I consider this a tablescape book. It's fizzy, cute, low commitment, and never pretends otherwise. I 'read' this in less than an hour, but it's highly browsable, sort of the thing you might flip through in a lobby when you're waiting to be called back, and then forget about when you leave.

Echoing what other reviewers have said:

- it's charmingly illustrated (which TBH is what I picked this up for more so than actual content); to another reviewer's point it sort of reminds me of SARK, but more younger Gen X/older Millennial and less 60's artsy-Hippie (not that there's anything wrong with that)

- the author is probably in her early 30s when she wrote this (guessing), so some of her examples of childhood wants (My Little Pony, Teddy Ruxpin) gave me a hit of nostalgia and her chronology of teen fashion exploration was still highly relatable to me despite that I'm probably a decade and small change older

- in terms of 'life lessons,' it does seem geared to 20-something and or newly-launched young adult readers or possibly the author's peers; I don't know that older reader would find it irritating so much as irrelevant; it's more likely totally off-radar ( )

(Nonfiction, Illustrated)

Oh, the irony! One of the books I indulged in buying new this year, rather than obtaining it second hand, or from the library was this one – about material things. It received such glowing comments in the Globe & Mail!

The author illustrated this herself, and I expected (and wanted) a sort of journal of lovely items that she had considered, the circumstances under which she considered them, and the reason she decided not to buy. Since reading this, I have thought that I might just make my own journal of such items (only, with cut and pasted pictures.)

Because this book wasn’t that.

A small (5”x7”, 13cmx19cm) hardback (looking as though it’s missing its [non-existent] dustjacket), A Bunch of Pretty Things is more a treatise on (over)consumerism, and the learning process to minimalism. As Amazon says: “A witty, gracious, and charmingly illustrated anti-consumer manifesto”. I see now that it’s interesting, but not what I wanted at the time.

This is an excellent book for twenty-somethings and thirty-somethings to read through. The teenage angst and lack of thoughtfulness about consumerism throughout the first part of the book may irritate anyone older. The last chapter – Conclusions – includes a guide to recognizing quality and “simple rules for better shopping”, the things the over 60 crowd was taught in school (at least, I was).

3½ stars ( )

Malgré l'idée de départ, je trouve cet ouvrage très superficiel, je n'ai pas trop accroché, si ce n'est la conclusion qui est plus parlante pour moi. ( )

I received this book as part of Bookreporter.com's Holiday Cheer Contest. It had not really crossed my radar prior to that, beyond noting that the author has a blog of the same name, which was catchy enough to make me remember to check it out some day. In the time of my life when I'm trying to minimize, and clear through decades of accumulations (not just mine, but the objects of sentiment and delight and, to be honest, also the crap I inherited from dearly departeds), the idea of "not buying" occupies a great part of my mind. But I also enjoy pretties, mostly in the form of art, so love to look. Even though I knew nothing about Sarah Lazarovic or the year she spent painting things she coveted instead of buying them, I was interested enough by the title to enter the contest -- and look! I got my own pretty thing I did not buy!

I love seeing how people use their art, and what they depict. For me, that was the biggest joy of the book. The stories were nice to read, but not particularly insightful. It was the whole journey-- seeing how Sarah faced her shopping demons and converted them to something more benign, that intrigued me. The way she places words on the page reminds me of an artist from the 1960's, whose name I can't recall and I am too lazy to google. But it was familiar, even though, through her words, I realized that the author is a generation younger than I am, and that the world she depicts as the norm was just burgeoning when I was the same age. However, she still did come up with some truthful observations, my favorite being:

Unless you're born with outsize character and unfathomable beauty, you spend at least 67% of your adolescence fretting about what you look like. You spend the rest of the time eating Doritos and ogling teen pop stars with remarkably good skin

. (I'm older than Doritos, but they did battle out Fritos as a party food when I was in high school.)

Still, I think the book, short though it is, would have been enhanced with more of a reference early on as to why the author wrote it. It's on her web page, though:

A Bunch of Pretty is a shop for not shopping. The name of this shop comes from my forthcoming book, A Bunch of Pretty Things I Did Not Buy. The title essay is about a year I spent painting the things I coveted, instead of buying them.

In the course of writing the book I spent a lot of time researching how and why we shop, the meaning of quality and the paucity of good quality stuff to buy. I also ate a lot of sandwiches. I really like sandwiches.

A Bunch of Pretty is my rotating collection of handmade things.

As for me, I'm still trying to reduce buying, and increase my art. My biggest problem? I keep coveting art supplies and other people's art!

Thank you book reporter.com for sending this book my way. The orange of the cover is much friendlier in person than the orange on my computer screen.

Tags: bookreporter-com, first-novel-or-book, i-liked-the-pictures, read, thought-provoking ( )