I Was Told There'd Be Cake: Essays

Let’s face it. When it comes to personal essays there are some real heavy hitters in the world that other writers must be willing to be compared to. It may well be unfair to hold anyone to the standards of, say, David Sedaris or Sarah Vowel. But, unfair or not, the comparisons will happen.

And, it is with that same expectation that I approach any collection of essays. I am looking for entertainment, absorption, humor, skilled weaving of a story, and a desire to read more and more.

This collection comes close…oh, so close. And yet, sorry, not quite there. Or, another way of putting it – this is a nice collection, but nothing more. It didn’t live up to the perhaps-too-lofty expectations I brought with me.

Ms. Crosley’s writing is show more good. She tells a good story, she blends various thoughts and plot lines together, and she has just enough of a sideways look at what is occurring in her life to shine a different light on things. But through all of it, I just couldn’t bring myself to be entertained or (perhaps worse) feel invested in what was happening. The result was (and this will come out meaner than I mean it to be, but it’s all I can think of right now) it felt like someone moaning about first-world problems.

Now, a quick warning, that is just my take on it. (After all, that is what reviews are all about.) I have the feeling I was bringing something else to the party with which others will not be burdened. I feel like I should have liked these better than I did.

And, actually, I can’t say I disliked these. However, I never felt the reading to be compelling or for the material to draw me in with anything but a disinterested bystander’s interest.

And when it was done, there was a slight distaste. Like I had made a visit that just wasn’t a great as I had hoped it would be. To the point where I didn’t want to make that trip again.

Note that, after reading this book, I took a look back and realized that I had read one of Ms. Sloane’s other books as a part of the early reviewer program. And, while the review is different than this one, I was saying much the same thing back then. I can’t tell you what I didn’t like; I just can’t find any reason to rave. show less

I've come to love the charming slice-of-life style memoir. Not the self-indulgent, likely ghost written kind put out by famous celebrities. I crave outlandish stories of everyday life, narrated by a snarky, but ultimately well-meaning voice that reminds me of my inner monologue. This collection is elegant and thoroughly entertaining. Several times I laughed out loud in public like a crazy person. Worth it!

I was Told There’d Be Cake is a series of essays by sometimes-contributor to the Village Voice Sloane Crosley. There are fifteen essays total, and they cover typical twenty-something subjects, such as moving into a new walkup apartment in New York City (not as easy as it would appear), attending the wedding of every girl you knew in high school that you’d forgotten about (been there, done that), a semidysfunctional family (her family IS my family), and a satanic first boss.

Sloane Crosley tells these stories with humor and insight and she has a truly unique voice. But there were also times where I found myself thinking, “I think the same way!” Or, “I wish I’d thought of that!” It’s a completely honest, open kind of show more storytelling, one that you don’t see in many writers of today. Being a twenty-something myself, I could completely empathize with this book—made even better if you understand the cultural references (Oregon Trail, anyone?) This book is a complete gem, and my new bible. show less

The best description I can think of for Sloane Crosley is that she is the female David Sedaris—and that is meant as a compliment as I'm a huge Sedaris fan. This book is a collection of essays on a variety of topics ranging from the perils of having an unusual name, the pitfalls of volunteering, moving mishaps, having a boss from hell, and the horrors of being a bridesmaid. Although I suspect we have little in common—being at least 20 years apart in age and growing up in wildly different environments (Crosley was raised in Westchester, New York and currently lives in New York City)—I found myself laughing and relating to so much of what she wrote about. (Not the quest to find a one night stand though, thank you very much!) I found show more her writing assured, and there was enough chuckles per page that I was never bored. Perhaps the best way to give you a feel for her writing is to share some excerpts:

On volunteering: I took my volunteerism as seriously as someone like myself could. I knew my motivation was rooted in boredom; I wouldn't stick with it if it wasn't relatively easy. This narrowed the field considerably. Clearly orcas were out of the question, as were the disabled, women in need of JCPenney suits, the ozone layer, lead-paint prevention, historical landmarks, and anything involving a ladle.

On agreeing to be a bridesmaid: The subplot of modern marriage assumes that a wedding is the crown jewel of any best friendship, a time when otherwise rational women are legally permitted to misplace their minds and treat their friends like heel-skin-shaving employees. This is something we tolerate in our closest pals, but I had barely spoken to this woman in a decade....I had no choice but to respond not only with a "yes," but with a "yes, I'd be honored." On one tacit condition. There was an unspoken understanding that I would be standing up there with her as a one-time favor. In an effort to mask her apparent lack of sociability as an adult, that evening the role of "old friend" would be played by yours truly. Like the best man's polyester-blend tux, I was a rental.

On making tarts: First you have to understand how to bake a successful dessert tart. Most baking, even complicated baking that results in caramelized pine nuts or perfect chocolate and vanilla swirls, consists of adding dry ingredients to wet. Any cookbook worth its weight in sugar will encourage you to experiment. Add craisins! Dally in dates! Go nuts! Perfection is to be found in the imperfect! Except with tarts. Unless you are professional, you will find the tart to be a high-maintenance, unforgiving whistle-blower of a pastry. If they could sprout sexual organs and mate, they'd go extinct on the jungle floor. Chocolate chip cookies, impossible to f**k up, would breed like deer.

If you are a fan of autobiographical essays with a humorous slant, this collection is a must. Of course I'm filled with seething resentment that someone this young could be so funny and write so well. But I am a bit biased as my dream is to be a writer of humorous essays just like Sloane. So I consider her my competition. Game on, Sloane! Game on! show less

If you're making an "authors to watch" list, I sincerely hope you add Sloane Crosley to it. I picked this up on a whim as a result of a Borders "buy one get one half off" deal. It was certainly worth the purchase, because what I received was an introduction to a delightful new voice. At first, I thought of her as somewhat reminiscent of David Sedaris (only in the form of a twenty-something straight female living in New York), but she didn't seem to be cannibalizing family and friends to the degree that Sedaris does. Of course, then I kept reading and found that she does, indeed, draw heavily on her family and friends, but not quite in the same way. Perhaps we should give her time on that one, though.

By far, my favorite story was the show more very first one, "The Pony Problem," in which Crosley touches upon a fear that I myself have felt. (Indeed, the book is full of moments that feel familiar, but then, I'm also a twenty-something straight female living in New York.) She describes the fear that many New Yorkers have (though really, I don't see why it should be such a New York thing) of leaving our apartments in disarray because there is the chance that we could wind up dead... thus leaving our friends and family with this visual of our messy, cluttered apartment. But it's more than that. Everyone has something stashed in their apartment that they might not want a parent to find. (See the TV show Coupling for the definition of "porn buddy.") And for Sloane Crosley, this comes in the form of a drawer full of plastic ponies. During the course of her adult life, she has acquired several plastic ponies as a result of a nervous tic like joke that she makes, and her significant others misinterpret it as a unique joke between them... except it happens with every single one.

Also delightful in all its painful glory is "The Ursula Cookie" where Crosley talks about her time as an assistant in terms of an abusive relationship. And if that's not enough, it gets even worse when in one of those "it seemed like a good idea at the time" moments, she bakes and decorates a cookie to look like her boss's head... and makes a present of it.

I found Crosley to be delightfully funny and quite enchanting. I shall be recommending this as a quick read to many of my girlfriends... or perhaps I'll simply save it and give it to everyone for their birthdays. show less

I just loved this collection of essays, probably because Crowley is close to my own age and writes about experiences I could easily relate to. My favorite essay was the one she wrote about Oregon Trail, a classic computer game most of my generation grew up playing in middle school. Crowley has a lot of spunk and wit that comes out in her writing and I thoroughly enjoyed her insights.

At first I loved these essays. They are for the most part intelligent, with just the right amount of snark. Then they began to wear on me a bit. Perhaps they are like bakery cake: they should be spaced out and savored as the occasional treat, not gorged on.