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We Play Ourselves
After a humiliating scandal, a young writer flees to the West Coast, where she is drawn into the morally ambiguous orbit of a charismatic filmmaker and the teenage girls who are her next subjects.
“Fiercely smart and wildly entertaining...a uniquely potent take on female rage and competition.” (Julie Buntin, author of Marlena)
Not too long ago, Cass was a promising young playwright in New York, hailed as “a fierce new voice” and “queer, feminist, and ready to spill the tea.” But at the height of all this attention, Cass finds herself at the center of a searing public shaming, and flees to Los Angeles to escape — and reinvent herself.
There she meets her next-door neighbor Caroline, a magnetic filmmaker on the rise, as well as the pack of teenage girls who hang around her house. They are the subjects of Caroline’s next semidocumentary movie, which follows the girls' clandestine activity: a Fight Club inspired by the violent classic — but with a twist.
As Cass is drawn into the film’s orbit, she is awed by Caroline’s ambition and confidence. But over time, she becomes increasingly troubled by how deeply Caroline is manipulating the teens in the name of art. When a girl goes missing, Cass must reckon with her own ambitions and ask herself: In the pursuit of fame, how do you know when you’ve gone too far?
“Fiercely smart and wildly entertaining...a uniquely potent take on female rage and competition.” (Julie Buntin, author of Marlena)
Not too long ago, Cass was a promising young playwright in New York, hailed as “a fierce new voice” and “queer, feminist, and ready to spill the tea.” But at the height of all this attention, Cass finds herself at the center of a searing public shaming, and flees to Los Angeles to escape — and reinvent herself.
There she meets her next-door neighbor Caroline, a magnetic filmmaker on the rise, as well as the pack of teenage girls who hang around her house. They are the subjects of Caroline’s next semidocumentary movie, which follows the girls' clandestine activity: a Fight Club inspired by the violent classic — but with a twist.
As Cass is drawn into the film’s orbit, she is awed by Caroline’s ambition and confidence. But over time, she becomes increasingly troubled by how deeply Caroline is manipulating the teens in the name of art. When a girl goes missing, Cass must reckon with her own ambitions and ask herself: In the pursuit of fame, how do you know when you’ve gone too far?
336 pages, Audible Audio
First published February 9, 2021
136 people are currently reading
11843 people want to read
About the author
Jen Silverman
25 books173 followersJen Silverman is a New York-based writer. Born in the U.S., she was raised across the U.S., Europe and Asia. Her theatre work includes The Moors (Yale Repertory Theatre premiere, off-Broadway with The Playwrights Realm, Susan Smith Blackburn finalist); The Roommate (Actor’s Theatre of Louisville Humana world premiere, multiple regional productions including South Coast Rep, SF Playhouse and Williamstown Theatre Festival, upcoming at Steppenwolf); Phoebe In Winter (Off-off Broadway with Clubbed Thumb); Collective Rage: A Play in 5 Betties (Woolly Mammoth premiere); and All the Roads Home, a play with songs (Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park premiere).
Jen is a member of New Dramatists, a Core Writer at the Playwrights Center in Minneapolis, an affiliated artist with SPACE on Ryder Farm, and has developed work with the O’Neill, New York Theatre Workshop, Playpenn, Portland Center Stage, The Ground Floor Residency at Berkeley Rep, and the Royal Court in London among other places. She’s a two-time MacDowell fellow, recipient of a New York Foundation for the Arts grant, the Helen Merrill Award, an LMCC Fellowship, and the Yale Drama Series Award. She was the 2016-2017 Playwrights of New York (PoNY) Fellow at the Lark. Jen has a two-book deal with Random House for a collection of stories (The Island Dwellers, pub date May 1, 2018) and a novel. Education: Brown, Iowa Playwrights Workshop, Juilliard.
Jen is a member of New Dramatists, a Core Writer at the Playwrights Center in Minneapolis, an affiliated artist with SPACE on Ryder Farm, and has developed work with the O’Neill, New York Theatre Workshop, Playpenn, Portland Center Stage, The Ground Floor Residency at Berkeley Rep, and the Royal Court in London among other places. She’s a two-time MacDowell fellow, recipient of a New York Foundation for the Arts grant, the Helen Merrill Award, an LMCC Fellowship, and the Yale Drama Series Award. She was the 2016-2017 Playwrights of New York (PoNY) Fellow at the Lark. Jen has a two-book deal with Random House for a collection of stories (The Island Dwellers, pub date May 1, 2018) and a novel. Education: Brown, Iowa Playwrights Workshop, Juilliard.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 531 reviews
May 6, 2022
i would read a whole book about Tara-Jean Slater.
February 9, 2021
(4.5) There is so much in this book that I'm not sure how to begin talking about it, and what exactly it was that I loved about it. I'm worried that merely describing the plot won't make it sound as good as it actually is, because the language really makes it sizzle, and Silverman writes about complicated emotions in a style I found thrilling, and those things are difficult to communicate in a review.
Cass is a 33-year-old playwright who's had a tumultuous few months: after years of work, she's finally attained success, winning a coveted award – but this is swiftly followed by a spectacular downfall. Fleeing the fallout of a scandal in New York, she hides out at her friend’s house in Silver Lake, LA. While she tries to keep a low profile, she can't help being intrigued by her new next-door neighbour Caroline, a flighty, charismatic filmmaker. It isn't long before she gets caught up in Caroline's latest project, a documentary about a group of teen girls who organise violent gatherings inspired by Fight Club.
Here are three particular things about We Play Ourselves that I can't stop thinking about:
1. Cass's unrequited love for Hélène, the director of her play. It's just such a great portrayal of what it means, what it is, to feel like this about someone – painfully dead-on and, if you've experienced it yourself, exceptionally validating.
2. The scene wherein Cass is finally reunited with her nemesis, wunderkind Tara-Jean Slater. Odd and sparse and dreamy and lonely; a Hollywood hallucination.
3. The penultimate chapter!! I don't want to describe it because that would spoil the experience of reading it, but I will say this: if, after reading the first chapter, I had flipped forward and read the penultimate one, I would never have believed that both could have come from the same book. It's a tour de force in itself, and has to be read to be believed.
At first, I much preferred the New York flashbacks, which reminded me strongly – in language and in spirit – of Sweetbitter, one of my favourite books. I'll admit I found the LA plot less compelling, and Caroline and the teens less interesting characters than Cass, Hélène and Tara-Jean. But when the narratives eventually converge, everything slots together marvellously. I think Cass's realisations about what's important in her life – what 'success' actually means, and whether it matters at all – are exactly what many of us need to read in this era of uncertainty, when so many people have seen their professional and personal lives stymied by the effects of the pandemic. They certainly helped me.
This novel is a fizzing ball of ideas, a delightfully messy multilayered exploration of queerness and desire, art and ambition, and what it means to fail (or not). 'A strange miracle', as someone tells Cass. I adored Cass's voice and found a great deal to love about the story.
I received an advance review copy of We Play Ourselves from the publisher through Edelweiss.
TinyLetter | Linktree
Cass is a 33-year-old playwright who's had a tumultuous few months: after years of work, she's finally attained success, winning a coveted award – but this is swiftly followed by a spectacular downfall. Fleeing the fallout of a scandal in New York, she hides out at her friend’s house in Silver Lake, LA. While she tries to keep a low profile, she can't help being intrigued by her new next-door neighbour Caroline, a flighty, charismatic filmmaker. It isn't long before she gets caught up in Caroline's latest project, a documentary about a group of teen girls who organise violent gatherings inspired by Fight Club.
Here are three particular things about We Play Ourselves that I can't stop thinking about:
1. Cass's unrequited love for Hélène, the director of her play. It's just such a great portrayal of what it means, what it is, to feel like this about someone – painfully dead-on and, if you've experienced it yourself, exceptionally validating.
2. The scene wherein Cass is finally reunited with her nemesis, wunderkind Tara-Jean Slater. Odd and sparse and dreamy and lonely; a Hollywood hallucination.
3. The penultimate chapter!! I don't want to describe it because that would spoil the experience of reading it, but I will say this: if, after reading the first chapter, I had flipped forward and read the penultimate one, I would never have believed that both could have come from the same book. It's a tour de force in itself, and has to be read to be believed.
At first, I much preferred the New York flashbacks, which reminded me strongly – in language and in spirit – of Sweetbitter, one of my favourite books. I'll admit I found the LA plot less compelling, and Caroline and the teens less interesting characters than Cass, Hélène and Tara-Jean. But when the narratives eventually converge, everything slots together marvellously. I think Cass's realisations about what's important in her life – what 'success' actually means, and whether it matters at all – are exactly what many of us need to read in this era of uncertainty, when so many people have seen their professional and personal lives stymied by the effects of the pandemic. They certainly helped me.
This novel is a fizzing ball of ideas, a delightfully messy multilayered exploration of queerness and desire, art and ambition, and what it means to fail (or not). 'A strange miracle', as someone tells Cass. I adored Cass's voice and found a great deal to love about the story.
I received an advance review copy of We Play Ourselves from the publisher through Edelweiss.
TinyLetter | Linktree
February 7, 2021
3.25 Stars. This was interesting. In the end I don’t think that this book was for me, but I did really like the author’s writing style. The way Silverman writes, got me through a book that I might have really struggled with otherwise. The last two books I’ve read in a row, I have had similar experiences with. The book I reviewed right before this one, I didn’t enjoy and it was my own fault for misreading the blurb. With this book, I actually did not misread anything. The book blurb makes you think that this book is in a certain genre, which it is not. This is contemporary or literary fiction, and is not a thriller with a mystery twist that the blurb leads you to believe. The blurb gave me certain expectations, that the book just could not meet, and I don’t think that is fair to the author. I know it may be too late, with the book coming out in only two days, but I would change the blurb so readers are not disappointed and so this book will be targeted to the right audience.
This is a first person story about Cass, a playwright, who flees to L.A. after a scandal of her own making. Cass wants to reinvent herself and gets sucked into the world of indie moviemaking about a group of teenage girls who have their own “Fight Club”. We get to see, through flashbacks, Cass success as a playwright, her downfall, and what her life is like now in L.A. in present time. It’s an odd premise for sure, and the story gets even weirder as you read it. I kept waiting for the mystery/thriller part to happen and was left scratching my head wondering “what am I reading?” when it didn’t.
One of the issues I had was that Cass is not the easiest character to like. It’s tough being in first person POV with someone you are struggling to connect with. She can be very self-centered, jealous, has a real woe is me attitude, and loves to run when anything gets tough. I don’t know that I can say if she ever really grew in the end, but I did find her a little more palatable as the book went on. Her relationship with one of the teenagers named BB –Cass is bisexual and BB is queer, so they seemed to bond over that plus Cass just knew how to really talk to BB- these scenes ended up being some of my favorite. They showed Cass in a better light and the character of BB really was the most interesting character of the whole book.
I have to mention that I’m a bit disappointed in the end. Maybe it is just not that kind of book, but I really wanted some better closure. Towards the end Cass seemed to be doing better, she was making amends to people and sticking up for herself, but then she fell into an old bad habit, which seemed to stop any growth I thought was happening. You see a spark of something at the end, but I was left saying “that’s it?” I feel like I spent a good amount of time on this book and I needed something more than the ending we get.
In the end, this was not the book I thought I was getting and I had a few issues that were pretty big. On the goods side, I really liked Silverman’s writing. This sounds a little weird, but her writing style felt good to read. I would read another book by her in a heartbeat, just to have more of that good reading feel. I wasn’t crazy about some of her story choices, but she is clearly a talented writer.
An ARC was given to me for a honest review.
This is a first person story about Cass, a playwright, who flees to L.A. after a scandal of her own making. Cass wants to reinvent herself and gets sucked into the world of indie moviemaking about a group of teenage girls who have their own “Fight Club”. We get to see, through flashbacks, Cass success as a playwright, her downfall, and what her life is like now in L.A. in present time. It’s an odd premise for sure, and the story gets even weirder as you read it. I kept waiting for the mystery/thriller part to happen and was left scratching my head wondering “what am I reading?” when it didn’t.
One of the issues I had was that Cass is not the easiest character to like. It’s tough being in first person POV with someone you are struggling to connect with. She can be very self-centered, jealous, has a real woe is me attitude, and loves to run when anything gets tough. I don’t know that I can say if she ever really grew in the end, but I did find her a little more palatable as the book went on. Her relationship with one of the teenagers named BB –Cass is bisexual and BB is queer, so they seemed to bond over that plus Cass just knew how to really talk to BB- these scenes ended up being some of my favorite. They showed Cass in a better light and the character of BB really was the most interesting character of the whole book.
I have to mention that I’m a bit disappointed in the end. Maybe it is just not that kind of book, but I really wanted some better closure. Towards the end Cass seemed to be doing better, she was making amends to people and sticking up for herself, but then she fell into an old bad habit, which seemed to stop any growth I thought was happening. You see a spark of something at the end, but I was left saying “that’s it?” I feel like I spent a good amount of time on this book and I needed something more than the ending we get.
In the end, this was not the book I thought I was getting and I had a few issues that were pretty big. On the goods side, I really liked Silverman’s writing. This sounds a little weird, but her writing style felt good to read. I would read another book by her in a heartbeat, just to have more of that good reading feel. I wasn’t crazy about some of her story choices, but she is clearly a talented writer.
An ARC was given to me for a honest review.
August 27, 2021
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We Play Ourselves is a surprisingly gratifying and shrewdly observed debut novel. Jen Silverman presents her readers with a resonant character study and a mordant exploration of the highs and lows of the entertainment industry. We Play Ourselves centres on Cass, a queer playwright in her early thirties who finds herself fleeing from scandal and a crumbling career after she does something 'bad'. Leaving New York behind Cass seeks refuge in LA with an old friend of hers. Her agent won't pick up her calls and she has become persona non grata online. 'Lucky' for Cass she discovers that her neighbour Caroline, a filmmaker working on a 'feminist' pseudo-documentary starring a group of teenage girls who have created their own all-female Fight Club. Cass, who is still clinging to the idea of a career in this fickle industry, finds herself assisting Caroline. While this Fight Club subplot is not the narrative's focus it is a stepping stone of sorts. Cass becomes aware of how artificial Caroline's project is and finds herself bonding with one of the girls B.B. (their friendships is one of the novel's highlights).
As we see Cass struggling to reconcile with the direction her life has taken we delve into her time in New York and the choices that have led her flight to L.A.
I could really relate to Cass, for better or worse. First, in terms of her sexuality (“There is always a moment with straight girls in which I wonder if they think I'm checking them out. And then, especially if I wasn't, I start acting weird, because I'm trying to make it clear that I'm not, but the more you try and act as if you aren't doing something, the more you seem like you are.”), her relationship to failure, the way she responds to other people's success, her chaotic feelings towards the ones she is jealous of (“I want to protect her, and i want to escape her, and I want to kill her and wear her skin, all that the same time and to the same degree.”) or how she sometimes confuses different types of love and intimacy.
Her narration is wry, honest, and playfully self-deprecating. For her self-sabotaging, her many stumbles and falls, Cass is ultimately able to acknowledge and learn from her mistakes. I found her character arc really satisfying and realistic.
We also have a rich cast of secondary characters who could be entertaining, frustrating, absurd, and even heart-rendering. The dialogues all rang true to life, Silverman renders the tentative way in which we speak through the frequent usage of question marks and words such as 'like'. I found that Silverman dialogues had a very realistic rhythm and managed to capture the individual way we all express ourselves. Silverman also pokes gentle fun at a certain type of artsy and pretentious speak which is all the rage in artists/creative fields (people who speak about the death of authenticity or the performativity of the self) .
In addition to Cass' bond with B.B, I loved Cass' phone calls with Josephine and her friendship with Dylan (who is bi and in the midst of relationship troubles). I also appreciated that characters other than Cass are given their own struggles and arcs. Although some readers may be disappointed by the story's direction (read: it doesn't focus on the Fight Club documentary all that much) or by how unresolved other characters' storylines are, I thought that these things made the novel all the more realistic. The book is, after all, about Cass so it seemed natural for the narrative to focus on her storyline.
Through Cass' story, Silverman explores fame, failure, ambition, contentment, creativity, jealousy, rejection, sexuality, different types of love, as well as good and the not-so-good choices people make along the way. In her portrayal of the theatre world, the realities of writers/artists, and the fickle nature of fame Silverman demonstrates both a delightful sense of humor and an impressive capacity for insight.
We Play Ourselves is a promising debut novel, one that struck me for its sharp humor, its compelling character dynamics, and its realism.
“Worse than being evil, you have been made embarrassing. A punch line, again and again, for a joke that just keeps telling itself. The joke is success. And the punch line—every single time—is you.”
We Play Ourselves is a surprisingly gratifying and shrewdly observed debut novel. Jen Silverman presents her readers with a resonant character study and a mordant exploration of the highs and lows of the entertainment industry. We Play Ourselves centres on Cass, a queer playwright in her early thirties who finds herself fleeing from scandal and a crumbling career after she does something 'bad'. Leaving New York behind Cass seeks refuge in LA with an old friend of hers. Her agent won't pick up her calls and she has become persona non grata online. 'Lucky' for Cass she discovers that her neighbour Caroline, a filmmaker working on a 'feminist' pseudo-documentary starring a group of teenage girls who have created their own all-female Fight Club. Cass, who is still clinging to the idea of a career in this fickle industry, finds herself assisting Caroline. While this Fight Club subplot is not the narrative's focus it is a stepping stone of sorts. Cass becomes aware of how artificial Caroline's project is and finds herself bonding with one of the girls B.B. (their friendships is one of the novel's highlights).
As we see Cass struggling to reconcile with the direction her life has taken we delve into her time in New York and the choices that have led her flight to L.A.
“If you're wondering what it feels like to want two completely opposite things to the same degree, at the same time, for entirely different reasons—it feels insane. But then again, maybe it's hard to be alive on this planet and not know how that feels.”
I could really relate to Cass, for better or worse. First, in terms of her sexuality (“There is always a moment with straight girls in which I wonder if they think I'm checking them out. And then, especially if I wasn't, I start acting weird, because I'm trying to make it clear that I'm not, but the more you try and act as if you aren't doing something, the more you seem like you are.”), her relationship to failure, the way she responds to other people's success, her chaotic feelings towards the ones she is jealous of (“I want to protect her, and i want to escape her, and I want to kill her and wear her skin, all that the same time and to the same degree.”) or how she sometimes confuses different types of love and intimacy.
Her narration is wry, honest, and playfully self-deprecating. For her self-sabotaging, her many stumbles and falls, Cass is ultimately able to acknowledge and learn from her mistakes. I found her character arc really satisfying and realistic.
We also have a rich cast of secondary characters who could be entertaining, frustrating, absurd, and even heart-rendering. The dialogues all rang true to life, Silverman renders the tentative way in which we speak through the frequent usage of question marks and words such as 'like'. I found that Silverman dialogues had a very realistic rhythm and managed to capture the individual way we all express ourselves. Silverman also pokes gentle fun at a certain type of artsy and pretentious speak which is all the rage in artists/creative fields (people who speak about the death of authenticity or the performativity of the self) .
“I have started giving myself permission to be really, really ugly. I don't know if anyone here has ever done that? But it's incredibly freeing, actually.”
In addition to Cass' bond with B.B, I loved Cass' phone calls with Josephine and her friendship with Dylan (who is bi and in the midst of relationship troubles). I also appreciated that characters other than Cass are given their own struggles and arcs. Although some readers may be disappointed by the story's direction (read: it doesn't focus on the Fight Club documentary all that much) or by how unresolved other characters' storylines are, I thought that these things made the novel all the more realistic. The book is, after all, about Cass so it seemed natural for the narrative to focus on her storyline.
Through Cass' story, Silverman explores fame, failure, ambition, contentment, creativity, jealousy, rejection, sexuality, different types of love, as well as good and the not-so-good choices people make along the way. In her portrayal of the theatre world, the realities of writers/artists, and the fickle nature of fame Silverman demonstrates both a delightful sense of humor and an impressive capacity for insight.
We Play Ourselves is a promising debut novel, one that struck me for its sharp humor, its compelling character dynamics, and its realism.
February 6, 2022
4.5 rounded up
I loved so much about this. Although I didn’t love the entire plot, for me it’s was less about the exact plot/events and more a combination of the subject matter and way it was written.
I loved so much about this. Although I didn’t love the entire plot, for me it’s was less about the exact plot/events and more a combination of the subject matter and way it was written.
June 20, 2021
Audiobook….read by Renata Friedman
12 hours and 9 minutes
Theater meets Hollywood meets sex meets failure meets ambition meets responsibility meets artful creativity meets atonement meets freedom meets salvation meets action of being saved meets the process of purifying.
Nuggets of great sentences throughout…..
“Being a debutante is always a lot easier than being a part of a tribe”.
Ever take a salt meditation?
The negativity charged ions in salt just might improve health and mood.
“We Play Ourselves” might inspire you to experience a salt meditation session…..
but if not….
it’s at least witty, smart, and very entertaining.
I really enjoyed my time spent listening to this book…with many droplets of wise nubbles —
but….
it’s so beautiful outside here, that this lazy review will have to do.
But do I recommend it? Yes…. I do!!! Terrific-audiobook!
The blending of insightful issues were filled with ladlefuls-of-sharp-witted dialogue.
4.5 …. rating up.
12 hours and 9 minutes
Theater meets Hollywood meets sex meets failure meets ambition meets responsibility meets artful creativity meets atonement meets freedom meets salvation meets action of being saved meets the process of purifying.
Nuggets of great sentences throughout…..
“Being a debutante is always a lot easier than being a part of a tribe”.
Ever take a salt meditation?
The negativity charged ions in salt just might improve health and mood.
“We Play Ourselves” might inspire you to experience a salt meditation session…..
but if not….
it’s at least witty, smart, and very entertaining.
I really enjoyed my time spent listening to this book…with many droplets of wise nubbles —
but….
it’s so beautiful outside here, that this lazy review will have to do.
But do I recommend it? Yes…. I do!!! Terrific-audiobook!
The blending of insightful issues were filled with ladlefuls-of-sharp-witted dialogue.
4.5 …. rating up.
August 11, 2022
This one really snuck up on me, in a good way. It's a searing portrait of a borderline unlikable character, Cass. On the precipice of big success as a queer feminist playwright in NYC, she has to flee across the country in the wake of a scandal. Silverman expertly draws out the revelation of what exactly it is that Cass did, and let me tell you, it was NOT disappointing. But finding out is not at all the point of the book. It's her character arc.
The book is about women and a lot of things: women's rage, women and violence, women's ambition, women making art (plays, movies, poetry), women's desire, women and success (conventional and not), women being jealous of each other, women's friendship (and lack thereof). The book also has a lot to say about bisexuality, making mistakes, queer friend/mentorship, self sabotage, internalized homophobia, failure, different types of intimacy, and theatre.
Cass, who narrates the novel, is brutally honest even as she suffers humiliation, makes mistake after mistake, and is relentlessly misguided. The tone is somehow wry and also emotionally resonant. The secondary characters are so real, as if you can see them living their lives off the side of the page when they exit the stage. Tara-Jean Slater!! Helène!! Liz!! Even Liz's wife who only makes a brief appearance. B.B!! I learned a lot about theatre and found it fascinating how deep a dive the novel did. The ending is majestic.
I listened to the audiobook, which in general was very well done. It was a tall order for an American voice actor to do a number of different accents, including Australian, French, and Swedish. The Aussie accent is pretty bad, but it's a minor character. More importantly, the French accent is quite good and that character is much more important.
Speaking of French accents, Helène, will you marry me???
The book is about women and a lot of things: women's rage, women and violence, women's ambition, women making art (plays, movies, poetry), women's desire, women and success (conventional and not), women being jealous of each other, women's friendship (and lack thereof). The book also has a lot to say about bisexuality, making mistakes, queer friend/mentorship, self sabotage, internalized homophobia, failure, different types of intimacy, and theatre.
Cass, who narrates the novel, is brutally honest even as she suffers humiliation, makes mistake after mistake, and is relentlessly misguided. The tone is somehow wry and also emotionally resonant. The secondary characters are so real, as if you can see them living their lives off the side of the page when they exit the stage. Tara-Jean Slater!! Helène!! Liz!! Even Liz's wife who only makes a brief appearance. B.B!! I learned a lot about theatre and found it fascinating how deep a dive the novel did. The ending is majestic.
I listened to the audiobook, which in general was very well done. It was a tall order for an American voice actor to do a number of different accents, including Australian, French, and Swedish. The Aussie accent is pretty bad, but it's a minor character. More importantly, the French accent is quite good and that character is much more important.
Speaking of French accents, Helène, will you marry me???
June 14, 2022
It’s weird how bored I was reading about a protagonist who savagely pokes her competition in the eye and subsequently finds herself involved with a female fight club documentary. I usually love disasters 🤷🏻♀️
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 14, 2021
The cover is super unique but I really didn't like what was on the inside. I hate the trope of the main character doing something bad before the story begins and then it hypes it up as if they committed some serious crime but when you find out, it's literally nothing. I really don't like that at all. i didn't like any of the characters either, especially the main character. Also, I thought what they were trying to call art was kind of.. not it. I found this very, very hard to get through and considered not finishing it but I was able to push through and in the end, it was not worth it.
Thank you for the copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
Thank you for the copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
January 28, 2021
We Play Ourselves is a story about theatre, art, sexuality, and relationships. Full review to come, but this book was a refreshingly honest portrayal of second chances and accepting who you are. This book was funny, poignant, and brutally accurate. I loved the social dynamics between the relationships of the main characters and I can’t wait to read more by the author. I read this book in one sitting—very fast paced.
March 10, 2021
I really don't know how to review this book, I just want to tell everyone to read it and let it sink in. Jen Silverman's We Play Ourselves is honest, brutal, hilarious, and heartbreaking all at once. If I knew a better h word for brutal I would use it, but I don't think any could fit what I'm trying to say as well. This book is a punch in your face, with scenes that make you gasp and, again, honest portrayals of those in the theatre and film world. We Play Ourselves covers art, sexuality, self discovery, coming of age, and then some. It's about the measures we hold ourselves to, our definitions of success, and the pitfalls of going after something so hard you lose sight of what's real. We Play Ourselves is an unforgettable read.
ARC provided.
ARC provided.
March 4, 2021
We Play Ourselves is Jen Silverman's tale of failure, oddity, and absurdity.
Cass was rising star in the theater world, watching the production of her first Off-Broadway play, the result of an impressive award for young playwrights. But as she slowly realizes that success is more elusive than she had expected, she finds herself devolving into an obsessive, lost person. Making her way to LA - to live with her friend alongside his dysfunctional relationship - she finds herself making a movie, yet another reminder that successful people are better at sugarcoating the world. Always on the brink of success but somehow always falling back into failure, Cass never finds the right combination, eventually realizing that its okay to be grotesque, a "failure."
We Play Ourselves is weird. Very weird. But the story is charming and the characters, absurd as they are, are endearing. But the book falters at the end. Instead of embracing the absurdity of it all, the story becomes more mainstream - encouraging in a way that seems removed from the rest of the book. Nonetheless, its a story that is fun to read, even if the ending is too normal.
Cass was rising star in the theater world, watching the production of her first Off-Broadway play, the result of an impressive award for young playwrights. But as she slowly realizes that success is more elusive than she had expected, she finds herself devolving into an obsessive, lost person. Making her way to LA - to live with her friend alongside his dysfunctional relationship - she finds herself making a movie, yet another reminder that successful people are better at sugarcoating the world. Always on the brink of success but somehow always falling back into failure, Cass never finds the right combination, eventually realizing that its okay to be grotesque, a "failure."
We Play Ourselves is weird. Very weird. But the story is charming and the characters, absurd as they are, are endearing. But the book falters at the end. Instead of embracing the absurdity of it all, the story becomes more mainstream - encouraging in a way that seems removed from the rest of the book. Nonetheless, its a story that is fun to read, even if the ending is too normal.
December 30, 2024
a queer playwright flees new york after a humiliating scandal and takes refuge in los angeles, where she gets drawn into a bizarre new film project led by her eccentric neighbour.
it’s a punchy and chaotic novel about the complexities of success for an artist, the ethical blurred lines between art and exploitation, and an exploration of queer identity. i really enjoyed the funny and wry narrative tone of this, which helps keep the rather off-beat story ticking along.
it’s a punchy and chaotic novel about the complexities of success for an artist, the ethical blurred lines between art and exploitation, and an exploration of queer identity. i really enjoyed the funny and wry narrative tone of this, which helps keep the rather off-beat story ticking along.
January 27, 2021
via my blog: https://bookstalkerblog.wordpress.com
𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 “𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕” (𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒄 𝒐𝒏 𝑾𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆), 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕.
We Play Ourselves, even when we’re trying to play at being someone better, more successful. Cass is a queer playwright living in New York, a former “nobody” from New Hampshire who after attending college moved to the city working a variety of jobs to pay her bills. “I made weird downtown plays”, while she is waiting to hit that tipping point. Cass is blown away when she learns that she won the fat $50,000 Lansing Award, along with two other ’emerging playwrights’ full of as much fierce promise as her. Unlike Tara-Jean Slater and Carter Maxwell, her origins are far less impressive but after the win, she has landed herself an off-Broadway debut, and a fancy director to boot- Hélène. Upon their first meeting, she falls for Hélène, wishes she could become as successful, effortless as the beautiful older woman and working beside her she is a better version of herself, someone who works smarter and harder. With everything on track, Cass has finally become someone to know. When entering her name in the google search the results seem to shout “Fierce new voice”! Despite being 33, she feels reborn, screaming with youth. Everyone is hungry for stories about her, particularly her love life, about being queer. Hélène’s attempts to guide her to focus on the work, to promote the play and ignore the flattery, the personal probing that comes with the territory of being a woman, won’t save her. She is upstaged just when she feels like her life, her career is finally taking off. Early in the novel we learn about the trio, Hélène, Tara-Jean Slater (who she isn’t ready to talk about at the start of the novel) Liz, and the ruin that follows. I truly feel we meet her as she is unraveling, dealing with tangled emotions.
Fleeing from New York and the lunacy of her actions, which are very public, she has a lot of time to reflect on everything that rushed at her. Time to try and define why she acted out as she did. Nothing sinks your ship faster than public humiliation. Suddenly, no one is taking her calls and she has moved further away from the finish line with every ambition fleeing. If she finally had ‘people’ with her promising, emerging voice, those days are over. She hides in LA at her friend Dylan’s place, avoiding the disaster she left behind. She meets the neighbor Caroline, curious about the teenaged girls that come and go from her place. Soon, she spends her time next door where she becomes Cath and can forget she was ever stupid Cass (Caroline misheard her name). Here, there is constant noise, people always around , the house ‘an epicenter of activity’. Cass discovers that Caroline is making a semi-documentary about a violent Fight Club, all female. The girls want to be famous, more than anything, famous for nothing in particular, it doesn’t matter- just famous! But how much do they get exploited for this attention, this fame? Caroline is focused on feminism, thinking about every detail, attempting to avoid ‘fetishizing’ the female body, honing in on race. Again Cass is falling under the spell of a riveting, talented woman trying to say something to the world. Understanding she’d volunteer to be a part of the filming just as eagerly as the teen girls. Caroline is gutsy, an answer to sexism, and Cass is exhilarated by her enthusiasm, her message- even if it is distorted. Important work takes risk, sacrifice, a person who is ‘certain’ about their work- Cass admires these qualities in Caroline. Being involved in this project takes the sting out of her own failings, particularly the pains in her heart and her intense, lingering feelings for Hélène. She has time to think about the past. Why do some people fill in the role of nemesis in our story? Her hatred for Tara-Jean Slater takes peculiar turns, and yet this burning anger always leads her back to herself. It is both horrific and funny how she derails her life. Sometimes we are the saboteurs of our future. Sometimes we have to burn it all down to figure out where we fit. Through Caroline’s ambitions, that mow over any obstacle living or dead in the way, she learns a lot about herself and the poison of ambition. When a girl she has come to know goes missing, and the details leading up to her vanishing sound warning alarms in Cass, she is troubled. There is something Cass identifies with about all the girls, and this turn of events has her feeling responsible. It is the catalyst that may well force Cass to get out of her own way. How much is excused in the pursuit of art or success? What exactly does fame look like? Why do we even want it?
Love, ambition, feminism, self-sabotage, the performance we put on for others, for ourselves-so much happens in this novel. It is about being reborn, but not necessarily as the thing you envisioned. An intelligent novel that the young and old can relate to.
Publication Date: February 9, 2021
Random House
𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 “𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕” (𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒑𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒄 𝒐𝒏 𝑾𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆), 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕.
We Play Ourselves, even when we’re trying to play at being someone better, more successful. Cass is a queer playwright living in New York, a former “nobody” from New Hampshire who after attending college moved to the city working a variety of jobs to pay her bills. “I made weird downtown plays”, while she is waiting to hit that tipping point. Cass is blown away when she learns that she won the fat $50,000 Lansing Award, along with two other ’emerging playwrights’ full of as much fierce promise as her. Unlike Tara-Jean Slater and Carter Maxwell, her origins are far less impressive but after the win, she has landed herself an off-Broadway debut, and a fancy director to boot- Hélène. Upon their first meeting, she falls for Hélène, wishes she could become as successful, effortless as the beautiful older woman and working beside her she is a better version of herself, someone who works smarter and harder. With everything on track, Cass has finally become someone to know. When entering her name in the google search the results seem to shout “Fierce new voice”! Despite being 33, she feels reborn, screaming with youth. Everyone is hungry for stories about her, particularly her love life, about being queer. Hélène’s attempts to guide her to focus on the work, to promote the play and ignore the flattery, the personal probing that comes with the territory of being a woman, won’t save her. She is upstaged just when she feels like her life, her career is finally taking off. Early in the novel we learn about the trio, Hélène, Tara-Jean Slater (who she isn’t ready to talk about at the start of the novel) Liz, and the ruin that follows. I truly feel we meet her as she is unraveling, dealing with tangled emotions.
Fleeing from New York and the lunacy of her actions, which are very public, she has a lot of time to reflect on everything that rushed at her. Time to try and define why she acted out as she did. Nothing sinks your ship faster than public humiliation. Suddenly, no one is taking her calls and she has moved further away from the finish line with every ambition fleeing. If she finally had ‘people’ with her promising, emerging voice, those days are over. She hides in LA at her friend Dylan’s place, avoiding the disaster she left behind. She meets the neighbor Caroline, curious about the teenaged girls that come and go from her place. Soon, she spends her time next door where she becomes Cath and can forget she was ever stupid Cass (Caroline misheard her name). Here, there is constant noise, people always around , the house ‘an epicenter of activity’. Cass discovers that Caroline is making a semi-documentary about a violent Fight Club, all female. The girls want to be famous, more than anything, famous for nothing in particular, it doesn’t matter- just famous! But how much do they get exploited for this attention, this fame? Caroline is focused on feminism, thinking about every detail, attempting to avoid ‘fetishizing’ the female body, honing in on race. Again Cass is falling under the spell of a riveting, talented woman trying to say something to the world. Understanding she’d volunteer to be a part of the filming just as eagerly as the teen girls. Caroline is gutsy, an answer to sexism, and Cass is exhilarated by her enthusiasm, her message- even if it is distorted. Important work takes risk, sacrifice, a person who is ‘certain’ about their work- Cass admires these qualities in Caroline. Being involved in this project takes the sting out of her own failings, particularly the pains in her heart and her intense, lingering feelings for Hélène. She has time to think about the past. Why do some people fill in the role of nemesis in our story? Her hatred for Tara-Jean Slater takes peculiar turns, and yet this burning anger always leads her back to herself. It is both horrific and funny how she derails her life. Sometimes we are the saboteurs of our future. Sometimes we have to burn it all down to figure out where we fit. Through Caroline’s ambitions, that mow over any obstacle living or dead in the way, she learns a lot about herself and the poison of ambition. When a girl she has come to know goes missing, and the details leading up to her vanishing sound warning alarms in Cass, she is troubled. There is something Cass identifies with about all the girls, and this turn of events has her feeling responsible. It is the catalyst that may well force Cass to get out of her own way. How much is excused in the pursuit of art or success? What exactly does fame look like? Why do we even want it?
Love, ambition, feminism, self-sabotage, the performance we put on for others, for ourselves-so much happens in this novel. It is about being reborn, but not necessarily as the thing you envisioned. An intelligent novel that the young and old can relate to.
Publication Date: February 9, 2021
Random House
January 19, 2023
4 ½ stars. Perfect title - the word 'play', in all its meanings, is the core of this funny, rueful satire of success, failure and fucking up in theater (NYC) and film (LA). I love the way narrator/protagonist Cass doles out her backstory in non-linear fits and starts, as if she's slowly working up enough trust in her reader to tell all. I couldn't get enough of her deadpan mockery of trendy, pretentious theater criticism and marketing. An example: Cass describing the critical reception of her nemesis.
I was drawn to this novel for the unusual plot and from the publisher description I was expecting something on the more dramatic side, but what I got was so much better - clever, with lots of heart.
The work was brave. It was feminist and in your face. Tara-Jean Slater didn't give a fuck. Tara-Jean Slater was refreshing. Tara-Jean Slater was an outsider, with all of the magnetic, visionary qualities of an outsider. Tara-Jean Slater believed in the power of immigrant stories - she herself had immigrated from Maryland to New Jersey at a young age. But even more than that, she said that all stories were immigrant stories, because we begin by immigrating from the mother country of the womb into a cold land that does not love us.
I was drawn to this novel for the unusual plot and from the publisher description I was expecting something on the more dramatic side, but what I got was so much better - clever, with lots of heart.
June 7, 2022
More thoughts found in this reading vlog.
I had an interesting time with this book. Originally I was confused about following this washed up playwright who had fled to LA to avoid some scandal who eventually fell into making this documentary with a neighbor about his all girls fight club. In the end I'm not sure that I left any less confused, because there was a lot going on that felt a little absurd? But in a way that felt deliberate and artistic and enjoyable? Definitely a read thta you have to experience for yourself, and one that I feel pretty confident recommending to others.
I had an interesting time with this book. Originally I was confused about following this washed up playwright who had fled to LA to avoid some scandal who eventually fell into making this documentary with a neighbor about his all girls fight club. In the end I'm not sure that I left any less confused, because there was a lot going on that felt a little absurd? But in a way that felt deliberate and artistic and enjoyable? Definitely a read thta you have to experience for yourself, and one that I feel pretty confident recommending to others.
July 20, 2023
I have to stop reading books like this. My brain is just not cut out for these types of stories because I just don't get it. I don't understand what the entire point of this book was and I'm one of those people that needs to understand. I don't do well with unresolved things or confusing and vague plotlines. I should know better by now but tell me a book is queer and I'm usually all in but despite its queerness and the interesting premise, I could not get into this book and when I thought I was getting into it it lost me within the next chapter. I don't get it.
I also have to talk about the moment that happened at around 80% and while messy queerness is okay and needed and realistic, I cannot handle the way the sole asexual character was. We have a sapphic Queer main character and a bi secondary character who both get to talk about stereotypes and pressure and biphobia etc and then we have this I don't want to say villain of the story but she's definitely the one that our main character both despises and idolizes who comes out and says that she's asexual solely because of trauma and she made a choice. Asexuality is not celibacy. Asexuality is not a choice. It is a sexual identity and while sexual identities can sometimes have links to childhood trauma, to say that it is the sole reason that she is asexual and that it was just the easier choice rubbed me the wrong way. And I think had the main character butted up against that a little bit and said hey whoa that's not how that works I would have been fine. Unfortunately there's not enough asexual representation to have this questionable rep. This might be the only book someone ever reads where they see in asexual character and to have that character claim that it's because of a choice is problematic. There are not enough books or media or attention on asexuality to qualify or condone vague confusing and problematic representation for the sake of a character arc.
I know that someone's going to come at me and say that there is toxic gay representation in this book too and they'd be correct. There is a shitty toxic gay character full of internalized homophobia who would rather pretend to be straight then be out despite having a relationship with a man for 10 plus years. He's also intensely biphobic and misogynistic in the way that he refers to himself as a gold star gay and shames his bisexual partner for having slept with women. Now this book can have crappy gay representation because there is so much positive gay representation in the world right now. Of course queer rights are always under attack and it's not easy for any queer person, but if you compare the amount of gay representation to the amount of asexual representation you will find way way way more gay representation than ace. I would bet that everyone can think of at least one gay person that they know or one gay celebrity or one gay character etc. This is not going to be the only gay representation that someone sees whereas it could very well be the only asexual representation that someone sees.
Both gay people and ace people like the characters in this book exist and this isn't to say that it shouldn't be shown that there can be toxicity within the queer community and within queer people, but we just aren't at a point yet where we can condone toxic asexual representation because they're just isn't enough positive representation to combat that problematic rep.
I also have to talk about the moment that happened at around 80% and while messy queerness is okay and needed and realistic, I cannot handle the way the sole asexual character was. We have a sapphic Queer main character and a bi secondary character who both get to talk about stereotypes and pressure and biphobia etc and then we have this I don't want to say villain of the story but she's definitely the one that our main character both despises and idolizes who comes out and says that she's asexual solely because of trauma and she made a choice. Asexuality is not celibacy. Asexuality is not a choice. It is a sexual identity and while sexual identities can sometimes have links to childhood trauma, to say that it is the sole reason that she is asexual and that it was just the easier choice rubbed me the wrong way. And I think had the main character butted up against that a little bit and said hey whoa that's not how that works I would have been fine. Unfortunately there's not enough asexual representation to have this questionable rep. This might be the only book someone ever reads where they see in asexual character and to have that character claim that it's because of a choice is problematic. There are not enough books or media or attention on asexuality to qualify or condone vague confusing and problematic representation for the sake of a character arc.
I know that someone's going to come at me and say that there is toxic gay representation in this book too and they'd be correct. There is a shitty toxic gay character full of internalized homophobia who would rather pretend to be straight then be out despite having a relationship with a man for 10 plus years. He's also intensely biphobic and misogynistic in the way that he refers to himself as a gold star gay and shames his bisexual partner for having slept with women. Now this book can have crappy gay representation because there is so much positive gay representation in the world right now. Of course queer rights are always under attack and it's not easy for any queer person, but if you compare the amount of gay representation to the amount of asexual representation you will find way way way more gay representation than ace. I would bet that everyone can think of at least one gay person that they know or one gay celebrity or one gay character etc. This is not going to be the only gay representation that someone sees whereas it could very well be the only asexual representation that someone sees.
Both gay people and ace people like the characters in this book exist and this isn't to say that it shouldn't be shown that there can be toxicity within the queer community and within queer people, but we just aren't at a point yet where we can condone toxic asexual representation because they're just isn't enough positive representation to combat that problematic rep.
September 22, 2020
I was interested in reading this because I really enjoyed Silverman’s debut short story collection. In long form she doesn’t disappoint. This is a book about find oneself…not, not quite right, this is a book about finding equanimity within yourself, an ability to be at peace with your place in the world, even if that place isn’t what you had planned for or imagined. But first…adventures and obstacles. And Cass, the protagonist, chooses a road fraught with the latter, because she decides to dedicate herself to theatre. One of the most masochistic career choices out there, the most arrogant and least permanent of the arts. Plays, the ultimate goal of it all, are the castles in the sand of the art world, admired by a few for a short time and promptly vanished. Being a playwright is possibly the most permanent aspect of the entire field, and that’s what Cass plies at for 10 long years until a major boon of an award and cash prize elevates her on a new level and allows her to have a play produced properly with a well known director and lead actress. Cass is determined to make the best of it, but finds herself in love with her director and sleeping with her star and constantly surpassed by a fellow prize winner on the success ladder. And then the reviews come out…So onto the second act, for this is a classic three act play in itself. Reinvention. Cass is now in LA, staying with a friend, witness to the slow dissolution of his seven year long relationship. In a theatre world and world at large Cass is now a persona non grata with social media’s public morality never letting her forget her sins. Cass meets a neighbor who is directing an all girl version of Fight Club and gets involved in that, but eventually finds out that movies are just another imperfect art form, less real than most, and rife with lying liars. Third act…Cass goes back to the small town she has so eagerly left so many years ago to stay with her parents and figure out what’s next. Tries to find some peace in small scale pretense free life, but much like art, in some form or another it is everywhere. So there you go, a faulty and flawed, but surprisingly compelling narrator stumbling through life in that very millennial specific way of desperately trying to be an artist at all costs. But, because Silverman is such a great writer, this book never become an ode to millennial wishywashy uncertainty and immaturity, instead it goes further to mediate on the very nature of choices and authenticity. We play ourselves in life, for different people, on different stages, often until we forget the really important things, the permanent things, the things that matter. For me, that’s what the book was about and overwhelmingly it succeeded. Certainly I enjoyed reading it way more than most millennial adventures out there. Interestingly enough, the author is a playwright herself, so it’s impossible not to think of how much of her is in Cass and so on, but then again, she seems to have made it, unlike her protagonist, but then again…the odds, the odds. Liked this book very much. Recommended. Thanks Netgalley.
August 22, 2022
A completely unexpected hit that may be one of my favourite reads of the year? I was snorting with laughter and tearing up and screaming at the chaos , and I loved what it had to say about the fragility of being a creative who has a troubled relationship with success, and what it’s like to be publicly crucified. I also loved it’s exploration of ethics and boundaries in the arts and media , and the exploration of biphobia within the queer community. Most of all I loved the fresh and punchy writing style, the characters were so frustrating and relatable, and the ending absolutely sent me into orbit laughing but I felt really fulfilled too. Such a nice surprise of a read! Easy 5 stars.
May 14, 2024
I found this book to be (concerningly?) relatable -- theatre people are so messy and chaotic and I wish there were more books about interesting and complicated artists. The grief of losing opportunities, the binary definition of success perpetuated by the commercial theatre industry, the peace of coming back to one's creative center after struggling to fit into the mold you think you're supposed to fit into to attain aforementioned success... this one really did it for me.
May 3, 2023
I was prepared to give this 4 stars but the last 10 pages got to me. Really good
January 2, 2021
First of all, the summary of We Play Ourselves is misleading. It makes it sound like a thriller focused around the disappearance of a teenage girl. It's not a thriller, and going into this book expecting it to be will result in disappointment. The disappearance is a tiny part of the story. This is a work of literary fiction centered around Cass, a playwright who flees to LA after intense failure and scandal in New York. Most of the action happens before the start of the story and we learn about it later. It's a character study about Cass coming to terms with her failure and learning how to create again despite it.
I did love Silverman's satire of the New York theater industry. It's not a world I have any experience in, but based on my knowledge of "theater kids" from college, it seems fairly spot on. I laughed and cringed my way through Cass's narration of the New York events. Tara-Jean Slater is an absolute work of art and, ironically, my favorite part of the book. I loved Cass's hate for her, and at some point it became the only thing really pushing me forward with the story. The satire of the LA film industry is just as biting, though not as laugh-out-loud funny for me.
There isn't a single likable character in this book. Which is fine for me; I love a good, unlikable cast. I know this may be a major turn off for others. Unfortunately, I had a difficult time caring about most of the characters. Cass frustrated me to no end; she's right up there with Samantha from Bunny in the list of self-pitying main characters I want to smack. She doesn't even seem to have a legitimate reason for being as whiny as she is. I started out extremely interested in the group of teenage girls who are the focus of the Fight Club-esque film described in the summary. They have so much potential! But they ultimately aren't developed enough; I couldn't tell them apart, and Cass really can't either. B.B. is the only one who stands out, and I found the plotline with her predictable. But Tara-Jean Slater. Oh, Tara-Jean Slater. What a ridiculous person! I spent a good chunk of the book relishing in hating her. And by the end, I didn't hate her. She is the only character I cared about. I'd read a whole book about Tara-Jean Slater.
I had a difficult time getting into this book during the first half. It's slow, and Cass hides the most interesting aspects from us at first. She also does very little but drink and wallow in self-pity. I found myself putting the book down and not wanting to come back to it. The second half switches gears a bit. I ended up finishing it in one sitting. Cass finally starts doing things, and I did find myself enjoying this part. Was it worth the slow and painful buildup? I'm not entirely sure.
Overall, We Play Ourselves is a slow moving character study with some hilarious satire that may be good for fans of Ottessa Moshfegh's My Year of Rest and Relaxation. If you want something fast and thrilling, this is not the book for you.
I did love Silverman's satire of the New York theater industry. It's not a world I have any experience in, but based on my knowledge of "theater kids" from college, it seems fairly spot on. I laughed and cringed my way through Cass's narration of the New York events. Tara-Jean Slater is an absolute work of art and, ironically, my favorite part of the book. I loved Cass's hate for her, and at some point it became the only thing really pushing me forward with the story. The satire of the LA film industry is just as biting, though not as laugh-out-loud funny for me.
There isn't a single likable character in this book. Which is fine for me; I love a good, unlikable cast. I know this may be a major turn off for others. Unfortunately, I had a difficult time caring about most of the characters. Cass frustrated me to no end; she's right up there with Samantha from Bunny in the list of self-pitying main characters I want to smack. She doesn't even seem to have a legitimate reason for being as whiny as she is. I started out extremely interested in the group of teenage girls who are the focus of the Fight Club-esque film described in the summary. They have so much potential! But they ultimately aren't developed enough; I couldn't tell them apart, and Cass really can't either. B.B. is the only one who stands out, and I found the plotline with her predictable. But Tara-Jean Slater. Oh, Tara-Jean Slater. What a ridiculous person! I spent a good chunk of the book relishing in hating her. And by the end, I didn't hate her. She is the only character I cared about. I'd read a whole book about Tara-Jean Slater.
I had a difficult time getting into this book during the first half. It's slow, and Cass hides the most interesting aspects from us at first. She also does very little but drink and wallow in self-pity. I found myself putting the book down and not wanting to come back to it. The second half switches gears a bit. I ended up finishing it in one sitting. Cass finally starts doing things, and I did find myself enjoying this part. Was it worth the slow and painful buildup? I'm not entirely sure.
Overall, We Play Ourselves is a slow moving character study with some hilarious satire that may be good for fans of Ottessa Moshfegh's My Year of Rest and Relaxation. If you want something fast and thrilling, this is not the book for you.
November 30, 2022
I have never had much of a problem with the unlikable protagonist before. But here, well, I don't know what it is. I just never liked Cass and because Cass is our narrator we see the story through I never really felt like the book and I were getting along. I suppose the heart of it is less about likability and more that every single choice Cass made was bad. Every single one. Not one of her choices is a choice I would have made or recommended anyone else make. Exactly the opposite. And I guess after a while that got to be so extreme that it began to feel deliberate, like this book was invented just to mess with me. I know this isn't true, but yeah it was confusing.
It's particularly confusing because I am very interested in many of the novel's themes. About art and queerness and the different people we decide to be. But after I was questioning all of Cass's decisions I needed something of her to latch on to. Why was she a playwright? What did she write about? What was it about absurdism that made her gravitate to it? None of these questions were answered. We only get to see Cass as an artist briefly, and even then we do not get much of what she wants to make or what she is trying to say. I needed an in and didn't get one. I needed Cass to be practical for like five seconds and she could never manage it. I got so stuck in my frustration it was hard for me to relax and enjoy the book.
This is, clearly, a me thing rather than a book thing. But there we are.
It's particularly confusing because I am very interested in many of the novel's themes. About art and queerness and the different people we decide to be. But after I was questioning all of Cass's decisions I needed something of her to latch on to. Why was she a playwright? What did she write about? What was it about absurdism that made her gravitate to it? None of these questions were answered. We only get to see Cass as an artist briefly, and even then we do not get much of what she wants to make or what she is trying to say. I needed an in and didn't get one. I needed Cass to be practical for like five seconds and she could never manage it. I got so stuck in my frustration it was hard for me to relax and enjoy the book.
This is, clearly, a me thing rather than a book thing. But there we are.
February 13, 2021
I DID enjoy the book, hence the rating, but a couple of things REALLY annoyed me: one, the trope where the narrator has some Dark Secret in their past (in this case the very recent past) but refuses to actually say what it is for chapter after chapter even though it's the basis for her every decision. Then when it finally does reveal what happened, it feels so anticlimactic (and so randomly in the middle of the book) that it felt like the author just got bored of not going into details.
The other thing was Tara-Jean Slater. Not the character of Tara-Jean Slater, but the fact that every time Tara-Jean Slater was mentioned, she was referred to as Tara-Jean Slater. There were some exceptions to this rule but for the most part you got all three names every time. I counted 67 instances of it in Chapter 9 alone. I understand what the author was trying to do, to a degree, but by the end of the book it was like water torture every time the damn name popped up. You're supposed to be sympathizing with her at that point, but you can't, because you've already been trained to hate the sight of her name on the page.
The other thing was Tara-Jean Slater. Not the character of Tara-Jean Slater, but the fact that every time Tara-Jean Slater was mentioned, she was referred to as Tara-Jean Slater. There were some exceptions to this rule but for the most part you got all three names every time. I counted 67 instances of it in Chapter 9 alone. I understand what the author was trying to do, to a degree, but by the end of the book it was like water torture every time the damn name popped up. You're supposed to be sympathizing with her at that point, but you can't, because you've already been trained to hate the sight of her name on the page.
April 4, 2021
I knew I would love this as soon as I saw the title but Goddamn!!!!!!! it’s bleak and it’s messy and it’s wry and it’s so so full of heart: heart like the organ, pumping blood throughout the rest. it’s about art and failure and being just old enough that you’re not young anymore. it’s about performance, and manipulation, and whether you can force the world to perform how you want, and what happens when your own performance goes haywire — when you can’t perform your Self anymore. and even when it’s weird and cerebral and arty, it’s grounded in human emotion and connection — cass’s relationships with hélène and b.b. especially wrecked me. goddamn!!! wow
February 6, 2021
DNF quit reading after the teenage girl tampon insertion scene. The whole girl fight club movie seemed exploitive and although that may be the point, I don't want to keep cringe reading.
Copy provided by the publisher and NetGalley
Copy provided by the publisher and NetGalley
March 29, 2022
I thought the plot would be more interesting
February 23, 2021
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House for providing a copy of the ebook in exchange for an honest review.
★★★½
I want to protect her, and I want to escape her, and I want to kill her and wear her skin, all at the same time and to the same degree.
Let it be known that I've finally found a book that perfectly illustrates the fact that theater and film people are The Absolute Worst™. Jen Silverman has done a public service, and for that we should honor her. This novel is filled with the insufferable people I've encountered time and time again, in all their iterations. This definitely doesn't exclude the main character, Cass. This is a book filled with whining, entitlement, and mistakes on her part. And somehow the reading experience isn't a total drag? What a miracle.
I really enjoyed experiencing Cass' growth over the course of my read, but what most stands out to me is Silverman's humor. As previously hinted, if you have ever worked in theatre or film, you should absolutely pick this up. The self-importance, performative allyship and activism, and general absurdism that come with knowing many a theatre or film person leap off the page here. Showing these sorts of folks for the fools they are was nothing short of cathartic for me.
And the jealousy! Jealousy is a huge factor here. Tara-Jean Slater is the villain in Cass' universe, having risen to enormous success while Cass has floundered. The way Cass fixates on and obsesses over Tara-Jean is equal parts hilarious and pitiful. Moreover, Tara-Jean is made messiah by the theatre community despite the fact that she is completely unremarkable and just in the right place at the right time. Her ideas aren't particularly original, and her poetry! I can't. The layers of ridiculousness, simply sublime. When their paths converge, their conversations are some of my most favorite scenes in the entire novel.
Cass' relationship with B.B., one of the girls participating in the film mentioned in the synopsis, is another one of the highlights of the novel for me. B.B. is precocious and biting in the way that many teenagers can be, without being made overly so in either respect. She brings real humanity to a film subplot that can be devoid of it thanks to the director, Caroline. She also calls out bullshit in a novel full of it, which can serve as quite a relief.
I should say that the synopsis for this is incredibly misleading and suggests that there is a thriller or mystery twist at the center of the narrative. This is absolutely not the case. If you'd like to strap in for a belated coming of age, though, this is a book for you. The novel is way more focused on a self-obsessed, delusional artist becoming an actually decent human being. The film Cass takes part in is a big portion of the novel, to be sure, but the last quarter or so has absolutely nothing to do with that. In that way, I think the pitch for this is a disservice, because it's an interesting narrative — just not the interesting narrative you'd assume it is.
The reason the novel doesn't entirely succeed for me despite being well written and crafted boils down to two simple things: plots and conclusions.
There's a bit too much going on in this relatively short book. For instance, there's an entire subplot about Cass' Los Angeles roommates that doesn't tie into the larger narrative at all and takes up a decent amount of pages. While relatively intriguing, it just didn't fit into the novel's flow. I'd rather have taken that time to learn more about the girls at the center of Caroline's film, since only B.B. was fleshed out in any way.
Most importantly, I don't think this story told me anything new or presented any "lessons" in an interesting way. Success is fleeting, and it can ruin you. Successful people are often wildly unhappy. Artists have a propensity to use other people, sometimes in cruel and vile ways, to further their art. I've heard all of this a million times before.
This is a solid long-form debut for Silverman nonetheless. I'll look back on this one fondly, thanks to how much it spoke to me.
★★★½
I want to protect her, and I want to escape her, and I want to kill her and wear her skin, all at the same time and to the same degree.
Let it be known that I've finally found a book that perfectly illustrates the fact that theater and film people are The Absolute Worst™. Jen Silverman has done a public service, and for that we should honor her. This novel is filled with the insufferable people I've encountered time and time again, in all their iterations. This definitely doesn't exclude the main character, Cass. This is a book filled with whining, entitlement, and mistakes on her part. And somehow the reading experience isn't a total drag? What a miracle.
I really enjoyed experiencing Cass' growth over the course of my read, but what most stands out to me is Silverman's humor. As previously hinted, if you have ever worked in theatre or film, you should absolutely pick this up. The self-importance, performative allyship and activism, and general absurdism that come with knowing many a theatre or film person leap off the page here. Showing these sorts of folks for the fools they are was nothing short of cathartic for me.
And the jealousy! Jealousy is a huge factor here. Tara-Jean Slater is the villain in Cass' universe, having risen to enormous success while Cass has floundered. The way Cass fixates on and obsesses over Tara-Jean is equal parts hilarious and pitiful. Moreover, Tara-Jean is made messiah by the theatre community despite the fact that she is completely unremarkable and just in the right place at the right time. Her ideas aren't particularly original, and her poetry! I can't. The layers of ridiculousness, simply sublime. When their paths converge, their conversations are some of my most favorite scenes in the entire novel.
Cass' relationship with B.B., one of the girls participating in the film mentioned in the synopsis, is another one of the highlights of the novel for me. B.B. is precocious and biting in the way that many teenagers can be, without being made overly so in either respect. She brings real humanity to a film subplot that can be devoid of it thanks to the director, Caroline. She also calls out bullshit in a novel full of it, which can serve as quite a relief.
I should say that the synopsis for this is incredibly misleading and suggests that there is a thriller or mystery twist at the center of the narrative. This is absolutely not the case. If you'd like to strap in for a belated coming of age, though, this is a book for you. The novel is way more focused on a self-obsessed, delusional artist becoming an actually decent human being. The film Cass takes part in is a big portion of the novel, to be sure, but the last quarter or so has absolutely nothing to do with that. In that way, I think the pitch for this is a disservice, because it's an interesting narrative — just not the interesting narrative you'd assume it is.
The reason the novel doesn't entirely succeed for me despite being well written and crafted boils down to two simple things: plots and conclusions.
There's a bit too much going on in this relatively short book. For instance, there's an entire subplot about Cass' Los Angeles roommates that doesn't tie into the larger narrative at all and takes up a decent amount of pages. While relatively intriguing, it just didn't fit into the novel's flow. I'd rather have taken that time to learn more about the girls at the center of Caroline's film, since only B.B. was fleshed out in any way.
Most importantly, I don't think this story told me anything new or presented any "lessons" in an interesting way. Success is fleeting, and it can ruin you. Successful people are often wildly unhappy. Artists have a propensity to use other people, sometimes in cruel and vile ways, to further their art. I've heard all of this a million times before.
This is a solid long-form debut for Silverman nonetheless. I'll look back on this one fondly, thanks to how much it spoke to me.
July 7, 2021
thank you so much to the publisher for providing me with an ARC!
hopefully one day i'll get better at actually reading these before they're published...until then, here i am reviewing this several months after the fact. i enjoyed this novel so much more than i expected myself to. i loved the language and the vivid settings, and i think this is one of the best portrayals of queerness as an identity that i've read in a long time. the lack of a label is explored really well, and Cass as a character was messy and complicated in wonderful ways. the ending felt lackluster to me, as it seemed that there were many characters who felt unresolved by the end, but i think it works for this story just not necessarily for me. this is a great book for those who might think of a career and feel stagnant as they're exploring mistakes and identity, and i enjoyed it so much.
hopefully one day i'll get better at actually reading these before they're published...until then, here i am reviewing this several months after the fact. i enjoyed this novel so much more than i expected myself to. i loved the language and the vivid settings, and i think this is one of the best portrayals of queerness as an identity that i've read in a long time. the lack of a label is explored really well, and Cass as a character was messy and complicated in wonderful ways. the ending felt lackluster to me, as it seemed that there were many characters who felt unresolved by the end, but i think it works for this story just not necessarily for me. this is a great book for those who might think of a career and feel stagnant as they're exploring mistakes and identity, and i enjoyed it so much.
August 2, 2021
Jen Silverman is a playwright and this is her first novel. I didn't know this, and I wasn't aware that this is a novel about a playwright or I might not have picked this up - I'm not very into theatre. I was just looking for LGBT books in my library, and I'm thankful I started reading this. The writing style is very easy but enjoyable. There was some cynicism and the topics all felt very 'in', but they were cleverly handled. Near the end, the book looses some of its steam and I'm not a big fan of "main character did something horrible and we will only find out later and then its not actually that bad" tropes. There were also some story lines that I wish went differently, but overall it was still a really entertaining read with some food for thought about fame and writing and society. I also enjoyed the casual and natural portrayal of bisexuality. I'd definitely be interested to read a second novel by the author.
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