Really Good, Actually opens with the line My marriage ended because I was cruel and the narrator Maggie continues with a list of reasons her marriage ended. With an opening like that, it can only go downhill, and that it did. We meet twenty-nine year old Maggie reeling from a divorce from her college sweetheart. They have been dating for a long time and finally got married, the marriage only lasted 608 days. Now Maggie must navigate a new world, single, broke, emotionally erratic and trying to find out who she is outside of the world she created with her ex-husband.

I'll begin this review by stating what I think is v important: this book is not for everybody. I know my mom would hate this book, as would probably most folks over the age of 50. But- BUT- I will say I think I am the target audience. Not just, like millennial white women in their early thirties; I honestly felt at times like the book was made for me and me alone. I related so much to Maggie, even though I'm happily married and not going through a divorce like her.A book begging to be read on the beach, with the sun warming the sand and salt in the air: pure escapism.

Swipe to see some bits I thought were great especially the one about how being thirty one is the same as being twenty six except you’re hotter and smarter and know a little bit about tiles. That got a small chortle from me🤣 and I was thinking oh ok good to know. I look forward to knowing a bit about tiles💀."

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Maggie is fine. She’s doing really good, actually. Sure, she’s broke, her graduate thesis on something obscure is going nowhere, and her marriage only lasted 608 days, but at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, Maggie is determined to embrace her new life as a Surprisingly Young Divorcée™. Really, Good, Actually is also an incredibly powerful reminder that people don't need to be fixed, but they do need support, and they best possibly loving intervention you can provide if you have the energy to give? Also, to not mention any kind of random Japanese pottery theory about broken people... Really, though, let's all encourage our friends to seek professional help when we can see they're clearly struggling and we don't have the tools to help them. 🥺🥺 Heisey was born and raised in Toronto, Canada. [1] She has a twin sister and a younger sister; her father was a lawyer and her mother was a public servant. [2] Heisey completed undergraduate studies at Queen's University in 2010. [3] Following graduation she moved to London, England where she obtained an MA in early modern literature from King's College. [4] Career [ edit ] Emmy winner (seven times over) “Schitt’s Creek” went from cult obscurity to fan favorite. Like the series itself, that feel-good story is a solace right now. My marriage ended because I was cruel. Or because I ate in bed. Or because he liked electronic music and difficult films about men in nature. Or because I did not. Or because I was anxious, and this made me controlling. Or because red wine makes me critical. Or because hunger, stress, and white wine make me critical, too. Or because I was clingy at parties. Or because he smoked weed every day, and I did not think it was “actually the same thing” as my drinking two cups of coffee in the morning. Or because we fell in love too young, and how could our actual lives compare to the idea we’d had of what our lives could be when we were barely twenty and our bodies were almost impossibly firm? Or because we tried non-monogamy for three months in 2011, and it was just fine, not great. Or because he put hot sauce on everything, without tasting it, even if I’d spent hours balancing the flavours from a recipe I’d had to scroll past a long and detailed story about some woman’s holiday to find. Or because he forgot our anniversary once. Or because I did our laundry never. Or because his large Greek family had not quite accepted me as one of their own, even after I learned his yiayia’s favourite poem for her birthday. Or because he walked in on me shitting that time. Or because, in 2015, we attended nine weddings and got carried away, and a big party where everyone told us we were geniuses for loving each other then gave us three thousand dollars seemed like a great idea. Or because we went to Paris and had an argument instead of falling more in love or at least rimming each other. Or because I’d stopped imagining what our children might look like. Or because he’d never started. Or because I was insecure, and sometimes petty. Or because he kept insisting we go vegan, then sneaking pizzas into the apartment while I slept. Or because we finished watching The Sopranos and never started The Wire. Or because when we were first getting together, I’d kissed someone else, and sometimes still thought about her. Or because he was needlessly combative, with a pretentious streak. Or because I was a coward, whose work did not “actively seek to dismantle the state.” Or because I scoffed when he said that and asked about the socialist impact of his latest McDonald’s commercial. Or because he called me a cunt. Or because sometimes, I was one. Anyway, it was over.