Multi-awardwinning Hannah Gadsby transformed comedy with her show Nanette, even as she declared that she was quitting stand-up. Now, she takes us through the defining moments in her life that led to the creation of Nanette and her powerful decision to tell the truth-no matter the cost.
'There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself.' -Hannah Gadsby, Nanette
Gadsby's unique stand-up special Nanette was a viral success that left audiences captivated by her blistering honesty and her ability to create both tension and laughter in a single moment. But while her worldwide fame might have looked like an overnight sensation, her path from open mic to the global stage was hard-fought and anything but linear.
Ten Steps to Nanette traces Gadsby's growth as a queer person from Tasmania-where homosexuality was illegal until 1997-to her ever-evolving relationship with comedy, to her struggle with late-in-life diagnoses of autism and ADHD, and finally to the backbone of Nanette - the renouncement of self-deprecation, the rejection of misogyny, and the moral significance of truth-telling.
Equal parts harrowing and hilarious, Ten Steps to Nanette continues Gadsby's tradition of confounding expectations and norms, properly introducing us to one of the most explosive, formative voices of our time.
Hannah Gadsby is an award-winning Australian comedian who thinks quickly and moves slowly. She is sardonic, laconic and, after numerous bone crunching accidents, bionic. Her droll delivery, delightful wordplay and heart-breakingly funny, self-deprecating observations have delighted audiences all over the world.
Hannah is a regular across our television screens, making numerous appearances on the Melbourne International Comedy Festival Gala’s, as a regular on ABC TV’s Adam Hills Tonight from 2011 to 2013 and for the past three series, starring in Josh Thomas’ critically acclaimed Please Like Me in Australia and the United States as the character of Hannah.
Desperate to make use of her art history degree for the purposes of debt recovery, Hannah has written and presented three art documentaries for ABC TV and takes every opportunity to present her incredibly popular comedic art lectures at festivals around the world alongside her stand-up comedy shows. The most recent of these documentaries Hannah Gadsby’s Nakedy Nudes premiered in February 2018.
Her most recent stand-up show, the self-described swan song Nanette, saw Hannah win Best Comedy at the Adelaide Fringe Festival, the Barry Award for best show at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, the Helpmann Award for best comedy performance and the Last Minute Edinburgh Comedy Award (the comedy equivalent of an Oscar).
Since her success in Edinburgh, Nanette has had a return run in Melbourne performing shows the Arts Centre, a season at the Sydney Opera House, two runs at London’s Soho Theatre and an upcoming run at the New York Soho Playhouse.
In January 2018, Hannah recorded Nanette at the Concert Hall of the Sydney Opera House for the first Australian Netflix Original Comedy Special.
Wow, there are a lot of trolls in the ratings already, aren't there?
This is a difficult read the way Nanette was difficult: it's extremely raw, the subject matter is at times brutal, parts are a bit too long and rambly, and Hannah Gadsby doesn't care what you think of her and that comes across. (Plus the book comes with the added bonus of discovering that, as bad as one might have thought rural America was in the '90s if you were weird or different or god forbid queer, Tasmania was even worse!) But it's also good and important in the same way: funny and insightful, voicelessness given voice.
If you like Hannah Gadsby's work, you will like this.
If you don't: well, in some cases it appears to mean that you have a compulsion that causes you to rate books you haven't read one star before they've even come out. Are you okay? You should really talk to someone. Hannah has some good stories about how therapy helps.
Many straight people will think I'm a bad lesbian when they read this because many straight people think that all gay people know every other gay person, not just those in one's own town but also every other town and city and village in the world, alive and dead, closeted and out.
I'll give you an example: One morning at the library, two co-workers mentioned to me there was an article in the newspaper about someone, for something gay or other.
They said her name and when I said that I didn't know her, they looked at me with bemusement, eyebrows furled and mouths agape (I kid you not). "Of course you do," Sherry exclaimed. "She's gay!" Sherry repeated her name, certain I had simply misheard.
When I still drew a blank, Candy chimed in, "Yeh, you know her! [Insert name and place a lot of emphasis on it]" - as though it was something about Sherry's voice that made me not understand. She also felt the need to repeat that, "She's gay!".
I wanted to retort: Oh yes, that lesbian! So sorry. I sometimes have trouble remembering everyone's names when there are millions of gay people in the world, all of whom I know. We have a Big Gay World-Wide Club and we get together once a month to discuss the GAY AGENDA, how best to flaunt our lifestyle, achieve world domination, and turn every straight person gay.
If you don't know me, please know I enjoy sarcasm. We actually don't all know each other, as unbelievable as that might sound. I hope you won't think less of us.
I also hope you won't think I'm a bad lesbian for not knowing who Hannah Gadsby was until seeing this book.
In my defense: 1. It's been over a decade since the last time I was in Australia. 2. Until last month, I hadn't had Netflix since back when they were still sending DVDs in the mail. 3. For some reason, Hannah comes to our Monthly Gay Agenda Meetings in disguise.
I don't read many celebrity memoirs but make an exception when it's by a gay person (because, hey - my bestie!). I downloaded Ten Steps to Nanette and was immediately enthralled. It's one of those memoirs where you feel like you're sitting down with the writer, enjoying a drink and listening as they regale you with stories of their life. Hannah had me entranced.
Her writing is clear, concise, humble, and witty. Even the chapter titles and subtitles are fun - as are the notes. I couldn't get enough of her childhood and her teen years, with the great gay debate (decriminalizing homosexuality and then allowing marriage equality) playing out around her. How she struggled with undiagnosed ADHD and ASD, her sexuality, and trying to fit in, in a world where she knew she was different (and according to the world, different in a bad way). I related to so many things she wrote about.
She doesn't hesitate to call out homophobes, the patriarchy, hecklers and haters. She describes what it's like to feel that everything about you is wrong and to be so misunderstood and judged not for who you are but for what you look like and who you love.
After the first chapter, I watched "Nanette". WOW!!!!!! It's the best stand-up comedy show I've ever seen. If you haven't watched it, I encourage you to do so. And after Nanette, be sure to watch Douglas. Don't forget to also read this book. It is as incredible as her stand-up, so readable and relatable. Hannah speaks with so much wit and insight about her life and struggles. It is painful and yet hopeful, it is sad but also very funny. It is an amazing memoir, probably the best I've ever read.
And now I'll let you in on a little secret: Remember the GAY PERSON in the newspaper article my co-workers were certain I knew? I met this beautiful, smart, and creative woman months later and she became the love of my life and my partner. I know her, I know Hannah Gadsby - I can now declare I know all 2,800,000 LGBQTIA+ people in the world. Thanks, Hannah, for an incredible memoir, the best stand-up, and for helping me reach my goal!
When I think about watching Hannah Gadsby’s NetFlix special a few years ago, I remembered it as being funny and original. I didn’t remember the heartbreaking aspects she included. Her memoir, Ten Steps to Nanette, has laugh-out-loud funny bits, but it describes many painful memories she survived as well in greater detail than her special. (I caught them the second time I watched after reading this book.)
Hanna is a lesbian from the small, very isolated state of Tasmania (part of Australia) where it was illegal to be gay until 1997. (!) She also wasn’t diagnosed with autism or ADHD until late in life, and then social media let her know she couldn’t possibly be autistic or have ADHD because she’s female. (?) “It’s rare for girls and other not-boys to receive a timely diagnosis. Probably because we were overlooked in the stereotyping process and because girls with ADHD often present as inattentive as opposed to hyperactive. We are the daydreamers. Not the distractors.”
Because of the anti-gay rhetoric (similar stuff I remember living through in this country, things like the sentiment that “gay” is a synonym of “pedophile” and HIV “only” impacts gays and IV drug users, i.e., people who don’t matter,) she was homophobic herself even as she was beginning to recognize her attraction to women. She repressed her sexuality “without too much effort.”
This is definitely worth a read of what it took for her to become “an overnight success” that was many years in the making. Even if you never watched the special, this is a memoir that's worth the read for how many important topics it touches upon.
Thanks to NetGalley for the opportunity to review this memoir.
Nothing I say in this review is going to adequately express how generally good this book is because I keep wallowing in the ways it is impacting me personally. It is very good and I think a lot of people should read it. Especially now when there is a rising focus on driving LGBTQ+ folks further into the margins and erasing them from the present.
Hannah Gadsby’s Ten Steps to Nanette has laid me out flat. Before flattening me, it knocked me for a loop, took me on a rollercoaster ride and has generally discombobulated me. I’ve known for a while that I have executive function issues and probably attention deficit disorder. Reading Hannah Gadsby’s writings about the way she perceives and interacts with the world felt so familiar. I don’t think I’ve spent so much of a book seeing myself since reading the first Murderbot Diaries instalment, All Systems Red. There are similarly a lot of differences too. I lack the physical and mental capabilities of Martha Wells’ fictional agender SecUnit. I had an easier childhood and young adulthood than the very real Hannah Gadsby and a much less successful adulthood. I think that she would understand the relationship between why my earlier successes happened (external structures) and my later in life fall off the cliff (no guard rails).
Ten Steps to Nanette is a fantastic memoir. She has a specific agenda beyond telling her life story. Gadsby never dives into trauma porn, but she breaks my heart every few pages. As she walks us through her life, she provides larger context in some places. Even before she knew she was a lesbian, she was internalizing the hateful and violent messages about homosexuality. Even if she had not been gay, she was still marinated in misogyny, fatphobia, and told a hundred ways that she wasn’t good enough. Kindness and compassion are a balm for the shame. She is walking us towards the pieces of self knowledge that allow her to be more compassionate towards herself and others.
If you watched Nanette or Douglas, or her other standup shows from earlier in her career, some of the content of this book will be familiar. It is funny, and informative. There is tension. At the beginning of the book, when talking about whether Nanette was a comedy or not, she says she took what she knew about comedy and “pulled it all apart and built a monster out of its corpse.” The source of Hannah Gadsby’s comedy is her own life. Ten Steps to Nanette is partly her pulling apart the bones of her own life, but she is not building a monster from it’s corpse. She is identifying the bones that were turned into monsters as a matter of survival.
Several years ago I was working with a high school senior who was struggling to get through school. She was attending a small, private school for kids with learning disabilities. She struggled to explain herself, would become overwhelmed, and shut down. One day we were meeting with a teacher to discuss how she could fix a project that she needed a passing grade on in order to graduate. During the meeting when she was trying to explain why she was having a hard time, she put her head down on the table clearly at the end of her words. The teacher spent a long moment looking at his student with her head on the table, clearly ready to be failed. He apologized to her for not recognizing how hard she had worked on the project and for not seeing the effort she was making. He asked her if she could make a couple of format changes and agreed to give her an extension without penalty. It was a moment of kindness that should not be as extraordinary as it was. I thought of that choice that the teacher made to see that his student was engaged, was making an effort even if she wasn’t fulfilling all of the technical requirements several times while I was reading.
CWs for everyday cruelty, CSA, physical assault, rape, abortion, physical injuries, surgery, suicidal ideation, self-loathing, homophobia, misogyny, homelessness, fatphobia, drinking, drug use, and shame.
I received this as an advance reader copy from Random House – Ballantine and NetGalley. My opinions are my own.
Truly amazing, Ten Steps to Nanette: A Memoir Situation is well crafted and riveting.
This is a book everyone should read.
I really want to emphasize that. You do not have to be a part of one of the marginalized communities that Hannah is to benefit from this book.
Having just finished this book, I'm still organizing my thoughts but a few things stuck out to me: - I don't know nearly enough about the history of LGBTQ+ rights in other countries. - The way Hannah can acknowledge the ways in which she is privileged while concurrently being oppressed by others' privileges is inspiring. - There is such value in re-analyzing pivotal moments in our lives even years after. - It is never too late to express your appreciation to others and to note how they impacted your life. - We should all do more to keep each other safe.
Prior to reading/listening to this book, I strongly recommend watching Nanette if you haven't already. Her comedic style, while genius, is very different from American mainstream comedians if that's what you're used to.
Don't read a synopsis of it or watch clips on YouTube. Watch the whole Netflix special.
This is important not just for back story, but also so the sections of the book where Hannah discusses her reasons for why she constructed the show the way she did, make sense.
I also strongly recommend listening to the audiobook which is read by Hannah herself, over reading a physical copy. There is no better way to understand her words than to hear her speak them. The audiobook also also includes powerful clips from the Netflix special, that wouldn't be as stirring in just print.
I'm generally a reluctant memoir reader. I had no doubts about wanting to read/listen to this. Gadsby's shows Nanette and Douglas blew me away (check them out on Netflix). Comedians are smart people, even the arsehole ones. When I was young I used to dismiss comedy/comedians as not as "important" or worthy of my appreciation. These days, it's quite the opposite.
For those unaware, Hannah Gadsby is an Australian comedian. She so happens to be on the autism spectrum, which she only got diagnosed with in her late thirties, after being diagnosed with ADHD. You can hear about her journey to getting those diagnoses in this book. The memoir is written in a relatively chronological way - with side steps and caveats - pointing to different historical aspects, in particular the gay rights, better said, lack of rights, in Tasmania (the smallest state in Australia - an island off the SE coast of Australia) and Australia in general. You see, Gadsby is queer herself. This memoir brings to the surface many of Gadsby's traumas. Even though this has trauma and difficulties throughout, Gadsby's writing is so direct and matter-of-fact, that I never felt it was a "trauma memoir", it was her way of taking control of the narrative of her life and making sense of it all, if that's possible.
Gadsby has a passion for art history - her loathing of Picasso is quite something. She brings to the table some good arguments, I won't spoil them for you. :-) I'll just encourage you to watch her shows on Netflix and, of course, read this even if you don't know her - I dare say you'll learn a lot.
Hannah Gadsby really hadn't been on my radar, however when I read a great review by Goodreads friend Jenna my interest was piqued and I checked out the audiobook read by the author via Overdrive from my local public library.
Gadsby kept me fully engaged throughout with her straightforward delivery and honesty. Much of what she said either resonated with me or made me think. For example: "It was the thinking that gave me joy. Thinking about art history made me feel safe because unlike the real world it felt like a puzzle I could solve."
I am a huge tea drinker and firmly believe in its restoring powers. Indeed, it's always time for tea and I love this quote about drinking tea with her nan: "Of all the wonderful details I stuffed my memory bank with on that last visit the most precious by far was the sound of nan's teacup finding the groove in its saucer."
How Gadsby takes her tea is an indicator of her mental health. She writes of getting used to brewing tea using teabags rather than loose leaf tea, however "The line I drew and could never cross was that it must be brewed strong and then balanced with a good splash of full cream milk. [...] When I ran out of milk and began to drink my tea black I knew I was in a very bad place." Drinking tea black meant that she was struggling with depression combined with agoraphobia making it impossible to venture out even as far as the shop below her apartment to buy milk.
Regarding the visual representation of the human body as depicted in Western art which Gadsby is at odds with, "I truly believe that the only universal body is our breath because breath is the only thing that all human bodies experience and as such it is something we all must share not just with each other but in one way or another with all living things on earth." How absolutely freeing!
I loved her story of how she discovered 'Nanette' in a cafe in a very small town where the writing on the chalkboard is written in "old school cursive with every letter holding hands." Nanette was quite unexpected and not at all the kindly nan Gadsby imagined. In fact, Gadsby describes her "a square human, she went straight down from her ears to her feet in pretty much a straight line" and "her face was a wrinkle farm." Further, "she was a furious thumb in an apron, mean-squared to the power of guppy."
I enjoyed learning about Gadsby's family and appreciated her mum's dry humor. When approached during a family meal in a restaurant and asked, "Are you really Hannah's mum?" She responds, "Well [...] I can't say for sure, but she is what grew out of the baby that they handed me at the hospital."
The quote from Louise Bourgeois at the very end made me think of all the women I've known through the generations on both sides of our families that either knitted or sewed or both and taught their art forward:
"When I was growing up all the women in my house were using needles. I've always had a fascination with the needle, the magic power of the needle. The needle is used to repair damage. It's a claim to forgiveness, it is never aggressive, it's not a pin."
I don’t know if I’m doing things in the right order – I read the book before watching Nanette and without knowing much about it aside from the most basic details. But at least I can use this review to assure people that you can enjoy the book all on its own.
I heard about Hannah Gadsby because she, like me, is an autistic person who didn’t know she was autistic until well into adulthood. I heard about her from others in that group, because many of us like to collect each other’s stories. Adult discovery of our autistic identity gives us a new language and framework through which to view ourselves, our pasts, and our relationships, and consequently we spend a great deal of time sorting and recontextualizing our memories away from the previous guiding truth of “there is something wrong with me” and towards “I am different and worthy of acceptance.”
This book is about Gadsby’s own recontextualization – not only of autism but also her queer identity and past trauma – and I appreciated being able to go on that journey with her. Despite many differences between our life experiences, there were so many observations in the book that we shared, and it means a great deal to finally have that sense of underlying similarity with other people.
It’s impossible to fully impart on others the meaning that individual memories have in this experience, and I think some readers might be unsure why certain stories are shared or what message they’re supposed to provide. But I don’t think that’s the point; this isn’t a Hollywood biopic where each event is chosen for its place in a larger narrative about how the end result was the inevitable result of what came before. Instead, this is a recounting of what seemed relevant to Gadsby at this particular point in time, as she wrote Nanette and dealt with the aftermath. Gadsby repeatedly reminds the reader that her success was anything but inevitable and depended on a great deal of luck and coincidence, in addition to her talent. The meaning of any particular event depends heavily on how you perceive yourself and how others perceive you, and this book is about exploring how changes in perception change the impact of the past. The events it describes aren’t meant to fit together in one neat narrative for the reader.
I recommend this book to anyone who has gone through this process of reframing their past through a new lens gained as an adult, whether that lens is the result of overcoming internalized homophobia, confronting past trauma, receiving an autism diagnosis, or something else. Even if your experiences don’t look like Gadsby’s, simply going on that journey with her might help you on your own.
I reviewed the ARC version of this book.
CW: Assault, molestation, rape, injury, isolation, suicidal ideation, body image, mental health difficulties.
It's always fun to listen to Australian stand-up comedian Hannah Gadsby, and this memoir is no exception - although surprisingly, I thought the pacing in the overall composition was slightly off, and I found many aspects a little repetitive. Still, it's a worthwhile read (or better: listen, the audiobook is of course read by the author) about growing up as a queer neurodiverse person in a remote region.
People who are new to Gadsby still need to start with "Nanette", of course, which is lauded for good reason. As the title suggests, this memoir gives a wider context regarding how Gadsby found the courage to write a comedy program about how self-deprecating comedy hurts marginalized people and their communities, and how turning trauma into entertainment can be re-traumatizing if the jokes aim to spare the audience from the emotional burden that comes with psychological (and physical) violence. And about how Picasso is overrated and a prime example for toxic masculinity. Great, intelligent stuff.
Hannah Gadsby appeared from seemingly out of nowhere—to those of us in the States—with a searing personal story about her own trauma that was built into her standup comedy routine. Nanette singed our eyebrows and made a great many of us absolutely love her. When I saw this memoir, I knew I had to read it. My thanks go to Net Galley and Random House Ballantine for the review copy; that said, I would have paid an exorbitant price for a personal copy had it been necessary, and I would not have been disappointed in what I bought.
This book is for sale now.
In some ways it seems useless to review this memoir, because those that are interested in reading it are already fans; those that recoiled in horror from her blunt revelations and assessments of the world around us won’t read it, no matter what I say. But for the few that haven’t seen her standup routine, I counsel you first to watch Nanette on Netflix, and then watch Douglas, too. Of course, you can go into this memoir green, but you’ll appreciate it more if you understand her references to the show.
For those that are fans but are wondering whether the memoir is going to be her standup material, recycled—and surely, plenty of other people have done that sort of thing—I can reassure you that it is not. There are references to Nanette, and there are also references to her newer release, Douglas, the show she named after her dog. But there’s a good deal of information here that you won’t get anywhere else, and that’s what makes it worth it.
After discovering that Gadsby made it in the entertainment business despite coming from no money whatsoever, with no connections to anyone in show business in her native Australia or elsewhere, and having a host of disabilities, foremost among them autism, I wondered whether her success was a piece of rare good luck, or the result of hard work and perseverance unseen by most of her viewers. It’s the latter. And not only has she worked long and hard to make it as a comic, she is also one hell of a fine writer. The depth of analysis and critical thinking in this memoir took my breath away.
Since I’ve been reviewing, I have built myself a bit of a reading routine. There are particular times of day when I read, and also times when I put my books down to get other things done. Gadsby destroyed my orderly timetable. It’s been a long time since any book, however enjoyable to read, has caused me to say, Nope. Not stopping. This one did.
I highlighted a lot of passages, but I’ve decided not to use any direct quotes here, because all of them are so much better in context. But I will say that I am truly ashamed at the way that teachers let her down. As a child she was disciplined, bullied, and received everything at school except the help she desperately needed. I am devastated that my profession failed this brilliant woman. I’d love to believe that things have improved significantly since she was a child, but in my heart, I know there are still little Hannahs out there. Some are falling through the cracks, whereas others are pushed. The horror!
Most of her story is not horrifying, however; it is immensely entertaining. Nobody could safely walk through the room while I was reading without having to listen to a passage or two. On the other hand, nobody minded much, either, because Gatsby.
The most engaging aspect of this memoir—and its author—is authenticity. She never pulls punches, whether describing her own poor choices, or those made by others. One or two very popular American performers have taken passive aggressive swipes at her, and she uses this opportunity to swipe back, right at the start of the book, no less! I wanted to stand up and cheer, but instead, I did it sitting down so as not to lose my place.
The only question remaining is whether you should read this brilliant, darkly funny and disarmingly frank memoir in print or audio. I haven’t heard the audio, but since she reads it herself, you know it’s good. On the other hand, there are several passages that are so well written that I went back over them before moving on; you might miss those with an audio book. True fans that can do so should get both versions.
Having watched and been blown away by Nanette last year on Netflix, I was keen to read this memoir by the Australian comic.
Growing up in remote Tasmania in the 1980s would be interesting in looking back. But Hannah, a yet to be diagnosed girl with ADHD, austistic (on the spectrum) and eventually gay person, makes the first half most interesting and often very funny. Her family is quirky, while Hannah never seemed to fit in anywhere, family, friends (none), sport, school, work, wherever. But growing up in homophobic Tasmania last century would have made all the above far more difficult.
Reading about her early years brought out so many of my own memories of my childhood, my mind often wandered. One of the funniest scenes is when her brother was wrestling with her over a stick which ended up embeded in her neck, whereupon they both looked at each other and said "Just don't let mum find out."
Interesting, but sometimes a bit too drawn out for me. A library ebook.
Although I absolutely adored Nanette when I first saw it and it stayed with me for a very long time, it was hard for me to get into the memoir. There were a lot of topics that I found interesting and challenging, topics that gave me a better understanding of Hanna Gadsby's personal life, trauma and path to success. But as a whole the book lacked cohesion and often felt all over the place. I understand that this is the author's thought process and I fully respect it, but it proved to be difficult for me to focus and engross myself in the memoir.
A memoir, Ten Steps to Nanette by Hannah Gadsby is a humorous and insightful tale with perceptiveness and warmth despite the trauma. Supposedly her finale as a stand-up comic, the show Nanette made Hannah an international phenomenon. This book gives a detailed account of her life and the struggles that created such a pivotal work. Despite disturbing revelations which may trigger some readers, Hannah deals with her fundamental self as a queer person, her comedy style, ADHD, Autism and ultimately, the slaying of misogyny via Picasso’s art analysis. An interesting book that includes an epilogue, prologue and even an intermission to assist readers with some space from its harrowing content. An honest self-appraisal that seeks to acknowledge her journey without pity or sentiment, and confirms her ability to use humour in a story, that is personally humiliating and visceral. With its easy honest flowing narrative, witty at times and disturbing at others, this family life revelatory that is a must read five star rating. As always, the opinions herein are totally my own and freely given.
I could listen to Hannah Gadsby forever. I can't even remember if I laugh or not. Listening to her break down all the subtext and hidden meaning behind Nanette was amazing. Why anyone would feel an urge to bring her down is beyond me, I hope she does what she does forever.
No, I have not seen ‘Nanette’. Yes, I do know who Hannah Gadsby is. I have seen some of her work. So why did I read this? I was curious to learn more about Hannah’s journey to stand-up comedy and her life beyond. It is not often that Smithton on the north-west coast of Tasmania is mentioned internationally.
Part memoir, part history lesson (yes, homosexuality was not decriminalised in Tasmania until 1997), and part reminder that neurodiversity takes many forms, and so much more. Hannah’s honesty and humour leaven what might otherwise be a traumatic account of her life and experience.
‘For me, stand-up comedy was always an act of self-portraiture.’
First, watch Gadsby’s Netflix special “Nanette,” then read this “memoir situation” on growing up in Tasmania where it was illegal to be gay until somewhat recently; on being diagnosed with ASD as an adult; on being an art history major and comedian. Her disdain for Picasso is truly refreshing. Gadsby unpacks significant trauma here and I think many folks will identify. A tough, but absolutely fantastic read! Watch “Douglas” after.
3.5 stars. This is a few different things put together and I found myself wishing a few times it had picked just one thing. The first half, covering Gadsby's early years, was well told. Sharp, observant, often funny, often terrible. A little meandering but told with heart and charm. As we move into her adult life, it stops being a straightforward memoir and moves into the pieces of her life that fuel her stand up shows and end up leading to her breakout hit, NANETTE. There was a lot of interesting stuff here, too, especially around her autism diagnosis and recognizing how she could navigate her life in new ways. She gives us some of the steps around the writing of the show, how the pieces started to come together, but there isn't much process really, though I found everything she said about performing Nanette fascinating, given how much it required her to relive her own trauma for hundreds of shows.
While it's not as cohesive as I would have liked, and was probably rushed out a bit to capitalize on Nanette's success, it's still very worthwhile. I particularly enjoyed Gadsby doing the audio, she can be lively, can be droll, and you can tell how much she thinks about delivery by how she reads it.
I won't rate this memoire because I find it difficult to grade someone's life. I have seen and loved both her Netflix specials so I knew a few of the stories in this book but I still discovered things. I did not find this book funny but I think it's by design. It is advertised as funny but the author says repeatedly that trauma is not meant to entertain and this book deals with trauma. That should not deter you from reading it but just be aware. The book is divided into 10 steps and starts with the epilogue (because why not). The steps are uneven, 2 of them did not really keep me engaged but others were very interesting. The narrative felt at times meandering and jumping from one story to the next but I think that's also by design. The author wants to show us something before it is revealed. If you are familiar with her work the "reveal" won't come as a shock at all. I learned a lot about Tasmanian history and it's homophobic past. This book also shows the effect/consequences of US cultural imperialism. All in all a good book even if it took me a while to read it.
I'm not even sure where to start. I should probably mention first up that I am a big fan of Hannah. Big fan. Been to the shows, watched the shows, watched the shows again, got tickets for the next show. Yup. Big fan. So, when you are a big fan of someone like this, and they write a book, you want it really badly, then you get worried because it might not be amazing. And, whilst I felt like I was in relatively safe hands with Hannah, I was still a little bit scared it might suck a little bit. But it didn't. It was great. Hard. Gutwrenching. Moving. Scary. Funny. Great.
This is what it is like to be Hannah Gadsby. To grow up in small-town Tasmania, undiagnosed with autism, later unmedicated for ADHD. It was a tough life. The struggles were harrowing to read about, but these struggles inform the humour and reading about them makes me feel like I understand so much more about not just Nanette, but the other work as well, particularly her comments about her mum.
Loved this, must not go and watch Nanette again. And again.
I love this book, I love her. What an absolute fucking gift Hannah Gadsby is to this world. I recommend watching Nanette before reading, and again after reading.
I still remember the shell shock when, the evening of one of our wedding anniversaries, after a nice day, we put on Hannah Gadsby’s Nanette special on Netflix. “Oh, I’ve heard this is good,” I said, as I paused instead of clicking past, unaware our desultory evening viewing was going to leave us somber and discombobulated. But ready for more, sure, as we then saw Gadsby’s Douglas show live when it came to town. Notwithstanding my general discomfort with stand-up comedy (I’m incredibly anxious I won’t find it funny and won’t know where to look), we knew we’d be in good, smart hands with Gadsby.
As I was with her memoir. It’s funny and very serious, and I learned a lot - about growing up gay and closeted even to oneself in a nowhere resource town in Tasmania, and about how ADHD, autism, and trauma affect one’s experiences. I have people in my life who are affected by the same combination or some of it (well, except the Tasmania part), and it was so helpful to learn more about how Gadsby processes information, sensory input, and triggers, for example the effect that the terrible effect that the sheer noise of high school had on her, which I hadn’t really thought about, or how when she began to take ADHD medication as an adult she was able for the first time to hear a waiter reciting the specials menu at a restaurant, whereas before it would have been lost in the surrounding din of inputs. I also enjoyed her loving depiction of her family and her upbringing as the youngest of five.
The audio book was well worth it for Gadsby’s delivery - poignant, righteous, sly asides, and a wonderful recurring rendition of her mum’s tones. Good God, it was long though, 14 hours. I’m pretty new to audio books but a fast on-paper reader, so I was a little flummoxed finding time to listen (commute, gym, baking) and finished it mere minutes before the library app reclaimed it. Some sections of the book did feel overly belaboured (in the way that some autistic people in my life are also verrry meticulous and detailed when they tell me an anecdote), but the total package felt necessary and valuable.
Anyone who admired Hannah Gadsby's Netflix specials, Nanette and Douglas will want to give this book a look.
For the first half, Gadsby recounts her 1980s and '90s childhood in conjunction with a history of homophobia in Australia, contrasting, paralleling and overlapping. The second half is her adulthood with all its additional traumas, therapy and diagnoses as she creates and refines her many different stand-up shows. It's heavy stuff, but as in her specials it alternates between keeping it light with regularly placed jokes and making it riveting during the dramatic moments.
I'm rating this 4 stars, but I'm rounding up from 3.5 stars because sometimes things get vague or brushed over and some subjects come up only to disappear without a full accounting. I read the paper book, but almost wish I did the audiobook thing more often, because being narrated by Gadsby would probably move this into an even higher level.
I think I learned so much about myself from reading this memoir by someone with both ADHD and ASD. I took long breaks reading this because I had to process those recognizable details and couldn't go on until I had gone through emotions. I'm still reeling and I hope to find even better ways to manage my environment than I, thankfully, already have.
Hannah is both honest and funny, and I recommend this to anyone.
Kaip ir daugelis, Hannah atradau su Nanette, o Pride mėnesio skaitinius pradėjau su jos knyga. Tikėjausi atviros istorijos, o gavau net daugiau – smulkmeniškas vaikystės, paauglystės, atokaus Australijos užkampio, patyčių, neteisingų psichinių sutrikimų diagnozių, seksualinės prievartos, pedofilijos ir kelio Nanette link pjūvis. Hannah pasakoja gyvai, nestokoja bajerių ir jais paskanina net liūdniausius pasakojimus, o ir negaili ypač savęs, o kartais ir kitų. Daug gilinasi į Australijos LGBTQ+ istoriją, politiką, socialinius homofobijos ir LGBTQ+ bendruomenės (iš)gyvenimo aspektus. Ar viskas būtinai labai įtraukia? Tikrai ne kiekvienas puslapis, bet visgi, mesti nesinorėjo – kad ir vietomis per plačiai pateikiamos, temos atrodo tiek sumaniai parinktos, tiek bendram paveikslui reikalingos. O pačios autorės gebėjimas išgyventi – žavintis, jautrus ir labai bittersweet. Juokas pro ašaras.
Skaitydama tokias knygas labiau už viską norėčiau galėti jų klausytis audio formatu. Visgi, net ir elektroninės puslapius versdama galėjau girdėti Hannah balsą, jos toną ir įprastai standupuose dedamus akcentus. Kartais skaitant viską, kas vienam žmogui nutiko, galima nesunkiai pamiršti, kad čia ne koks romanas. O jei būtų grožinė literatūra, gal net pasitaikytų sakančių, kad nerealistiška. Per daug tragedijų. Tačiau Hannah pasakoja subtiliai, puikiai žinodama, kiek panašių problemų patiriančių/patyrusių jos autobiografiją skaitys. O ir nesigilina į skausmingiausias detales tik vardan varnelės uždėjimo – va, pažiūrėk, kaip man skaudėjo. Nežinau, ar būtų įdomu žmogui, kuris jos karjeros neseka, bet tokie gal ir nelabai Nanette į rankas paimtų. O visgi, verta sakyčiau nemažai kam – įtraukianti, pagavi, net jei ir čiut ištemptokai papasakota istorija, kupina tikrų istorinių faktų ir praturtinanti tiek žinių, tiek empatijos ir supratimo bagažą. Puikus Pride mėnesio startas.
I have been rabid for this book since I discovered it existed. Or would exist. I haunted NetGalley looking for it, put in my request as soon as it was listed, and waited impatiently for the denial I was sure was coming as I heard nothing for nearly three months. And then I got the email. And I did a weird happy dance at work because my brain works differently.
I'm going to come back and give this a more proper, in depth review but I need to sit with it a bit longer, give it a good think. Something I think Gadsby would entirely understand as I wait for the words to form, and then come out of my head and into the world. There is so much here, so much truth, so much reflection, so much care spent weaving in actual history with personal history, all leading to something that aims to deliver great meaning (and succeeds). And with legitimately funny footnotes tucked in, a personal favorite (not to diminish the intentionally not funny ones).
There are portions of this book that made me cry, not because of what Gadsby has gone through and survived, but because of the eloquent way she has in describing what can sometimes feel so isolating, and the language she puts to not trusting a diagnosis that feels right because it doesn’t look or feel like you were told it would. Of not feeling at home in your own skin when out in the world, but when you are in your own quiet home feeling deeply yourself. Of all the times that the world insists on being more than you can process in any given moment, how if you have just the right sorts of presentations or coping mechanisms you will have to fight to be taken seriously that you are not – in fact – doing all that well. That you will have to fight to believe yourself, to not let anyone diminish your own lived experience.
As much as Ten Steps to Nanette is set up in a typical memoir format, it also works differently. Some of it is a bit cheeky, starting with an epilogue and ending with a prologue, but they are also used exactly as they are titled. It isn’t a play on words, Gadsby is intentionally taking the pieces and putting them in the order that best serves her needs. Some chapters (or steps) are very short while others are much longer. Some bounce back and forth from the personal to the national, some are more biographical, others still are written in a more active voice much more like her stage work. But because Gadsby is very good at what she does the tone of this book stays the same: these are the facts, and this is how I felt, but the how of the tone is what changes because each step (and the wilderness years she generally leaves unexplored, this is not tragedy porn) need to be handled in their own way. By allowing her story the space it needs to be told in the manner it needs to be told in she is doing an incredibly important bit of writing as people all over who fall into many of her intersectionalities are struggling to remain safe and seen. She takes her rare bit of luck and her privileges and shines the light where it needs to be shined, without making herself or anyone else the victim of the story. Bad things happen, people are victimized, but that is not where the story ends or lingers.
There was a brief moment when I first started reading Hannah Gadsby’s “Ten Steps to Nanette: A Memoir Situation” that I regretted not getting the audiobook. After all, Gadsby is a performer, wouldn’t it be better to listen to her perform her work? But very quickly, I put that thought to rest because soon enough — likely because I’ve watched her stand-up specials on Netflix a few times apiece — I could hear her voice in my head as I read. Her words on the page as in those specials are witty and sharp, with several amusing asides that operate in this format as footnotes.
The memoir is made up of ten sections, or “steps.” The first step, interestingly enough, is called Epilogue and covers the aftermath of Gadsby’s most well known stand-up piece “Nanette.” Though of course it makes more sense to put an epilogue at the end of a book, I suspect it’s structured this way because Gadsby knows you’re likely here because you already saw or at least heard about “Nanette,” so she’s going to get that out of the way first before recounting in mostly chronological order the experiences that informed the writing and performing of the landmark special.
Gadsby starts off “Ten Steps to Nanette” with hilarious anecdotes of celebrity encounters and charming stories about her family, moves on to poignant tales of adolescent awkwardness and loneliness, and then slowly yet steadily turns to other, heavier topics. She discusses her realization and then repression of her sexuality against the homophobic climate of Tasmania in the 1990s. She touches on physical and sexual assaults. She talks at length about injuries and her experiences with anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. She reflects on struggling through life with undiagnosed ASD and ADHD. And while discussing all of these difficult events and circumstances, she interjects clever observations and quips.
The switch between serious reflection and funny observation can at times be jarring. But, as Gadsby mentions in this book and in her stand-up, there is no straight line through trauma. This is not simply a comedian’s personal history from youth to her seminal work. She states more than once this is not meant to be an inspirational success story. “Ten Steps to Nanette” seeks to process how societal homophobia and toxic masculinity affected and thereby helped shape an individual’s life, attempts to shine another light on the importance of mental health, and tries to deconstruct myths about neurodivergence. It moves between being funny and melancholy, pedantic and amusing, frank and rambling, rageful and wistful. This memoir is a multifaceted, complicated piece because she, like any other human, is a multifaceted, complicated person.
“Ten Steps to Nanette” is not an easy read, but it is an important and enlightening one because of the topics covered and the amount of introspection Gadsby dedicates to them. If you enjoyed the stand-up special “Nanette” or at least appreciated what she was trying to do with it, you will like this book. If you didn’t… well, you probably haven’t made it this far in my review anyway.
Thank you to NetGalley and Ballantine Books for an advanced reader copy in exchange for an honest review.