BOOKS | Scrappy little nobody review | Anna Kendrick, Simon and Schuster, 2016.

Scrappy little nobody, 2016.

Who the fuck is Anna Kendrick?

I’m pushing 40, so when I picked up this book at the thrift store, I had no idea. I had seven books I wanted in my cart already, and the store was running a $1 book bogo sale, so I grabbed this one because it was essentially free. (Sorry, Anna.) The good news is, I actually read it and it wasn’t bad!

I have no problem with celebrity memoirs.

They are, generally speaking, light, easy reads. And of late, a lot of them have been by funny women. But even when such books aren’t funny, they generally yield enough tidbits to keep me happy.

See, I am an annoying person who enjoys knowing and sharing little-known, odd, or pointless facts.

I am a midnight Googler. And I’m kick ass at Jeopardy. (Or at least, I was before I had my kid. My skills have declined considerably now that I rarely have time to watch the show, but also because “baby brain” is a real thing.)

Anyway, my point is that books like this appeal to me because even the most boring ones usually contain a decent celebrity tidbit or two.

Scrappy little nobody had more than a couple tidbits that you couldn’t get your hands on anywhere else.

Just for example, in the section on award shows, she includes a story about unwittingly arriving late to share a private plane with Ben Affleck (I won’t say more than that, because to be fair, the story isn’t really about that), as well as an anecdote about fiddling with the bodice of her dress only to be told by Stanley Tucci to stop adjusting her boobs (because she looked fine). And there’s one more that I particularly liked about Drew Barrymore caught in a private moment offstage after winning something.

These are the kinds of anecdotes that I really enjoy because they’re truly personal. They’re not the sort of sound bites you usually get from celebrities. (Like, when I used to interview people for work at junkets and whatnot, they would all say the same damn things, over and over again. To be fair, we’d all ask them the same questions. It was terrible all around. But to get original stuff was hard work. In Scrappy little nobody, you get those original things, without any effort. I just personally find that enjoyable.)

Kendrick is refreshingly open about things like drug use and anxiety.

And because she started out in theatre, she comes across as a “real” actor more so than a spoiled celebrity (which may or may not be a distinction without difference, I know).

Probably because of my age, as opposed to any real failing of the book itself, I was bored at times. Weak spots included a section where Kendrick describes the ideal holiday parties she would host, if she ever hosted parties, and long school-era reminiscences that, while very every-girl were perhaps too every-girl to bother with.

Like a lot of thin, beautiful young women, Kendrick doesn’t get that she’s thin or beautiful.

It’s not cute. She falsely equates health and physical fitness and is an obvious fan of the nonsense “good food/bad food” dichotomy. And while her food and body image issues are clearly present in the text, she’s not really reflecting about them at all in a smart way. That’s disappointing. And just in general, Kendrick’s general self-deprecation goes way too far, in my opinion. There is way too much focus on the fact that she’s very short and young-looking, as if those things are flaws as opposed to strengths. (What is this thing where extremely petite, young, thin, white women insist that being young, petite, white, or thin is dorky or culturally unappealing? Rubbish.)

I get that being thought of as “adorkable” has cultural cachet these days, but give me a fucking break. If you are petite, with small tits and bird bones, white skin, and celebrity, bitch, you are a cultural catch.

You are societally acceptable, enviable, and lucky. So stop it. I get that your self-esteem might not reflect this (because the patriarchy and diet industry fucks with all of us, regardless, and I’m sorry about that) but that’s something to be dealt with in therapy. Don’t try to convince me that you actually have a hard time in the looks department. It’s offensive.

All that aside, Scrappy little nobody is a cute, little light read. It inspired me to look up more info on Kendrick and I now realize she’s responsible for that catchy viral version of the “Cups” song that was out a few years ago. So that’s fun. And she was apparently in the Twilight movies, which explains why her face was familiar. Random high school friend character, totally unnecessary to the “story.” (I put story in quotation marks there because let’s face it, we’re talking about Twilight. I watched those movies when I was pregnant and on bed rest and remember very little about them except that they were bad. So bad. The badness has nothing to do with Kendrick, though. They’re just bad because Twilight is bad, period.)

If you’re a young person dreaming of being an actor, I’m sure it will be of interest.

Or if you’re a middle aged jerk like me, who just wants something to read that requires very little focus because you’re strapped to a baby who still isn’t weaned and maybe never will be, and your brain is consequently half-melted, then enjoy.

Here’s Kendrick doing a full music video for “Cups” which I guess she first performed for the movie Pitch Perfect, which I’m sorry, but I didn’t see. I guess it blew up enough that making this video seemed necessary? Debatable, but okay.

Anna Kendrick’s memoir Scrappy little nobody was released on November 15, 2016. Liked this Scrappy little nobody review? Well, you’re in luck because more books and authors pieces are here, and a bunch of them were published in real papers and magazines! More reviews in general (of lots of different stuff!) are here.