That Samantha Irby is truly funny and a gifted essayist with a unique voice should go without saying. Her latest collection, QUIETLY HOSTILE, shifts gears somewhat, centering often on the attention that her previous work has brought her. There is still lots of discussion about sex, poop, animals, marriage, family and the mundane absurdities of daily life, but readers also will find an examination of and reflections on success. In the second sentence of the first essay, “I Like It,” she writes, “And I don’t know anything.” Of course, this is untrue. Irby is as wise as she is irreverent, a keen observer of the silly and the serious, and a writer who points the lens mostly at herself with brutal honesty.

"QUIETLY HOSTILE is a diverse, mostly even and successful addition to Irby’s growing library of observational humor. Her unparalleled voice remains fully her own, and her willingness to share such personal content is a brave gift to her readers."

“I Like It” is a great opener to QUIETLY HOSTILE. In it, Irby gives permission to loosen up on goals and expectations. Should she “[d]rink more water? Can’t do it. Go to bed earlier? But what about my shows?... Eliminate bad habits? Who would I be without them?” Imagine, she suggests, not having to justify what makes us happy or answer to the judgmental people around us who put us down. What if we respond to those petty criticisms with a simple “I like it.” The essay ends with some practice: “‘Why are you listening to Justin Bieber?’ I like it!... ‘That shirt is so ugly!’ I like it!... ‘Ugh, another Samantha Irby book?’ I like it!” And so, with that permission granted, Irby takes us along on a journey through early COVID, her deep love for the music of Dave Matthews, aging, her taste in pornography, the Home Shopping Network, and more.

Readers familiar with Irby’s work knew about her abiding love for her cat, Helen Keller, and the deep loss she felt when Helen died. “My Firstborn Dog,” the essay from which the book’s title is drawn, is the tale of the adoption of her “pandemic dog,” Abe. True to Irby’s form, this short piece is sweet with a side of cynical --- written with a bluntly humorous style and her oft-used bullet points and self-deprecation. It is a backhanded love letter to her newest four-legged family member. “My Firstborn Dog” is a contrast to “Superfan,” which is almost inaccessible to all but the staunchest “Sex and the City” fans. Irby is, in general, delightfully self-indulgent, but “Superfan” misses the mark. It has her typical specificity but lacks her usual universalisms.

Both “What If I Died Like Elvis” and “Sh-t Happens” are the kinds of laugh-out-loud funny pieces that Irby’s readers have come to expect, each about the sometimes gross but often just realistic weirdness of the human body and its functions. In “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” she takes on one of her other customary themes: her dysfunctional family. Writing about her mother’s death and the family issues it brought to the surface, the essay is about reconnecting with her brother, ending with a poignantly --- yet cautiously --- optimistic note. This is one of the collection’s standout pieces.

Overall, QUIETLY HOSTILE is a diverse, mostly even and successful addition to Irby’s growing library of observational humor. Her unparalleled voice remains fully her own, and her willingness to share such personal content is a brave gift to her readers. That she does so with seeming ease and a wicked laugh makes this book recommendable.