Downloaded this title for my work as a marketer for Penguin Random House, will not be posting my review publicly.

Really enjoyed this one. It was a sharp take on social media and influencer culture. The writing was quick, and it was a quick read. Definitely recommend!

I went into the book expecting a dark view of ‘girl boss feminism’ but it was more of an outrageous parody of current events. It was definitely laughable, but I wouldn’t say the message overall is going to tell anyone who picks this up something they didn’t already think about. If you’re looking for a cathartic laugh about capitalism today, this is great! If you’re looking for cultural analysis, I would go read some op-eds.

.A satirical look at the online wellness movement, at being ‘woke,’ at white fragility, at social influencers; and a long list of all the silly products women cling to hoping to feel empowered and healthy. A nod to men, who still control everything. It was at times fun, at times dark, and didn't seem to mesh wholly. Still, all in all, a good read if you can get past the untidy ending.

Damn this book was so good. I literally could write a 1000+ page essay on my thoughts and questions abt the content of this book but that would be insane and also I need catch up on Gossip Girl because it’s #soreal (also #teamblair because duh) so here are the bullet points:
-what actually is “self care”
-why is self care only aimed at women? Don’t men need it too?
-wellness influencers are actually terrible people
-damn, women really can’t win; feminism is a minefield
-wait, wtf is a behavior alkaline reset hormone imbalance clean juice fast? also why?
-oooooh Roxane Gay quote!

Despite being a self-proclaimed satire haterrr, this satirical parody of the green juice guzzling, yogic barbie wellness world with cutting commentary on what it means to be a feminist in 2016 is everything I needed rn. Also, the irony of the founder of a “social wellness platform that provides a safe space for women to share selfies of their new lululemons” tweeting she hopes Ivanka gets killed in a factory fire in India where her label’s clothes are made is just.....so fucked up it’s perfect 🎀
.............this book put me in a dark headspace............
#mybasicbitchbrainjustexploded

Wow. This was not what I was expecting. I did enjoy this story that was satirical at times and eye opening other times. I would highly recommend this book for anyone who wants another look at feminism and the MeToo movement.

Thoughtful, funny book that made me examine my relationship with social media. Some real laugh-out-loud moments.

I get that this book is satire, but that doesn't excuse it from just...ending when it feels like the middle of the book. It was just a bit too crazy/insane/unbelievable for me. It's...a book, that's for sure. (Also, I read this once it was out and not the ARC, so just a note).

When reading this review, you might find that I come off a bit angry. I want to make it clear that I’m not mad at Leigh Stein or her wonderful book. I’m mad at the world we live in that made this book so damn relevant and necessary. I’m not trying to tar this book with the brush of ‘importance’, because it’s a very enjoyable read with moments of real lightness. So join me on my journey as I try to assess why this book lit such a fire inside me, and then pick up a copy yourself.

First—we have to start at the beginning. In the context of Self Care, we could go back centuries. And I’ll get to that, but for now, let’s start with modern history. When scholars look back at the Instagram of the 2010s, they will note the prevalence of two intensive, often militant, and frequently contradictory schools of thought. Both making use of the pastel-perfect Instagram palette—meaningful quotes typed in handwritten fonts, the long captions alongside decorated lattes and mirror shots—they will find the Girlboss, and the Self Care queen. It is as much this moment in time that Stein captures so ripely in this perfect summer satire as the characters that bring these concepts to life; the novel’s leads, Devin and Maren.

‘Girlbossing’ glorifies full calendars and the hustle, exemplified in quotes about never giving up. It rose to prominence thanks to Nasty Gal founder Sophia Amaruso, and the phrase started as a descriptor for women in business, largely those who played on their femininity, but soon became a hashtagabble mantra signifying the aim of making business moves; a woman taking control of her destiny. In Self Care, Maren works around the clock, keeping the business afloat while her health suffers. It’s her erratic, stress-induced tweeting that drives attention to the business at the heart of the novel.

‘Self Care’ requires the prioritisation of downtime and wellbeing rituals, exemplified in quotes about going back to bed. It has gone from a radical act to being a hashtag; a catch-all term for something that we are entitled to and should defend to the death. It is, if catchy Instagram proclamations are to believed, anything from a face mask and a glass of wine on a Sunday, to a reason to skip work or cancel on friends as and when you choose. Devin has quite literally made a career out of self care. She’s barely in the office, instead opting for meditation, yoga, massages and beauty treatments. Her body and her face are proof of the brand; self care works.

It’s likely you’ll drift more towards one character or the other as you read, although recognise elements of both in those around you. They represent the caricatures online but seem alarmingly real. You want to reach out and shake them, like friends who are posting too often and who you discuss on the group chat they’re not in. (We are the problem).

Reading this book and spending time with Devin and Maren made me realise that it was necessary for the girlboss and the self care queen to rise to prominence at the same time; one the antidote to the other, an endless cycle of Instagram comparison-induced burnout and the reclamation of time that can heal this. It’s remarkable that these different life perspectives find their common ground in glitter, pastels and unicorns—or slogan beach towels, as we see in the novel’s tentpole moment.

The problem is that when something becomes a meme, it takes on a life force of its own. It replicates and distorts, and the well-meaning root is lost. Usually, we can blame capitalism for this. If something gets popular it’s the job of someone, somewhere to make money from it. Social media has just accelerated that process, and that’s where the premise of Self Care is smarter than the fast pace and glamorous drama would have you initially believe.

Self Care tells the story of Devin and Maren as they collaborate on an app they cofounded. ‘Richual’ is a social network that gamifies self care for women. Set in a post-2016 world in which we all need a break from the news cycle, but are unable to do so without existing in a connected, kudos-led space—it’s actually surprising to me that this doesn’t already exist.

As someone who, alongside a healer friend, set up a business in 2016 that connects working women to wellbeing practitioners, I do feel that this book was somewhat written for me. Some lines I had to read through my fingers, so cutting and well-observed they were. That my business no longer exists is somewhat irrelevant. (In an act of self care we shut it down when I realised that being a boss of any description did not align with my authentic self.) Since then, as a writer, I have dreamed of creating a robust and biting satire on the commercialisation of self care, that has in the past half a decade become so critical to Instagram engagement and communication. I needn’t have bothered, as Leigh Stein has done a near perfect job. This book is an easy read, enjoyable as it is painful, with a lot to say about this world.

What I loved was that at no point is the book didactic. It does not need to explicitly state that self care has been used to validate harmful behaviours such as a fascination with looks and weight, that Western women have co-opted ancient traditions from other cultures as though they discovered them or even invented them themselves. It does not need to condemn the fact that by glamourising the girlboss lifestyle we are perpetuating the idea that our personal value lies in our professional productivity. The characters are such trainwrecks that the lesson is there for those who wish to take it.

I hope it’s not too subtle. There’s a lot of wisdom to take from such a concise and enjoyable story, and the fact that these characters exist, IRL on many Instagram feeds, makes me concerned that this may be missed by those using self care to avoid deeper healing, or those getting just four hours of sleep per night because they heard a podcast that told them that was essential to success.

While being unable to put it down, as is likely very clear from this review, I found myself becoming angry, almost bitter as I engaged with the world of the story—which I soon realised was a direct result of the world of the story so effectively reflecting the world of our reality. And as someone who related deeply with both characters, I am acutely aware of my own hypocrisy when I moan about the commercialisation of a term with such noble aims and revolutionary origins, or when I am guilty of having posted pictures of myself working on a Sunday with hashtags expressly celebrating ‘the grind’. And I realised, as is often the case, my anger was misplaced. I don’t want to be mad at the women who engage with and perpetuate these trendy behaviours. To me, the only place that Stein’s novel could have gone further would be to address the root cause of this disconnect from the heart of what self care and girlbossdom could be, at their truest and most beautiful essence.

Because, for the continual erosion of self-awareness that detracts from the genuine benefits a connection to spiritual tradition can offer, there is much nourishment and healing that can come from the genuine reclamation of time for the self. Similarly, the value of being a self-sufficient entrepreneur with a dream and a goal outside of traditional corporate structures is remarkable and profound. It is the capitalist mindset—catalysed by the Silicon Valley, start-up, VC money mentality—that truly disrupted this integrity.

It is a very real fact that there are many women like Devin and Maren—the faces of Richual, an app for women by women—who are at the whim of their male investors for the capital to keep going. It’s important to note that both Devin and Maren are white, and the book does a great job of showing that white women are still more likely to get opportunities than their BIPOC counterparts. Although it is still very much a man’s game, the potential to play it in the hopes of ‘winning big’ is offered almost exclusively to well-connected white women, although their younger, precariously placed and often racially diverse staff do all of the legwork with a far less significant pay-off at the end of it. The cycle continues. In a similar vein, I would have liked to see a more explicit callout highlighting the role that men have historically played in benefiting financially from women’s insecurities: turning each ‘flaw’ into something they can monetise, igniting each body and mind into a perpetual competition for perfection, and creating the environment in which an app that gamifies this in the first place can thrive. Devin and Maren, representing the founders just like them, may have intentions that are consciously noble, but the harmful, innately patriarchal capitalism that allows apps like this to survive and thrive was always against them.

Instead, there’s an important sexual abuse storyline that heightens the drama of the novel, and I have to remember that’s what this is. It’s a novel. But it’s frighteningly relevant, torturously well-observed, and utterly unputdownable. I’m not sure how many beaches we’ll collectively be on this summer, but I’d recommend it for that purpose if you do make it on holiday. Partly because it has the speed, humour, and aspirational charm of a typical summer read. But more because that’s a heightened situation of gendered ego, comparison and pain—more and more lived through a constant social media feedback loop. And if this book teaches us nothing else, it’s that we need to love ourselves and follow our goals without the help of a screen or social validation. And that’s something to aim for, not something to be mad about.

Self Care is a brutal satire of the wellness industry, social media, the marketing of women's empowerment, and a whole lot more. I really enjoyed it. Maren and Devin are the founders (or "foundresses") of Richual, a really horrible social media platform for women that is a mix of Facebook/Twitter/Instagram. Stein has an amazing ear for language - Devin and Maren speak using buzzwords/techspeak/marketing and wellness language that manages to be extremely over the top but also something you could imagine reading on goop. Maren and Devin are both pretty horrendous - Maren has a chip on her shoulder from growing up poor and abuses everyone around her, while Devin is rich and completely out of touch. The only sympathetic character was Khadijah, the only person at Richual who actually did any work. Stein also does a great job giving unique voices to each of these three women, as they narrate alternating chapters. This book is so funny and I had a great time reading it. It also incorporates slack channels, press releases, and text messages to really immerse us in the world of Richual. (My favorite was Maren's post about being investigated by the secret service - sponsored by Lunar Milk.) I think this passage, spoken by an entrepreneur being interviewed by Devin kind of encapsulates the novel: "To be honest, I grew up working-class in Cupertino. Both my parents worked, like, a lot. My dad is an anesthesiologist and my mom is an econ professor at Stanford." If you find that as funny as I did you'll love this book.

It's so rare to read a book that can be considered "of its time" so clearly, and if you like books that seem like they were written yesterday due to the pitch-perfect references and take-downs of modern culture, look no further than SELF CARE. Set in early 2017, but still fresh and nuanced, we follow 3 women who work at a tech start-up called Richual all about promoting the term that could define a generation: self-care. The book is extremely tongue-in-cheek; a satirical look at the hypocrisy of a #girlboss, the lack of diversity in the workplace, and the pitfalls of social media. There are a few other recent books like this, but SELF CARE is still totally worth a read.

My only complaint was that it was too short and therefore lacked a bit of depth. The conclusion could have been more satisfying, and I wanted to know the characters for longer to gain a better understanding of them. However, there is no question that Stein totally nails the Instagram generation's highs and lows through a millennial pink filter. This story is both a story old as time, and one that could only be told today -- I just wish there was a little more reasoning as to why Stein is telling this story specifically.

Self Care by Leigh Stein
The term “self-care” has become so corporately co-opted it’s largely meaningless. And Leigh Stein expertly skewers this and other millennial-embraced clichés in her biting novel of the same name, told through the perspectives of three young women involved with Richual, an online wellness start-up that rings some familiar girl-boss bells. Hitting every- thing from #MeToo to faux-wokeness, it’s a novel of manners
for our 280-character era. (Penguin) —VÉRONIQUE HYLAND

(Appeared in ELLE's Summer 2020 issue.)

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anyone to like in this novel. While many readers will not mind that, it makes it a less enjoyable read for me.
I appreciate the intent of the author - describing the wellness industry in its discrepancies - but I would have liked have like our protagonist or one of the victims.
The book will be enjoyed by younger readers interested in the topics of social media and women’s friendships. Trigger warnings should include #metoo topics and also alcoholism.

Self Care is a light read, perfect for the beach. While I found the characters interesting, I felt like I only got to know them on the surface. I would have liked more character and plot development. Self Care is a fun read but left me some unanswered questions.

I need a cleanse of my own after reading this. I can see from other reviews that I'm in a minority on this one, but I really did not enjoy this novel. The character development was very cliched, it lacked depth, and the structure of the novel felt like it needed more editing. Bringing in sexual assault charges and childhood trauma at the end doesn't add depth in this case, but rather feels like an attempt to tug at emotions. And I'm not at all sure what to make of the ending. What am I supposed to take away from it? It just made me mad, but I'm not sure what effect Stein was going for.

Everyone looks so perfect online, on their social media platforms. We almost forget that it is usually just a carefully curated illusion, designed to get more likes, more clicks, more shares, etc. It's enough to crush most of us, and that is really what Self Care is all about. Two very different women create an online wellness community with help from venture capitalists, and there is a lot of pressure to succeed. That pressure does very different things to both the main characters, none of it good. This is a great story. The well-paced plot keeps you turning the pages, and the characters' experiences with some of the issues around social media add depth and interest.

If there is one thing that is ripe for satirizing it is millennial women's media and the modern monetized movement in self-care. There were plenty of moments in this book that made me laugh in recognition and roll my eyes in annoyance and feel uncomfortable upon reading, from the constant commodification of one's own life for SEO-approved personal essays to the examination of privilege and burnout. But while those messages were important and witty, the plot just didn't work for me, the writing style was hard to get into, and the conclusion felt particularly unsatisfying. I wish we would have gotten to spend more time in the perspective of one character rather than going back and forth between them; I feel like that would have helped streamline the plot.

I think I may be the wrong category for this one. It will appeal very much to the younger set of 20 and 30 somethings. I am over 40, and use many of the brands mentioned in the but felt the "name dropping" made several sections as cringe worthy. Several times there were lengthy descriptions of what brand names were being worn or used and it caused somewhat of an eye roll. Mid way through, I found characters likable and began to root for them. Much of it was satirically based on the social media platforms of our world today, but so many times it seemed participatory in the very people it was mocking. I did think it ended strong and I felt the characters were well developed. I think this would be great as an audiobook as it is told through the different characters. This book should be read as a new release as it is is so relevant now and may be dated in a few years. I think the right audience will relate well to this and really enjoy it, it was just not in my generation. Thank you NetGAlley for the Advanced Copy to review.

This book is a smart satire of wellness culture and female-centric startups. It is a light and accessible read, especially during times of quarantine. It critiques the ways self care has become a capitalistic competition among women and the ways they look and how they share their experiences on the Internet.

Self Care by Leigh Stein is such a fun book!! I really enjoyed this one. It's incredibly snarky but is an oh-so-true version of our society. Stein's writing is sharp, witty and well-executed making this such a quick and enjoyable read.