Liza Palmer

3.5 stars

I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.

My life is about never putting myself into that situation. I never call attention to myself. That is the code I live by.

At twenty-seven Maggie is still working at Joe's coffee shop, it was just supposed to be while she applied for jobs after college, a week away from being evicted from the house she rents, and starting to feel cracks in the show more friendship with her bestfriend Olivia. Her mother and sister are trying to gently push her towards a dream internship and to stand up for herself with Olivia, while all Maggie wants to do is be there for her bestfriend as Olivia lives out their highschool dream wedding and quietly lust after Domenic, the bus boy at Joe's.
Conversations with the Fat Girl is a contemporary fiction snippet of life look at how we slowly let societal expectations dictate who we become and how we think about ourselves and the strength and courage it takes to live caring and true to yourself.

Should it worry me that even in my fantasy, the man is getting married for love but I just don't want to be alone anymore?

Told in first person pov from Maggie, the casual, funny, hurts because it's true tone and style drew me in and wrapped me up in Maggie's world. Maggie's always been on the heavier side but the last couple years she's put on more weight and has been slipping into a more lonely life. With Maggie's mom and sister physically looking so different from her, it could have been a ground zero for her pain but the author created a solid family bond that while on the edges can bother Maggie, her relationship with the two ultimately give her love and support. I thought Maggie hurting because she felt lonely but thinking of her family and realizing she may be lonely but she wasn't alone was one of the best moments in the book.

The friendship with Olivia was for the most part at the center of the story, they bonded throughout school with being the outcasts because of their appearance but had a friendship that felt real and it was heartbreaking as the reader sees it breaking apart, before Maggie can even admit it to herself. I thought it was an honest look at how relationships grow and how Maggie feared letting go of a constant in her life. The other secondary characters that included Maggie's co-workers and Olivia's friends were at times rounded out enough to fill out Maggie's world and at others frustratingly left vague (her landlord, Cole the manager at Joe's) or caricature vapid (Olivia's friends).

Dominic is resting his arms on the top of the doorjamb into the bedroom. I know his mouth is moving, but I can't quite make out the words over the roaring fantasies of him standing like that.

I would call this more of a women's fiction than romance but we do have some back and forth and tension with one of Maggie's co-workers, Domenic. We don't get a pov from Domenic, which made some of his actions extremely frustrating as readers are left in the dark along with Maggie about his thoughts and feelings. The author adds in some clues through his body language but for the most part, he was a tough character to crack. When they are together Maggie and Domenic had cute chemistry but just don't expect a strong romance or clear happily ever after as this is solidly Maggie's story.

I finally see myself in the harsh light of that training room. I've convinced myself that I'm unlovable, untouchable, and invisible. But is the reality that there is someone out there for me who will know exactly what it takes to comfort me? That all I need to do is allow it?

This will make you laugh and hurt as Maggie's sense of humor about herself and life is appreciating and depreciating. The first half is more of learning how and why Maggie is in a rut and all the ways she's scared to get out of it and the second half has her waking up to the fact that she is not only hiding from the pain of life but also the joys. Maggie's not a flawless character, she makes fun of a woman's appearance and admits she plays the victim role at times, but Maggie and her story are about evolving and growing out of these attitudes and actions. I enjoyed the friendships she had, hurt for her, cheered her on, and hope Olivia eventually gets the courage Maggie develops. Conversations with the Fat Girl was a draw you in story and I hope everyone leaves it with a little more confidence and a little less apology attitude in their own lives.

What's worse than sitting here now---alone and tormented by my own safe and comfortable life? show less

Since I adored Conversations with the Fat Girl, I couldn't wait to get my hands on Palmer's second novel. The heroine of Seeing Me Naked is Elisabeth Page, daughter of Pulitzer-winning novelist Ben Page and sister of up-and-coming writer Rascal Page (yeah, that's short for Raskolnikov). Elisabeth is a pastry chef in L.A.'s hottest restaurant, but she's under constant pressure from her family to do more with her life. She's also stuck in a going-nowhere-fast relationship with journalist Will, show more who's always halfway around the world on a story. When beer-drinking basketball coach Daniel Sullivan enters her life, at first she views him as a relaxing fling, but her feelings soon deepen and cause her to question her whole way of life. Although Seeing Me Naked is technically chick lit, it's a lot more than just a cute romance. The main focus is Elisabeth's growth and development, and her relationship with her family is given a lot of weight. It's not as consistently lighthearted as Conversations with the Fat Girl; the tone was more somber, though there were quite a few laugh-out-loud moments too. Liza Palmer is a really good writer, and I'd recommend anything by her. In my opinion, as chick lit goes, she's at the top of the genre. show less

This was a great vacation read (balanced as it was with The Crying of Lot 49.) Pure early aughts chick lit that somehow found its way to my bookshelves (I reach in and find mystery books pretty frequently.) Palmer is a good writer, and smart and funny. A lot of this is already dated, and the resolution of long brewing family dysfunction is way too rapid but it was moving and sweet and in a couple parts actually wise. It gave me all the feels while also making me laugh a lot. It was also a show more love letter to LA, which was nice to read. A high 3 that easily merits the round up to a GR 4 LT 3.5. show less

When she's on her game and in her true voice, Liza Palmer is one of my favorite Women's Fiction writers. She has a unique blend of sincerity, snark, humor and poignancy, wrapped up in wildly creative plots. Lately she is writing a lot about hitting middle age and measuring your dreams against reality (a topic I can still relate to as I hit, uh, older middle age).

Joan has lost her financial and emotional security as her journalism prospects have dried up, and in desperation she takes a job show more as a junior copywriter at a Millennial-filled tech company called Bloom. When her journalistic instincts tell her there's something rotten going on underneath the motivational speeches and free snacks at Bloom, she enlists the help of her new boss and colleagues, all of whom are at least a decade younger, to dig out the truth. But is she pursuing a worthwhile story or going on a wild goose chase in a futile attempt to prove to herself that she hasn't lost her touch?

Joan is easy to root for. She's a hard worker and a good friend. I liked the way her self-esteem issues aren't easily traced to parental dysfunction - she has a perfectly lovely family, who have taken her in while she's putting her life back together, and an especially close relationship with her brother. Sometimes it's not as important to figure out why you don't believe in yourself, as it is critical to figure out how to start believing in yourself. And of course there is the valuable lesson that you can't do everything on your own - you are stronger with help from your friends.

The secondary characters, including Joan's family, friends and new colleagues, are all well developed (at least one of them is crying out to be the subject of a sequel) and two of them provide a cute secondary romance. The primary romance, between Joan and a younger Bloom colleague who bond over shared low self-esteem and the desire to find their true professional passion, felt slightly lackluster to me, partially because the object of Joan's affection was pretty much perfect so there wasn't much suspense about whether or not they would end up together despite the age difference.

The generation gap between characters is played for gentle humor. Palmer isn't here to rag on Millennials for their kombucha and buzzwords (okay, maybe just a little); as she says, "I came in here looking to make fun of a generation of people because they appear to be doing work that is thought of as silly or unimportant. The truth is, they're doing the same work people have done throughout the ages with the same level of thoughtfulness...Unlike us, however, they have an eye and a respect for innovation and looking to the future instead of proclaiming that 'this is how we've always done things.'"

I have to admit that I didn't see the signs that there was something hinky going on at Bloom; Joan's deduction that all of the buzzwords had to hiding something only made me think that Liza Palmer has never sat through any modern organizational meeting. But once Joan got rolling, I appreciated the journalistic and detective skills that she and the rest of the enthusiastic Scooby Gang displayed.

I wasn't a huge fan of Palmer's most recent release, [b:The F Word|30319083|The F Word|Liza Palmer|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1489050115i/30319083._SX50_.jpg|50809662], but this one has me firmly back in her camp. Hell, the 1980s party alone that brings together Joan's Gen X friends with her Millennial colleagues is worth the price of the book. Whether you remember a time before cell phones or not, you'll enjoy The Nobodies.

ARC received from Net Galley in exchange for an honest review. show less