Since her series Girls aired some years ago, apparently there’s been two reactions to Lena Dunham and her work (as seen on the internet, at least): you either love her or hate her. I guess you might find me within the first group, and since I knew she wrote a book, I really wanted to read it, and I finally got the chance this past summer. This is an autobiographical nonfiction book, written in the form of short essays organized under general categories, such as “body”, “work”, “family”, “sex”, you know, the usual topics. There’s no much else about it. Maybe if I’d read this some years ago, I would find it somehow enlightening, but not so much now. I still enjoyed the reading, as is always interesting to know about other people’s lives and point of views, to me at least, specially when their upbringing is so different to mine. It was also interesting, though, to found how much of her life, as told by her, I could recognize in her audiovisual work.