Life can be hard: your lover cheats on you; you lose a family member; you can’t pay the bills—and it can be great: you’ve had the hottest sex of your life; you get that plum job; you muster the courage to write your novel. Sugar—the once-anonymous online columnist at The Rumpus, now revealed as Cheryl Strayed, author of the bestselling memoir Wild—is the person thousands turn to for advice.
Tiny Beautiful Things brings the best of Dear Sugar in one place and includes never-before-published columns and a new introduction by Steve Almond. Rich with humor, insight, compassion—and absolute honesty—this bookis a balm for everything life throws our way.
About Cheryl Strayed
Cheryl Strayed is the author of Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail and the novel Torch. Her stories and essays have been published in The New York Times Magazine, The Washington Post Magazine, Vogue, Allure, The Rumpus, The Missouri Review, The Sun, The Best American Essays, and elsewhere. She lives in Portland, Oregon.
Editorial Review
Sugar’s Golden Rule—“Trust Yourself”—pushes the author and her readers to embrace themselves and not be afraid of asking life’s complex questions. Strayed writes that she will “answer anything, so long as it interests or challenges or touches me.” Men and women of all ages contact her hoping she can solve their problems, which include affairs, the loss of a loved one, self-acceptance and understanding the point of existence. In thematic sections, the author presents verbatim letters and their detailed published replies. Strayed’s practical advice mixes with abundant personal anecdotes in which she illustrates to the addressee the reasoning behind her counsel. Admittedly not versed in psychology, her responses are sensitive and comprehensive, and her verbose self-reflection projects understanding and sympathy. Though she avoids medical jargon, Strayed suggests medical counseling when it is necessary. The author demonstrates her forthright personality in a comforting yet stern writing style that connects readers to each contributor’s plight and the subsequent response to their cry for help. Appealing to Dear Sugar fans and self-help seekers alike, this “collection of intimate exchanges between strangers” demonstrates that wisdom doesn’t come only from age, but also from learning from the experiences of others. – Kirkus Reviews
New in paperback: ‘Tiny Beautiful Things,’ by Cheryl Strayed, as Dear Sugar
The Washington Post Book Review – July 24, 2012 (Excerpt)
The inside flap of Tiny Beautiful Things (Vintage, $14.95) is festooned with the kind of banal aphorisms all too typical in self-help books: “The only way out of a hole is to climb out”; “Believe that the fairy tale is true”; “Be brave enough to break your own heart.” Yet this collection of advice columns from Dear Sugar, the popular columnist on the literary siteTheRumpus.net, has more to offer than bumper-sticker cliches.
Dear Sugar is the writer Cheryl Strayed, author of the best-selling memoir “Wild,” the first pick of Oprah’s Book Club 2.0. In that book, Strayed chronicles her quest to fix her crumbling life by walking the Pacific Crest Trail alone (think “Eat, Pray, Love” with rattlesnakes). In this book, she uses the hardships that led to that experience — an abusive then elusive father, the death of her mother at a young age, a string of bad relationships — as fodder for helping others. The result is a fascinating, if sometimes vexing, blend of memoir and self-help.
Strayed is less therapist than long-suffering friend who wants to show you how her spiritual reawakening can be yours, too. When, for example, a single mother asks for help dealing with the delinquent father of her child, Strayed tells her about how her own mother coped with a similar situation: by allowing Strayed to form her own relationship with her father, regardless of how her mother felt about him. “It isn’t fair that she had to be so kind to such an unkind man,” Strayed concludes, but “long after she was dead, it was her words and conduct that formed the bridge I teetered across to heal the wounds my father had made. That’s the gift you have to give your child.” [Read the full article...]
Dear Sugar, I Could Really Use Your Help Here
The New York Times Book Review – July 27, 2012 (Excerpt)
DEAR SUGAR: I have a sort of pathetic question. By that I mean, I have a problem that’s not really a problem. A stress, really. An anxiety. I’m sort of afraid to ask it because, in the whole scheme of things, of life — mine and others’ — it’s a blessing. A good problem to have. And I fear that by asking it, I’ll be exposing myself as either a privileged nincompoop or a terrified impostor. Or both.
I’m in my late 30s and have been writing and editing professionally for about 20 years. I’ve published magazine articles, newspaper columns and a Web site. I’m doing O.K., and you’d think the fact that editors continue to work with me would lend legitimacy to my career, at least in my own eyes. (By the way, I hate the word “career.”) But that’s not what has happened. For some reason, the older I get, the harder it is for me to write. I question my own ideas and talents more than ever. The work of others, which once only inspired me, now also paralyzes me. Writing just isn’t as much fun as it used to be.
Anyway, I’ve been asked to contribute to The New York Times Book Review. The invitation seemed to come out of nowhere: one minute I was wasting time on Twitter; the next, there was an e-mail asking me to review “Tiny Beautiful Things,” a collection of Cheryl Strayed’s online advice columns for The Rumpus. The note was pleasant and straightforward, and promised a “fun assignment.” I agreed! But as the deadline has drawn closer, I’ve begun freaking out a bit. You see, this will be my first review for The Times, and it’s sort of a Big Deal. Blessed me, right? [Read the full article...]
We are the only country that makes guns, including military-style assault weapons, available to anyone who wants to buy them. This is not freedom. It is a tyranny of death and destruction — a tyranny of which the National Rifle Association is proud. The Washington Post
