‘Oh my god that is totally me’.
Delivering on its promised solace in growing older and guffaws for hysterical recognition this collection of essay’s is like another book club member personified; confessing, confiding and griping. The Artist praised its conversational style; like meeting someone at a party and being regaled over a vodka gimlet.
There was an easy general consensus on the quality of the writing – witty, accomplished, polished, precise. Its brevity, left some wanting more and others disappointed – for The Techie, a voracious reader, and The Connoisseur who was settling down to a rare afternoon’s reading, it didn’t touch the sides.
“I Remember Nothing” has 23 pieces of writing, some short some shorter. The best, the title piece, “Journalism: A Love Story”, and the story of Lillian Hellman and her mother, are so because of their relatively longer length and depth. The less satisfying (“I Just Want to Say: Chicken Soup”, “The Six Stages of E-Mail”) , have the throw away feeling of blog entries or magazine columns (which they may have been originally we think?).
Perhaps this is the nature of conversation, sometimes engrossing and exposing, sometimes flippant and funny. Though out you Nora is speaking to you as friend and audience and you feel that bit gladder for getting to know her.