By the author of I Like You Just the Way I Am anda frequent Chelsea contributor, an outrageous collection of personal stories about motherhood, responsibility, and other potential disasters
Jenny Mollen is a writer and actress living in New York. Read more...
By theauthor of I Like You Just the Way I Am anda frequent Chelseacontributor, an outrageous collection of personal stories about motherhood, responsibility, and other potential disasters
Jenny Mollen is a writer and actress living in New York. Until two years ago, her lifewas exciting, sexy, a little eccentric, and onehundred percent impulsive. She had a husbandwho embraced her crazy who understood herneed to occasionally stalk around the house inhis ex-girlfriend s old beach caftans and toinvite their drug dealer to Passover seder (so hewouldn t feel like they were using him only fordrugs).
Then they had their son, Sid, and overnight, Jenny was forced to grow up: to beresponsible, to brush her hair, to listen to her voicemail.
Live Fast Die Hot is a collection of storiesabout what happens when you realize that somethings are more important than crafting the perfect tweet. It follows Jenny to Morocco, where she embarks on a quest to prove to herself that she can travel alone without reenacting a plotline from Taken. It shows herconfronting demons most of them from childhood, a few from the spirit realm. And it culminates in Peru, where Jenny decides that maybe the cure for her anxiety as a mom lies at the bottom of a cup of ayahuasca.
Hilarious, outlandish, and surprisingly affecting, Live Fast Die Hot reminds you that even if you aren t cut out for parenting, at leastyou can be better at it than your mother."
Publishers Weekly® Reviews
- Reviewed in: Publishers Weekly, page .
- Review Date: 2016-04-04
- Reviewer: Staff
Mollen’s second effort to show readers glimpses of her life, after her essay collection, I Like You Just the Way I Am, is by turns endearing and off-putting. Mollen, the wife of actor Jason Biggs, describes her dizzying life, which includes taking ecstasy while pregnant and offering her husband a threesome to spice up a date night. When her son, Sid, is born, she writes a beautiful paragraph about holding him for the first time—”I wasn’t ready for kids. I was just ready for him”—and promises the reader that this love for Sid would be her impetus to grow up. But the spirit that animated earlier adventures isn’t fully tamed. She goes ghost hunting in her own house and travels to Morocco to meet the people who made a rug she bought. There’s an off-putting showmanship to her storytelling, a sort of breathless look-what-I-did, but fans of her earlier work should enjoy this book. (June)