Some people have sweatshirts. Most have jewelry–earrings, necklaces, in the most unfortunate cases gold or silver rings with diamond cuts. Others have receipts and ticket stubs and photographs that remind them of the relationship that didn’t work. Sloane Crosley collected plastic horses
In I Was Told There’d Be Cake, a book of personal essays, Crosley examines the disenchantment that comes with experience and estranged friends’ wedding invitations. In each of the essays, Crosley examines a moment where she discovered that her perception of the world differed wildly from the reality.
Crosley covers typical events of growing up—romance, family, tyrannical bosses—but she infuses her essays with a sense of humor and eccentricity reminiscent of Anne LaMott. Take, for example, her observations on being a Jewish girl at an Evangelical Christian summer camp in her essay, “Christmas in July”: “Think of a zany romantic comedy in which a woman mistakenly swallows her engagement ring because it was cleverly tucked in her chocolate soufflé. That is how I swallowed Christianity.”
What makes Crosley’s essays more than just humorous nostalgia, is her analysis of what her mistaken perceptions said about her development of self and identity. Beyond her commentary on dining hall tradition and Native American nomenclature in “Christmas in July”, Crosley evaluates how as a child she was especially vulnerable to a manipulation of her religious beliefs. She had, for several years, a mantra: Sky, Blankey, Speech, Kim, based on her cat, her security blanket, her daily recitation of her days’ events to a stuffed audience and her arbitrarily imaginary friend, Kim. “It’s so clear to me now: the memorizing of a fake prayer, the symbolization of objects, the struggle to relate to the invisible—I needed a religion. I was lost.”
Crosley’s unexpected juxtapositions give her essays much of their staying power, from spirituality in the midst of burning maxi pads to defecation at elegant dinner parties. Crosley writes about 9/11 in “The Ursula Cookie” but she does not focus solely on the sense of terror and togetherness that came when the towers fell. It’s also an essay about a boss who hurls office supplies at your head and who has a Miranda Priestlyesque disappointment in your work.
In “The Height of Luxury”, Crosley explores the maturity on the eve of her 16th birthday. After she found out her mother was a divorcée when she met the man who would become her husband, Crosley faces the choice between kidnapping the family’s toothbrushes and leaving them in their holders.
Throughout her collection, Crosley seems to be aware of the criticism that faces the Gen-X generation, and the YouTube and Facebook generations that follow. She addresses the isolationism of a single late twenty-something in Manhattan and her disillusionment with volunteerism. She muses over the unintended sociopathic tendencies that come with playing the Oregon Trail computer game. She bemoans an inability to blame her faults on a pre-existing medical condition. But Crosley resists oversentimentalization or simplification. She writes to raise questions about her own life but she never claims to give answers to your problems. I Was Told There’d Be Cake wins you over with its humor. By the time you finish the last chapter, you’ll only want to stick around to see what Crosley does next.
Authors@ Google did an interview with Crosley last April:
