Ten Steps to Nanette

STEP 1

Epilogue

I had to know if the lawn was real. It looked too perfect to be made of organic matter, the vast green square around the picture-perfect pool had a uniformity that bordered on unsettling, every single blade of grass was as tall and as straight as its neighbour. Surely, I thought, it had to be plastic. But then again, that didn t make any sense. Fake grass is for people who are house-proud but water and/or time-poor. Fake grass is not for the stupidly rich who have a household staff with a gardening division. I broke free of the mingling and quietly made my way to the edge of the path, dropped my serviette and, as I bent down to pick it up, I brushed my hand over the mysterious lawn. F*** me. It was real. I made my way back to the party, with a new mystery to solve: Why would you manicure real grass to make it look fake?

I knew I was behaving abnormally. And by abnormal, I don t mean my failure to blend in with all the celebrities and Hollywood power players who had gathered in Eva Longoria s unnervingly perfected garden. Personally, I think that it s normal to be abnormal in the midst of that strange a milieu. I didn t feel at all bad that I d rocked up in jeans and a T-shirt while everyone else was wrapped in fancy, because I don t think it s abnormal for a Hollywood outsider to not know that a dress code is an actual code that has to be cracked. The invitation had said dress for brunch, and because brunch is not a real meal, I took that to mean I didn t have to make a real effort. So, I felt perfectly normal about my inability to match the ethereal magnificence of Janelle Monáe. What is not normal, however, is abruptly walking away from a conversation with Janelle Monáe to satisfy a sudden urge to pat some strange-looking lawn.

It was not the first time I d been distracted by underfoot landscaping decisions in the presence of celebrity. At the Netflix Emmys party a few months earlier, I couldn t think about anything other than

Hannah Gadsby stopped stand-up comedy in its tracks with their multi-award-winning show Nanette, which played to sold-out houses in Australia, the UK, and New York. Its launch on Netflix, and subsequent Emmy and Peabody wins, took Nanette (and Hannah) to the world. Hannah’s difficult second album (which was also their eleventh solo show) was named Douglas, after their dog. Hannah walked Douglas around the world, selling out and scoring another Emmy nomination. Before all of this, Hannah appeared as a character called Hannah in Please Like Me (Hulu) and toured their native Australia and the UK as a stand-up comedian. They made art documentaries and did plenty of other things over the course of more than a decade in comedy, but that will do for now.

For fans of Gadsby, [their] delivery on the page will delight just as it does on screen. [They] remain honest, with stories that draw laughter over situations that are always based in truth harsh or otherwise. Time

Enthralling. The Washington Post

A joyful read . . . Gadsby s voice is intimate and close, and spending time with it is a lot like listening to a good friend relay a fascinating life story over a couple of pints at the bar. Oprah Daily

Similar to [their] groundbreaking comedy specials Douglas and Nanette, Gadsby s memoir reads like a conversation with a longtime friend. . . . A can t-miss memoir that will make readers laugh, cry, and everything in between. Library Journal (starred review)

In this stunning debut, Emmy Award winning comedian Gadsby guides readers on a tour of [their] life that s every bit as intimate, gutting, and untidy as the performance referenced in the title. . . .This stirring tale of resilience laughs in the face of the inspiration porn industry. Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Consistently self-effacing and contemplative, Gadsby acknowledges that [their] unique brand of deadpan observational comedy isn t for everyone, especially since it often skewers the two most overly sensitive demographics the world has ever known: straight white cis men and self-righteous comedians . . . A witty and provocatively written life story. Kirkus Reviews