This American Woman: A One-In-A-Billion Memoir

Yesterday, I was doom scrolling on TikTok and stumbled on snips from Amy Poehler’s podcast Good Hang. She was talking to Zarna Garg about her book “This American Woman: A One-In-A-Billion Memoir”.

I had seen Zarna’s clips on Instagram and elsewhere over the years but it had not hooked me for some reason. I know of people in my social circles who love her. Listening to her on the podcast had me looking up her memoir on Amazon. At less than two dollars for the Kindle version, it was a no brainer (even Zarna would approve!).

I read the book as I walked in the morning. It is a quick, easy read. The book flows well introducing us to Zarna as she navigates a rather rocky childhood, a bollywood-eque move to America, a rather romcom-ey marriage and her eventual rise to stardom as a stand up comedian.

I quite enjoyed the first five chapters and said so on my social media posts. Today I finished it and the book made me think. Zarna definitely leans into the Indian auntie aesthetic. She has made it her brand and successfully so. She is unapologetic in her climb to fame and it is refreshing to hear her lay it out in no uncertain terms.

I am in awe of her brand building and her marketing machine especially now that I have had the privilege of having a ringside view to both the book publishing process and the documentary making to distribution pipeline.

However, the things that are churning in my head have a lot to do with privilege. Early on in the book Zarna mentions casually that she comes from a rich family. All through the book, I kept waiting for a moment that dwells on the acknowledgement of this privilege but never found it. The book glosses over how the building of this career or the ability to couch surf as a teenager in the 80s and 90s Bombay is possible only because you know there is a home and resources (however cold it may be) to go back to.

The incredible support from her siblings is acknowledged and rightfully so. The army of tutors, the ability to hire a comedy coach, a writing mentor, the people who help shine what is burnished gold are all essential to this success story yet, there seems to be no reflection on how money makes these things possible.

When I read a personal memoir, I am looking for some amount of soul searching, moments where you find moral clarity. I am looking for that internal journey and that ahha moment detailed in words. I am looking for clarity that comes from the churn inside. I need to know who you are in your darkest, deepest moments.

Zarna’s acerbic voice rings clear. Her ability to lean into the Asian Immigrant Mom Core is admirable but I would have dearly loved to have seen and known the person behind that brand.

Comedy is possible only by holding up a mirror to the uncomfortable truths that prop up our lives. The repeated references to upscale Bombay/NYC living and treating people as background objects that grease rich peoples lives makes me uncomfortable even if they are meant to be self deprecating. There seems to be an inability to look past the privilege shield and plumb the depths of what made all of this possible.

What the book does well and perhaps the reason she is loved by her fan base has to do with her frank acceptance of this is who we are as Indians and we might as well own it.

So overall, a bloody good marketing campaign in the form of a memoir. Go Zarna!

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