Author, comedian, actress, and producer Phoebe Robinson is back with a new essay collection that is about human connection, race, hair, travel, dating, Black excellence, and more.
... not only hilarious, but also raw, thoughtful, and refreshingly honest ... the must-read book of the year ... While the book is without a doubt funny, it covers topics that are sure to touch on feelings of anger, sadness, frustration, and everything in between, so just go into it with the right mindset ... Readers will get to connect with Robinson on a (very) personal level as well as get a peek inside how her hilarious mind works.
Robinson is as hilarious as ever ... As in her previous memoirs-in-essay, not only is the bestselling author’s work super funny, it’s also enlightening and thought-provoking. Whether she’s offering advice to aspiring bosses, dismantling the 'patriarchal narrative [that] every woman . . . wants the same things' or explaining why the #ITakeResponsibility initiative in the summer of 2020 enrages her, Robinson’s voice is sure and strong ... a memorable, meaningful reading experience dotted with hits of poetry, anger and revelation ... slip into your inside cardigan (a la Mr. Rogers) and settle in for another rollicking and resonant Robinson read.
Phoebe Robinson’s Please Don’t Sit on My Bed in Your Outside Clothes is everything, in both the 'Girl, that outfit is everything!' sense and also in the fact that the free-flowing essay collection fits seamlessly into so many categories: earnest pandemic memoir, no-nonsense business guide, lovingly profane commentary on relationships, sex and race and unabashed celebration of Black culture, particularly Black women ... Robinson covers much ground, some light and comedic, some painfully frank, and all with the same warm intimacy ... Even the book’s occasional rambling feels relatable — 2020, as she notes, was reality-shaking and chaotic, so it’s appropriate. Robinson’s work effortlessly, reassuringly speaks into that chaos, hugging the reader while also shaking them gently, insisting they pull themselves together ... a sharp, sweet-salty pleasure ... These references, particularly those to millennial or Black culture, are made without overexplanation that would dilute their power or slow down the rhythm ... is both of the moment, with references to the exhaustion of performative allyship following the 2020 murder of George Floyd and to Netflix’s Emily in Paris, and a timeless entreaty to own one’s power, no matter what that looks like to anyone else.
