Cazzie David doesn’t want you to feel sorry for her. In fact, she’d be dismayed if you did.
In the introduction to her latest essay collection, Delusions, Cazzie explains: “In offering this book to the public, I am offering up not only my work and abilities for scrutiny but also myself, my choices, my humiliations, and my personality.”
David isn’t exaggerating, either. Much like her father, Larry David, she is a self-critic extraordinaire, finding exceedingly creative (and hilarious) ways to constantly deride herself. Like many of today’s most viral “confessional” essayists, she is quick to call out her own flaws before we, as readers, have the chance to identify them.
But unlike her peers, David’s self-deprecation never feels put-on or attention-seeking. Instead, her meandering thoughts read like the mopey diary of your funniest friend (who’s perhaps had one too many drinks). In her essay “On Being a Hater,” she reflects, “My personality happened to have a lot in common with clinical depression” before describing her inability, despite her deepest wishes, to enjoy any of life’s small pleasures.
David’s approach to aging is predictably pessimistic and arises early on as Delusions’ central theme. Unlike her first collection, No One Asked for This, this book uses one event—David’s 30th birthday—as a jumping off point for all manner of thoughts on what it means to grow older as someone already uncomfortable in her own skin—already drowning in self-consciousness and indecision.
Fortunately, David’s trademark cynicism translates perfectly to this topic, allowing her to dive into the unpleasant parts of aging and related anxieties with deftly witty observations, hypotheticals, and worst case scenarios. When she describes her own writing about this topic as “the ramblings of a homicidal maniac who intends to kill Gwyneth Paltrow,” you’re inclined to agree with her—but also understand her.
