I thought this memoir would be...snarkier. It's low in snark, self-pity and self-congratulations, high in clarity, warmth, and intelligence. It provides sharp social commentary and fantastic insight into the profession of comedy. I have a whole new appreciation of Sarah Silverman's cleverness and relevance.
Also: I was never, not even for one second, bored. There were no self-indulgent narrative tangents or preciously clever diatribes. This is very good, very disciplined writing.
Impeccably narrated by the author.
I'm not saying the print version wouldn't be funny, but Showalter's delivery is exquisite. I really did laugh out loud in public, and when I wasn't laughing, I was walking around smiling, snorting, and hooting. A clever, literate, and oh so funny look at everything from publishing to being dumped to restless leg syndrome.