Laura Lippman does no longer experience terrible approximately her neck. Like, at all. In fact, she writes in My Life as a Villainess, “I even have decided, on the age of 60, that I am a goddamn knockout.” She is, objectively, but that statement’s approximately greater than her appealing bodily self; it’s a celebration of eventually shedding decades of societally caused self-recognition about food and her body. The essay wherein it resides, “The Whole 60,” with its “positivity, damn it” vibe, is a fitting kickoff to a smart, thoughtful, occasionally vulnerable, always witty series of essays. Some are new, some previously published, and collectively they provide a top level view of a totally special lifestyles so far.
Lippman is aware of and thankful for said specialness, and she acknowledges her top fortune often. She adores her super cultural-phenomenon-writer husband, David Simon, recognised for TV shows “The Wire” and “Treme,” et al. She loves her captivating 10-year-old, who made Lippman a mother at 50; is fiercely grateful for a brilliant nanny named Yaya; and treasures her friends, despite the fact that she’s pretty positive she isn’t such a exceptional buddy to them from time to time.
Before she was recognised for her seriously lauded crime novels (her Tess Monaghan series, 12 books and counting, plus 10 standalones), Lippman was a newspaper reporter for 20 years. In “Waco Kid,” she writes of her early career struggles as a newly minted reporter adjusting to the alien Texas landscape, aghast at endemic racism but also pleased at her burgeoning love of movies. Her later years as a reporter in her beloved town of Baltimore honed her prodigious writing and editing skills, but she’s nevertheless pissed that her growing off-the-clock career as a novelist turned into held against her (in place of male colleagues, who have been praised for comparable endeavors). In “Game of Crones,” she’s hilariously ticked off about menopause, too, and drops trash-speak and name-drop tidbits right here and there like so many tasty, snappy breadcrumbs. There’s also a cute remembrance of Anthony Bourdain (“Fine Bromance”) and a paean to a double boiler (“Revered Ware”), a cookware-as-tribute to her late father, who become also a journalist.
With its “gleefully honest” hits of humor and willingness to take a close observe a few discomfiting truths, it'll come as no wonder to Lippman’s enthusiasts that My Life as a Villainess is a fascinating read—an intrepid investigation of the author’s inner panorama and a raucous, no-holds-barred visit with that pal you respect for her candor, passion and unabashed nostalgia for Nineteen Eighties fashion.