I have watched Girls, and though I found it funny, it is one of the more inconsequential shows I've seen. In its way it's a successor to Seinfeld, the self-proclaimed show about nothing. In Girls the concerns of twenty-something females seem microscopic, banal, and entirely relational. I don't think the show does any service to the goals of feminism, but that's not its mission.
It is damn funny in spots, and Dunham herself has a sort of Lucille Ball self-deprecating wackiness that is compelling.
What Dunham sells is the narcissistic quirkiness that is emblematic of her generation. And she sells it well. Quirkiness has value, and appreciating it is the first step in humanizing others, in seeing them as we see ourselves, in developing empathy.
But quirkiness is not a very adult ending place. On a television show that is billed as comedy, fine. In a memoir, even one meant to be funny, it's not quite enough.
I get the sense that Dunham mined her childhood for quirkiness, and there was plenty of material to find. It's not the telling of the episodes that is problematic - all memoirists mine their childhoods for content (and c'mon, all of us explored our nascent sexuality with other children in some form or other) - but the framing of the episodes that is poorly handled. Dunham compares her childhood interest in her sister as that of a stalker in his subject, and needless to say, that is a tone-deaf comparison. She has admitted it and will, I am certain, move forward.
Telling her mother her sister's business was another mistake, albeit a youthful one. But who among us has not made mistakes like this?
Dunham is talented, so talented, but not yet all the way grown-up. She probably should have held off another few years on writing that memoir. When she learns to combine her trademark narcissistic quirkiness with a more inclusive and sophisticated view of the world around her - some might say when she realizes that there is a world around her, but I tend to be more charitable towards her - she will do great things.
Until then, try not to judge her so harshly. The principle difference between you and her is that she's made the choice to throw all her baggage outside on the curb where everyone can spot it and with a hefty dose of prurient interest spend a leisurely afternoon scrutinizing its contents.