4.5 for the book itself, 5 for the audiobook read by Bamford. I've been watching her standup for years and love basically everything she does. However, her work almost always sings when she delves into self-revelation and this book is FULL of that. ( )

2.25 stars. i really wasn't into this at the beginning but her voice (both her actual voice and the writing voice) really grew on me as i went on. i don't know who she is so i wasn't influenced by her standup or shows or whatever people know her for. but i really like this way of looking at the choices she's made and the way she's accessed help as trying to join a group and do whatever they say (to a point) to "get better" in whatever way she's focusing on at the moment. the way the groups can be helpful but also awful, and cultlike. the underlying issues here are really interesting and by the end i was surprised to find that she handled this unusually but really well. and maybe relatably for someone trying to move through their own issues. i mean i'm sure her humor isn't for everyone but it feels like she's being really open and honest about so much, and weird dark humor is often how people handle hard things. i also really liked how often and how vehemently she discussed her privilege and what accessing health care looks like for someone without it (with it, too, but her focus really was on the less fortunate than her). honestly this kind of makes me want to check out her stuff. ( )

Maria Bamford is funny, but she’s never been my favorite. This book is probably more interesting if you’ve followed her career more closely than I have. It’s got its moments. It’s just a lot of mental jumping around for a life story I’m not that invested in. ( )

Amazing and weird and hilarious, just like her. And so damn honest, which is inspiring. ( )

It’s Not as Bad as She Thinks
Disclaimer/Trigger Warning/Cowardly “Don’t Blame Me” Plea/Whatevs
Maria Bamford is a fantastic comedian, actor, voiceover artist, etc. who is also an Atheist. Though she is a member of several 12 step groups, to her mind their very structure and rules of the game make them a cult. She is an incredibly honest person, and through her discussion of her own mental health issues has helped countless folks including me. If these perspectives trouble you, then you can, as she has said in the past, “rest in the glorious knowledge I am wrong.”
Now, on with the show.
I listened to the audiobook version of “Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult” read by the author, Maria Bamford. Her unique childlike voice (childlike = YES, Dumb = No) chronicles how her journey growing up on the Minnesota tundra as an upper-middle-class white girl with a religious mother, a physician father, and a family hero supersister, forged one of the early 21st century’s great comedic voices, and notable mental health advocates.
A Duluthian psychiatric child prodigy Maria started her impressive collection of diagnoses as a little girl. OCD, depression, bipolar, anxiety disorder, and sexual addiction (this one waited to appear until it was age-appropriate), were all part of the recipe. Stir in some typical childhood traumas, some thankfully not very typical traumas, a touch of family dysfunction and genetic predisposition to mental illness, and you’re on your way to a Bamford bunt cake. Stir for 50ish years, mixing in some incredible talent and work ethic, and enjoy the scrumptious healing humor.
Admittedly, as a friend of Bill W. for the past 30ish years, I was leary when she began labeling the cultish features of 12-step programs. Just because I can bad mouth my sponsor and home group, doesn’t mean you can. I’d like to think my pre-pissed-off stance was one of righteous indignation, but it was more likely my ego’s allergic reaction. Ironically, I had to jump many of the same philosophical and theoretical hurdles Maria described when I first entered the rooms.
Blossom, Maria’s first pug, was the only Higher Power Maria acknowledged. After Blossom was eternally kenneled, there was no other deity that could fit the bill. Speaking of paying one’s spiritual bills, Maria and her husband Scott, both ethically competitive, give 11% of their income to charity, one percent more than the traditional biblical tithe. The preacher used to always say, “Spiritual is as spiritual does” (He may have stolen that line), so if caring and compassion are measurements on God’s Fujita Scale, Maria’s treatment of others is definitely a F-4. (Jesus, Mister Rogers, and Eleanor Roosevelt being the only F-5’s thus far discovered by science.)
The abyss has sprung into Maria’s path several times in her life. She has discovered that some help is better than no help. This is where my understanding of recovery deviates most from Maria’s. While I’ve accepted the harm reduction model of recovery, I still find myself hesitant to use it. One of the examples Maria offers as an alternative to suicide is trying meth. WHAT! While that goes against every bit of intuition I possess, Maria’s point is an obvious one that is hard to argue with — any help, even ridiculously bad help, is better than suicide. As long you are alive, the hope of recovery exists. Among addicted folk in recovery, this is not an uncommon concept, but certainly an uncomfortable one.
Maria’s not shy about admitting that she often “overshares” pieces of her life. In the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous we find the admonition to develop a manner of living that demands rigorous honesty. RIGORUS, not absolute honesty. There are times when the difference between the two words can be of paramount importance. I could have done without knowing that after her mother passed her father came to her and her sister Sarah with their mother’s sex toys offering the soul suave, “I know your mother would have wanted you girls to have these.”
I’m grateful to God as I understand Him for all of Maria’s inspiring work, and to be honest, her uninspiring work as well. “Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult” is Maria’s “experience, strength, and hope” and is more entertaining than the Power Puff Girls vs Marilyn Manson in a cage match. “Go get yourself any kind of shitty-ass help” is Maria’s plea. Life may suck, but it beats the alternative. And besides, Maria’s definition of “shitty-ass” help is a tad warped. I found “Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult” to be wonderfully helpful, only mildly uncomfortable, and gloriously funny. ( )