I Read: Dad is Fat.
I’m not usually big on memoirs as a genre. Possibly because they can not, by definition, be complete. The story hasn’t finished yet! It’s not over! Get back to me when you’re dead and then we’ll talk. Especially if you’re Anne Boleyn.
Anyhow. I do really like Jim Gaffigan, even if I don’t usually like people writing books about lives that they are still living. Unless they’re Kate Bornstein. Or Tina Fey. Ok, fine. I take it back. I enjoy memoirs if they’re written by someone I’m already familiar with and admire. Or if they grew up in a funeral home. That too.
So, I read Dad is Fat hoping to get some more delicious hot pocket-y stories about life with five kids. And I did. But… I mostly got stuff that is also covered in his TV specials. No, not the hot pockets bit. Or the long digression about guys in the gym who shouldn’t be there because they’re done already. Or the bit about how “everything is McDonald’s.” But. The bit about “imagine you’re drowning and someone just handed you a baby.” That’s in there.
There are also diagrams about how to fit five children in a two bedroom apartment and lengthy explanation of how to take five children on a tour bus. So, that’s good. And there are some really insightful information about the minds of the toddler. And Jim Gaffigan might even like naps as much as I do. Maybe.
Ok, so it’s better than I remembered it to be. However, if you’ve seen his standup be prepared for some repeats. If you haven’t seen his standup WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU GET ON THAT.