Even still, when I met Samantha Irby, author of the New York Times best-selling We Are Never Meeting In Real Life (Vintage), a few weeks ago in Chicago, I did somehow feel like I knew her. In reality, what you have is a sense of someone, a few good stories and a narrative the writer is choosing to present. The fallacy about reading a (great) collection of personal essays is that you think you actually know the person who wrote them in an intimate way.
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