Becky's Reviews > Love, Pamela

I read this book because I’ve been on a bit of a memoir kick. Candidly, I didn’t go in with incredibly high expectations partially because I didn’t know what to expect. My biggest critique to this book is the melodramatic writing. Pamela promises a book told in her “imperfect style… unfiltered” but the effect is scattered- a collage of fragmented experiences and random words/descriptors. It feels unpolished (a word she uses) and even immature. Some of her turns of phrase came off as irreverent: “I felt like Mr. Magoo - guided to safety by angels at every near wrong turn.” I felt like I had to sift through excessive analogies and flowery metaphors to get to any real content. Granted, this is a short book, but I was surprised that seemingly huge life events (time on Home Improvement, Baywatch and even marriages) are often boiled down to a handful of sentences. This memoir is purportedly an attempt for Pamela to “claim her narrative” but to me she comes across as naive and impressionable- not empowering (again, her word). Also, she describes herself as a feminist but also unapologetically codependent. Her anecdotes feel almost misogynistic in which she is a vulnerable, doe-eyed woman looking for a man to provide safety and protection. That being said, I appreciate her reflections motherhood as her comments about her sons feel the most deep and genuine. I wonder what this memoir would have been like with a bit more editing or more content in the areas of her life that were hastily mentioned. In its current form, I’d say skip this memoir.