Any Person Is the Only Self

by Elisa Gabbert

Contagiously curious essays on reading, art, and the life of the mind, from the acclaimed author of The Unreality of Memory.

Who are we when we read? When we journal? Are we more ourselves alone or with friends? Right now or in memory? How does time transform us and the art we love?

In sixteen dazzling, expansive essays, the acclaimed essayist and poet Elisa Gabbert explores a life lived alongside books of all dog-eared and destroyed, cherished and discarded, classic and clichėd, familiar and profoundly new. She turns her witty, searching mind to the writers she admires, from Plath to Proust, and the themes that bind them―chance, freedom, envy, ambition, nostalgia, and happiness. She takes us to the strange edges of art and culture, from hair metal to surf movies to party fiction. Any Person Is the Only Self is a love letter to literature and to life, inviting us to think alongside one of our most thrilling and versatile critics.

Genres: Essays, Nonfiction, Books About Books, Short Stories, Psychology, Contemporary, Writing

8 pages, Audible Audio

First published June 11, 2024

About the author

Elisa Gabbert writes the On Poetry column for the New York Times and is the author of six collections of poetry, essays, and criticism, including Normal Distance; The Unreality of Memory & Other Essays; The Word Pretty; L'Heure Bleue, or the Judy Poems; The Self Unstable; and The French Exit.

Reviews

[emma]

i'm judging a book by its title

[Maxwell · Rating 4 out of 5]

When you want to buy a book for someone who reads a lot, it can be hard to pick the 'right' book. But look no further than Elisa Gabbert's Any Person is the Only Self! This is a book I can't imagine an avid reader wouldn't enjoy. Essays on all sorts of topics around literature, the act of reading, reflecting on memories of books from childhood, and more. All told in Gabbert's accessible and relatable prose, these essays made me wonder, learn something, and also feel self-assured in my opinions about books while also being challenged to approach literature with a fresh perspective. Loved them!

[Kaleigh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some essays in this collection are soooo great like "Somethingness (or, Why Write?)" which explores various writers' answers to the titular question, "The Uncanny Child" on the subject of becoming aware of the self as an individual, and "Same River, Same Man" on rereading old favorite books. I also loved the smaller mentions of perusing the recently-returned books shelf at the library and a book club with her friends for reading "stupid classics"—classic high school curriculum books they'd never read. These are both good ideas I can copy.

Buuut... I didn't love how safe and careful Gabbert comes off most of the time. The opinions and experiences she writes about are almost boilerplate—nothing in this volume is surprising. She loves Rilke and Proust and Plath and makes sure to include her disavowal of the racist and homophobic language in old novels and takes easy shots at Bradbury for having been an old conservative white man. Outside of classic novels, she covers tired topics like the culture shock of the pandemic and the post-pandemic "loneliness epidemic." No one can argue with these takes, there's nothing to disagree with, nothing transgressive that struck me to my core (in a good or bad way). It's like she's never pissed anyone off in her life and it left me unsatisfied most of the time.

[Niharika]

I'm always nervous around essay collections. Uncharacteristically so, because I do spend hours a day hunting down long-form essays from various publications and newsletters and then devouring them like my life depends on it. But when it comes to picking up a whole book of essays to read, I find myself in a pickle. What if I hate the writing style? What if I don't get any of the references the author's trying to make? What if the writing is shit? But then come collections like these, with such a pretty cover and such a banger of a title, and I don't have any choice but to add it to my shelves. Bonus point if the essays turn out to be actually right up my alley.

Below are my ratings and mini-reviews for each of the essays.

1. On Recently Returned Books :- ⭐⭐⭐🌟(3.5 stars)

Maybe because I was barely fourteen when the pandemic hit, but I never really grasped the gravity of the situation we were put in until years later. For the most part, I thought, idiotically, that I was the only one hit by this tsunami of acute loneliness. I know many people don't like the subgenre that is "covid-era" writings, but sometimes it's almost comforting to see the picture from the perspective of someone else, you know? The author does a magnificent job of blending deep personal feelings with a sort of universal melancholy around growing older and losing your parents to old age, and I, for one, am charmed.

2. The Stupid Classics Book Club :-⭐⭐⭐🌟(3.5 stars)

Nothing feels so good as getting validated for having a genuine fondness for books written by long-dead old men (aka classics). Also, the writing here is gorgeous.

3. Weird Time in Frankenstein :- ⭐⭐⭐(3 stars)

If you're anything like me, at some point in your life, you've had a Frankenstein phase. The author blends the lore behind the age-old classic with musings on grief, motherhood, and mortality. All in all, this book, so far, is a gem.

(#PS# I picked up the book after more than 4 months, and which in Niharika terms means a miracle has taken place.)

4. Party Lit:- ⭐⭐🌟(2.5 stars)

Rich people love partying, and I love reading about rich people partying.

[Troy · Rating 5 out of 5]

As soon as I read the synopsis for this essay collection, I knew it was totally in my wheelhouse -- I mean, essays about books, reading, writing, memory, the self? Sign me the f up! Which is why I acquired and read it as fast as I possibly could. I'm delighted to say that it was an extremely pleasurable and thought provoking collection to read and my already high expectations were far exceeded.

Elisa Gabbert writes with such fervor, tact, and intellectual curiosity of the things in life that interest her and she is passionate about. This made for every essay being just as compelling, insightful, and a joy to read as the last. Her ability to take two or sometimes three seemingly different topics and weave them together with near seamless prose over the course of a long essay was incredible and stunning. I really admire the amount of research and time that most likely went into each essay and how well it was conveyed on the page.

This is a book for bookish people. In my mind, each essay was the equivalent of Gabbert grabbing my hand as the reader and taking me on an evening stroll to show me the inner workings of her mind and perspective. She's a writer who isn't afraid to think deeply, connect the dots, and then succeed in putting those words to the page for us to ponder and also think deeply about. This is definitely a new favorite and I'm super excited to read more of her work.

[emily]

‘Sometimes I think of the seed of the essay, whatever idea first made me want to write it, as a tree that I'm building a house around—I have wanted a house with a tree inside.’

This wasn’t for me, but readers/friends whose reviews/thoughts I think highly of fully recommend her other book, The Unreality of Memory: And Other Essays, so I thought I would ‘like’ this. A frustrating one for me because on paper it seemed like the kind of writing that appealed to me. But Elisa and I have very different views on too many things; and towards the end, that just sort of felt a bit ‘exhausting’ for me (without it being — I don’t know, ‘rewarding’? For the lack of a better word that is).

‘There's a particular stranger from deep in my past I remember. I was six years old, in a playroom at some kind of day camp. I saw a pretty brunette girl, who struck me as older and more sophisticated than I was, though she couldn't have been more than seven or eight. She was standing with friends, and I wasn't. "Do you have a staring problem?" she said, meeting my gaze. I was shocked, ashamed and understood I should not look at people for long. But I still stare at strangers; I still have a staring problem.’

The stuff that Elisa chose to explore in these essays fascinate me, but ultimately my personal views on them clash with hers, quite instantly and drastically. Although one doesn’t necessarily need to share the views of the writers to enjoy their work, personally, and only judging on this particular work, I think it is a necessity for me. I prefer Amina Cain’s A Horse at Night: On Writing — which like Elisa’s also flirts with the whole ‘books on books’ concept and then some more. Most crucially, Elisa is someone who is rather ‘attached’ to her partner, enjoys staring at strangers, and would feel ‘depressed’ if she goes a day without seeing another human ‘face’. Cain on the other hand ‘feels bad’ for loving her solitude (feels guilty for not attending to the social and emotional needs of the people she loves), loves gardening, and is fascinated by the vastness and (feral yet muted) aesthetics of deserts. I’m not saying one is better than the other, but only that Cain’s work resonates with me and Elisa’s absolutely doesn’t. And one more thing to bear in mind is that Elisa’s collection of essays are what one would generalise as post-pandemic writing. And I’m simply not so interested in that, especially ones that feel rather ‘mundane’ (and honestly sort of over-written (about)); but what’s unimpressive to one can be life-changing to another, so I hope this book finds a better and more suitable reader.

‘Rewatching Point Break, in order to take notes and write about it, wasn't quite the sublime experience of watching it to watch it. So after writing about it, I watched it again, the following night. This didn't feel very different from watching it again after one or two years. This is part of the difference between books and movies. Books take so much more time to invest in, to get interesting again, that they give me time to change. I must be changing all the time, but day to day, or year to year, the intervals are too small to notice. I'm not the same man, but I almost am.’

This is just one of the things I disagree with (Elisa on) or have different views on. For me, I’m more reluctant to re-watch films because I know I’ll surely, surely find it a little more difficult to appreciate the ‘cinematography’/aesthetics (as time goes by? and depends on what films though, and how heavy its dependence/reliance is on ‘special effects’ (to generalise simply) – but for instance, ‘Jurrasic Park’?). Books, I find harder to resist. I dip in and out of Lispector and Woolf all the time. I can’t even say honestly how many times properly that I’ve ‘re-read’ them. There are so many books I keep feeling tempted to re-read but I keep having to stop myself from doing so because I know the longer I wait, the better the end result/experience will be. Alright, didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but I’ll leave it at that.

‘In the year that I read so much Rilke, I had trouble remembering books. Reading all my books in the same three rooms suspended time and erased my memories, as though there were no new hooks for them to hang on. (When I reread the Tanizaki, I barely remembered anything about it. But my pencil marks were already there, the same things I'd underline now.) I was deeply unhappy, so unhappy I believed that everyone everywhere must be unhappy. So I was surprised when a friend recently told me that in some ways the pandemic improved his life-a broke artist, it suddenly seemed okay to be a broke artist, to stay home making art. A layer of shame lifted up from his life.’

A little too much admiration for Freud as well. As someone who feels rather indifferent and unimpressed to anything Freudian, this didn’t work for me either. Also I had to stop for a minute (thinking I’ve surely misread it, but no, it was not a mistake) when I read the words ‘Professional Cuddler’. Quickly made me want to shelf this as a ‘DNF’, but quickly skimmed the last pages anyway (maybe this is worse than not finishing, I don’t know). It’s just not for me. I simply cannot elaborate further. Sorry? But thanks anyway? But if anything, I did like the one where she referenced Leonora Carrington, but I feel like that may be just because I really, really like Leonora Carrington (might be biased). I know I’ve been DNF-ing quite a bit this year, but it’s fully something I’m trying to do more of. No, more accurately, it’s something I’m trying to be more ‘okay’ with doing.

[Janelle · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is an enjoyable collection of essays about reading, writing, surviving lockdown, musings on writers and writing, music, human contact, libraries, and more. It reads well particularly early but I did start to get bored towards the end, Phil Collins? Hair metal music of the 80s? Point Break the movie? Probably they’d work well as individual magazine articles, as a whole book it got a bit self indulgent.

[CJ Alberts]

Something I found out about myself is I don’t like reading essays where I have no idea what the subject matter is about lol. Half of this is that, obscure lit things I felt isolated from, but the other half are pretty personal reader reflections and a look back at Covid and the routine changes it brought on. I liked it!

[Cam Waller · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great, accessible collection that balances philosophy and humour. I loved the meandering nature of the essays, which all come back to the love and pleasure of reading in some way or another. An easy handsell.

[Melanie · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Without named realms for the maps in our minds we get lost and disoriented — we must treat any space like a kingdom. Building-building is world-building. He writes that towns need animals, such as chickens and goats and bees — they are “as important a part of nature as the trees and grass and flowers.” This is so true. I feel so much better when I go on a hike and see a moose or an owl, when I go on a walk and see anything that feels like a wild animal — a hawk or a bat, a raccoon, a deer. Even a magpie or rabbit will do, even a very large dog, as long as it’s rarer and larger than a squirrel. Once while driving through the mountains, John and I were having an argument, when he braked to let a fox cross the road. We stopped arguing. Seeing a fox is a very good way to end an argument.”
~ From the essay “Infinite Abundance on a Narrow Ledge”

Where are we when we read? Who are we when we reread books that we loved in our youth? Can freedom and creativity only be found at the heart of crowds, surrounded by strangers? How do physical spaces change us, and subsequently change the world? Where are we when we are in lockdown?

Follow a swift-footed poet and thinker as she makes her way through these questions and jumps from Proust’s memories, to suffering and joy inside a Soviet camp, to our selves in journaling. From the existential energy of architectural spaces, to crackling fires in the tundra, to the intricacies of “Point Break”.

There was a bit of Rebecca Solnit’s wandering spirit here and a sprinkle of Zadie Smith’s irreverence. Wordsmith women who watch the world with hunger and puzzlement. Women who write their way through life by inhabiting their curiosity as one would wear an oversized coat.

A terrific ride through the inner terrain.

[Ana Hein · Rating 2 out of 5]

Unoriginal thinking coupled with lack luster prose. In need of condensing and an editor to usher the author to get to the point. The only essay is enjoyed was the one about diaries.

[Anna · Rating 2 out of 5]

Most of these essays read like half-formed thoughts dressed up as cultural critique: clever on the surface, empty underneath. Dare I say the author strikes me as someone who often talks very confidently about books she hasn’t read? Writing in the “Proust and the Art of Suffering” essay that “I was tired and didn’t feel up for Proust. Instead I went back to the shelves in search of something short,” then quoting others who have read In Search of Lost Time feels like performing scholarship for the aesthetics.

Reverence isn’t naive, dearie, it’s a form of attention! I’d like to see some reverence in Gabbert’s writing, or you know, some deep reading to start with. When Gabbert quips that Plath “doesn’t understand how paragraphs work,” I think she means she can’t tolerate prose that makes her brain hurt.

If I complained about Ao3 fanfics making their way to traditional publishing, this is the Substack edition… Astonishingly tone-deaf.

[claire]

major thanks to my beloveds over at netgalley and fsg for the digital arc (and the finished copy! fsg you are too good to me <3)!!

devastated to get to the end of this and the last chapter i had been anticipating was the bibliography!!

i didn't want this book to end. i cherished the reading experience of each essay. there is something so special about books dissect the relationship a reader/writer has with books. elisa gabbert approaches her writing with such unabashed authenticity, and it was a joy to read every essay.

unfortunately personal error prevented me from connecting with this collection as much as i would have liked. note to the wise: maybe don't read a million different books at once?? and focus on the stuff you have already started?? because i was reading other essay collection at the same time, i feel like my attention with improperly divided. that being said, i definitely have plans to revisit this collection in the future.

these essays made me examine the relationship i have with books and my own reading habits. when i do revisit this in the future, i am curious to see how those habits have changed.

tldr, this is a book for book nerds.

[kimberly · Rating 4 out of 5]

“I remember which side, verso or recto, my favorite parts appeared on, how deep in the book, how far down the page. A book always feels like a place I’ve been to.”

I love literature about literature and these essays are just that; essays that center around the love of reading and writing and they weren’t quite what I was expecting. Many of the first essays in this collection turned out to be a literary analysis of classic works of fiction such as Frankenstein, Fahrenheit 451, the work of Proust, and a lot about Plath’s work. While I found some interesting, I mostly found myself drifting—forcing my way through—during the writing about classical works that I either didn’t care about or haven’t read so couldn’t relate. The back 2/3 of this collection are what really made it for me. The essays were reflective, personal, and bright. The essay on journaling, Second Selves, and the one on loneliness and isolation, Complicated Energy, were my most favorites here.
An added, wonderful perk was the variety of books listed throughout the essays which helped me expand my “want to read” list.

While at their core these essays are about reading and writing, they also include musings on libraries, the pandemic, having autonomy over the art you consume, memory, dreams, isolation, feeling one’s own specialness (or lack of), a loss of childhood, and more.

Thank you, NetGalley, for my digital copy. Out 06/11/2024!

[cass krug · Rating 3 out of 5]

this was an enjoyable essay collection to read before bed, but it did leave me wanting just a little bit more of gabbert’s own experience and personality to shine through. while i appreciated her ability to weave together so many different sources in these essays on reading and writing, at times i felt overwhelmed by all the back to back quotations of other work. i really enjoyed and related to the passages where gabbert was expounding on her personal experiences with books throughout her life and especially throughout the pandemic, but her opinions felt overshadowed by the bibliography at times. my favorite pieces were the handful centering sylvia plath, and “second selves” which talked about people with highly superior autobiographical memory. overall a fun ride but not an all time favorite. 3.5 stars! thank you to FSG and netgalley for the digital galley of this!

[bee · Rating 3 out of 5]

one of my first introduction to essay collections, and a good place to start!! on the whole, many essays were thought provoking and ignited my curiosity on completely obscure but interesting topics, the essay on the woman who remembers everything was so original and fascinating in particular. i loved the overarching themes of literature, self and isolation, her reflections throughout this collection were compelling to read and i loved being able to see how Gabbert’s mind works. at times, i did feel lost with the many cultural references, and it felt like i was being given more of a summary rather than an essay, but overall the majority of these were a joy to read!

thank u to NetGalley for the eArc !

[Sarah · Rating 2 out of 5]

reads like a compilation of substack posts... and not particularly good ones 🥴

[Jaydin Burley · Rating 4 out of 5]

It’s fun to dissect media and how we take it and make it our own!! I found myself agreeing with the author a lot in their personal thoughts and wondering if those thoughts I share are that because they are truly my thoughts or if that’s what the media I’ve consumed has steered me to believe which is like the whole premise of this book.

[Ryan Berger · Rating 3 out of 5]

One of those books billed as being engineered specifically for book lovers, kept near the front of Barnes and Noble on the shelf for people who don't read but need to pop in and get something for their bookish niece/nephew. The problem is that people who love reading have often read a decent amount of these books or at least scattered essays that sort of do the same thing.

I am not especially impressed by Gabbert's insights, even if she's thoughtfully arranged a few interesting collages of other people's writing. The essay 'Somethingness (or Why Write?' is almost entirely quotes of other writers talking about the purpose of writing or why they continue to do it where Gabbert serves as a serviceable connective glue but is thin on insight. It makes it a worthwhile read to get a great survey of what other people think but illuminates very little herself.

The closing essay about rereading grapples with a timeless question (to reread our most complex and special books in an effort to understand them better and deeper engrave them on our souls-- or to continue chipping at the inexhaustible pile of books to make dying a little less painful) and offers a weapons locker of different approaches yet doesn't quite unify into a eureka moment or a central thesis. The sentiment seems to be "it depends", which-- no duh (even if the survey and thoughts along the way were mildly interesting).

A real low point of the collection is the Stupid Classics Book Club, which completely contradicts itself and paints Gabbert as ungenerous, lazy, and at worst undermines her credibility at someone who can extract meaning from work. The entire point of the essay is to leave assumptions at the door and actually go experience the classic literature you think you understand through cultural touchstones for yourself. Yet Gabbert goes in clutching her pre-conceived notions and refuses to meet her examples at face value. Never is this more cringe-inducing than her embarrassingly terrible read of Bradbury's Farenheit 451-- which she declares a book about censorship when any High School sophomore with a passing grade can tell you that's not what it's about-- and in fact ist the exact fallacy that Gabbert sets out to correct with this exercise! People *say* that Farenheit 451 is about censorship-- and it's not correct! It's about anti-intellectualism, the loss of hunger for literature, and other people's interiority-- a case against intellectual comfort and stagnation. Censorship is merely a vehicle for how the opportunists of the world harness this loss of appetite, which Bradbury *did* warn people about-- and his Afterward in most editions of the story is not a clarification but an "I told you so" as people tried to get the book banned. He was right! And to paint this as the same old white man claptrap about not being able to say anything anymore is so disingenuous it's embarrassing.

It could be seen then, as a testament to how "fine" the rest of the collection is because this dumpster fire of an essay was not enough for me to discard the whole thing altogether.

I braced myself at the Leonora Carrington essay because she's one of my favorite artists and I didn't trust Gabbert to deliver the goods but it's probably the best essay in the whole collection. Very good and actually adds to the conversation in a way the other quality essays in this collection don't for me.

I might return to read the essays on Proust and Rilke which I skipped because I want to read them myself someday but I would not want to read anything else Gabbert has written or will write.

[Hibou le Literature Supporter · Rating 5 out of 5]

The perfect companion on my recent trip to Ireland, my favorites are the essays on Virginia Woolf, Proust, and the film Point Break. I love how her turns can be analytical and quasi-academic but are always in Gabbert's conversational, vibrant voice. She is so well-read and flexible about what's different / memorable about culture, especially pandemic and post-pandemic. Plus, surprisingly fun essays about Phil Collins and heavy metal.

[Karina · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book was so good and so bad that it compelled me to write my first review. I constantly felt like the essays barely scratched the surface of their subject matter, and stopped short just before they reached any depth. I don’t think I was satisfied with a single one of the endings throughout the entire book. That being said, I couldn’t put it down, for reasons truly unknown. I’m baffled.

2.5 stars

[Molly Thomas · Rating 2 out of 5]

Closest I’ve ever come to not finishing a book. Boring, banal. She has like 5 interesting ideas that she doesn’t develop or expand on. After you’ve read 1 of the essays, you’ve read all of them. Most of the book is quotes from other, better writers.

[Varsha Ravi · Rating 3 out of 5]

I went in with fairly high expectations, largely because I loved Gabbert’s earlier collection The Unreality of Memory. This one didn’t quite meet that bar for me. It’s not a bad collection at all, Gabbert’s prose is always intelligent, thoughtful, and effortlessly readable, but thematically it felt looser, more scattered, and occasionally even directionless.

Most of the essays begin with a writer or work of fiction that has left some imprint on her; Proust, Plath, Leonora Carrington, Mary Shelley, and in brief, many more. But often these points of entry become springboards into broader, only lightly connected musings. The collection ends up spanning everything from how we construct identity through narrative, to artistic influence, to the slipperiness of memory, to the nature of obsession, creativity, madness, and even the blurry line between criticism and autobiography. It’s a wide-ranging set of ideas, but lacking in depth and not entirely cohesive.

I listened to the audiobook narrated by Gabbert herself, and really enjoyed the intimacy her voice lends to the text. There’s something special about hearing a writer read their own work, particularly for non fiction. It adds a certain warmth and authenticity.

Though some of the essays were insightful in the moment, I found that not many of them stuck with me. I can’t help but feel the collection would have been stronger distilled to fewer pieces with deeper focus. Still, as a reader, it’s hard to dislike a book about books even if it skims the surface at times.

If you’re new to Gabbert, I’d recommend starting with The Unreality of Memory, which I found far more memorable, thematically rich and illuminating.

[Jayne Ziemba · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Strand bookstore in NYC is, for many reasons, not a great bookstore. BUT I've never been to another bookstore that can replicate the experience I have browsing the dozens of freshly acquired pre-owned titles, always set out on four-foot-tall rolling wooden shelves in front of the employee bathroom. I love the randomness of the books on these shelves, and like Elisa Gabbert says in her first essay in this collection, "I need randomness to be happy." Thinking about randomness and readers is very interesting to me. I think most readers like randomness despite the monolithic push of BookTok and how the publishing industry itself relies on the dreaded "comp title" as the basis of the marketing and publicity pitch. Anyway, Gabbert's essays throughout this collection about reading and rereading are very good, and put into words what were just vague abstractions in my own mind as a person with a relationship with books.

[shelby · Rating 4 out of 5]

elisa gabbert hasn't disappointed me yet. these delightful essays on books, writing, memory, the self, etc are each like a special piece of candy. gabbert's grasp on her topics and weaving them seamlessly together to reach her conclusion or non-conclsion, as it may be, is like really enjoying your favorite meal. experiencing the texture, the temperature, the different flavor profiles. (sorry i must be really hungry) but i'm trying to say these essays are thought provoking (a given with gabbert), exciting, and quite frankly, sensual. if books have ever provided you with profound solace and in equal measure profound sorrow; this is the collection for you.

[alexa · Rating 3 out of 5]

As a reader, I am not loyal to a particular genre. I love to mix it up. Any Person Is the Only Self: Essays is the first essay collection I think I’ve ever read? Maybe. Don’t quote me on that. But I do know that I do not frequently read essays. I was, therefore, intrigued. The 16 essays are about books, loneliness, reading, writing, films, and music, all of which sounded like topics I’d love to read about.

I was lucky enough to have read almost every book mentioned in the collection (besides anything by Proust, but I *aspire*) so I do think that made this even more interesting for me. A few years back, I began to do a dive into some classics that my high school career didn’t cover. If you haven’t read any Plath or say Frankenstein, then maybe rethink reading this. I loved hearing how Gabbert interpreted some of the favorites, and I love how she interpreted other interpretations. It felt very academic. I have a desire to reread Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, to see how adult me would feel about the novel. I also found myself a bit angry about some spoilers on books I haven’t yet read (but it’s kind of on me as I should have a longer ‘Read’ shelf at this point in my life).

I particularly found the essay on memory to be quite fascinating. Imagine remembering every single detail of your life? How tragic honestly.

Even though there were some essays I could have skipped, I don’t regret reading this collection. I found reading this while reading something else was just perfect. Most of the essays were short and easy to digest. I don’t think this will go down in history as my favorite essay collection ever, but it has made me excited to find more essay collections out there. I liked the construction much more over the substance.

Oh, and now I must rewatch Point Break because she made a convincing argument that it is one of the best movies of all time?? Strange, yes.

Thank you NetGalley and FSG Originals for the ARC!

[Steven Capatosto · Rating 3 out of 5]

we spoke about this book tonight - i will revise this review in the morning. (Dinner w syd.)

Gabbert at one time wrote as if she was a psychologist recommending cooking to her patients. How the fuck could any mental health professional allow a patient heavily on SSRI's to use an immersion blender? A way of thinking/writing that was uniquely her own.

However, this time, the collection of essays merely reads as if someone has experience wearing a gold/silver american apparel clothing item at a point of their life. Will i get into the hot spot or will i not?

The contemplation of her previous work reigns supreme. This collection of essays missed the mark for me. I love her work and will always recommend her. She is a brilliant author. Perhaps her editor told her to slow down. The word pretty was kept in my jeans pocket like a zine i could not wait to read one, or two, or ten more times just to feel something.


Any person is the only self will not be considered a clipped wing - but a guitar solo that leaves you wondering as the sweat drips down the neck (of the guitar,) why am i even writing a review of a collection of essays that is rather simplistic.

Phil Collins essay was fun. IBID.
Can't wait for her next piece of work as she is one of the most important minds on earth as an essayist.

[Hein Matthew Hattie · Rating 2 out of 5]

1. "I have not read the original 1818 version," writes Elisa Gabbert, in her essay comparing the two editions of Frankenstein.

2. Come on, Gabbert, it's a 260-page monster book, and you're a professional literary critic. Surely you can handle perusing the actual novel about which you're writing an essay (to be published by FSG for $18 a copy)?

3. "I've never read the books," begins Gabbert's essay featuring… Gossip Girl. As usual, not having read a book doesn't stop Gabbert from writing about it. It's okay, she's special. She's Chuck Bass.

4. "I would never read it cover to cover," she writes of Sylvia Plath's journals. Okay, Gabbert, but let's say hypothetically you were writing an essay about them. Oh, still no? Okay.

5. "I was tired and didn't feel up for Proust." Hey, Gabbert, I can relate! Is that why everything you quote occurs in the very first section of the first part of the first volume of In Search of Lost Time? Lots of people stop reading Proust after a few dozen pages, but most don't publish essays called "Proust and the Art of Suffering," in which they sort of skirt whether they actually finished the book or not. But you do.

6. "When I stopped rereading books, I didn't stop rewatching movies." Maybe this is why the only piece of art that receives a four page plot summary in this alleged collection of literary criticism (and even then it's not clever critique or astute analysis, just a high school plot summary) is… the movie Point Break.

7. The beautiful painting ("The Passing of Time") on the cover is by Jess Allen. June Park incorporated it into one of the year's best book designs. All this for the dumbest book I've read in months. Yes, I read it. Every stupid word. So who's the dummy now?

[Tina · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was so eager to read ANY PERSON IS THE ONLY SELF by Elisa Gabbert since I loved her poetry book Normal Distance. I loved these essays! Gabbert has such a creative and intellectual mind and I love her humour and wit in this book. I loved the references to books and reading again and again. As a reader it’s so relatable to read another reader’s thoughts. I loved this line: “short books don’t make me think of death”. I too feel that existential dread of a big book. It was interesting to read about her “Stupid Classics Book Club” and her thoughts on Frankenstein, reading poetry and rereading. I’d love to read more by this author! Turns out I love nonfiction written by poets too!

Thank you to FSG Books for my gifted review copy!

[Anna · Rating 3 out of 5]

some of these essays really hit, others fell flat for me,
it mostly just made me want to reread the unreality of memory + everything lauren said (hi lauren)