Wow, No Thank You.: Essays

Wow, No Thank You is the third collection of essays by Chicago blogger and humorist Samantha Irby. Highly anticipated, the book debuted at number one on the New York Times non-fiction bestseller list. It received the Lambda Book Award for Bisexual Non-Fiction in 2021. The central focus of this wide-ranging collection is the author’s geographical move from her lifelong Chicago home to Kalamazoo, Michigan, where she now resides with her wife and two stepchildren. This move creates a new context that allows the author to reflect upon the extreme hardships of her childhood, the physical problems that continue to plague her, and her growing notoriety as an author. Published by Vintage Press, Wow, No Thank You was initially released in March 2020. This study guide uses the 2020 paperback edition by the same publisher.

Content Warning: The author uses strong and scatological language profusely throughout the text. This language has been reproduced in direct quotes. In addition, the author sometimes uses potentially biased language in referring to her own weight and body image. Though she uses this language in a body-positive way, embracing herself as she is and encouraging her readers to do the same, readers should be aware that they may come across language that in other contexts can be stigmatizing.

Summary

Wow, No Thank You is a collection of 18 essays written by Irby leading up to and following her 40th birthday. Irby, a Black Chicago native, wrestles with serious chronic health issues, including Crohn’s disease and arthritis, that disrupt her life experiences. In addition to these physical challenges, she has depression and anxiety. As a self-identified bisexual woman with obesity who has been poor for most of her life, she is aware of the degree to which poverty and social marginalization conspire to limit opportunities, and she professes a desire to represent others like herself.

In “Into the Gross,” the author dreams of living the glamorous life of an Internet fashion influencer. In actuality, she writes, she is a lethargic person whose casual routine discourages her from accomplishing her daily writing chores. When Irby’s wife arrives home from work, relaxation becomes even more tempting.

“Girls Gone Mild” is a reflection on how physical aging prevents her from participating in the clubbing scene as in former days. The author gives a blow-by-blow account of her previous social life, describing the daily activities that would end with a trip to a Chicago nightclub accompanied by girlfriends. Even in preceding years, Irby reveals, as the evening wore on she yearned for bed and a comfort snack.

“Hung Up,” describes Irby’s newly acquired dependence upon her iPhone. Personifying her phone as a love object that does not love her in return, she describes the futile efforts of some to avoid cellphone use. The author takes a close look at American culture’s addiction to smart phones, spelling out her view of both the good and bad elements of society’s constant reliance on cellphones.

Music takes center stage in Irby’s essay “Late-1900s Time Capsule.” During her poignant, pain-filled adolescence, the author found solace and meaning in a number of songs. She posts these for readers in a listing of 24 musicians and songs she wishes to share.

In “Love and Marriage,” the author takes on the role of romance advice counselor. She is qualified, she states, to answer any love-related question now that she is married. The faux questions provide a list of typical issues faced by couples, with Irby mincing no words in her straight-forward advice.

The author expands on the topic of friendship in, “Are You Familiar With My Work?” As someone who relies greatly on the input and affection of her friends, Irby’s move away from Chicago is also a move away from a lifelong collection of trusted loved ones and advisors. This essay describes her attempts to select and then woo someone in Kalamazoo to become her new best friend.

The startling title of the essay “Hysterical!” serves as a preview of the difficult subject matter the author deals with. From the time she was 10 years old until she was 38, Irby has had heavy, unpredictable, quite disruptive menstrual periods. When she asks her doctor about a hysterectomy, the doctor is reluctant, fearing that she might one day want to become pregnant—though she has said explicitly that she has no such desire. The essay chronicles the procedure and the “blissful, period-free years” (117) that follow, using the event as a lens through which to explore Irby’s relationship with her body and the life-long process of learning to speak up for herself.

“Lesbian Bed Death” comprises a list of statements that become questions. Each of these proverbial questions begins by saying, “Sure, sex is fun, but […]” The individual questions cover a wide range of ideas and events that might disrupt a romantic interlude. Irby refers to this pattern of disruption using the well-worn phrase “lesbian bed death,” but contrary to the negative connotation associated with that term, the questions also point toward avenues of easily overlooked, nonsexual pleasure that, the essay suggests, deserve more conscious attention than they get.

“Body Negativity,” builds upon the first essay’s reflections on hygiene and body maintenance by systematically listing all parts of the anatomy and the theoretical current best cosmetic or medicinal treatment needed for the care of these body parts. Irby says she has sworn off trying to take the time and energy to care for the different parts of her body.

Irby focuses on the culture shock of moving from Chicago to Kalamazoo in her essay “Country Crock.” She expresses the thought that she has made the greater sacrifice in the relationship by having to leave her long-time home. Beyond the magnitude of her sacrifice and the cultural changes she must endure, however, the greatest challenge for Irby is the bigotry of narrow-minded locals who view her race, sex, and marriage as problematic.

In “A Guide to Simple Home Repairs,” the author lists dozens of maintenance and repair issues that have arisen at her new dwelling. She protests that nothing in her previous life prepared her to fix toilets, fill lawnmowers, or catch mice. Irby writes wistfully of her days in a Chicago apartment, where any repair issue was quickly taken care of by the super, whom she never met.

The death of Irby’s cat, Helen—whose ghost haunts the author—necessitates the acquisition of another rescue pet. In “We Almost Got a Fucking Dog,” Irby and her wife decide to adopt a dog, hoping to experience loyalty and constant affection. When the dog in question refuses to come near enough to let them pet her, the women decide to adopt a cat.

“Detachment Parenting” describes the author’s relationship with her stepson and stepdaughter. Just as she is awed by so many aspects of her move to Kalamazoo, Irby is awed and frightened by the prospect of providing a role model for the children, especially in that she does not regard her own parents as having been adequate role models for her. The essay describes the author’s yearning to find a productive way to relate to the children without giving up her privacy—or exposing them to her books.

When the author’s first book garners the attention of a New York television star, Irby receives the challenge of turning her book into a streaming television series. “Season 1, Episode 1” describes her astonishment at her new notoriety and the effort she puts into landing a contract, even though she does not feel she or her book belong in Hollywood.

Lindy West, Irby’s friend and the author of Shrill, offers Irby the opportunity to go to California again to work on the TV production of Shrill. The account of this is recorded in the essay “Hollywood Summer.” Given the chance to write an episode of the TV series, Irby suggests the story of a pool party for heavier women.

In “$$$,” the author addresses the notion that, as the author of a bestselling book, she must therefore have a lot of money. Irby reveals that she lives just above the poverty line. She attributes her financial hardship to her own budgetary ignorance but also to the financial processes that hold back people experiencing impoverishment.

“Hello, 911?” offers a fanciful series of imagined 911 calls in which Irby seeks the help of a fictional dispatcher for emotional emergencies. The wide-ranging emergencies often seem comically minor in the context of a 911 call. After the final call, the dispatcher puts the author on hold.

“An Extremely Specific Guide to Publishing a Book,” gives a chronological accounting of how Irby became a bestselling author even though it was never her idea to write a book. Irby’s writing career, she says, began when she created her first blog in order to impress a boy whom she thought was romantically interested in her. The author reveals her naivete about the publishing world as she describes various individuals who recognized her abilities and helped her take the next step.