Amy Poehler is a puzzle.
At the start of her 2014 memoir, "Yes Please," Poehler complains about how hard it is to write a book about herself.
"The truth is, writing is this: hard and boring and occasionally great but usually not. Even I have lied about writing. I have told people that writing this book has been like brushing away dirt from a fossil. What a load of shit. It has been like hacking away at a freezer with a screwdriver."
Does she like revealing things about herself? No, she says. In fact, she stays off social media because of "the amount of self-disclosure and self-promotion involved."
Yet despite her displeasure with writing and her reticence about talking about herself, Amy Poehler has produced a long book — 329 pages — that reveals more than a few personal details. There's her sex act preferences, her favorite type of porn, past drug use, the mean texts she accidentally sent to the wrong person, years of sleeping problems (finally diagnosed as sleep apnea), and her shame over an offensive skit mocking a disabled girl.
"Yes Please" is written in a controlled stream of consciousness fashion. It rambles along to topics as Poehler finds them. Sometimes she's humble, sometimes funny, sometimes mean and grumpy.
It is a masterpiece of non-organization. There is no rhyme or reason for the order in which subjects are presented; it certainly isn't chronological (would it better if it were? I wonder). You can pick up the book and basically read any chapters in any order.
If you need some recommendations, there's a good chapter on entertainment awards ("gimme that pudding"), one about a performance marred by a bad microphone ("I'm so proud of you"), and another on working as restaurant server as a teen ("Don't forget to tip your waitresses").
There are other good parts but they're sprinkled haphazardly around the book, so it's hard to direct you to them.
Mostly, I would recommend the parts where Poehler actually talks about herself, which isn't all of them. Sometimes — as if embarrassed by how transparent she was in the last chapter — the next one is just a series of jokes. Perhaps comedy relief, perhaps an attempt to deflect attention from herself.
In one chapter, Poehler details her history working with the improv group Upright Citizens Brigade. It is a surprisingly impersonal chapter, reading more like a Wikipedia recitation of dates and facts, largely devoid her feelings.
She flings out pop culture references fast. Depending on your media literacy you may have to stop often to look up names or to find old SNL skits that she references.
Here's a short list of name-checks that I didn't get (don't write to explain them to me; I know how to Google): Cindy Sherman, Odd Future, Fugazi, "Ashlee Simpson's song," Jack McBrayer, Lourdes Ciccone, Richard Kind, Billy Bush, Ginuwine,
As a fan of "Parks and Rec," I was most interested in the parts about that show. I was intrigued to discover that — unlike Tina Fey's role in making "30 Rock" — Poehler did not develop or write Parks and Rec." Credit goes to Mike Schur. And credit goes to Poehler for giving him credit.
As for the her supposed dislike of writing, Poehler admits it's a tactic. "I am presenting a series of reasons as to why should lower your expectations, so that you can be blown away by my sneaky insights about life and work."
Ah, both a puzzle and sneaky.
