You'll be sorry when I'm dead by Marieke Hardy

You will either LOVE this book, or you will FUCKING HATE IT. Some chapters, I switched between huge snorts of laughter to being semi-disgusted at her conduct, which has been pretty shady at times. I admire that Hardy has no filter (even employing quite an endearing mechanic where she writes about an episode involving someone else, be an ex-lover or a bestie, and then gets them to write their side of the story). They don’t always match up, so it’s fascinating exercise in memory and how we like to write our own histories. It’s pretty admirable but can also be way over-sharing. And this is a girl that likes to over-share. Over-sharing is her stock in trade. Often it’s backed up by hilarious anecdotes about being a borderline alcoholic with a penchant for bad boys in Melbourne bands during the Noughties. Does it seem a little premature for her to essentially be writing her memoirs to date? Just a tad. Has she achieved a lot for her young years? For sure (see her Women of Letters project) Does she come off like a petulant adolescent at times? Totally. Do I think she gives a toss? Not likely. Life

would be boring without firecrackers like her going off at random … I’m just kind of glad that I don’t have to deal with her at 2am on a Sunday night.