Review: No One Asked for This by Cazzie David
No one asked for this, but unlike the author of this book, I’m not going to apologize.
Being mentally ill is not cute and I don’t understand why other news outlets are treating the “neuroses” portrayed in this book as anywhere near normal or representative of the average millennial. (Or in this case, the daughter of Larry David/pre-Ariana Grande ex-girlfriend of Pete Davidson. But don’t worry, Cazzie David is incredibly self-flagellating about being a white privileged person 😬.)
From the excerpts I’ve sent out to other zoomers, numerous people have stated their discomfort at reading the scattered reflections of a young woman who constantly communicates to the reader that she hates herself. If her words would sound troubling in a series of 2AM texts from your best friend, they’re not any more reassuring coming from a bound book that was presumably edited and filtered by both an agent and an editor and sold in a bidding war. I know this because two years ago I made sentiments similar to those in her “Ex Dysmorphia (Insecurity When You’re the Ex Girlfriend)” essay, and I was not greeted with laughs. But instead of telling me I should write a personal essay about feeling like a depressive sadsack in comparison to the Instagrams of more sunshiney “desirable” girls, my friends supported me and didn’t stoke my insecurities.
If the goal of this book was to prove that living with mental illness is exhausting, inhibiting, and all-consuming, that was proven.
While David certainly has pithy observations, a distinct narrative voice, and the ability to produce an enjoyable web series, she portrays herself in these essays as a debilitatingly anxious and emotionally fragile person constantly on the edge of spiraling. No matter how “vulnerable” this essay collection is, as a critic, I must treat the Cazzie David of these essays as a character. I don’t presume to know her, and the judgements I make are based solely on her work and social media presence. Moreso than anything, as a reader, I feel sad about her constant feelings of shame and don’t come away after reading these essays that she will, in some fundamental sense, “be okay.” This complaint is not a moral one so much as it is an aesthetic one, as her narrator’s low self esteem distracts from any point she has to make.
Despite this character’s tendencies, she attempts to gloss over the suffering portrayed in each essay with a pseudo-optimistic one liner “twist” at the end, which reads as juvenile at best, and inauthentic and manipulative at worst. While I’m sure she wasn’t fishing for compliments by writing a list lamenting about being “almost pretty” instead of “pretty,” she upends her original premise that marginal beauty has measurable social impacts with a glib ending of if you’re almost pretty, that means you’re beautiful 😃👍.
Meanwhile, the real problem doesn’t seem to be that she’s ugly or pretty, but that people around her are inconsiderate. One sign of being “almost-pretty” she describes is:
If you mention to your friends that you want to get some work done on your face, you will be met with support or even suggestions like “I bet you could get a noninvasive nose job?” when you’ve never mentioned a problem with your nose to them ever.
In another instance, she describes feeling insecure about herself upon hearing the news that Pete Davidson was dating Ariana Grande. Within this essay, this is the extent of the support offered by a friend during her time of constant crisis:
“Everyone thinks it’s the biggest upgrade ever,” I lamented to my friend on the phone, hoping she would say literally anything that could dispel my belief that I was the ugliest girl in the world.
“Not necessarily—you’re just so different . . . you’re real!”“Real means being attainable and normal. You can’t trick me into thinking being real is a compliment; it’s being flawed.”
“No, it’s like, who would you rather be with, this normal girl or this video-game character?”
“The hot video-game character.”
“She’s, like, Instagram-hot! You’re, like, Renaissance painting–pretty. Wouldn’t you rather be that?”
“No, of course not. I’d obviously rather be Instagram hot! It’s 2018!”
“She’s like, a fucking little bunny.”
“Bunnies are hot. Bunny ears are literally shaped like two vaginas.”
While it’s difficult to comfort a person in distress, playing into their pissing contest with unintentionally backhanded compliments couldn’t have been the right approach. There’s no cure for someone else’s anxiety and one not responsible for someone twisting your words, but her friend could have in fact shit-talked Pete and Ariana, maybe even outplayed Cazzie by finding mean comments about the new couple, maybe reminded Cazzie that she wasn’t broken up with because she wasn’t “pretty enough” or “good enough” and that in fact she’s “way too good for him” and that she needs to raise her standards by loving someone who can properly and respectfully love her back.
Me, if I were Cazzie David’s friend:
Cazzie, you’re literally descended from comedy royalty! For half a decade, Ariana Grande’s career hinged upon her exploitation by a pedophile feet fetishist and just when things were starting to go well for her, she literally witnessed a terrorist attack at her own concert. You cannot compare yourself to her. No matter how much of a Karen you are, people will excuse you for it because you’re Larry David’s daughter and they’ll be amazed that you’re nicer than his character on Curb! You are young and hot and people are jealous of you in a way that they can’t be of Ariana Grande. In fact, anyone who isn’t braindead thinks that you won the breakup. New York Magazine called you an object of lifestyle envy, and you never even had to open your mouth! That’s how cool and good at Instagram you are! Ariana Grande can’t post a single picture without using one of those corny Snapchat filters and all her captions are just “🖤 love u.” That’s so lame! Even Selena Gomez gives us more than that!
In fact, one missed opportunity she didn’t explore with depth is the concept of herself as “the guy she told you not to worry about” and a generally-liked semi-public figure, even if she herself feels deeply unlikable. Does she feel a sense of cognitive dissonance reading nice comments about herself, about people calling her a prototypical “cool girl?” What is it like to be a quasi-celebrity? How does she feel about people actively calling her hot and glamorous?
One of the biggest disappointments regarding her essay/post-breakup travel diary when she was on vacation detoxing from her her ex, was that she never revealed the story behind her most iconic Instagram post. June 1 was the only missing date. As a so-called millennial ghost whisperer, it was actually her responsibility to reveal the details and workshopping process behind this curated and knowing indifference depicted in this post.
When it comes down to it, I don’t blame her for writing a mediocre collection of essays. I do, however, question the judgement of her agent for trying to sell this book before she has become a public figure of any substance and whose accomplishments can shield her against the accusations of nepotism/privilege. With deals at Amazon and HBO in the works, there is no way Cazzie David isn’t ending up a showrunner before she turns 30. Why didn’t they wait until she had an actual career trajectory to speak of?
I laud the publicity team at HMH for making sure it landed in the hands of every major news outlet and even other celebrities. Unfortunately, by openly portraying herself as someone who cannot handle criticism and by prematurely releasing this book, Cazzie David manifested her literal worst fears of being publicly criticized. In fact, David seems to have landed herself into a conundrum in which even her agent and editor likely could not have given this collection adequate constructive criticism.
Reading privileged people constantly apologize for their privilege is exhausting. Anxiety and guilt without reprieve is exhausting.
One has their whole life to make a literary debut, to create a polished piece of work that they don’t reflexively apologize for and won’t regret putting out in the world. When there’s no narrative of meaningful growth, there’s no point to a collection of personal essays. An improved version of this book may have devoted more space to amusements such as her goy relatives being “underwhelmed” by the Anne Frank house, her ecofascist mother, and “tough love” from her emotionally withholding father. In the 2023 iteration of No One Asked For This, the Pete Davidson-Ariana Grande saga might have just been kept in the back pocket as an interesting anecdote as opposed to the juiciest reveal. “Mentally ill and well-connected millennial” does not make for a compelling brand, but the story of a successful TV writer balancing her charmingly dysfunctional and famous family, sociopolitical obligations, romantic relationships, and maintaining a “personal brand” despite her depression and anxiety? That has the potential to turn the book from No One Asked For This to perhaps, I Really Want You To Read This.