I am not typically a memoir reader. I realize there are a lot of awesome people that have done legitimately amazing things and there are even a few that are actual heroes with stories worth reading, but for every one of those cool cats there's a few dozens crackpots whose wackiest life experience is thinking they are memoir worthy. And the second wackiest is that they have enough money to publish said memoir and trick people into buying it. (Notice I didn't say "reading"?)Well my point there is that I just don't know where to draw the line. And I like made up stories.
After being lent Zippy's sequel, She Got Up Off the Couch, I had no choice but to look into the first book. My thoughts: I wouldn't go out on a limb and loan a random book unless is was pretty gosh darn spectacular, AND if she managed to publish a sequel about herself it must be pretty entertaining.
I was not let down by my friend or the book. First of all when I read the first few pages it was so odd and dare I say enchanting, I wasn't convinced Haven didn't make the whole thing up. By page 7 I decided I must continue reading to verify the authenticity of this "memoir". (It wasn't a tough decision.) Eventually I decided that the things that happen to Zippy are so random and hilarious they must be true (that sounds awfully cliche, but what can ya do? when it says what ya think...). Growing up in a tiny tiny town in Indiana, Zippy is a real life Ramona Quimby. Seriously. Read it. And then read She Got Up Off the Couch, it's equally entertaining.
P.S. Only managed glimpses of the eclipse through the clouds. Very. brief. glimpses.
