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Night Terrors: Sex, Dating, Puberty, and Other Alarming Things
From getting kicked out of Bible study to metaphysics with strippers—a misanthrope's wickedly witty observations about the ridiculous, raunchy, and frequently disturbing impulses that propel human existence. With the wit of David Sedaris and the analytical sharpshooting of Sloane Crosley, Ashley Cardiff spares no one—least of all herself—in an absurd and relentlessly funny journey of sexual development.Cardiff reflects on her introverted, awkward and too-smart teenage years to her slightly bolder (but still uncomfortable) adult relationships, all while exploring the rich anthropological terrain of sex and love. Expounding on dating Mormons, the inherent weirdness of adolescent development, sexual nightmare-fantasies about Prince, family members' sex tapes, and narrowly avoiding a teenage orgy, Cardiff recognizes sexuality for the anxiety-making force it is. Weaving adept analysis with hilarious anecdotes, she goes for something much deeper than a rant, crafting satire that's as smart as it is ruthless.Delivering fresh, unapologetic views from the perspective of a precise and ferociously irreverent young female writer, Night Terrors is a rollicking manifesto on the agonies of modern life and love.
290 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 2, 2013
About the author
Ashley Cardiff
1 book9 followersAshley Cardiff was born in Northern California. She studied classics at St John’s College in Santa Fe, New Mexico and Annapolis, Maryland. She moved to Brooklyn right after graduating for lack of imagination.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 57 reviews
September 14, 2018
ashley cardiff is the midpoint of funny between sloane crosley (emphatically unfunny) and jenny lawson (piss-yourself funny). and why am i only pitting her against other female humor writers and not being all gender-equality and letting her play rough with the humor-boys? because i am. and if you're gonna get on my case about it, you are probably yourself utterly humorless.
the book's a mixed bag - when she is good, she is very good. and there are things in here to which i can definitely, and unfortunately, relate.
…I eat like I should be wearing a helmet when I'm unsupervised…
ermm…
…Jesse was obsessed with Bruce Lee, which is a pretty cool obsession to have. He kept in shape by practicing Jeet Kune Do in his room while listening to electronica. If that doesn't turn you on, you are probably not a sixteen-year-old girl.
replace that with king fu and shudder to think, and it rings a bell.
To provide a more succinct portrait of how broke I was then, right around that time I saw a man walking down the street eating two Twix bars side by side out of the wrapper - as if they were one candy bar - and I thought it was the truest expression of luxury I had ever seen.
dude, that still sounds like luxury to me, and i'm not broke.
and she occasionally has very astute things to say:
It takes a certain amount of adulthood to realize that being honest doesn't make you good, it just makes you honest. You can be completely open and direct about your flaws but it doesn't absolve you of them. Hopefully we can agree that lying is awful, but it's important to add that being frank about your own awfulness doesn't make you less awful. It makes you easier to identify.
and
college kinds are actually deeply uncreative when it comes to behaving badly. They mostly just drink and fuck and discover things like Bret Easton Ellis and psilocybin, which they grow out of if they’re decent in any meaningful capacity,
and it is, ostensibly, a book about sex, but if you are looking for a lurid chelsea handler type book about "things i have drunkenly shoved in my vagina," it isn't this. this is not shock value tales of intercourse. it's just frequently funny stories about being shy and awkward and young and easily impressed. and the eye-opening crash-to-earth that happens when young romantically awkward girls start to see shit as it is, and not the way books tell you it is.
I stared at him throughout that entire first class and could not believe his cheekbones. It was a real infatuation at first sight and one that persisted even when he spoke. The first time I heard his voice was when our extremely urbane German sociology professor was tasked with answering a stood question about evolution. He mentioned, offhand, the lemur.
"Oh, yeah!" the beautiful one exclaimed, "Like aye-ayes."
"Pardon me?" said the professor.
"Like those aye-aye things in Madagascar. Natives kill them because they think they're, like, demons."
The professor looked at him silently, straightened his glass and returned to talking about real things. In retrospect, this interaction revealed nothing appealing about him, but at the time I sat there in class drawing hearts on my notepad as my own swelled with thoughts of He likes animals! In this way, teenage girls have no survival skills and are unequipped for the world.
to my mind, what makes funny people funny is a lack of inhibitions. not the lack of inhibitions of the "i have slept with everyone i have ever met" variety, but a lack of vanity that says "yeah, this is me, sometimes i fuck up, and it's funny." and while she does relate embarrassing things here, it still seems like she is being careful. she is almost too nice to be truly hilarious. coming out of homeschooling, she is shy, tall, and awkward, squeamish about certain things, and a little judgey. but what saves her is that she knows when she is being judgey, and she owns it. just like she deflects a lot of things with humor, and speaks to her own imagined critics by pointing out all the ways in which she is guilty of the very things she is herself criticizing. it is seemingly an ingrained defense mechanism, but it is usually cute enough to pass.
it isn't always laugh-out-loud funny, but it's worth a read (but skip the stripper story) and she will probably get better as she gains confidence and ditches her attachment to the words "deeply" and "tangentially."
this review does it better than me:
a point of interest - in the acknowledgments, she says
Strangely and unexpectedly, most of all: enormous gratitude to my dear friend Ben Lansky, who one day a few years ago in a yellowing stairwell was the first person to ever tell me I was funny. It surprised me at the time but I gave it a shot.
and that is what happens in our bloggy world when boys compliment pretty girls on something other than being pretty. they just run with it…
come to my blog!
the book's a mixed bag - when she is good, she is very good. and there are things in here to which i can definitely, and unfortunately, relate.
…I eat like I should be wearing a helmet when I'm unsupervised…
ermm…
…Jesse was obsessed with Bruce Lee, which is a pretty cool obsession to have. He kept in shape by practicing Jeet Kune Do in his room while listening to electronica. If that doesn't turn you on, you are probably not a sixteen-year-old girl.
replace that with king fu and shudder to think, and it rings a bell.
To provide a more succinct portrait of how broke I was then, right around that time I saw a man walking down the street eating two Twix bars side by side out of the wrapper - as if they were one candy bar - and I thought it was the truest expression of luxury I had ever seen.
dude, that still sounds like luxury to me, and i'm not broke.
and she occasionally has very astute things to say:
It takes a certain amount of adulthood to realize that being honest doesn't make you good, it just makes you honest. You can be completely open and direct about your flaws but it doesn't absolve you of them. Hopefully we can agree that lying is awful, but it's important to add that being frank about your own awfulness doesn't make you less awful. It makes you easier to identify.
and
college kinds are actually deeply uncreative when it comes to behaving badly. They mostly just drink and fuck and discover things like Bret Easton Ellis and psilocybin, which they grow out of if they’re decent in any meaningful capacity,
and it is, ostensibly, a book about sex, but if you are looking for a lurid chelsea handler type book about "things i have drunkenly shoved in my vagina," it isn't this. this is not shock value tales of intercourse. it's just frequently funny stories about being shy and awkward and young and easily impressed. and the eye-opening crash-to-earth that happens when young romantically awkward girls start to see shit as it is, and not the way books tell you it is.
I stared at him throughout that entire first class and could not believe his cheekbones. It was a real infatuation at first sight and one that persisted even when he spoke. The first time I heard his voice was when our extremely urbane German sociology professor was tasked with answering a stood question about evolution. He mentioned, offhand, the lemur.
"Oh, yeah!" the beautiful one exclaimed, "Like aye-ayes."
"Pardon me?" said the professor.
"Like those aye-aye things in Madagascar. Natives kill them because they think they're, like, demons."
The professor looked at him silently, straightened his glass and returned to talking about real things. In retrospect, this interaction revealed nothing appealing about him, but at the time I sat there in class drawing hearts on my notepad as my own swelled with thoughts of He likes animals! In this way, teenage girls have no survival skills and are unequipped for the world.
to my mind, what makes funny people funny is a lack of inhibitions. not the lack of inhibitions of the "i have slept with everyone i have ever met" variety, but a lack of vanity that says "yeah, this is me, sometimes i fuck up, and it's funny." and while she does relate embarrassing things here, it still seems like she is being careful. she is almost too nice to be truly hilarious. coming out of homeschooling, she is shy, tall, and awkward, squeamish about certain things, and a little judgey. but what saves her is that she knows when she is being judgey, and she owns it. just like she deflects a lot of things with humor, and speaks to her own imagined critics by pointing out all the ways in which she is guilty of the very things she is herself criticizing. it is seemingly an ingrained defense mechanism, but it is usually cute enough to pass.
it isn't always laugh-out-loud funny, but it's worth a read (but skip the stripper story) and she will probably get better as she gains confidence and ditches her attachment to the words "deeply" and "tangentially."
this review does it better than me:
a point of interest - in the acknowledgments, she says
Strangely and unexpectedly, most of all: enormous gratitude to my dear friend Ben Lansky, who one day a few years ago in a yellowing stairwell was the first person to ever tell me I was funny. It surprised me at the time but I gave it a shot.
and that is what happens in our bloggy world when boys compliment pretty girls on something other than being pretty. they just run with it…
come to my blog!
August 6, 2013
Copy received through Goodreads’ First Reads program.
For would-be authors without the energy, attention, or structure to write a full-on memoir, there is always the David Sedaris-style Collection Of Autobiographical Essays route, which allows comedians (Adam Carolla, Marc Maron, Chelsea Handler, etc.) to publish books of their oft-told tales of Something Crazy That Happened to Them Circa 1987, or nascent writers/bloggers (Sloane Crosley, Ms. Cardiff) to write their tales and thoughts in bite-size pieces.
Ashley Cardiff is certainly a better and funnier writer than Sloane Crosley, though that’s a low hurdle to jump (or step) over, like making a pizza better than Elio’s. Like every memoirist of the past decade, she wrings several stories out of Not Fitting In and Having An Embarrassing Family, which are such well-worn tropes that I’m eagerly awaiting a memoir by a popular person, just to mix it up a bit. Cardiff identifies this as a “sex memoir,” although that makes this sound far more prurient than this book actually is, which she concedes towards the very end with a self-aware shot at books about sex where sex is “conspicuously absent.” It’s more a series of chronological stories ranging from childhood confusion over sex to a series of fairly tame dating stories, with plenty of space left for whatever rant she’d like to get into along the way.
Cardiff can be clever at times, with sentences like, “Tangentially, the word ‘lovemaking’ is a terrific example of things horrible people say,” or “college kinds are actually deeply uncreative when it comes to behaving badly. They mostly just drink and [have sex] and discover things like Bret Easton Ellis and psilocybin, which they grow out of if they’re decent in any meaningful capacity,” but too often, her stories just aren’t that compelling and rely on making mountains out of, say, something much smaller than mountains. For example, in an essay on how a paramour’s parents can make dating difficult, she describes the parents of a Mormon beau as “the greatest source of grief from a significant other’s parent I’ve ever encountered,” and then tells a story about how they forced her to go to church once and weren’t happy when they first met because she said she cooked their son breakfast sometimes. Simply calling something “the worst” or “the most embarrassing” isn’t sufficient to generate gravitas, and stories like this smack of a lack of life experience, which is a difficult thing for a memoir to overcome. (And yes, there’s even a self-referential aside about this too, mocking “memoirs written by twentysomethings who haven’t lived in any discernible way.”)
As the collection continues into Cardiff’s college years, the writing and stories improved and the jokes landed a lot more frequently, as her voice and character felt more established and confident. Still, the repeated self-referential asides became a bit grating (after assuring us all of these stories are true, she admits that her ex-boyfriend “The Mormon” wasn’t actually all that religious, and she takes a break to assure us that she’s totally accepting of religions after multiple stories indicating the exact opposite), and the lack of a consistent voice or tone often obscures whatever point these essays had in mind. Cardiff wants to be sassy, cruel, cold, analytical, and insightful, but she also wants to make her self-indulgent analyses somehow relevant to others by adding a few trite lines like “You don’t date by type and love is as much a learned trait as it is something that exists instantaneously.” This advice, shoehorned into stories about a college kid dating the wrong person, is neither helpful nor original, and it’s hard to give advice in a story premised on the fact that you didn’t know what you were doing at the time. (Also, if the advice is that, as a teenager, you may not always date the right people: duh.)
I enjoyed moments of this, but there’s a reason so many memoirs involve addiction, celebrity, poverty, or childhood abuse - those lives have a built-in compelling storyline. Stories about growing up well-to-do in Northern California, going to a liberal arts college, or Moving To New York aren’t compelling, and as such, the writing would have to be consistently hilarious to make up for the narrative shortcomings, and it isn’t. This feels like a book by a blogger who’s talented in that short-form, free, low-expectation medium, but her writing doesn’t quite translate to book form. Still, for upper middle class white kids with worthless undergrad degrees who are in their twenties and thirties and aren’t easily offended, there are some laughs to be had here.
For would-be authors without the energy, attention, or structure to write a full-on memoir, there is always the David Sedaris-style Collection Of Autobiographical Essays route, which allows comedians (Adam Carolla, Marc Maron, Chelsea Handler, etc.) to publish books of their oft-told tales of Something Crazy That Happened to Them Circa 1987, or nascent writers/bloggers (Sloane Crosley, Ms. Cardiff) to write their tales and thoughts in bite-size pieces.
Ashley Cardiff is certainly a better and funnier writer than Sloane Crosley, though that’s a low hurdle to jump (or step) over, like making a pizza better than Elio’s. Like every memoirist of the past decade, she wrings several stories out of Not Fitting In and Having An Embarrassing Family, which are such well-worn tropes that I’m eagerly awaiting a memoir by a popular person, just to mix it up a bit. Cardiff identifies this as a “sex memoir,” although that makes this sound far more prurient than this book actually is, which she concedes towards the very end with a self-aware shot at books about sex where sex is “conspicuously absent.” It’s more a series of chronological stories ranging from childhood confusion over sex to a series of fairly tame dating stories, with plenty of space left for whatever rant she’d like to get into along the way.
Cardiff can be clever at times, with sentences like, “Tangentially, the word ‘lovemaking’ is a terrific example of things horrible people say,” or “college kinds are actually deeply uncreative when it comes to behaving badly. They mostly just drink and [have sex] and discover things like Bret Easton Ellis and psilocybin, which they grow out of if they’re decent in any meaningful capacity,” but too often, her stories just aren’t that compelling and rely on making mountains out of, say, something much smaller than mountains. For example, in an essay on how a paramour’s parents can make dating difficult, she describes the parents of a Mormon beau as “the greatest source of grief from a significant other’s parent I’ve ever encountered,” and then tells a story about how they forced her to go to church once and weren’t happy when they first met because she said she cooked their son breakfast sometimes. Simply calling something “the worst” or “the most embarrassing” isn’t sufficient to generate gravitas, and stories like this smack of a lack of life experience, which is a difficult thing for a memoir to overcome. (And yes, there’s even a self-referential aside about this too, mocking “memoirs written by twentysomethings who haven’t lived in any discernible way.”)
As the collection continues into Cardiff’s college years, the writing and stories improved and the jokes landed a lot more frequently, as her voice and character felt more established and confident. Still, the repeated self-referential asides became a bit grating (after assuring us all of these stories are true, she admits that her ex-boyfriend “The Mormon” wasn’t actually all that religious, and she takes a break to assure us that she’s totally accepting of religions after multiple stories indicating the exact opposite), and the lack of a consistent voice or tone often obscures whatever point these essays had in mind. Cardiff wants to be sassy, cruel, cold, analytical, and insightful, but she also wants to make her self-indulgent analyses somehow relevant to others by adding a few trite lines like “You don’t date by type and love is as much a learned trait as it is something that exists instantaneously.” This advice, shoehorned into stories about a college kid dating the wrong person, is neither helpful nor original, and it’s hard to give advice in a story premised on the fact that you didn’t know what you were doing at the time. (Also, if the advice is that, as a teenager, you may not always date the right people: duh.)
I enjoyed moments of this, but there’s a reason so many memoirs involve addiction, celebrity, poverty, or childhood abuse - those lives have a built-in compelling storyline. Stories about growing up well-to-do in Northern California, going to a liberal arts college, or Moving To New York aren’t compelling, and as such, the writing would have to be consistently hilarious to make up for the narrative shortcomings, and it isn’t. This feels like a book by a blogger who’s talented in that short-form, free, low-expectation medium, but her writing doesn’t quite translate to book form. Still, for upper middle class white kids with worthless undergrad degrees who are in their twenties and thirties and aren’t easily offended, there are some laughs to be had here.
March 27, 2014
At some point, I'm going to stop falling for the reviews that liken an author to someone else, especially if it's a famous author known for witty, funny writing. Falling for the comparisons to David Sedaris, I grabbed this book off the advanced reader stack at work, thinking that a funny book about sex has to be a good read.
Unfortunately, someone forgot that David Sedaris is funny, witty, edgy and erudite. I say unfortunately because Cardiff is none of these. In fact, as the author even mentions in the latter parts of the book, this book about sex has very little to do about sex. The author even lambasts other writers who casually toss off the word fuck and then declare themselves edgy and bracing...which is exactly what Cardiff does throughout most of the book.
That is not to say that there weren't brilliant stretches in the writing. The story of meeting the Mormon's parents was fantastic. Also, I could relate all too well to the author's issues with verbal diarrhea when speaking to a gay or lesbian friend and trying to say you're fully supportive of their lifestyle, and then you go a little too far. That also was fun. I've been there. It was nice to see someone else who could put my awkwardness into words.
These episodes are few and far between. The beginning of the book, in which the author relates her recurring nightmares of being chased by Prince on a tricycle, hinted at a fun ride through the pitfalls and pratfalls of growing older, dealing with sex, and becoming an adult. The book quickly spirals into a long, wordy therapy session for the author out of which she emerges as imperious, pointing out in several cases where she is a much better human being than anyone reading her book. The tone of the book was very off-putting, which soured even the occasional funny anecdote from her life. I wish I could have liked this book, but by the end I was just happy to have finished it so that I could return the advance copy to work. In the future, I'll just leave the David Sedaris-like writing to David Sedaris.
Unfortunately, someone forgot that David Sedaris is funny, witty, edgy and erudite. I say unfortunately because Cardiff is none of these. In fact, as the author even mentions in the latter parts of the book, this book about sex has very little to do about sex. The author even lambasts other writers who casually toss off the word fuck and then declare themselves edgy and bracing...which is exactly what Cardiff does throughout most of the book.
That is not to say that there weren't brilliant stretches in the writing. The story of meeting the Mormon's parents was fantastic. Also, I could relate all too well to the author's issues with verbal diarrhea when speaking to a gay or lesbian friend and trying to say you're fully supportive of their lifestyle, and then you go a little too far. That also was fun. I've been there. It was nice to see someone else who could put my awkwardness into words.
These episodes are few and far between. The beginning of the book, in which the author relates her recurring nightmares of being chased by Prince on a tricycle, hinted at a fun ride through the pitfalls and pratfalls of growing older, dealing with sex, and becoming an adult. The book quickly spirals into a long, wordy therapy session for the author out of which she emerges as imperious, pointing out in several cases where she is a much better human being than anyone reading her book. The tone of the book was very off-putting, which soured even the occasional funny anecdote from her life. I wish I could have liked this book, but by the end I was just happy to have finished it so that I could return the advance copy to work. In the future, I'll just leave the David Sedaris-like writing to David Sedaris.
July 24, 2016
Just finished the chapter "Gay Anxiety". Cardiff thinks she has carte blanche to say "faggot" whenever she wants because her boyfriend used to have sexual relationships with men. To her, this is like an interracial couple being racist - she and them can't possibly be bigots, because look who they're dating! I guess, then, it's okay for a straight man in a relationship with a woman to use misogynistic language? I mean, he can't be an asshole, he has a girlfriend!
I'll finish the book since I'm half done, but so far, Cardiff is not impressing me.
Update: Finished the book. Apparently the only qualifications you need to get a book deal nowadays is to be a white girl with a liberal arts education living in NYC. Yawn.
I'll finish the book since I'm half done, but so far, Cardiff is not impressing me.
Update: Finished the book. Apparently the only qualifications you need to get a book deal nowadays is to be a white girl with a liberal arts education living in NYC. Yawn.
April 6, 2013
This book was NOT funny or witty and that was what I was expecting. I actually found it disturbing and scary. I lived through my own sex, dating, puberty, and other alarming things and reading about Ashley Cardiff's was not a good time.
April 14, 2013
I was skeptical about picking this up, while I am a fan of the dark and realistic I am no fan of needless snark. This book was a pleasant surprise.
This will definitely NOT be for everyone. If you are squeamish about your body, your sex history, your neurosis or your ability to face yourself honestly then you will want to give it a miss.
She speaks openly and honestly about a great many things, most of them WILL make you uncomfortable on some level. However, she speaks about the things most of us have to deal with (in the past, future or present) and she does so with humor and humility, traits that are not often paired. She owns her shortcomings, she faces her flaws, and she asks you to do the same. So if you arent' ready for that, again, this isn't for you.
I found parts laugh out loud funny, other parts made me twinge with recognition and sadness. It is not a feel good book, nor is it a downer book. It is a book about the human condition (in regards to its collective sexual identity and malfunctions). I found the content to be brave and funny and humble enough to avoid the Chelsea Handler comparisons (sorry, I just don't care for that lady).
Give it a shot when it comes out, I found it to be funny AND valuable in its social insight. This author has promise, one to watch for the future. A refreshing book that I hope gets adequate play in the market.
This will definitely NOT be for everyone. If you are squeamish about your body, your sex history, your neurosis or your ability to face yourself honestly then you will want to give it a miss.
She speaks openly and honestly about a great many things, most of them WILL make you uncomfortable on some level. However, she speaks about the things most of us have to deal with (in the past, future or present) and she does so with humor and humility, traits that are not often paired. She owns her shortcomings, she faces her flaws, and she asks you to do the same. So if you arent' ready for that, again, this isn't for you.
I found parts laugh out loud funny, other parts made me twinge with recognition and sadness. It is not a feel good book, nor is it a downer book. It is a book about the human condition (in regards to its collective sexual identity and malfunctions). I found the content to be brave and funny and humble enough to avoid the Chelsea Handler comparisons (sorry, I just don't care for that lady).
Give it a shot when it comes out, I found it to be funny AND valuable in its social insight. This author has promise, one to watch for the future. A refreshing book that I hope gets adequate play in the market.
April 25, 2014
This is one of those books that I so badly wanted to love, but just couldn't. Like a poorly grilled & very grizzly steak, there was a lot of unwanted meat [a LOT of rambling on]. Out of the entire book, there were only about two times that I found myself actually laughing. I guess I should have known, there's no way that someone could write an entire 200-some page book on "funny" sexual thoughts and experiences throughout their life. I must say, Cardiff is quite funny in the way that she explains some things happening, but almost to the point that it was moving along at way too slow of a pace for me. Also, don't read this book if you're squeemish over anything related to sex, Cardiff doesn't hold back, and gets graphic a time or two.
September 4, 2013
If there's anyone out there insecure regarding their sexuality or still paying for therapy sessions thanks to the rollercoaster that is puberty - you NEED to read this book. Ashley's blunt, sarcastic yet very real account of growing up and dealing with everything from first loves, parents, sex tapes makes you feel as if you're not a lone in discovering all of these things. Sex is a pretty big deal and it should be talked about as such. Her accounts of embarrassing situations made me feel great, because I know I've had my fumbles with these things as well. Forget Cosmoplitan magazine and the like - this book is a must read.
May 11, 2013
This might have been a humorous account of the author's growing up and experiences with puberty and all that entails, but I failed to see it. Instead, this read like any other account, with what I'm guessing were supposed to be wry comments and truths that didn't really translate. The use of profanity and crudeness (the cousin-with-pencil episode, for example) weren't shocking, merely boring and didn't illuminate anything for me. A DNF.
ARC provided by publisher.
ARC provided by publisher.
May 15, 2013
I got this as a free copy from a good reads giveaway. This book is ALL about sex, so if you are at all squeamish about fairly sordid details (not always involving the author) this book is not for you.
I personally found some of the stories interesting and at times hilarious. The author is very open, honest, and forth coming with her stories. It was a little much for my own tastes, but it was an ok read.
I personally found some of the stories interesting and at times hilarious. The author is very open, honest, and forth coming with her stories. It was a little much for my own tastes, but it was an ok read.
January 22, 2015
2.5 Meh. I only chuckled a few times, the ramblingness of it didn't work for me (although I like that in some other books), and it was just blah. I almost didn't continue on after reading the first chapter or 2 because I just wasn't interested, but I did finish because it's VERY hard for me to quit books. Can't say I'm exactly glad I finished because of the book, but I'm glad I finished for my own accomplishment in not giving up haha!
October 10, 2013
I only got about 55 pages into this, so this review may not be representative of the book. I started it late at night when I was tired and between books, so it wasn't at the top of my list to hurry up and read.
i love biographical humorous essays, but these were more whiny/sad/pitiful than humorous. The author casts herself as an outcast outright, so that makes it somewhat hard to get into the spirit of the stories.
i love biographical humorous essays, but these were more whiny/sad/pitiful than humorous. The author casts herself as an outcast outright, so that makes it somewhat hard to get into the spirit of the stories.
May 21, 2013
I had hoped that this book would be as funny as advertised. However I didn't find if funny, or even slightly amusing. It was pretty boring and I had to force myself to finish.I got this book free from good reads.
July 7, 2015
Terrible... just terrible. Won't waste my time reviewing since i spent enough time reading this...
July 17, 2019
Cardiff's book of essays is a total crack-up. I don't know how she managed to recall some of the most painful and cringe-worthy aspects of puberty with such clarity as to the event, what the pubescent brain was thinking at the time, and then analyze those actions with an adult brain; I have managed to block most of my years from sixth grade through high school. But reading this book brought back all of those awful moments in a pretty hilarious way.
I absolutely loved her comparison of abstinence based sex ed to the story of Eve's fall on pg 158, I won't type out three paragraphs for you here. The second and third chapters from the end were a little weaker, didn't feel as carefully crafted. It may just be that they were less rooted in a recalled experience than just her opinion on how not to be a douchebag.
The book is chock full of expletives and judgement, so beware if you are easily offended. I am not. I giggled and snorted my way through the whole damn thing.
I absolutely loved her comparison of abstinence based sex ed to the story of Eve's fall on pg 158, I won't type out three paragraphs for you here. The second and third chapters from the end were a little weaker, didn't feel as carefully crafted. It may just be that they were less rooted in a recalled experience than just her opinion on how not to be a douchebag.
The book is chock full of expletives and judgement, so beware if you are easily offended. I am not. I giggled and snorted my way through the whole damn thing.
August 30, 2017
This book was absolutely hysterical as the author "weaves adept analysis with brutal humor and unhinged neuroses". She would probably make one heck of a great stand-up comic except that she seems to have a self-image problem, which she also manages to make fun of at various points. But she spares no one, not even herself, on this "absurd and relentlessly funny journey of sexual development" with chapters like "The First Time I Saw Porn", "My Family's Homemade Sex Tapes", "The Man who Forged a Dildo in His Own Image", "Porn Star Problems" and "Sex, Lies and Pubic Hair".
The opening sentence draws you in with "Growing up, I used to have weird sexual fantasies about my dog. In retrospect, they were probably just weird sexual fantasies about peanut butter."
The opening sentence draws you in with "Growing up, I used to have weird sexual fantasies about my dog. In retrospect, they were probably just weird sexual fantasies about peanut butter."
April 5, 2019
Cardiff is funny, insightful, and smart. I assumed I was in for some hilarious stories of sex and I received that, but Cardiff also throws in some witty observations about social norms and some instructions on how not to be an asshole that were an unexpected cherry on the top.
Edit:I’ve read some harsh reviews by those who don’t seem to understand when she’s being sarcastic.
Edit:I’ve read some harsh reviews by those who don’t seem to understand when she’s being sarcastic.
Read
May 31, 2021I just had sex last night and my girlfriend is hurting right now
September 30, 2023
darkly funny and you can never get enough sex education
September 3, 2013
http://algonquinsidetable.com/review-...
Maybe 10 minutes into Night Terrors: Sex, Dating, Puberty, And Other Alarming Things (look at that Oxford comma!) by Ashley Cardiff, I announced that it might be my favourite book of the year– this is a writer who uses her first page to discuss how the sexual tingles of her childhood were triggered by Catwoman. I’m into it.
Night Terrors is broken up into roughly chronological memoir-based essays (most of which can stand on their own really well, making the book insanely easy to read.) She bounces from anecdotes about her ignorant-but-deliberate childhood transgressions to how dumb we are as teenagers to the particular challenges of being a somewhat adrift post-university twentysomething. It’s not a book of universal experiences (I’m not going to be an asshole and say this is just relevant to the Girls audience, because that’s dismissive and I have a whole bucket of issues with Girls and Lena Dunham’s body of work anyhow, but there is certainly overlap between the two) but I think the feelings and thoughts (and jokes!) would appeal to a much broader audience than Cardiff’s direct peers.
Favourite things about the book? The insights into women’s bizarre fantasy lives, and the frank and hilarious discussion of healthy childhood sexuality (that is not about inappropriate interactions with adults.) People hate talking about prepubescent sexual inklings because it makes them uncomfortable as hell, but NOT discussing something that is actually reasonably common just serves to alienate all those people who assume they’re a weird aberration because Catwoman gave them a funny lurch in their stomach or they secretly drew a lot of naked people. (Other great examples of actually addressing that kids are on some spectrum of sexual curiosity are the movie Moonrise Kingdom, Caitlin Moran’s discussion in How To Be A Woman of the isolating limbo when masturbation has started but playing with Barbies hasn’t yet ended, and Lost Girls, an incredibly controversial graphic novel that imagines a meeting between Alice from Alice In Wonderland, Wendy from Peter Pan, and Dorothy from Wizard of Oz that Alan Moore wrote over the course of nearly twenty years.)
I was not a huge fan of the last chapter– it felt a bit like an unnecessary attempt to create a tight thesis out of the book, but I don’t think Night Terrors is focused enough on one topic to warrant a conclusion. It’s still well-written, but I could’ve done without the last few pages.
“When it was time for me to go, Jesse walked me to my car and kissed me again. I drove home that night wondering if I was in love with him because this is how hormones work when you are sixteen and fucking dumb.”
“Better still, it was extremely easy to find common ground with his father, because I’m a great cook and he’s a misogynist.”
“I was sitting alone, smoking sullenly, not drinking, thinking about the Mormon and trying to figure out what made me so insufferable* that he’d rather live in a Volkswagen van than live with me. I happened to be smoking an imported German cigarette (*unrelated)….”
“As I matured a little, I realized the things you like in college (or on “asshole vacation,” as I like to call it)…”
“When I originally took to the Internet in a pseudoscientific effort to understand what people think about when they masturbate, I almost couldn’t believe the twisted portrait of women that emerged … See the woman walking past you on the sidewalk, with her little dog in its little sweater, and her orthopedic shoes? You wouldn’t believe the putrid shit tapestries she has to weave in order to make herself come.”
Why Should You Care? been excerpted at The Hairpin and The Awl, got 5/5 from the only magazine I buy (Bust Magazine.)
Recommended If You Liked: Funny memoir-based essays (think David Sedaris, Chelsea Handler, Augusten Burroughs.) My spirit animal Caitlin Moran.
Overall: 8.5/10
Maybe 10 minutes into Night Terrors: Sex, Dating, Puberty, And Other Alarming Things (look at that Oxford comma!) by Ashley Cardiff, I announced that it might be my favourite book of the year– this is a writer who uses her first page to discuss how the sexual tingles of her childhood were triggered by Catwoman. I’m into it.
Night Terrors is broken up into roughly chronological memoir-based essays (most of which can stand on their own really well, making the book insanely easy to read.) She bounces from anecdotes about her ignorant-but-deliberate childhood transgressions to how dumb we are as teenagers to the particular challenges of being a somewhat adrift post-university twentysomething. It’s not a book of universal experiences (I’m not going to be an asshole and say this is just relevant to the Girls audience, because that’s dismissive and I have a whole bucket of issues with Girls and Lena Dunham’s body of work anyhow, but there is certainly overlap between the two) but I think the feelings and thoughts (and jokes!) would appeal to a much broader audience than Cardiff’s direct peers.
Favourite things about the book? The insights into women’s bizarre fantasy lives, and the frank and hilarious discussion of healthy childhood sexuality (that is not about inappropriate interactions with adults.) People hate talking about prepubescent sexual inklings because it makes them uncomfortable as hell, but NOT discussing something that is actually reasonably common just serves to alienate all those people who assume they’re a weird aberration because Catwoman gave them a funny lurch in their stomach or they secretly drew a lot of naked people. (Other great examples of actually addressing that kids are on some spectrum of sexual curiosity are the movie Moonrise Kingdom, Caitlin Moran’s discussion in How To Be A Woman of the isolating limbo when masturbation has started but playing with Barbies hasn’t yet ended, and Lost Girls, an incredibly controversial graphic novel that imagines a meeting between Alice from Alice In Wonderland, Wendy from Peter Pan, and Dorothy from Wizard of Oz that Alan Moore wrote over the course of nearly twenty years.)
I was not a huge fan of the last chapter– it felt a bit like an unnecessary attempt to create a tight thesis out of the book, but I don’t think Night Terrors is focused enough on one topic to warrant a conclusion. It’s still well-written, but I could’ve done without the last few pages.
“When it was time for me to go, Jesse walked me to my car and kissed me again. I drove home that night wondering if I was in love with him because this is how hormones work when you are sixteen and fucking dumb.”
“Better still, it was extremely easy to find common ground with his father, because I’m a great cook and he’s a misogynist.”
“I was sitting alone, smoking sullenly, not drinking, thinking about the Mormon and trying to figure out what made me so insufferable* that he’d rather live in a Volkswagen van than live with me. I happened to be smoking an imported German cigarette (*unrelated)….”
“As I matured a little, I realized the things you like in college (or on “asshole vacation,” as I like to call it)…”
“When I originally took to the Internet in a pseudoscientific effort to understand what people think about when they masturbate, I almost couldn’t believe the twisted portrait of women that emerged … See the woman walking past you on the sidewalk, with her little dog in its little sweater, and her orthopedic shoes? You wouldn’t believe the putrid shit tapestries she has to weave in order to make herself come.”
Why Should You Care? been excerpted at The Hairpin and The Awl, got 5/5 from the only magazine I buy (Bust Magazine.)
Recommended If You Liked: Funny memoir-based essays (think David Sedaris, Chelsea Handler, Augusten Burroughs.) My spirit animal Caitlin Moran.
Overall: 8.5/10
September 11, 2013
I hope that everyone on Goodreads knows that 2 stars means "it was ok," because if I saw a 2-star review on, say, Amazon, I would think that the reviewer didn't like the product. However, this book was literally "ok." But actually, now that I've written that, I'll change my review to 3 stars. Because I really don't think that people read the alt text when making their star rating choices.
As I read the first few chapters--which, really, are essays-- of Night Terrors, I had high expectations for the book. Cardiff's writing style (and choice of topic) reminded me very much of the books I've read by Chelsea Handler: Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea, My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands, etc. I was amused and horrified in due course, just as I expected to be. And throughout the book, it's fun--especially as a New Yorker--to recognize so much of what she writes as being so darned true. For example:
"We were both in New York City in our early twenties, self-obsessed and pursuing stupid dreams without ever really stopping to ask why w needed to be in New York and paying New York rents to do so, but the city has a crafty way of distracting you from ever wondering that because it's too busy throwing insane situations like this exact one in your face."
"I think people who try to punish kids for masturbating are insane, imposing no small amount of guilt on their children unnecessarily and also stupid because trying to keep kids from masturbating is like trying to play Whac-A-Mole with your hands tied behind your back."
"I don't know about you, but I have worked many shitty desk jobs in which I go into the office at nine a.m., rotely answer forty emails of varying inconsequence, plug data into multiple templates no one will ever look at, highlight dubiously relevant information in a one-hundred-and-fifty-page document no one will ever read, chew a bag lunch at my desk in a joyless bovine way, get yelled at for doing my job with suspicious competence and then spend an hour mailing things to people they may never look at."
Those sorts of "aha" moments are the gems of this book. However, Cardiff moves from writing amusing personal stories in the first half of the book to write longer and longer diatribes on various "hot button" social issues (e.g. gay tolerance, abortion, etc.). Here, she veers away from the entertainment factor that is the point of these sorts of books and spends most of her time defending herself on these issues while simultaneously chastising people who don't happen to agree with her point of view.
Nevertheless, I did enjoy at least part of this book, and I think Cardiff and Handler should hook up and work on a joint project of some sort. (And by hook up, I mean that in the least sexual way possible....)
As I read the first few chapters--which, really, are essays-- of Night Terrors, I had high expectations for the book. Cardiff's writing style (and choice of topic) reminded me very much of the books I've read by Chelsea Handler: Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea, My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands, etc. I was amused and horrified in due course, just as I expected to be. And throughout the book, it's fun--especially as a New Yorker--to recognize so much of what she writes as being so darned true. For example:
"We were both in New York City in our early twenties, self-obsessed and pursuing stupid dreams without ever really stopping to ask why w needed to be in New York and paying New York rents to do so, but the city has a crafty way of distracting you from ever wondering that because it's too busy throwing insane situations like this exact one in your face."
"I think people who try to punish kids for masturbating are insane, imposing no small amount of guilt on their children unnecessarily and also stupid because trying to keep kids from masturbating is like trying to play Whac-A-Mole with your hands tied behind your back."
"I don't know about you, but I have worked many shitty desk jobs in which I go into the office at nine a.m., rotely answer forty emails of varying inconsequence, plug data into multiple templates no one will ever look at, highlight dubiously relevant information in a one-hundred-and-fifty-page document no one will ever read, chew a bag lunch at my desk in a joyless bovine way, get yelled at for doing my job with suspicious competence and then spend an hour mailing things to people they may never look at."
Those sorts of "aha" moments are the gems of this book. However, Cardiff moves from writing amusing personal stories in the first half of the book to write longer and longer diatribes on various "hot button" social issues (e.g. gay tolerance, abortion, etc.). Here, she veers away from the entertainment factor that is the point of these sorts of books and spends most of her time defending herself on these issues while simultaneously chastising people who don't happen to agree with her point of view.
Nevertheless, I did enjoy at least part of this book, and I think Cardiff and Handler should hook up and work on a joint project of some sort. (And by hook up, I mean that in the least sexual way possible....)
June 22, 2013
I received this book through Goodreads First Reads.
This book is an odd one. It's less about sex, dating and puberty, and more about what the author views as alarming things that are related in various ways to sex, dating and puberty. In some ways it's like the literary equivalent of Welcome to the Dollhouse in that depending on the reader it could actually be more awkward and depressing than it is funny. I personally do not enjoy that film, and I enjoyed this book only marginally more.
Although this book does, at times, have underlying messages that support equity and tear down gender essentialist thinking, it is not a feminist book. The author is way too self-involved and privileged for that. She is constantly saying that acknowledging one's privileges, faults, and missteps does not automatically absolve one of them, but then absolving herself in just this way -- and contradicting herself in many other ways besides. I can't entirely tell if this is all supposed to be ironic. If it is, it doesn't really work. That's Brooklyn Hipster Irony for you.
But the worst offense is that I'm never really made to care. If I'm going to read a non-fiction, autobiographical, confessional-type book, it should at the very least make me give a s**t about its author, no? This one is not special enough to be Special, and not "everywoman" enough to function as a symbol of universal human experience. Especially because she's super-judgmental. All the time.
I waver between giving this 2 or 3 stars, and I chose 3 because of a few choice anecdotes that were particularly funny and/or mortifying (the Mormon Bishop comes to mind, as does that PUA guy who negs in bars), and because I respect the author's willingness to put herself out there, warts and all. I wish I could give this 2.5 stars though.
This book is an odd one. It's less about sex, dating and puberty, and more about what the author views as alarming things that are related in various ways to sex, dating and puberty. In some ways it's like the literary equivalent of Welcome to the Dollhouse in that depending on the reader it could actually be more awkward and depressing than it is funny. I personally do not enjoy that film, and I enjoyed this book only marginally more.
Although this book does, at times, have underlying messages that support equity and tear down gender essentialist thinking, it is not a feminist book. The author is way too self-involved and privileged for that. She is constantly saying that acknowledging one's privileges, faults, and missteps does not automatically absolve one of them, but then absolving herself in just this way -- and contradicting herself in many other ways besides. I can't entirely tell if this is all supposed to be ironic. If it is, it doesn't really work. That's Brooklyn Hipster Irony for you.
But the worst offense is that I'm never really made to care. If I'm going to read a non-fiction, autobiographical, confessional-type book, it should at the very least make me give a s**t about its author, no? This one is not special enough to be Special, and not "everywoman" enough to function as a symbol of universal human experience. Especially because she's super-judgmental. All the time.
I waver between giving this 2 or 3 stars, and I chose 3 because of a few choice anecdotes that were particularly funny and/or mortifying (the Mormon Bishop comes to mind, as does that PUA guy who negs in bars), and because I respect the author's willingness to put herself out there, warts and all. I wish I could give this 2.5 stars though.
December 28, 2014
I picked up this book because Cardiff covers some of the territory I'm writing about, but where I wax poetic/nostalgic, she looks back with more of a gimlet eye. In places this book was very funny, but as she notes many times, it's a memoir by a twenty-something writer, and in many spots I wished the material had had longer to mature -- both so that Cardiff could have some greater perspective on what she's writing about and so that some of the essays could have more revision time. I had read her essay "Porn Star Problems" previously on (in?) The Awl and liked it a lot. I definitely appreciated a lot of what she is saying. But late in the book, the tone moves from observant to strident, and sometimes the advice to not be an asshole becomes repetitive. She points out frequently in the book how funny it is that it's a sex book without sex in it, but eventually it felt overly disingenuous to be asking readers to go with her to these intimate, sex-infused pages (I mean, I consider myself fairly sophisticated but I had to go look a term up on urbandictionary.com), while coyly declining to reveal much of herself.
June 30, 2015
This book was very disappointing. It was the first memoir type book that I have picked up and not loved. I am about 120 pages in and torn between finishing it and getting rid of it.
As I got further into the book, I couldn't help but think about how much more I was starting to dislike Ms. Cardiff with every page. She thinks she's hilarious (she's not) and she is just completely judgmental and hypocritical. Her personality leaves such a sour taste in my mouth.
I will admit, some of her quips are amusing. But, that definitely does not make up for her offensive "jokes" at the expense of everyone but herself. Even though she didn't put the real names of most of the people in the book, I really felt bad for them. If they read the book they would see who they were right away. And she did not have one nice thing to say about any of them.
Overall, the best part about this book was probably the chapter titles and the color of the front cover. Needless to say, I will not be keeping this book or recommending it to ANYONE.
As I got further into the book, I couldn't help but think about how much more I was starting to dislike Ms. Cardiff with every page. She thinks she's hilarious (she's not) and she is just completely judgmental and hypocritical. Her personality leaves such a sour taste in my mouth.
I will admit, some of her quips are amusing. But, that definitely does not make up for her offensive "jokes" at the expense of everyone but herself. Even though she didn't put the real names of most of the people in the book, I really felt bad for them. If they read the book they would see who they were right away. And she did not have one nice thing to say about any of them.
Overall, the best part about this book was probably the chapter titles and the color of the front cover. Needless to say, I will not be keeping this book or recommending it to ANYONE.
September 17, 2013
Cardiff's book of essays is a total crack-up. I don't know how she managed to recall some of the most painful and cringe-worthy aspects of puberty with such clarity as to the event, what the pubescent brain was thinking at the time, and then analyze those actions with an adult brain; I have managed to block most of my years from sixth grade through high school. But reading this book brought back all of those awful moments in a pretty hilarious way.
I absolutely loved her comparison of abstinence based sex ed to the story of Eve's fall on pg 158, I won't type out three paragraphs for you here. The second and third chapters from the end were a little weaker, didn't feel as carefully crafted. It may just be that they were less rooted in a recalled experience than just her opinion on how not to be a douchebag.
The book is chock full of expletives and judgement, so beware if you are easily offended. I am not. I giggled and snorted my way through the whole damn thing.
I absolutely loved her comparison of abstinence based sex ed to the story of Eve's fall on pg 158, I won't type out three paragraphs for you here. The second and third chapters from the end were a little weaker, didn't feel as carefully crafted. It may just be that they were less rooted in a recalled experience than just her opinion on how not to be a douchebag.
The book is chock full of expletives and judgement, so beware if you are easily offended. I am not. I giggled and snorted my way through the whole damn thing.
September 20, 2013
A rather humourous and entertaining look at sexuality in conjunction with parents, porn, religion and many other things and how it influences an individuals thinking. Very interesting in some cases and funny in others.
If a slightly morbid sense of humour isn't your thing or you are religious then maybe skip this book. She is very opinionated (especially about religion and, obviously, sex) and there is also lot of swearing. It's a book you need to read with an open mind as every opinion is explained and supported through each chapter.
The undertone for the entire book was, basically, don't be an a$$hole and everyone makes mistakes so take responsibility for your actions. Overall, very candid writing and it's great that she can take her life and apply a good sense of humour to it. Certainly an enjoyable read!
If a slightly morbid sense of humour isn't your thing or you are religious then maybe skip this book. She is very opinionated (especially about religion and, obviously, sex) and there is also lot of swearing. It's a book you need to read with an open mind as every opinion is explained and supported through each chapter.
The undertone for the entire book was, basically, don't be an a$$hole and everyone makes mistakes so take responsibility for your actions. Overall, very candid writing and it's great that she can take her life and apply a good sense of humour to it. Certainly an enjoyable read!
July 23, 2013
A series of sex stories feels like it should be funnier or more, than this book actually was. It WAS funny at some points, poignant in others, but it felt kind of shallow. I overall liked it and was glad I bought it.
Highlights - a wonderful story about a pretentious jerk at a bar.
Lowlights - a somewhat pretentious and depressing (although earnest as hell) discussion of taking matters into your own hands.
Highlights - a wonderful story about a pretentious jerk at a bar.
Lowlights - a somewhat pretentious and depressing (although earnest as hell) discussion of taking matters into your own hands.
April 2, 2015
I often think that people who write memoirs, even if in the form of Erma Bombeck essays, before the age of 30 as egotistical--unless they have none something significant like won an Olympic medal, gotten an Oscar/Emmy or are similarly at the top of their profession. Ashley Cardiff is not one of these, and she admitted she trolled NYC trying to make connections to secure a book deal.
As for the essays, some are humorous and some are completely self-involved philosophizing.
As for the essays, some are humorous and some are completely self-involved philosophizing.
September 13, 2016
I received this book through Goodreads' First Reads Program.
This book is hard to define -- some of the stories I felt were a little too much while others were just downright funny. I do have to say I did enjoy it immensely.
If you are not comfortable talking about sex or anything in the general vicinity -- please do not read this book.
Great read not for the faint of heart! :)
This book is hard to define -- some of the stories I felt were a little too much while others were just downright funny. I do have to say I did enjoy it immensely.
If you are not comfortable talking about sex or anything in the general vicinity -- please do not read this book.
Great read not for the faint of heart! :)
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