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Legs Get Led Astray
LEGS GET LED ASTRAY is a provocative collection of essays that vividly rockets the reader through one young woman's life. Chloe Caldwell beautifully and bluntly escorts you through her childhood dreams, her first loves, her most unguarded sexual exploits, bookstore crushes, babysitting jobs, heartbroken wanderlust, and the suicide of a lost lover. Caldwell's writing remarkably explores the genre of personal nonfiction and has been featured in The Rumpus, The Faster Times, and Mr. Beller's Neighborhood, The Nervous Breakdown, and Everyday Genius.
164 pages, Paperback
First published April 3, 2011
About the author
Chloe Caldwell
10 books641 followersChloé Caldwell is the author four books: I'll Tell You in Person (Coffee House Press), The Red Zone: A Love Story (Soft Skull), Legs Get Led Astray (Short Flight / Long Drive) and the criritcally acclaimed novella, Women (Short Flight / Long Drive).
Women will be reissued by Harper Perennial on June 4th, 2024.
Her book TRYING will be published by Graywolf Press in 2025.
Chloe's work has been published in The New York Times, Bon Appétit, The Cut, Buzzfeed, New York Magazine, many anthologies, including the forthcoming SLUTS (Dopamine Books).
Chloe teaches creative nonfiction online and hosts retreats and offers writing support at scrappyliterary.com.
Women will be reissued by Harper Perennial on June 4th, 2024.
Her book TRYING will be published by Graywolf Press in 2025.
Chloe's work has been published in The New York Times, Bon Appétit, The Cut, Buzzfeed, New York Magazine, many anthologies, including the forthcoming SLUTS (Dopamine Books).
Chloe teaches creative nonfiction online and hosts retreats and offers writing support at scrappyliterary.com.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 93 reviews
June 6, 2013
I am so fucking bored of reading essays about being young and confused, sexually virile, and stoned in a big city. I hate Girls for this, as well as for the total narcissism of every character, and I disliked this essay collection for the same reasons. As a rule, I kinda find these kinds of people in real life boring and self-absorbed and pretentious. Sure, they're fucked up, but fucked up isn't automatically interesting, and it really bothers me that people tend to assume it is. Writing, mechanically and in formulaic, stilted structure, about all those times you masturbated (oh aren't I honest and boundary-pushing!) is not interesting. It's a normal conversation between two people of a certain age & generation. And maybe that's my problem with these essays: they're boring, because there's nothing new in them. At all. It's all been said -- better, or at least with better style.
Plus: I find Caldwell's writing amateur at best. Maybe I don't "get it" -- but I don't really want to get it, if that's what's considered quality writing. Some of it is just flatout bad. If a student of mine turned in this, from "My Heart Was Still Beating," I would ask them to redo it:
Sure, I understand her point (or maybe I am not ~experienced~ enough to understand anything at all -- she writes as if she knows and has lived much more than everyone around her) -- write in the style of the essay topic. Problem is that all the essay topics slide into each other, so I can't quite tell if Caldwell is a mediocre writer or trying to be a mediocre writer. But when multiple essays follow that tired structure where you start every paragraph with the same sentence ("You have a girlfriend now, but..." -- "And you had me when..." -- "My mother ____ " -- etc.), I sort of stop wondering. These are little more than ramblings & anecdotes, told precisely, but not skillfully.
The praise for this collection says the essays are "honest" and "blunt" and "raw." Personally, I think Caldwell's trying so hard to be all of those things that the entire collection becomes disingenuous.
(This book was given to me by my brilliant best friend, for beautiful reasons, so it pains me to write a review like this for it -- but, alas, sometimes tastes just don't overlap.)
Plus: I find Caldwell's writing amateur at best. Maybe I don't "get it" -- but I don't really want to get it, if that's what's considered quality writing. Some of it is just flatout bad. If a student of mine turned in this, from "My Heart Was Still Beating," I would ask them to redo it:
"Then Caleb asked me how many pieces of pizza I was going to eat, and I said one, and he said do you promise, and I said no, and he said can you please promise to only have one because I want to eat as much of it as I can. So I ate one slice of pizza and he ate four and got a stomachache while we watched School of Rock on television."
Sure, I understand her point (or maybe I am not ~experienced~ enough to understand anything at all -- she writes as if she knows and has lived much more than everyone around her) -- write in the style of the essay topic. Problem is that all the essay topics slide into each other, so I can't quite tell if Caldwell is a mediocre writer or trying to be a mediocre writer. But when multiple essays follow that tired structure where you start every paragraph with the same sentence ("You have a girlfriend now, but..." -- "And you had me when..." -- "My mother ____ " -- etc.), I sort of stop wondering. These are little more than ramblings & anecdotes, told precisely, but not skillfully.
The praise for this collection says the essays are "honest" and "blunt" and "raw." Personally, I think Caldwell's trying so hard to be all of those things that the entire collection becomes disingenuous.
(This book was given to me by my brilliant best friend, for beautiful reasons, so it pains me to write a review like this for it -- but, alas, sometimes tastes just don't overlap.)
Read
August 20, 2012Fuck "Girls" and fuck "Sex and the City." Read this book if you care at all what it's like to be young and horny and sad and free and drug-induced and happy (and broke) in the greatest city in the world. More importantly, read these essays if you care to know what it is like to want to devour your life and explore its fullness simply by paying attention.
I know some people will get hung up on the sex and substance abuse, but there is much more going on here, least of which is the courage to write these things. Once I started reading these it became a mission. I would read one then be like "Oh, just one more." It was like asdf Pringles.
I live in New York and yet I felt like I was learning about New York, a different Borough, a lifestyle I knew of and was familiar with but had never experienced as a young woman in the city. I was never a young woman--how unfortunate. Now I kinda feel like I was somewhere in my brain.
I don't know what else I can say that will top that but I also have one complaint: Where's the playlist for all the songs she mentioned in the book? I want them. By order of mention.
I know some people will get hung up on the sex and substance abuse, but there is much more going on here, least of which is the courage to write these things. Once I started reading these it became a mission. I would read one then be like "Oh, just one more." It was like asdf Pringles.
I live in New York and yet I felt like I was learning about New York, a different Borough, a lifestyle I knew of and was familiar with but had never experienced as a young woman in the city. I was never a young woman--how unfortunate. Now I kinda feel like I was somewhere in my brain.
I don't know what else I can say that will top that but I also have one complaint: Where's the playlist for all the songs she mentioned in the book? I want them. By order of mention.
April 2, 2012
This is from the introduction that I gave Chloe at her book release party in Portland recently...
Chloe Caldwell came to me nearly two years ago (in March of 2010). She asked if I was taking submissions and said she felt a specific connection to the work that Future Tense does. In that first email, she wrote, “Every word I write is non-fiction. I get off, literally at seeing the scary humiliating tragically beautiful truth on paper.”
I thought that was pretty charming.
But I was backed up with projects and we only emailed a couple of more times in the next year. One day, while looking back through submission emails, I googled her to see what she’d been publishing. I could tell that her writing was getting better and bolder and more mature. I went with my impulses and emailed her in late April of 2011. The title of the email was “Send me stuff now.” She did and it was wonderful, sharp writing. A week later, I sent another email that just said, “Give me your phone number.” I called her soon after and that’s how Legs Get Led Astray started.
And the best thing about this manuscript was that it got better and better in the months after I accepted it. Chloe just got on a roll and wrote great essay after great essay and by the time we were laying out the book, the contents had totally changed and it had transformed from a wild, volatile animal to this really lean, beautiful creature. I think Chloe Caldwell's book "Legs Get Led Astray" is the most exciting book I've worked on since "Please Don't Kill the Freshman."
One of the best things about being a publisher, besides putting books out into the world, is forming friendships with my writers. It truly feels like a family sometimes. I didn’t know Jamie Iredell before I published him last year but I fucking love him now. I adore Elizabeth Ellen and Chelsea Martin. I miss Justin Maurer when I don’t see him for a long time. My awesome wife, B Frayn Masters and I share a special kind of hug with Zachary Schomburg (called a “shug”--a hug with a soft shove at the end). I call Riley Michael Parker “baby” all the time. I love my designer and co-editor Bryan Coffelt. And Chloe Caldwell? She’s only like my favorite writer in the world right now and I’m so proud of how good she’s getting.
It feels lucky and special to be part of this book process with her and I think Chloe has the uncanny ability to write directly into someone's soul. This is the kind of book that is going to affect a lot of people--a smart, sexy tour de force full of true stories that move with grace and slash with style. The kind of book that beats in your hand like a human heart.
Chloe Caldwell came to me nearly two years ago (in March of 2010). She asked if I was taking submissions and said she felt a specific connection to the work that Future Tense does. In that first email, she wrote, “Every word I write is non-fiction. I get off, literally at seeing the scary humiliating tragically beautiful truth on paper.”
I thought that was pretty charming.
But I was backed up with projects and we only emailed a couple of more times in the next year. One day, while looking back through submission emails, I googled her to see what she’d been publishing. I could tell that her writing was getting better and bolder and more mature. I went with my impulses and emailed her in late April of 2011. The title of the email was “Send me stuff now.” She did and it was wonderful, sharp writing. A week later, I sent another email that just said, “Give me your phone number.” I called her soon after and that’s how Legs Get Led Astray started.
And the best thing about this manuscript was that it got better and better in the months after I accepted it. Chloe just got on a roll and wrote great essay after great essay and by the time we were laying out the book, the contents had totally changed and it had transformed from a wild, volatile animal to this really lean, beautiful creature. I think Chloe Caldwell's book "Legs Get Led Astray" is the most exciting book I've worked on since "Please Don't Kill the Freshman."
One of the best things about being a publisher, besides putting books out into the world, is forming friendships with my writers. It truly feels like a family sometimes. I didn’t know Jamie Iredell before I published him last year but I fucking love him now. I adore Elizabeth Ellen and Chelsea Martin. I miss Justin Maurer when I don’t see him for a long time. My awesome wife, B Frayn Masters and I share a special kind of hug with Zachary Schomburg (called a “shug”--a hug with a soft shove at the end). I call Riley Michael Parker “baby” all the time. I love my designer and co-editor Bryan Coffelt. And Chloe Caldwell? She’s only like my favorite writer in the world right now and I’m so proud of how good she’s getting.
It feels lucky and special to be part of this book process with her and I think Chloe has the uncanny ability to write directly into someone's soul. This is the kind of book that is going to affect a lot of people--a smart, sexy tour de force full of true stories that move with grace and slash with style. The kind of book that beats in your hand like a human heart.
August 27, 2012
I would give this 2.5 stars. I had really high hopes for this book, considering it got blurbs from Cheryl Strayed and Lidia Yuknavitch. But it was a collection of essays about an immature 20-something's time in NY and her escapades abroad and with random bad boys. There was no self-reflection or analysis, and the whole thing felt very superficial. Caldwell does not reveal much of herself in these writings - sure, she gives us details about her masturbation habits and affinity for blowjobs, but who she IS as a person - no clue.
November 13, 2013
Read a pretty glowing review of this book in The L Magazine and two days later found it on the $1 rack at Book Thug Nation. Also it turns out that Chloe and I have a bunch of friends (not to mention a former employer) in common, so when I get around to reviewing this I will be on my best behavior.
***
I don't know, I feel weird reviewing this since I know the author will probably read it (hi, Chloe). The fairest thing I can say is that it felt very young to me, which it is. There's something to be said, of course, for being enamored with oneself—that is clearly a prerequisite for being a memoirist. But IMO it will take a bit more living and perspective-gaining for Chloe's writing style and sense of what's important to mature. Also I think the book (and probably this press altogether) could have used a firmer editor.
***
I don't know, I feel weird reviewing this since I know the author will probably read it (hi, Chloe). The fairest thing I can say is that it felt very young to me, which it is. There's something to be said, of course, for being enamored with oneself—that is clearly a prerequisite for being a memoirist. But IMO it will take a bit more living and perspective-gaining for Chloe's writing style and sense of what's important to mature. Also I think the book (and probably this press altogether) could have used a firmer editor.
April 11, 2012
I saw Chloe Caldwell read in Portland a few months ago and have been counting the days until her first book release on Future Tense Books. I finally picked up this book of essays on Friday afternoon and was done with it by Sunday morning.
'Legs Get Led Astray' incited a mixture of feelings from me. I admire the work and I think some of it is bitingly good. However, I found myself looking forward to what this writer may produce with a little more maturity, maybe when her writing will be less about hard drugs and sex and more about decision and discovery...This is meant as a slight critique though, overall the collection was a pleasure to read and it's been lingering on my mind--which is always a good sign.
'Legs Get Led Astray' incited a mixture of feelings from me. I admire the work and I think some of it is bitingly good. However, I found myself looking forward to what this writer may produce with a little more maturity, maybe when her writing will be less about hard drugs and sex and more about decision and discovery...This is meant as a slight critique though, overall the collection was a pleasure to read and it's been lingering on my mind--which is always a good sign.
April 9, 2012
I'm only halfway through but I have already earmarked several sections that I love. This book is really sad and really sexy at the same time, kind of like Jordan Catalano. It makes me cry. It makes me wish I had a more rebellious upbringing. It makes me wonder if I missed something in New York, and it makes me want to have sex with Chloe Caldwell.
May 11, 2012
Could become for straight girls in Brooklyn what Michelle Tea's "Valencia" was for queer girls in San Francisco.
If you're a person like me, which means if you're a kind of person whose early 20s didn't involve living in crumbling apartment buildings and using six impossible substances before breakfast, you might feel like you're contracting liver cancer and tetanus on every page. If you went vegetarian at 19 for health reasons, spent the first six years of your twenties in a monogamous relationship, and have never so much as smoked a cigarette - in other words, if you're someone whose legs hardly got led astray - you might find it challenging to identify with the narrator, whose life is awash in risk, danger, sex, drugs, and indie rock and roll. But that's why we read, isn't it? To put ourselves in experiences unlike our own, to see how another person's brain works. Chloe's debut memoir is full of spunk and sass, longing and irony, and blush-inducing honesty. She moves between the narrative expository and the lyric with mercurial speed. You won't be able to put this book down.
If you're a person like me, which means if you're a kind of person whose early 20s didn't involve living in crumbling apartment buildings and using six impossible substances before breakfast, you might feel like you're contracting liver cancer and tetanus on every page. If you went vegetarian at 19 for health reasons, spent the first six years of your twenties in a monogamous relationship, and have never so much as smoked a cigarette - in other words, if you're someone whose legs hardly got led astray - you might find it challenging to identify with the narrator, whose life is awash in risk, danger, sex, drugs, and indie rock and roll. But that's why we read, isn't it? To put ourselves in experiences unlike our own, to see how another person's brain works. Chloe's debut memoir is full of spunk and sass, longing and irony, and blush-inducing honesty. She moves between the narrative expository and the lyric with mercurial speed. You won't be able to put this book down.
May 5, 2013
Let me explain this low rating, especially since I was really looking forward to reading this book. For all the explicitness of the book (say, for instance, the fact that Caldwell enjoys masturbating while wearing knee-high socks and listening to men degrade women), Caldwell comes off less as a person than as a type--the Manic Pixie Sex Girl? She does lots of drugs, lots of men, but without any sense as to why she does these things--there seems to be no motivation for her beyond wanting to do it. And so the book feels hollow, impersonal.
That said, Caldwell does a few interesting things with structure and repetition, such as essays in which each paragraph begins with the same sentence. But beyond that, this feels too slight to recommend. That said, I think Caldwell has the potential to write a great book someday, and if she were to let her readers inside her (double meaning intended), that risk would likely be rewarded.
That said, Caldwell does a few interesting things with structure and repetition, such as essays in which each paragraph begins with the same sentence. But beyond that, this feels too slight to recommend. That said, I think Caldwell has the potential to write a great book someday, and if she were to let her readers inside her (double meaning intended), that risk would likely be rewarded.
July 2, 2015
Collection of personal essays that would have been perfect for Nerve.com back in the early 00s. Lots of gimmicky repetition and overlap of subject material. While I found the author's precociousness overbearing at first I came to appreciate the context the fuller picture provides. There was a time when this kind of essay would inspire me to revisit my own period of reckless, feckless sex and drug-taking back when I was in the Navy, but I empathized mostly with the protagonist's mother as I imagine this was a hard, challenging read for her. Portrait of the Book Reviewer as a Middle-Aged Parent. So it goes.
December 6, 2016
Chloe Caldwell's raw, gritty essay collection is one hell of a seething mess, but in a really good way. Really. Bald fear, lust, despair, and addictions run rampant in this particular slice of Caldwell's life, but her love of writing and words somehow trumps the stark ugliness with something like grace. Powerful and touching, Legs Get Led Astray is a tiny bomb that will break you, but make you happy in the process, and leave you awestruck at the end.
September 8, 2012
Wow! That's all for now.
July 25, 2012
Chloe's got it, that undefinable thing everyone wants to define. Also, the essay about the French guy is as good as any of my favorite Leonard Cohen songs. Excited to see what's next.
March 12, 2015
This one is going to be tough for me to review (and on some level you can disregard the numerical rating as you'll see...). Just bear with me.
Non-fiction is tough for me. I feel like I'm entering an intimate relationship with the author. In the beginning, every new secret is awesome and you're just so filled with love. Later on, you start to hear the same stories and you notice more and more how distant you feel, how so many of the things that initially excited you start to bore you...
I read Caldwell's Women and loved it. I'm still thinking about it. It was really just an incredible book. And so I was so excited to jump in to this collection.
And at first, I was loving it. I folded over quite a few pages early on (I know, blasphemy. I'm a page folder...), still loving the simple way she turns a phrase, the blunt honesty she so masterfully handles.
And overall, I say that it is good. It is a book worth reading. I had some issues with it, though...
First of all (and get ready for a rant here - I will try to keep it short, but this is a big one for me), there are at least three stories that talk about the narrator or other people driving while intoxicated (either drunk or stoned) and it is either presented as no big deal or as an essential part of an amazing night. To me, driving under the influence is unforgivable, is no different to opening fire in a crowded restaurant. To glamourize it is just as unforgivable to me. I do realize it exists here to help show a flawed person, and it is part of that blunt honesty that I otherwise appreciate. But I can't let this one go and the book loses a full star for it. It probably won't bother others the same way it did me (I have some personal issues here, as I said), but it frustrates me to no end. (I wrote another paragraph on this and was still typing when I realized that I had said I would try to keep it short. I could rage about this for far too long...) (For the record, I also think it's pretty shitty to steal, but I'm less worked up by the constant references to the things that she stole.)
Second of all, there is so much repetition of the stories. I don't hate this and I see the poetry of approaching the same tales from a different perspective, but it sometimes comes across closer to therapy by the end of the book.
Third is simply that this book was very obviously written by someone very young. This is refreshing in ways, but it also can become a little dull by the end. I like Caldwell's more-mature-but-still-raw voice in Women. Here, it is just raw and is hard to take for a full book-length read.
I sound more negative than I mean to be. It was a good read and I look forward to reading more of her work. It just frustrated me. I wish I had read it before Women, but I'm not sure that I would have picked up another of her books if I had read this one first. (Also, I did *not* give the book a lower rating just because the author went off on a short rant on how much she hated Star Wars, I promise.)
Non-fiction is tough for me. I feel like I'm entering an intimate relationship with the author. In the beginning, every new secret is awesome and you're just so filled with love. Later on, you start to hear the same stories and you notice more and more how distant you feel, how so many of the things that initially excited you start to bore you...
I read Caldwell's Women and loved it. I'm still thinking about it. It was really just an incredible book. And so I was so excited to jump in to this collection.
And at first, I was loving it. I folded over quite a few pages early on (I know, blasphemy. I'm a page folder...), still loving the simple way she turns a phrase, the blunt honesty she so masterfully handles.
And overall, I say that it is good. It is a book worth reading. I had some issues with it, though...
First of all (and get ready for a rant here - I will try to keep it short, but this is a big one for me), there are at least three stories that talk about the narrator or other people driving while intoxicated (either drunk or stoned) and it is either presented as no big deal or as an essential part of an amazing night. To me, driving under the influence is unforgivable, is no different to opening fire in a crowded restaurant. To glamourize it is just as unforgivable to me. I do realize it exists here to help show a flawed person, and it is part of that blunt honesty that I otherwise appreciate. But I can't let this one go and the book loses a full star for it. It probably won't bother others the same way it did me (I have some personal issues here, as I said), but it frustrates me to no end. (I wrote another paragraph on this and was still typing when I realized that I had said I would try to keep it short. I could rage about this for far too long...) (For the record, I also think it's pretty shitty to steal, but I'm less worked up by the constant references to the things that she stole.)
Second of all, there is so much repetition of the stories. I don't hate this and I see the poetry of approaching the same tales from a different perspective, but it sometimes comes across closer to therapy by the end of the book.
Third is simply that this book was very obviously written by someone very young. This is refreshing in ways, but it also can become a little dull by the end. I like Caldwell's more-mature-but-still-raw voice in Women. Here, it is just raw and is hard to take for a full book-length read.
I sound more negative than I mean to be. It was a good read and I look forward to reading more of her work. It just frustrated me. I wish I had read it before Women, but I'm not sure that I would have picked up another of her books if I had read this one first. (Also, I did *not* give the book a lower rating just because the author went off on a short rant on how much she hated Star Wars, I promise.)
April 23, 2012
I bought this book of essays on impulse, having seen it on my coffee break in the Small Press section at Powells. Being a twenty-something myself, I was intrigued and couldn’t wait to read about another woman’s life and experiences. They were totally different from mine in a literal way, but I could still relate to the sense of wistfulness I found in many of her stories. Like many if not most of us, Caldwell seems to learn the most about herself through her relationships with others, and that is what most of these essays are about. I have to admit that I respect how much she revealed. I think that it takes balls to be so open about every part of your life.
Caldwell’s essays are all regarding her early twenties spent in Brooklyn and Seattle (and here in Portland too, I think but I don’t recall reading any Portland-centric essays in her book). I felt drawn into her life right away. Caldwell strikes me as someone who is probably warm and friendly and eager to experience everything that life has to offer. She writes with frankness about her past sexual exploits and drug use, and is honest about her feelings; yet she also conveys a sense of vulnerability throughout. There were certainly lines in the book that really resonated with me as well. I will probably have to go back and highlight them at some point.
Critique-wise, I would first say that the constant listing of “we did this and we did that and then we did this….” Got kind of monotonous after a while. I mean, I think I get it, but the events and places and things listed don’t have meaning to anyone else but the author and the person she’s writing about, so the constant listing kind of makes one’s eyes glaze over after a few pages. And I also have to agree with the one reviewer who mentioned wanting to see more self-reflection. And it very well may just be her writing style; but I just got the sense that Caldwell didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about how these experiences and relationships were affecting her growth as a person. Maybe that wasn’t what she wanted to write about this time around, but I’m not sure if one can get away with writing about doing heroin and acid and having multiple casual sexual relationships and attending orgies, without a little “gee, why am I behaving this way” kind of introspection. And that’s not meant to be a moral judgment, it’s just that she was engaging in risky behavior and never seemed to question herself on it at all. And if she didn’t that’s cool, just write about it. Maybe in the next book. I will certainly buy it.
Caldwell’s essays are all regarding her early twenties spent in Brooklyn and Seattle (and here in Portland too, I think but I don’t recall reading any Portland-centric essays in her book). I felt drawn into her life right away. Caldwell strikes me as someone who is probably warm and friendly and eager to experience everything that life has to offer. She writes with frankness about her past sexual exploits and drug use, and is honest about her feelings; yet she also conveys a sense of vulnerability throughout. There were certainly lines in the book that really resonated with me as well. I will probably have to go back and highlight them at some point.
Critique-wise, I would first say that the constant listing of “we did this and we did that and then we did this….” Got kind of monotonous after a while. I mean, I think I get it, but the events and places and things listed don’t have meaning to anyone else but the author and the person she’s writing about, so the constant listing kind of makes one’s eyes glaze over after a few pages. And I also have to agree with the one reviewer who mentioned wanting to see more self-reflection. And it very well may just be her writing style; but I just got the sense that Caldwell didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about how these experiences and relationships were affecting her growth as a person. Maybe that wasn’t what she wanted to write about this time around, but I’m not sure if one can get away with writing about doing heroin and acid and having multiple casual sexual relationships and attending orgies, without a little “gee, why am I behaving this way” kind of introspection. And that’s not meant to be a moral judgment, it’s just that she was engaging in risky behavior and never seemed to question herself on it at all. And if she didn’t that’s cool, just write about it. Maybe in the next book. I will certainly buy it.
May 16, 2013
The short semi-autobrographical essays in Legs Get Led Astray vary from minimalistic to complex, from stories of past relationships to stories of her apartment building collapsing. These essays are at times not for the faint of heart, but the raw emotions portrayed in Caldwell's work are authentic. In other words, this is what Lena Dunham wants to be but what Caldwell manages to pull off without pretension.
(One issue I have with this collection is that the narrator states that these are autobiographical, but I'm not 100% sure that there is not a distinction between Chloe the author and Chloe the narrator. For now I will assume that they one essentially the same.)
Chloe Caldwell lives in a highly literary world, with her brother and his friends working at the Strand and the keeping of a typewriter in the bathroom for use thoughts. Caldwell's essays reflect her tumultuous teenage years as well as her relationships and interactions with others as she gets older. She writes about snooping in her mothers diaries, her time in Berlin, and her early twenties bouncing between New York City and the Pacific Northwest.
While airing frequently on the grittier side, Caldwell's prose is complete with the emotions of someone who is finding (and quite spectacularly found) her voice in her early twenties.
(One issue I have with this collection is that the narrator states that these are autobiographical, but I'm not 100% sure that there is not a distinction between Chloe the author and Chloe the narrator. For now I will assume that they one essentially the same.)
Chloe Caldwell lives in a highly literary world, with her brother and his friends working at the Strand and the keeping of a typewriter in the bathroom for use thoughts. Caldwell's essays reflect her tumultuous teenage years as well as her relationships and interactions with others as she gets older. She writes about snooping in her mothers diaries, her time in Berlin, and her early twenties bouncing between New York City and the Pacific Northwest.
While airing frequently on the grittier side, Caldwell's prose is complete with the emotions of someone who is finding (and quite spectacularly found) her voice in her early twenties.
March 16, 2021
I am very surprised I didn’t like this more. I recently read I’LL TELL YOU IN PERSON and loved it. This just shows how much the author grew as a writer between books.
The tone in this collection of essays is incredibly juvenile, and I felt uncomfortable from the secondhand embarrassment throughout my reading of it. There was a lot of telling of details about what happened, but no self reflection.
All the sex talk was boring, including her essay about an orgy. It was as if she thought she was the first person to ever have casual sex or watch porn. I don’t find drug abuse entertaining, and the author never explained why she was doing so many drugs. She just kinda bragged about how much she had done. Again, boring. Most people have been high before. And she spent a lot of time describing men she dated, which I mostly skimmed through because who cares? She never learned anything about herself from these relationships, but thought we as readers would want to know her exes as intimately as she did.
I don’t think she’s a bad writer at all. I think this particular book shouldn’t have been published, because she wasn’t ready. But what do I know? Some people love reading about what other people snorted or ate or listened to in their twenties.
The tone in this collection of essays is incredibly juvenile, and I felt uncomfortable from the secondhand embarrassment throughout my reading of it. There was a lot of telling of details about what happened, but no self reflection.
All the sex talk was boring, including her essay about an orgy. It was as if she thought she was the first person to ever have casual sex or watch porn. I don’t find drug abuse entertaining, and the author never explained why she was doing so many drugs. She just kinda bragged about how much she had done. Again, boring. Most people have been high before. And she spent a lot of time describing men she dated, which I mostly skimmed through because who cares? She never learned anything about herself from these relationships, but thought we as readers would want to know her exes as intimately as she did.
I don’t think she’s a bad writer at all. I think this particular book shouldn’t have been published, because she wasn’t ready. But what do I know? Some people love reading about what other people snorted or ate or listened to in their twenties.
August 28, 2012
Caldwell certainly has a distinct writing style. These are more prose poems than true prose, and she heavily favors writing these to a person (using a lot of "yous" in her writing).
I discovered Caldwell when Powell's sent me a piece of her writing as part of an Indiespensables package (if you're reading this, chances are you like to read, and I would highly encourage you to look into Indiespensables). I'm glad I bought her book--the style is right up my alley. I did find, though, that because she had SUCH a distinct style, it got a little tedious. The good news is that these are short stories/essays, and you can stop and start as you please without losing much.
Caldwell writes about things I can relate to (love, mothers, moving across the country, crazy camps that make girls cry in a relieving, freeing sort of way) and lots of things I can't (drugs, orgies, an intense need to snoop through the belongings of those she loves). But she tells it all in such an honest way.
This isn't for everyone. The subjects can get very crass, and the language isn't clean. If this doesn't bother you, I would highly recommend you give Caldwell's little book a shot.
I discovered Caldwell when Powell's sent me a piece of her writing as part of an Indiespensables package (if you're reading this, chances are you like to read, and I would highly encourage you to look into Indiespensables). I'm glad I bought her book--the style is right up my alley. I did find, though, that because she had SUCH a distinct style, it got a little tedious. The good news is that these are short stories/essays, and you can stop and start as you please without losing much.
Caldwell writes about things I can relate to (love, mothers, moving across the country, crazy camps that make girls cry in a relieving, freeing sort of way) and lots of things I can't (drugs, orgies, an intense need to snoop through the belongings of those she loves). But she tells it all in such an honest way.
This isn't for everyone. The subjects can get very crass, and the language isn't clean. If this doesn't bother you, I would highly recommend you give Caldwell's little book a shot.
June 6, 2013
"Legs" contains the work of a gifted writer of "personal non-fiction," which I enjoyed reading even though some of the subject matter didn't appeal to me at all. (On a personal level, I'd encourage her to seriously knock off the drugs.) I don't like the lack of clear self-discovery or self-reflection. Caldwell most often comes across like a rather aimless 20-something without much of a future.
But there are some things I like about it.
I like how some of Caldwell's stories had echoes in other stories; for instance, when a vaguely-described person would vividly reappear elsewhere.
I like all of the music references.
I especially like the bizarre story of her collapsing apartment.
Most of all, I like Caldwell's talent for writing conversationally. Calling her Caldwell just now felt strange. She makes you feel like you know her enough to just call her Chloe.
But there are some things I like about it.
I like how some of Caldwell's stories had echoes in other stories; for instance, when a vaguely-described person would vividly reappear elsewhere.
I like all of the music references.
I especially like the bizarre story of her collapsing apartment.
Most of all, I like Caldwell's talent for writing conversationally. Calling her Caldwell just now felt strange. She makes you feel like you know her enough to just call her Chloe.
May 19, 2015
I am very conflicted about this book. Part of me thinks this is raw and honest and part of me just wants her to mature faster. I think? I don't think her book is immature though...I enjoyed reading it, but I think her writing will be much better in five years when she's developed more as a person. But I realize this is unfair because whose writing is really "developed" or really "self-aware" in their twenties? I think she just needs to have more experiences that aren't typical drugs/sex/drinking/displaced middle class white girl in the City, etc. Of course that's who she is and she's writing about the present, so I can't fault her for that. She also was 22 when she published her first book (not this one) so what do I know?
March 8, 2013
"But my own legs had this idea that getting on airplanes-- that walking down ramp ways with a suitcase on wheels, that running away in a sense, would help me find whatever it was that I was looking for because he made it clear to me he could not give it to me. My legs were steps ahead of me- they were thinking maybe someone I could love lived on the West Coast. What if I was in the wrong place? I had to check. My legs wanted to open widely for someone new and have that person take his place-- cancel him out. I wanted to feel far away from him. I wanted to feel the space." p. 152
April 6, 2012
I could not put it down. The title says it all. We are not always in control of ourselves. "Legs Led Astray" is a poignant, funny, and disturbing look into someone else's proverbial medicine cabinet. The honesty the narrator conveys made me feel voyeuristic. But by the time I reached the end, I felt like a changed person; less like a watcher and more like a participant in these stories. Must read.
January 1, 2015
Compelling because these are true confessions, straightforward in the telling, I read it in a couple of days. Despite feeling that I wanted more. It wasn't enough for me that she revealed very personal experiences, I wanted some self-reflection and revelation. I respect her honesty and the intensity she seems to bring to relationships, but it felt like reading someone's diary, not a fully realized work a writer is choosing to share.
January 19, 2016
Eh...I'll give it three stars because I do admire the candor with which Chloe writes about sex, masturbation especially. A rare thing, it seems, in literature. However, for me most of these essays were all exposure and very little insight. Predictable 20s angst.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 17, 2012
Fantastic memoir of that will bring you back to that time in your life where you were in between adolescence and adulthood...esp if that time included ingesting copious amounts of drugs, sex, and...well, writing. Great read and I look forward to more from this author.
March 6, 2012
Beautiful utterances of the unutterable.
Read
August 3, 2020To be young and searching and consuming everything before you.
January 7, 2013
This was a Kate find. Thanks again.
Really awesome and evocative and sexy. This woman has a great voice.
Really awesome and evocative and sexy. This woman has a great voice.
November 18, 2014
people who live in new york are SO INTO new york. it's kind of maddening.
really I liked this though.
really I liked this though.
August 2, 2019
some of these essays i really really loved. i connect a lot with non-academic diary stuff. it's an archive of a time and a feeling. the essays about babysitting the lil boys were so wonderful. and the meditation retreat. all the rambling about ex-boyfriends got boring after awhile. and that same-ole nonfiction formula of repetitive listing of things. i didn't understand why chloe wanted to conclude this collection with a wrap-up piece about turning 30, learning self care, making more money, and leaving behind self destructive habits. trading drugs for yoga basically. it felt cheesy for me. the world of chloe in her 20s in new york, self-destruction through drugs and sex and escapism and love ~ all of that felt so genuine and honest and naive. i didn't need to leave that world. the early 2000s music in this book is pure gold. worshiping devendra with magazine collages or giving head to animal collective....amazing. the obsession with rufus wainwright's "the art teacher" was sweet. "LGLA" is an ode to music as much as it's an ode to a young person figuring it all out, which makes a lot of sense.
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