For any woman who has ever had a love/hate relationship with food and with how she looks; for anyone who has knowingly or unconsciously used food to try to fill the hole in his heart or soothe the craggy edges of his psyche, Fat Girl is a brilliantly rendered, angst-filled coming-of-age story of gain and loss. From the lush descriptions of food that call to mind the writings of M.F.K. Fisher at her finest, to the heartbreaking accounts of Moore’s deep longing for family and a sense of belonging and love, Fat Girl stuns and shocks, saddens and tickles.
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Judith Moore's breathtakingly frank memoir, Fat Girl, is not for the faint of heart. It packs more emotional punch in its slight 196 pages than any doorstopper confessional. But the author warns us in her introduction of what's to come, and she consistently delivers. "Narrators of first-person claptrap like this often greet the reader at the door with moist hugs and complaisant kisses," Moore advises us bluntly. "I won't. I will not endear myself. I won't put on airs. I am not that pleasant. The older I get the less pleasant I am. I mistrust real-life stories that conclude on a triumphant note.... This is a story about an unhappy fat girl who became a fat woman who was happy and unhappy." With that, Moore unflinchingly leads us backward into a heartbreaking childhood marked by obesity, parental abuse, sexual assault, and the expected schoolyard bullying. What makes Fat Girl especially harrowing, though, is Moore's obvious self-loathing and her eagerness to share it with us. "I have been taking a hard look at myself in the dressing room's three-way mirror. Who am I kidding? My curly hair forms a corona around my round scarlet face, from the chin of which fat has begun to droop. My swollen feet in their black Mary Janes show from beneath the bottom hem of the ridiculous swaying skirt. The dressing room smells of my beefy stench. I should cry but I don't. I am used to this. I am inured." Moore's audaciousness in describing her apparently awful self ensures that her reader is never hardened to the horrors of food obsession and obesity. And while it is at times excruciatingly difficult bearing witness to Moore's merciless self-portraits, the reader cannot help but be floored by her candor. With Fat Girl, Moore has raised the stakes for autobiography while reminding us that our often thoughtless appraisals of others based on appearances can inflict genuine harm. It's a painful lesson well worth remembering. --Kim HughesFrom the Back Cover:
"Frank, often funny—intelligent and entertaining."
—Vick Boughton, People (four out of four stars)
"Moore’s unflinching memoir sets a new standard for literature about women and their bodies. Grade:A."
—Jennifer Reese, Entertainment Weekly (editor’s choice)
"Searingly honest without affectation . . . Moore emerged fromher hellish upbringing as a kind of softer Diane Arbus, wielding pen instead of camera."
—Kimberly Marlowe Hartnett, The Seattle Times
"Stark . . . lyrical, and often funny, Judith Moore ambushes you on the very first page, and in short order has lifted you up and broken your heart."
—Peg Tyre, Newsweek
"God, I love this book. It is wise, funny, painful, revealing, and profoundly honest."
"Judith Moore grabs the reader by the collar, and shakes up our notion of life in the fat lane."
"A slap-in-the-face of a book—courageous, heartbreaking, fascinating, and darkly funny."
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Book Description Profile Books Ltd, 2006. Paperback. Book Condition: BRAND NEW. Augusten Burroughs, author of Running with Scissors: a Memoir 'a slap-in-the-face of a book - courageous, raunchy, obsessive, heartbreaking, infuriating, sickening, fascinating and darkly funny' --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Glasgow Herald, June 25, 2005: 'a superb and fearless piece of writing' --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. 208 pages. Bookseller Inventory # 3784