I’m listening to I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron. I was pre-primed to enjoy this one.
She wrote “When Harry Met Sally,” for one thing. And another movie I saw a long time ago and enjoyed.*
For another, she correctly titled it I Feel Bad..., not I Feel Badly..., which would have disqualified it immediately for my listening.
For yet another, Ms. Ephron herself narrates it, and has a great New York voice. She sounds like about a hundred people I used to know and like in New York.
And the first disk is all scratched and full of skips (don’t worry, I’ll do something about that before I return it), so a lot of people must have listened already.
And I am liking it, so far.
But here’s the weird thing: she doesn’t read it very well. Ms. Ephron reads as though she doesn’t know what’s coming next, and emphasizes words unexpectedly and ineffectively. Maybe she’s just not a great reader out loud, or maybe she’s self-conscious about reading her own prose, or maybe she’s self-conscious about her neck confessions.
I’m going to finish it and enjoy it, anyway. I’m going to pretend I know her and like her (I suspect I would), and listen to a friend’s effort at narration just because she’s my friend. (Yes, I do have a life.)
I’ll let you know how it goes.
*Just looked it up: “Heartburn.” Also “Sleepless in Seattle,” and “You’ve Got Mail.” And other famous ones, but these are the ones I’ve seen. I’m limited.