Review of I Feel Bad About My Neck, by Nora Ephron

There are few things more American than fireworks on the Fourth of July, the great sport of baseball, and the world of movies known as Hollywood. So while Americans are still shooting off fireworks even though the 4th is passed for some reason, here is my review of I Feel Bad About My Neck and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman by Nora Ephron, a well-loved American film writer.

This was definitely my quickest read so far, and will likely be the shortest book I read this entire year. And it was a nice little lighthearted and easy-to-read book before I delved head first into the darkness that is the Poppy War trilogy (more on that in the coming weeks).

If you don’t know Nora Ephron, here is what I knew going into this little memoir: she is an American film writer who wrote some of the best 90s romcoms (in my opinion), such as When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail, and Sleepless in Seattle, to name a few. Her films are known for their wit and heart and humor, and this little memoir of hers is just the same.

Turns out Nora Ephron has also written multiple memoir type books, and I can only guess that they’re all as witty and fun as this one.

One thing to note about this little book is it doesn’t really follow any sort of structure. Is it truly thoughts on being a woman? Yes, but it is also the general and random musings of a woman who is nothing if not clever and heartfelt.

She starts with why she feels bad about her neck. Then she moves to her great arch nemesis, the purse. She talks about falling in love with New York City, while simultaneously casually mentioning her many divorces as no more than a necessary fact for context. (Of course, anyone familiar with Ephron knows that this is not accidental irony). In a longer and more somber section, she talks about parenting. But when I say somber I don’t intend to make you think it’s also unfunny. It is simultaneously somber and hilarious.

Because Nora Ephron is hilarious. If you think you could never relate to her because she’s wealthy, or in Hollywood, or because of her age, or her generation, or simply because you don’t particularly care for her movies— I beg you to think again. If you’re a woman, you will find at least one anecdote of Ephron’s thoughts on being a woman relatable. You will come away with an honest sense of how glorious, and also how awful, being a woman can truly be. And then you will finish the book and feel not as if you read the ramblings of a woman you don’t know, but rather as if you spent the evening chatting with her on her sofa.