Not Today, Not For Me

by

Andi Miller

You Must Be This Happy to Enter (Akashic Books; $14.95), the third offering from much-lauded author Elizabeth Crane, drips with quirky oddness. From the cover image of an exuberantly happy “Precious Moments” figurine to the off-the-wall plots, there’s no way around the strangeness of it.

Admittedly, I’d never heard of Elizabeth Crane before I plucked this book up for review, and I’m not sure how I missed her first two books—When the Messenger is Hot and All This Heavenly Glory—given their warm critical reception. I’m always up for anything idiosyncratic and independently published, so it seemed like a good fit. Not to mention my new and unquenchable thirst for short stories. Voila! A mixture made in heaven.

If only.

Before I express my somewhat muddled opinion about this collection, I have to give credit where it’s most deservedly due. Elizabeth Crane is talented, and I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that. I would merit the proverbial slap to the back of the head if I led you think otherwise even for a moment. Her publishing record, her humor, and her innovative style all point to an author with gumption, chutzpah. Alas, it is her inventive and unique style that lead me to turn the last page of the book feeling something more akin to annoyance than satisfaction.

The first story in the collection, “My Life is Awesome! And Great!” is a perfect example of Crane’s eccentric approach. The story reminded me of my earliest college days. Like most students, I spent a good bit of time socializing, jabbering, and generally taking up usable air with my empty ramblings. Such is the case for the narrator. The story’s tone is decidedly perky and reminds me specifically of a particular 19-year-old peer at a very nicely established Baptist university who shall remain nameless. She was sweet, saccharine even, and always full of sunshine. Maybe I have a cynical black heart, but I always had sort of an urge to slap her so she would stop insisting on how great everything was. With my peer in mind, the opening lines unfold:

“I! Love! My life! My life is awesome and great! I have all the things anyone would ever want! I have awesome friends! I have an awesome partner for life! I have a window to look out of! It is under the roof that is over my head! You would love my life too if you had it, but you don’t, because I do!”

Certainly Crane’s chirpy narrator serves a purpose. As the story unfolds it becomes clear that this young woman’s life is not as happy and sunshiny as one might expect. She spends her days analyzing her existence for sound bytes and worthwhile stories to share on television, trying out for reality shows, and generally failing. But her life remains “awesome! And great!”

In an equally peculiar, if more palatable story entitled “Betty the Zombie,” Betty—yes, a real zombie of the flesh-eating variety—takes her place among the ranks of self-helpers on a reality television show called Relight the Fire of You. A parody of self-help television offerings like Starting Over and any number of Lifetime Network specials, Betty’s experience is designed to help her maximize her productivity and boost her relationship with her husband in spite of her zombie condition. The story can be read in a couple of ways: a genuinely upbeat, fun, odd story about a zombie or an indictment of reality television’s penchant for exploiting those who genuinely need help. I favor the latter reading.

Perhaps my confusion upon closing this book was my inability to figure out what Crane was going for. As a reader, I tend to gravitate toward books steeped in drama, tragedy, misery, and perhaps, now that I think about it, agendas. I couldn’t pinpoint Crane’s agenda. Amidst my confusion, I went trawling reviews and blurbs for some hidden meaning I might’ve missed, for some key to the mystery of what the heck this book is trying to do. I found descriptors like “hilarious,” “utter sincerity,” and “upbeat.” Certainly it is hilarious at times and always upbeat, but the sincerity gave me pause. The majority of the stories—whether about a zombie, a manically happy nameless woman, a man losing his job for religious reasons, or a woman whose son turns into Ethan Hawke—are flat. Most of the stories are written in a similar voice and end happily. There’s little nuance or variety.

Ultimately, it seems somewhat tragic to me that Crane’s characters’ lives are so intimately connected with pop culture as to appear seamless; so closely tied to happiness that they can’t experience the calamity that surrounds them. I, as a reader felt shortchanged that I couldn’t experience numerous emotions with Crane’s characters; something other than a suspect happiness. A distinct lack of basic human emotion, a lack of genuine discussion, a lack of multi-faceted exploration plagues this collection, and I found myself projecting my own desire for diversity and drama onto Crane’s creations.

On an optimistic note, one day I might look back on You Must Be This Happy to Enter as a significant reading moment. As I’m hunkered down over a short story of my own maybe I’ll remember Crane’s style and be brave enough to go a little further out on a limb myself. Simply because I don’t like a book doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it or that it won’t be a good choice for the thousands, maybe even millions, of other people who will pick it up.

It’s just not a satisfying book today, for me. But may your reading of You Must Be This Happy to Enter be awesome! And great!


Andi is a recovering university academic employed by the North Carolina community college system as an English instructor. While she decided to forego a Ph.D. and career as a professor, she fills in all the free time her current position affords her with editing literary publications, reviewing, freelancing, and blogging like a madwoman. Her work can be found in the journal, Multi-Ethnic Literature of the United States (MELUS), and Altar Magazine as well as online in various venues such as PopMatters.com. She is a member of the National Book Critics Circle (NBCC), and writes fiction, the literary merits of which are questionable at this point in time. Her turn-ons include brand new books and gelato, while her turn-offs would be reality television and washing dishes. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it