When I was trying to decide which book to listen to on my drive home over the holidays, my decision was made easy by Anna Kendrick’s numerous Instagram and Twitter posts of her book with various people’s pets. So I hopped online and ordered a CD audiobook of Scrappy Little Nobody because Floyd, my 2004 Ford Focus, doesn’t have a fancy MP3 hookup.
Even though I didn’t know much about Kendrick beyond her roles in films and the occasional tweet that popped in on my Twitter feed, I wanted to listen to her book. Celebrity memoirs by spirited young women are one of my favorite things to read.
Listening to this book was a different experience than a lot of the other celebrity memoirs I’ve listened to. While usually I know more or less what to expect from my narrator/friend for the road, I just kept being surprised by who Anna was, by the person she revealed through her essays.
She really brought home the idea that celebrities are straight up just people in a way that other memoirs–which, I think, don’t make as much of a point of this as Kendrick does–didn’t. The contrast of her apartment with its stained carpet and the fact that she was taking a private jet to get from an awards show to a set in time really hit me with how weird it must be to be famous.
Admittedly, I haven’t mastered the ability to critically analyze and consume the texts I listen to, especially when I’m listening to them in one long binge on a 4.5 hour drive from Pittsburgh to Cincinnati. But I really enjoyed Scrappy Little Nobody and always love that feeling like I’ve gotten to know a celebrity as a personal friend. Of all the travel companions I could’ve had, I think Anna Kendrick was a great choice.