When I got to the end of the arc for Chick Magnet, there was a teaser for Emma Barry’s next book Funny Guy. After I read it, I barged into Barry’s mentions on Instagram and screamed my excitement.
Sam is a difficult, prickly person – a comedian with his finger on the self destruct button. His best friend, Bree, also lives in New York City and works as an urban planner. She is very good at what she does, but struggles with imposter syndrome. Bree and Sam grew up together, poor with parents who were not well equipped to be parents. Bree has been in love with Sam forever and assumes he loves her as a friend. Sam has been in love with Bree, but doesn’t believe he deserves her. I love mutual pining.
I am absolute trash for difficult characters, but also very judgmental about how they are handled. Barry writes Sam and Bree with such caring for their flawed humanity without coddling Sam’s fragility.
Sam’s ex-fiancé, a pop star, has just dropped a track all about Sam. Sam already uses himself as the punchline in his comedy, but it’s different when someone else is serving up his flaws to world. Everyone is talking about him and he exacerbates the problem by going off on a couple in a coffee shop. This is where I fell in love with Sam in the sneak peak of chapter one:
“Look, I’m not saying, ‘I’m a person. Can’t you see my humanity?’ or anything like that.” Jesus, he’d never be so absurd. “Just, for fuck’s sake, don’t talk about someone when they’re standing sixteen inches from you. Point and whisper from across the room like a good WASP. Or just text your friend. Everyone else was. Hey, you, sir—no, not you; you’re reading the New Yorker so you’ll pretend you don’t know me—that guy.” He pointed to a man of about twenty-five who was staring at his iPhone without blinking and trying to ignore Sam’s rant. “Were you texting someone about me?”
A beat. Then the guy looked up and nodded sheepishly.
“See? And there’s no shame in that.” Sam didn’t blame him at all. “But don’t talk over the song.” Sam pointed at one of the speakers. “It’s a good song. Hell, I love hearing all about how I have daddy issues and that’s why I can’t commit—because I don’t believe anyone can truly love me. It’s great. It’s like therapy I didn’t even have to pay for, and the entire world gets to listen in.”
Sam is an asshole, but, and this is important, doesn’t use being an asshole as an excuse to stagnate. What he needs to learn before he gets a happily ever after is that he does not have to destroy himself and that the way he dances on the edge of self destruction does harm other people, especially Bree. They are two people who are very emotional and very uncomfortable with all that emotion, so watching them come together, fall apart, and come back together is a whole rollercoaster.
Please don’t let anyone sell this to you as a rom-com. It has some very funny moments, but it is a romance about feelings and learning to value yourself, and not actually a comedy. Funny Guy has a wide emotional range, from sparkly fizz to spicy sexy times to emotional devastation.
CW: past intimate partner violence between MC’s parents, past financial abuse by parent, public humiliation (not the kink).
I received this as an advance reader copy from Montlake and NetGalley. My opinions are my own, freely and honestly given.
