Steel-type book that you find in a pharmacy (no shade if you like that sort of thing - it's just definitely not my thing). This was also back in the days when I couldn't allow myself to abandon a book even if I hated it, so I forced myself to read the entirety of a book I could not stand (which, looking back, is completely my own fault). But still! I was upset. I spent money on a book I thought I was going to love and I hated it so much. I ended up giving away my copy in a bag of books I gave to a friend. It's nothing personal against Taylor Jenkins Reid herself but I spent money on her and her book was bad! It's a bookworm's prerogative to hold a grudge when that happens! Anyway, so a few months after that whole incident, Reid's next novel The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo came out and it felt like everyone I knew who read books was over the moon for it. I became vehemently against reading it despite the praise and recommendations because I was still pissed over Maybe in Another Life, but ultimately, I gave into the peer pressure and ended up checking it out from the library a few months after the craze died down. As much as everyone on my Goodreads feed was in love with it, I was not. It was definitely better than the last book of hers I read, but I didn't find it to be the original and compelling novel that everyone made it out to be. Reid's writing style definitely left something to be desired for me. It again felt too much like a Danielle Steel-type book with little depth and originality. Especially since Evelyn Hugo was supposed to be this insightful look into the career of a fictional star, I really didn't find it all that special.

So then, this year, when Reid's latest novel Daisy Jones & The Six hit shelves and, again, it felt like everyone and their mother was rushing out to buy a copy (it also helped that Reese Witherspoon both picked it for her book club and had also optioned the screen rights for it before it had even come out). I, again, watched the craze from afar and figured I would do the same thing I did with Evelyn Hugo: wait until the craze dies down and find it at the library, since Daisy Jones actually did interest me more than Evelyn Hugo and I actually hadn't received as many bombarding recommendations. Daisy Jones follows in the footsteps of Evelyn Hugo in that it's also the story of the life and career of a fictional star, or in this case the story of the lives and career of a legendary seventies rock band. Daisy Jones is told in interview format for a new biography about the band, wherein it almost reads like a script for a documentary. But what struck me most about the narrative style was that it grabbed me almost instantly and didn't let go until the last page. As much as Evelyn Hugo was reminiscent of the real-life stories of Marilyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor and that was also an interesting premise for me given I enjoy the stories of tragic female figures, Daisy Jones ended up being even more interesting for me given that I am even more consumed with the lives of recording artists and their legacies. If I may quote a blurb from another author on the back cover, "Filled with passion, complexity, and fascinating detail, Daisy Jones & The Six felt so real, I had to remind myself that it was fiction." And that's exactly how it felt reading it. Sometimes the details about this band that doesn't even exist were so consuming and gripping that I often forgot it wasn't real. I definitely enjoyed that aspect of it since that's very much my cup of tea; analyzing and reading about the lives of others whose careers interest or inspire me.

What also strikes me about Daisy Jones in comparison to Evelyn Hugo is that the majority of the same people who gave high ratings and rave reviews to the latter were more likely to give mixed and negative reviews to the former. Reviews of Evelyn Hugo praised the writing style, its originality, and feminist themes, but those same reviewers tended to criticize Daisy Jones' interview format, called it predictable and not all that insightful, and said they very quickly grew bored with it in comparison to Evelyn Hugo. As far as writing style goes, I think it's safe to assume that I am not Taylor Jenkins Reid's biggest fan. However, since she was writing entirely in the voices of her characters in Daisy Jones, leaving no room for a narrator or anyone outside of the characters giving testimonies, I think I enjoyed Reid's writing style in this book over her others that I've read since it allowed less room for the shallow writing I've found in her other books. I also find it interesting how all of the reviews that commended Evelyn Hugo for being a groundbreaking feminist story were not as quick to claim the same thing with Daisy Jones, which in comparison was a much more original story and offered more feminist insight into an era rarely fictionalized by other authors. Old Hollywood and the studio system, as portrayed in Evelyn Hugo, has been fictionalized by countless other authors and Taylor Jenkins Reid didn't even do a good job at it. But she did do a really good job at the gender expectations of the seventies music industry in Daisy Jones. I especially enjoyed the contrast that the men of The Six faced virtually no struggles or limitations when they started their band, having complete creative freedom and control since they were men, but Daisy Jones was immediately typecast by her record label and forced to record things they knew would sell without looking at her own songwriting. Gender power dynamics like this still exist today in most of Hollywood and beyond, but it was much more prevalent in the seventies and I enjoyed the subtle ways in which Reid acknowledges that throughout. "That's how it was back then. I was just supposed to be the inspiration for some man's great idea. Well, fuck that."

Despite the fact that the ending of the story was a bit predictable, I was still excited to read until the end and learn all of the sorted details to the demise of this legendary, iconic (and fictional) band. I also understand why some readers grew tired and bored with the interview style, since it does almost read like a neverending script and I will admit my eyes got tired after awhile. Some also criticized how Daisy Jones attempted to tackle numerous different issues without really centering on any of them, but to me it read as if all of the things that took place (coming of age in a male-dominated industry, sexism, drugs and rock 'n' roll, and the band's relational dynamics) were being tackled simultaneously because all that and more actually took place. Except they didn't. I keep forgetting this is fictional! I also understand why others said they got bored with it since, in the second half of the book, it does feel like not that much happens. But it still felt eventful and interesting to me since all of the action was taking place retroactively through the stories of those who were there. Like I said, Daisy Jones & The Six grabbed me from the first page and didn't let go until the last. I still have to remind myself that these people don't exist, because they felt so real. I'm excited to see what Reese Witherspoon and Taylor Jenkins Reid concoct for the screen adaption of Daisy Jones, since I think it could translate very well into a television series. 5/5 stars.

12 Underrated Movies to Watch This Summer

In the mood to crank up the AC, ignore civilization, and watch a good movie during your time off this summer? Never fear! As much as it’s fun to go see movies in the theatre, sometimes nothing beats staying home, microwaving popcorn, and watching a movie from your couch—whether it’s old or new. If that’s what you’re looking for, here are 12 underrated movies you should watch this summer.

He’s Just Not That Into You

Quite possibly the most underrated romantic comedy ever made, He’s Just Not That Into You follows a large ensemble cast including Ginnifer Goodwin, Jennifer Aniston, Ben Affleck, Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Connelly, Scarlett Johansson, and Drew Barrymore in a poignant look into the life of modern dating: are you the exception, or the rule?

Uptown Girls

Starring Brittany Murphy and Dakota Fanning as an unlikely pair of rich girl out of money forced to take a job as a nanny for a spoiled, uptight young girl, Uptown Girls asks all two very important questions: what does it mean to grow up, and what does it mean to be family?

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Isolation, bitterness, and literary humor. What’s not to love? In an Academy Award-nominated performance as biographer-turned-literary forger Lee Israel, Melissa McCarthy delivers some of the most intense and best work of her career in Can You Ever Forgive Me?, a dark but heartwarming look into what it means to lose and what it means to be fulfilled.

The Edge of Seventeen

All hail future EGOT winner, her majesty Hailee Steinfeld, in a charming and relevant teen comedy film like no other. Co-starring Kyra Sedgwick, Woody Harrelson, and Haley Lu Richardson, The Edge of Seventeen reminds us all that we’re only young once—is it over yet? Now available to stream on Netflix Canada.

Hello, My Name is Doris

Who are you when you’ve spent most of your life being ignored and catering to others? In what can only be described as Sally Field’s most underrated and loveable role to date, Hello, My Name is Doris teaches us that we’re never too old to try something new, and we’re never too old to go after what we want—because we’re worth it. Currently streaming on Netflix Canada.

Goodbye Christopher Robin

Ever wondered how Winnie-the-Pooh really came to be? In the vein of Finding Neverland or Saving Mr. Banks, Goodbye Christopher Robins offers an insightful look into the lives of A.A. Milne and his son—the world they created together, and how everything fell apart when they shared it with the rest of the world. The amount of sadness and dysfunction that ended up creating one of the happiest and most beloved children’s stories of all-time is remarkable, but Goodbye Christopher Robin nonetheless delivers a compelling and powerful narrative behind probably the most famous children’s books of our time.

How to Make an American Quilt

In one of the most celebrated women’s narratives of the ‘90s, based on the bestselling novel of the same name by Whitney Otto, How to Make an American Quilt weaves together its own quilt of what it meant to be a woman in the twentieth century—the dreams that were put together by imagination, stomped on by expectation, and suffocated by limitation. But no matter how old you get, you never forget what it’s like to be young and indecisive with the whole rest of your life laid out in front of you—and stories like those never go out of style. Featuring an ensemble cast with Winona Ryder, Anne Bancroft, Dermot Mulroney, and Maya Angelou, How to Make an American Quilt teaches us how to make a narrative that binds us all: there are no rules you can follow, you have to go by instinct, and you have to be brave.

A Star is Born (1954)

As much as we’ve rightfully celebrated the subsequent remakes of this film classic starring Barbra Streisand and Lady Gaga, it feels as though the original remake of A Star is Born—and the most significant—has been somewhat lost to history. The 1954 version, starring Judy Garland and James Mason, offers a colorful journey to the past to the Golden Age of Hollywood and what it took to be a star—sometimes sacrificing who we are and who we love in the process. All versions of A Star is Born have their merits, but Judy’s version will always be my favorite.

Revolutionary Road

I recently saw this movie for the first time and I’m mad at myself for not watching it sooner. Starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in their second onscreen pairing since Titanic (they also reunite with Kathy Bates, who co-stars), Revolutionary Road is a powerful look into the world of 1950s conformity: the desire to conform, the anxiety of complacence, and the yearning to—and the cost of—breaking free. “If being crazy means living life as if it matters, then I don’t care if we’re completely insane.”

Unfaithful

Director Adrian Lyne (Fatal Attraction) delivers a steamy erotic thriller like only he can. Starring Richard Gere and Diane Lane, Unfaithful asks us to question the root of lust and desire: can we be in love with one person forever, but still come to crave the touch of someone else? One of my all-time favorite movies.

Mona Lisa Smile

It might not be Julia Roberts’ best role, but Mona Lisa Smile still offers an insightful look into the traditional but restrictive values of ‘50s womanhood, and how one teacher can always make a world of difference. Co-starring Kirsten Dunst, Julia Stiles, and Maggie Gyllenhaal, Mona Lisa Smile asks us to remember that there is always more out there for us, if only we have the courage to look. Now streaming on Netflix Canada.

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

In this simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? looks into the life and work of Fred Rogers: his passion for children, his enthusiasm with emotions, and his love of television—and how he managed to bring them all together to create a legacy that no other public figure has come close to matching. In preparation for the Mister Rogers biopic hitting theatres later this year (A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood starring Tom Hanks), Won’t You Be My Neighbor? is a required watch. PSA: don’t watch unless you are in the mood to sob until your eyes swell shut. Available to stream on Netflix Canada.

Which underrated movies do you have to recommend?

7 Albums That Have Saved Me From Myself

Originally posted on my other blog  It's Not That Deep, where I discuss mental health, navigating adulthood, and growing up.

“Songs can be incredibly prophetic, like subconscious warnings or messages to myself, but I often don't know what I'm trying to say till years later. Or a prediction comes true and I couldn't do anything to stop it, so it seems like a kind of useless magic. As if the song is somehow speaking through me in its own language. And I am a conduit but totally oblivious to its wisdom.”
—Florence Welch

Music and I share a very complicated relationship. I’ve always loved listening to music just as much as the next person, and the music I listened to growing up definitely helped shape me as a person. But a part of me has also always been afraid of music and what it does to me. With me and music—and with me and a lot of other things—it’s all or nothing. Blast the song as loud as you can or don’t play it at all. Sing along to every word at the top of your lungs or don’t sing it at all—it’s always been the way I’ve enjoyed music the most. But at the same time, music has had a tendency to overstimulate me to the point of me becoming scared of listening to music. Scared of listening to upbeat, catchy songs during the week when it might stick in my head to the point of not being able to sleep at night. Scared of the feeling I get from listening to a song that’s just so good that I immediately begin to wonder how long the feeling will last. I’ve often listened to the same songs on repeat in hopes that it will solve all my problems and make everything okay, to the point where I’ve heard the songs so many times I never want to hear them again. It’s like I hear a song I like and my brain’s immediate reaction is, “Let’s cling to the happy feeling this song gives us because it rids us of uncertainty and listen to nothing but this until we literally hate it.”

It’s only been within the last few years that I’ve really discovered the upsides and downsides to the power that music has over me. In the past, when I was just a student with no other real-life responsibilities, I didn’t listen to music as much because I thought that it was often toxic for me since it had a history of overstimulating me to the point of not being able to sleep at night. Once I tried to let go of those rituals in order to simply allow myself to listen to music whenever I wanted, it was then that I truly discovered the miracle (and sometimes, the curse) of music. When I was younger I would generally only listen to the same few artists and whatever new catchy pop song that I liked on the radio. It was only once I removed the previous limits I had set for myself when listening to music did I really realize that, if you look hard enough, there is a song, album, or an even entire artist for every emotion. Sometimes that forms a connection so strong that you can feel as though the artist is singing about you directly, especially when you are feeling down and that song or album helped you feel better or better understand your emotions.

As a result, throughout my lengthy journey with depression and anxiety over the last few years, a variety of music that was often new to me at the time, since I hadn’t bothered to look into it in the past, became the soundtrack to my struggles. As much as it helped me, it doesn’t mean that it didn’t also have a tendency to plague me, since music does still tend to overstimulate me. I do still tend to cling to certain songs that make me feel a certain way in hopes that I can maintain that feeling forever, to the point of it being unhealthy. But I know my new limits with music much better now, and they are much healthier than they were during a time when I was convinced listening to music was a pleasure I didn’t deserve and my indulgence in listening to music that Tuesday was what made the train late. I know and understand the power that music holds over me much better now, and with that knowledge I can now both know where to draw the line, and also use it to my advantage. That’s where the idea for my playlist of mental health songs came from. Over the course of about two years of forming overly emotional connections and dependencies on certain songs, I decided to turn that into something positive and create almost a scrapbook of feelings, both past and present, in hopes that those feelings through songs may also help somebody else. Looking back, there have been a few albums in particular that I believe have saved me from myself, and I’m sure going forward there will be many more. I also believe that certain things like books, movies, and music have a habit of coming into our lives when we need them most and when we are least expecting them to, so I thought I would share some of those albums in hopes that, again, those feelings through songs may resonate with and help somebody else in need.

Taylor Swift, Red

During the days where I could only allow myself to listen to music that I knew wouldn’t overstimulate me too much, I would turn to slow, mellow, and calming songs—the complete opposite of upbeat earworms. Listening to this kind of music would also often make me feel sad when I thought I wasn’t sad; a warning sign I missed back then. During a period of deep depression, I felt that there was very little music that matched the noise inside my head. When I was feeling down, I didn’t want to hear happy songs because it felt like I was forcing myself to feel something that I was not. Similarly, I didn’t always want to hear sad songs because sometimes it only made me feel worse and I wasn’t ready to confront my feelings. I needed something in the middle. One day I turned to Taylor Swift’s Red album, since I knew it was mostly mellow and calm songs that wouldn’t overstimulate me, and it ended up being everything I needed and more. I didn’t necessarily relate to the lyrics of heartache and breakups, but the level of emotion and confession in the songs—in the vein of confronting how you feel—was exactly what I needed to hear. I listened to the album start to finish, over and over again. It didn’t solve my problems, but it made me feel so much better even if for just a short while.

Shania Twain, Now

I grew up listening to Shania Twain. She was the first artist I ever loved. Listening to her old albums, even with the catchy and upbeat songs, is always calming and therapeutic for me since it brings back such fond memories of being young and singing from the backseat or listening to her Greatest Hits CD on my Discman player. I never would have guessed that I would have been well above legal drinking age by the time I got to hear new Shania Twain music again, when she released her latest album Now in 2017. At first, I wasn’t a huge fan of it. Sure, her vocals have changed and sure, it was never going to be the same as her old stuff. But I didn’t comprehend the number of sad ballads about the breakdown of her marriage, losing her voice, and the ensuing depression she battled. I didn’t understand those emotions because I believed I’d never felt them myself. Flashforward a few months later when I was really going through it with my mental health, and I again needed something else to quiet the voices in my head. After making my way through all of her old albums and the feeling of nostalgia failing to make me feel whole again, I decided to listen to Now another time and it was as if I was hearing it for the first time, since I understood it so much better now. Twain said that she had told the producers of the album to forget and ignore all of her old material, saying she wanted a more “organic approach” and that she was “reflecting on the darkness.” I think it took me going through my own darkness to understand and appreciate the approach she was going for. It made me love and admire Shania Twain so much more than I already did for going through hell and back and still managing to stand up again, keep breathing, and keep going. Now will always have a special place in my heart.

Kesha, Rainbow

Not to sound too dramatic or anything but I think Rainbow has singlehandedly saved my life on more than one occasion. I wasn’t a huge fan of Kesha back in the days of Ke$ha. I liked the catchy singles, but her music didn’t give me enough to form a long-lasting connection with her as an artist. Of course, we would soon learn there was a reason for that when Kesha filed a still ongoing lawsuit against her former producer, Dr. Luke, in 2014 alleging physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. While a judge denied her motion to be released from her recording contract that obliged her to work with the man she accused of abuse, Kesha was able to finish work on the album she had been working on for several years and managed to release it through her label in 2017. Rainbow chronicles everything from her battles with depression, to not letting the bastards get you down, to learning how to let go. It has been the soundtrack to way too many of my breakdowns and reminds me that if Kesha can get through all that, then I can get through this.
  
Britney Spears, Glory

During a particular period of high anxiety (and probably my first experience with high anxiety) and depressive episodes, listening to Britney Spears was one of the only things that sparked joy for me, in anything. Her album Glory had just come out a few months before, and a few months before that I had just gotten my driver’s license and it opened up a whole new world of adult responsibilities that I wasn’t emotionally mature enough to handle yet. Listening to Glory whenever I drove made everything seem easier and distracted me from whatever else was going on in my head at that time, too. Nothing about the songs or lyrics on the album have to do with anxiety or mental health necessarily, but listening to the same album over and over again felt familiar and made me feel comforted and rid me of feelings of uncertainty, at least for a little while.

Alessia Cara, The Pains of Growing

This album has also definitely saved my life on a number of occasions. Or not even that it saved my life, just the fact that it came into existence at the very moment I needed it the most always feels so special. I became a big fan of Alessia Cara about a year before The Pains of Growing came out, listening to her first album Know-It-All backwards and forwards. I felt such an instant connection with her music and her as an artist, since her lyrics and her personality just make me feel understood and appreciated, especially in terms of being an anxious introvert. So many times in my life I’ve been told I just have to get over parts of my introverted personality for the sake of living in this world and listening to Alessia Cara reminds me that the world is hard for other people, too. That’s what The Pains of Growing is all about for me. It puts such particular feelings into words that are so often invalidated or not even discussed at all. Growing up is hard! Getting over yourself is hard! Being an adult human being is hard! Being a human is hard! These are all realities everyone seems to know, but it still helps when we say it out loud and treat it like something that can be embraced and celebrated.

Olivia O’Brien, Was It Even Real?

Was It Even Real? might have only come out just over a month ago, but it’s already helped me in profound ways. I discovered Olivia O’Brien last year by chance when one of her music videos popped up in my recommended videos section on YouTube. I was instantly taken aback by the dark but honest tone of her lyrics—another artist who puts particular feelings into words that we often don’t want to say out loud. I listened to her first EP, It’s Not That Deep (which may or may not have ended up being the inspiration for the name of this blog…don’t call any copyright lawyers on me), which led me to form a connection with her as an artist. She’s said in interviews that she has suffered from depression since she was seven years old, and has used songwriting as an outlet for her feelings for as long as she can remember. Was It Even Real?, O’Brien’s full-length debut album, deals with themes of heartbreak, depression, anxiety, bad habits, self-destructive habits, and learning to love yourself—with some catchy bops about boy problems, too. It also just feels real, despite what the title suggests: the truth is, as much as we’re told we need to love ourselves first and let go of all negativity and bad habits and whatever else, we still find ourselves unable to let go because those things are hard. It also celebrates the reality of accepting our bad habits and our depression or anxiety because fighting the feeling often gets you nowhere. From where I stand now with my own mental health, the album has reminded me that all of these things are important, even if they’re hard.

Kacey Musgraves, Golden Hour

For me, Golden Hour was one of those albums that took several listens and some time to grow on me before it took its full effect. I listened to it when it came out last year since it came highly recommended, even though I’m not a huge country person, and I only liked a few songs. This year, after it won Album of the Year at the Grammys, I decided to give it another listen and it took awhile for it to grow on me. Like I said, a lot of the time, certain things come into our lives when we need it most and when we are least expecting it—books, movies, music, and others. I think that sometimes it takes going through a certain experience or suddenly being at the mercy of a certain emotion to appreciate a particular book, movie, or album the way in which it may have been intended. Earlier this year, while working through some things and making some realizations for myself, mental health-wise, I think I finally heard Golden Hour the way in which it was intended. You can tell a wide range of emotions went into this album, and it probably takes feeling a wide range of emotions to understand it the most. In the time since, when I have found myself feeling too much (a.k.a. pretty much all the time), Golden Hour helps bring me back down to earth. It reminds me that I’m holding too tight to my umbrella again, because there’s always been a rainbow hanging over my head.

“If you could see what I see, you’d be blinded by the colors
Yellow, red, and orange and green, and at least a million others
So tie up your bow, take off your coat, and take a look around
‘Cause the sky is finally open, the rain and wind stopped blowin’
But you’re stuck out in the same old storm again
You hold tight to your umbrella, darlin’ I’m just tryin’ to tell ya
That there’s always been a rainbow hangin’ over your head ”
—Kacey Musgraves, “Rainbow”

Book Review: 'Celebrity Detox' by Rosie O'Donnell

"That's the thing about fame. It's a dangerous game, because fame, the drug, can sneak up on you in increments. You don't notice the increments, that you're increasing the dosage until you're so far away from ever making eye contact with another human being and being 'real,' that you don't even know you're not 'real' anymore."

I decided to check out Rosie O'Donnell's memoir Celebrity Detox, first published in 2007, from the library after reading and thoroughly enjoying Ladies Who Punch, a book looking at the history and inside stories from the set of the long-running daytime talk show The View. I decided I wanted to read Rosie's memoir that came out a few months after the end of her infamously controversial one-season run as the moderator on The View not only because Celebrity Detox was mentioned and quoted several times in Ladies Who Punch, but it led me to realize that I actually didn't know all that much about Rosie O'Donnell, other than what everybody knows about Rosie O'Donnell. And I have to say, I enjoyed reading Celebrity Detox much more than I expected to.

The ratings for Celebrity Detox are fairly low on Goodreads, with most reviews only coming in around 3 stars. Celebrity memoirs like these tend to have low ratings for one of two reasons: a) It's actually just plain bad because not all celebrities have a flair for writing, no matter how popular they are, or b) It's actually not that bad of a book at all, but people are snobs and only rate it 2 or 3 stars because they saw reading it as a "guilty pleasure" and "just cannot bring themselves to rate it any higher than that." Celebrity Detox is most definitely a case of the latter. It might be very stylistically messy and jump all over the place in terms of narrative and how exactly the stories she tells pertain to the overall theme of fame being a drug she was addicted to, but it was still an insightful and eye-opening reading experience. I never really watched The Rosie O'Donnell Show when it was on TV, and I didn't really watch The View when she was on it either (other than the episode everybody has seen, where she and Elisabeth Hasselbeck aired out all of the dirty laundry in their friendship from behind the scenes in front of a national television audience in May 2007). But I do remember Rosie being a bankable household name in the late '90s and early '00s, and then she suddenly disappeared from the limelight. I was recently watching an episode of Will & Grace from 2002 with my parents where Rosie guest stars and my dad looked up and said, "Whatever happened to her?" Clearly a lot happened to Rosie O'Donnell, and we just weren't paying attention.

In Celebrity Detox, O'Donnell writes of how she grew up thinking that becoming famous one day would automatically solve all of her problems: a perception and a dream that a lot of different celebrities have admitted to having. But Rosie soon found that being famous was not only incredibly overwhelming, but she was losing herself and who she was by continuing to be the Rose O'Donnell that the world came to love. She was losing contact with her family and her children, and from what she writes, this was the primary factor in her decision to say enough and end her syndicated daytime talk show after six seasons in 2002. But she also paints a picture of fame as a drug, one that she became heavily addicted to without even realizing it. She had initially written a different version of Celebrity Detox that she had intended to publish sometime after ending her talk show, but decided against it because she felt the time wasn't right. As a result, she includes passages from the original draft of the book as well as different blog posts, all of which read as incomplete fragments, from her time out of the spotlight between 2002 and 2006. She also writes about how, when Barbara Walters asked her to join The View as the new moderator for their tenth season, she was willing to do anything Walters asked her to do because she viewed her as a mother figure whom she wanted to please, bringing up unresolved issues from her relationship with her own mother who died when she was a child. She agreed to join The View despite not knowing if she would be able to return to the spotlight and fame after "detoxing" from it for four years prior. What she ended up realizing what she couldn't handle was merely being a part of something without being in the driver's seat or in control. When she did The Rosie O'Donnell Show, it was syndicated and she thus did not have to meet the demands of any specific network. On The View, however, she had to fit the mold of what ABC wanted, and Rosie is very unapologetic when it comes to not fitting in to a specific mold.

It's fascinating to think that, looking back, Rosie O'Donnell was not the right fit for The View at all, especially regarding the numerous controversies that ensued while she was there the first time. But at the same time, The View would not be what it is today if it weren't for Rosie. She is frequently credited with making the show more news-oriented and less strictly centered on "women's topics," as well as making political debates a mainstay in the Hot Topics segment. As difficult as it was for her to last in the environment that was The View, and as difficult as I'm sure she was to work with, she helped breathe new life into a show that has now been on the air for nearly 22 years. Not to mention the fact that, despite how much she was demonized in the media for what she said about Donald Trump on The View back in 2006, everything she said about the future president was true; she was just the only one with the balls to say it. Similarly, when Rosie returned to The View for a brief five-month run between 2014 and 2015, everything she said about Bill Cosby was true. But in the pre-Me Too and Time's Up era of 2014, all of her fellow co-hosts wanted to see more "proof" before they could conclude Cosby was a predator and that his accusers were telling the truth. Is Rosie O'Donnell actually a fortune teller? I'd believe it.

Overall, I enjoyed reading Celebrity Detox and it helped me relate to a celebrity and pop culture figure who I hadn't previously taken much time to get to know. I related to Rosie's plight of being a control freak by nature and trying her hardest to just go with the flow on The View, but that's so damn hard when you know something can be better and how will you let yourself sleep at night if you don't put your version of your all into something? Sometimes, it's not worth it. But how else will you know if you don't try? If you're a fan of The View who has also checked out Ladies Who Punch, I would definitely recommend reading Celebrity Detox if you already haven't. 4/5 stars.

Here’s Why I Still Can’t Fully Support Kim Petras

I know you think I’m going to say that I can’t support Kim Petras because she continues to choose to work with Dr. Luke, the infamous pop music producer whom Kesha accused of assault. That’s definitely a part of it. But there’s so much more beneath the surface concerning Kim Petras—the 26-year-old German-born pop singer who has risen to fame through music streaming services and social media. She’s very popular among the LGBTQ community, predominantly given that Petras is a transgender woman; this being the reason she has been credited as groundbreaking, since her trans identity is not the most interesting thing about her. But the fact that Petras is trans, and thus normalizes the notion of trans visibility, has led the majority of the pop music fandom—which consists largely of gay men—to give her more credit than she actually deserves. Many have referred to her as “saving pop music,” or being the future of pop. But in reality, she’s the past of pop.

I’m not going to pretend that I’m a fan of “real music” and that I’m above listening to the fun-loving bubblegum pop that Kim Petras makes. In fact, Petras’ brand of pop is my favorite kind of music to listen to. Whether it’s the eighties vibes on “Hillside Boys,” the auto-tuned but catchy nonetheless vocals on “All the Time,” the Paris Hilton dress-up fun on “I Don’t Want It At All,” or her best song to date “Heart to Break” (which I named one of the best songs of 2018), I love a cheesy pop song that just makes you want to sing and dance more than anyone. But I’m not about to claim that female singers who make this exact brand of pop—and who, historically, aren’t taken very seriously on a mainstream level because all they want to do is sing and dance—are necessarily pushing boundaries and are the future of pop. In order to fulfill the achievement of being the future of pop, pushing boundaries is a necessity, especially if you’re a woman. That’s just the world we live in. We wouldn’t have hailed Madonna the Queen of Pop if she hadn’t pushed the boundaries she’s pushed over the last thirty years. The same goes for Janet Jackson, Britney Spears, Rihanna, and any other era-defining pop star ever since the Beatles. But that also doesn’t mean that we have to devalue the female pop singers who are only interested in singing and dancing. They just tend to attract smaller followings—of mostly gays—and rarely make any significant mainstream impact. And if they do, it’s short-lived. (See also: Paula Abdul).

When we start calling someone like Kim Petras—who is one of many young female pop singers looking to ironically mimic the styles of their elders such as Madonna, Britney, and Kylie Minogue, without pushing any new boundaries—the “future of pop,” merely because she’s trans and she makes good dance-pop, it feels naïve and immature. Especially considering that Petras isn’t signed to a mainstream label, has yet to score a mainstream hit, and that most of the press that claims Petras as groundbreaking or the future of pop is written by gay men who, as I can attest, are a little too biased in this area to be making sweeping predictions that Kim Petras is the future of pop music without taking into account some clear, undeniable facts.

Even Petras comes across as rather unprepared to fit into the shoes of someone who many claim will change the music industry. As one review of her full-length debut Clarity puts, her decision to work with Dr. Luke should not be excused but also shouldn’t take away from her own contributions to her music. At the same time, she has also not handled the controversy in the best of ways. Last year, she initially stated that she has had nothing but positive experiences working with Dr. Luke, and that she wanted her fans to know that she would never work with someone who she believes to be an abuser of women. (So, Kesha is a liar then? That’s what we want to go with in this groundbreaking era of Me Too and Time’s Up? Alright then.) Then, a few months later, she sort of apologized on Twitter for invalidating Kesha’s claims, writing, “While I’ve been open and honest about my positive experience with Dr. Luke, that does not negate or dismiss the experience of others or suggest that multiple experiences cannot exist at once.” Whatever the case, a new female pop singer’s choice to work with someone who multiple different artists have given testimonies against, in our current era of political correctness and believing victims, feels uninformed and ignorant. The fact that the pop music fandom continues to praise Petras for being openly and authentically trans feels like it’s being cancelled out by her choice to work with someone accused of abusing women, another minority. Many Petras fans are quick to point out that her decision to work with Dr. Luke shouldn’t matter, since he is still making money off of many of our favorite pop tunes from the 2000s and early 2010s, and even Kesha’s post-lawsuit album Rainbow. I also don’t think boycotting Petras’ music is the solution either. The solution would be to ask more of Petras as an artist and a public figure, to remind her that her choices have often detrimental consequences and implications, and that while being trans might not define who she is, it might work in her favor to support all minorities, including women accusing powerful men of abuse.

Again, I’m not about to act like I don’t enjoy a number of auto-tuned pop songs that celebrate dancing your troubles away. But I’m also not about to pretend like I think these songs are going to change the music industry merely because I think some of the songs are awesome, and the artist is trans. A lot of other gay fans like to pretend that singers like Petras and Charli XCX have amazing, flawless vocals, when these two singers in particular enjoy making copious use of auto-tune in their songs. Once again, there is not a single ounce of judgment on pop singers like Petras for using auto-tune to create a certain desired effect for a certain song, since listeners like me almost always enjoy the results. But when you are using things auto-tune in your work to channel the energy of an eighties song, or something by Madonna, Britney, or Kylie, it leaves very little room to believe that you are interested in pushing boundaries. Petras doesn’t have to push boundaries to be interesting, but in order to “save pop music” in the way that most gay fans suggest, pushing boundaries and creating your own sound that is not overly reminiscent of past eras is, again, a necessity.

Songs like “I Don’t Want It At All” or “Heart to Break” might have seen massive success in terms of number of streams on Spotify, but they didn’t break the barriers of other mainstream music charts outside of the streaming world. I would be quicker to name someone like Ava Max as an artist who could potentially “save pop music” in the way that these fans suggest, since she has already achieved a worldwide number one hit with her song “Sweet But Psycho”—something with clear influences from the past, but with an open nod to the future. At this moment in time, it feels as though Kim Petras isn’t equipped to become the era-defining star her LGBTQ fanbase desperately craves. I don’t want to undermine her role as a trans artist who has managed to be her authentic self on record and in concert. But, in the context of our contemporary pop music guidelines, she needs to give us more than some fun-loving, auto-tuned pop songs, produced by a man who has been given a bad name by many of the same 2000s pop artists that Petras is trying to mimic. Mimicry is fun when you want to sing and dance, but if you want to fulfill the title of future of pop, you’re going to need a little more depth.