Stages & Pages

I have a wicked sweet tooth, and there is little else in the world that I like more than a hot-fudge sundae. With the creamy, the gooey, the crunchy, the warm, and the cold all in one simple glass, a sundae really satisfies all of my sweet cravings with one fell swoop.

Sloane Crosley’s witty new collection of essays, I Was Told There’d Be Cake, is just such a perfect sundae: a heaping scoop of New York City spirit, covered in witty sarcasm with a sprinkling of unabashed girliness, topped off with a cherry that has long since been popped.

I Was Told There’d Be Cake is a sampler tray of some of the more awkward moments of Crosley’s quirky journey through life. It’s a delightful read that can be consumed in chapter-long tastes or one sitting.

She smacks of fellow essayists David Sedaris and Dave Barry, with a self-deprecating, helplessly blunt approach to storytelling and an ability to find the sweeter side in even the grittiest of situations. But unlike the Davids, she makes her audience somewhat narrow; this is a feminine book with a feminine cover that talks about feminine things like girls’ summer camp and being a bridesmaid. She is genuinely clever and talented, but some of her material might not connect with Y-chromosomed readers.

This bubbly debut seems to be really representative of her personality, showing a whimsical imagination but also firmly planted feet. Crosley isn’t afraid to be a little crispy around the edges, and certainly doesn’t shy away from asking someone “why [they] had to be such a f– face.”

Imagine a younger, shorter, and more jovial female Larry David. Even the cover – extreme close up of a flower-patterned mattress circa 1970 – is a Monet-like reflection of Crosley: from far away, it’s pretty and girly and nice, but up close, you can see how a painfully average suburban existence brought out the sardonic in her.

Now after reading this book, I realized that I am unfairly predisposed to Crosley’s work. We come from exceedingly similar suburban areas, with the same kind of religiously apathetic, dysfunctional (but unbroken) upper-middle class families.

We have the same hair and college major, and are both frequently told that we “don’t look very Jewish.” We failed at being legitimately vegetarian, but love to bake and share a burning desire to have a cultural heritage other than American.

I am admittedly biased, because I feel like these laughable and embellished memoirs could have been my own if I were 26 years old and writing a book.

But biases aside, I Was Told There’d Be Cake is a really enjoyable read. Her essays, creating a Ben Stiller-like comedy of errors in the end, are hilarious and intelligent from the very first page.

With a snarky irreverence Crosley is able to point out the comedy in everyday tragic situations of work, roommates, sex, drugs, college, weddings, family, and favorite childhood computer game Oregon Trail. She tosses in a fun (but tasteful) little helping of bathroom humor and shows a real talent for wit and metaphor.

Crosley includes wonderful little nuggets of insight in her work: “You can’t pick your girlfriends’ teeth, but you can sure as shit pick your girlfriends.”

I loved her points about our “universal desire to avoid being the asshole” and how she had to “cut the pink wire” after being in an over-the-top fairy-tale wedding. She comically notes how “being vegetarian in New York is not unlike being gay. Veggie restaurants and options abound [...] but being Vegan, of course, is like the dietary equivalent of being a transsexual.”

My favorite was her wistful recount of a moving day in which she locked herself out of two different apartments. Her descriptions are spot on without being superfluous; I laughed out loud and had a smile plastered on my face throughout the entire book.

I Was Told There’d Be Cake is a rollicking good and easy read, and is a perfect little comedic treat to pick up and read again. It might be a little on the girlish side, but this book is genuinely funny and well written, and shows real potential for Crosley as a writer.

It is a sweet and whimsical delight, and I bet Crosley could venture to a darker, heavier side; think chocolate ganache. I can’t wait to satisfy my craving for her next book.

Interview with the author