Shallow, self-indulgent showing off. Look at my awesome Carrie Bradshaw life, designer shoes, cute daughter and long suffering husband. Envy me, bitches!
Motin really needs to tone it down. Maybe it’s because she’s French. Nothing of this memoir appears to have been lost in translation, however, the handwriting font is illegible at times but Motin’s illustrations are wonderful.
But I Really Wanted to Be an Anthropologist as a title is meaningless. Apparently Motin wanted to be one for five seconds except she’s rich and entitled and couldn’t possibly handle roughing it.
When Motin isn’t showing off (boring) I appreciated her humorous frankness regarding the pressures of hair removal, her relationships with her guy friends and the realities of motherhood and the affect it’s had on her body.
In some ways Motin’s life is very similar to my sister’s though with a little less showing off. It must have something to do with living in their respective country’s capital cities – my sister in London and Motin in Paris.
If the font was more legible and the tone not quite so snobby, I probably would’ve enjoyed this graphic novel memoir more.