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In this raucous collection of true-life stories, Chelsea Handler recounts her time spent in the social trenches with that wild, strange, irresistible, and often gratifying beast: the one-night stand.
You've either done it or know someone who has: the one-night stand, the familiar outcome of a night spent at a bar, sometimes the sole payoff for your friend's irritating wedding, or the only relief from a disastrous vacation. Often embarrassing and uncomfortable, occasionally outlandish, but most times just a necessary and irresistible evil, the one-night stand is a social rite as old as sex itself and as common as a bar stool.
Enter Chelsea Handler. Gorgeous, sharp, and anything but shy, Chelsea loves men and lots of them. My Horizontal Life chronicles her romp through the different bedrooms of a variety of suitors, a no-holds-barred account of what can happen between a man and a sometimes very intoxicated, outgoing woman during one night of passion. From her short fling with a Vegas stripper to her even shorter dalliance with a well-endowed little person, from her uncomfortable tryst with a cruise ship performer to her misguided rebound with a man who likes to play leather dress-up, Chelsea recalls the highs and lows of her one-night stands with hilarious honesty.
Encouraged by her motley collection of friends (aka: her partners in crime) but challenged by her family members (who at times find themselves a surprise part of the encounter), Chelsea hits bottom and bounces back, unafraid to share the gritty details. My Horizontal Life is one guilty pleasure you won't be ashamed to talk about in the morning.
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This is a vacation read -- something I wouldn't normally pick up, but it was sitting there, and I was headed out to the beach to suck down some tropical concoction in the sun. So, why not?
Chelsea Handler has written an account of one-night stands that she has experienced. The cast of characters is interesting, and sometimes bizarre, and the situations range from laugh-out-loud funny to irritatingly off-putting.
I enjoyed it sporadically, as much as I simultaneously found it offensive. I don't know how much the author has embellished, and how well she's hidden the identity of some of her subjects, but I'd sure be sorry if I showed up in her book! She's rather merciless and shallow, a hedonist who wants to have a good time and doesn't even try to spare the feelings of men who, er, aren't up to the task. I'm trying to imagine a book written with genders reversed, where a man takes a woman home from a bar, only to reject her in the bedroom because of, say, her breast size. Eeyuck.
It's also a shame that Handler thinks that hedonism is cool when it extends to being an alcoholic. No, she doesn't label herself an alcoholic, and maybe she's not one. Maybe she's exaggerating things for comedic effect, but if that's the case, the unintended consequence was to make herself out to be a happy drunk.
That said, if you can accept the author's total pursuit of her own pleasure (her feeble attempt at the end to portray this as a phase coming to an end doesn't really ring sincere), the book does have some pleasure to offer the reader as well, with a couple of very funny predicaments and sexual disasters.
If you want a few sexually-charged laughs, you could sure do worse than this book. And it was okay as a vacation read. That's as far as I can go in recommending My Horizontal Life.
By Kenneth Simon
I've casually enjoyed Chelsea Handler's TV show for some time. She's witty and clever on television, so I thought her book would offer more of the same. Unfortunately, this book changed my perception of Chelsea, and once I finished the book I came away from the experience feeling I wasted my time. Chelsea's experiences really do seem like aimless recollections of a shallow existence. As another reviewer pointed out, her memoir reads like a series of Sex in the City scripts minus the fashion. Unfortunately, Chelsea often comes off as pretentious, vapid, and morally bankrupt. I kept hoping the narrative arc of the book would reveal some growth and personal reflection. Instead, the book continuously chronicled Chelsea's nihilistic existence. Sure there are some humorous moments, but they are too few. Many of Chelsea's recollections focus on her insatiable desire for sex and a general contempt for those who aren't physical specimens. In an attempt to be funny, Chelsea's lack of compassion for others (i.e. her roommate or fellow booze cruise passengers) simply reveals her hollow character. There's little redeeming quality in Chelsea's memoir; for those looking for self-deprecating laughs, a much better choice would be among the works of Laurie Notaro.
By David Smith