{"product_id":"where-am-i-now-isbn-9780143128229","title":"Where Am I Now?","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"Thoughtfully traces [Mara Wilson's] journey from child actress to Hollywood dropout...\u003ci\u003eWho\u003c\/i\u003e is she now? She's a writer.\" \u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003cb\u003eNPR's \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"Guide To 2016’s Great Reads\"\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Growing up, I wanted to \u003ci\u003ebe \u003c\/i\u003eMara Wilson. \u003ci\u003eWhere Am I Now?\u003c\/i\u003e is a delight.” —\u003cb\u003eIlana Glazer\u003c\/b\u003e, cocreator and star of \u003ci\u003eBroad City\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eNamed a best book of the month by GoodReads and \u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eA former child actor best known for her starring roles in \u003ci\u003eMatilda \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eMrs. Doubtfire,\u003c\/i\u003e Mara Wilson has always felt a little young and out of place: as the only kid on a film set full of adults, the first daughter in a house full of boys, a Valley girl in New York and a neurotic in California, and a grown-up the world still remembers as a little girl. Tackling everything from what she learned about sex on the set of \u003ci\u003eMelrose Place\u003c\/i\u003e, to discovering in adolescence that she was no longer “cute” enough for Hollywood, these essays chart her journey from accidental fame to relative (but happy) obscurity. They also illuminate universal struggles, like navigating love and loss, and figuring out who you are and where you belong. Candid, insightful, moving, and hilarious, \u003ci\u003eWhere Am I Now?\u003c\/i\u003e introduces Mara Wilson as a brilliant new chronicler of the experience that is growing up female.“Wilson's humorous literary voice tells the story of growing up as a young female in the spotlight (and eventually stepping out of it) and the road of self-acceptance, discovery and everything in between.” —BuzzFeed\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"[Wilson] returns as a talented writer with this collection of essays.\" —\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly, \u003c\/i\u003e\"15 Books You Have to Read in September\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Funny [and] insightful.\" —GoodReads, \"Best Books of the Month\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Wilson has left the acting (almost) completely behind — and moved on to become a talented writer and playwright.\" —Bustle,\"12 Memoirs By Badass Women to Add To Your Wishlist in Fall 2016\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Candid...witty and insightful. A-\" —\u003ci\u003eInTouch\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Contains engaging, poignant accounts of the actress-turned-storyteller's struggles to find her identity after losing her mother and Hollywood's adoration...Wilson covers difficult topics but can leaven a painful anecdote with incisive wit...When fans ask for a picture with her, she panics: 'I don't photograph well, and...they're going to put it on the Internet, where not everyone knows I'm funny and charming and generally a decent person.' And that's exactly how she comes across in this memoir.\" —ShelfAwareness \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Lyrical and affecting . . . humorous, relatable, and ultimately real. \u003cb\u003e. . \u003c\/b\u003e [\u003ci\u003eWhere Am I Now?\u003c\/i\u003e] is more than just another Hollywood memoir; it is a truly refreshing coming-of-age story.\" —\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A heartfelt portrait . . . [Mara Wilson] has experienced a great many highs as well as lows in her young life, and she shares them all with honesty, humor, and humility.\" —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A coming-of-age story that is not only entertaining, but also wise. . . . A readably candid, sharp memoir.\" —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Uplifting...charming and accessible.\" —\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"Refreshingly earnest...If \u003ci\u003eWhere Am I Now? \u003c\/i\u003eand its biting wit and charming self-awareness is anything to go by, [Wilson is] very easily running in the same league as the Lena Dunhams, Rachel Blooms and Ilana Glazers of the world.\" —\u003ci\u003eNational Post \u003c\/i\u003e(Canada)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Growing up, I wanted to BE Mara Wilson. I always loved that she portrayed strong characters, especially as a female, even as a young child. \u003ci\u003eWhere Am I Now?\u003c\/i\u003e is a delight.”  —Ilana Glazer, co-creator and star of \u003ci\u003eBroad City\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Genuine and authentic, funny and heartbreaking, \u003ci\u003eWhere Am I Now?\u003c\/i\u003e is a book that reminds you that no matter how unique your life is, some things bind us all together.” —Jenny Lawson, author of \u003ci\u003eFuriously Happy \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eLet’s Pretend this Never Happened\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Former child star Mara Wilson has grown up to be a moving, funny, and thoughtful storyteller. Well, not \u003ci\u003eup\u003c\/i\u003e. As I understand it, she's still approximately the same height.”  —Megan Amram, author of \u003ci\u003eScience…for Her!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“You don't have to be a fellow neurotic Jew who grew up in Southern California to adore this book. Though Mara Wilson’s childhood was unique, the themes of \u003ci\u003eWhere Am I Now?\u003c\/i\u003e are universal.”  —Rachel Bloom, creator and star of \u003ci\u003eCrazy Ex-Girlfriend\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eMara Wilson\u003c\/b\u003e is a writer, playwright, actor, and storyteller perhaps best known as the little girl from \u003ci\u003eMrs. Doubtfire\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eMiracle on 34th Street\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eMatilda\u003c\/i\u003e. A graduate of NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, she regularly appears at live storytelling and comedy shows, including her own, \u003ci\u003eWhat Are You Afraid Of?\u003c\/i\u003e. Her writing can be found on \u003ci\u003eJezebel\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Toast\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eMcSweeney’s\u003c\/i\u003e, the \u003ci\u003eDaily Beast\u003c\/i\u003e, and Cracked.com, and on her blog, MaraWilsonWritesStuff.com. A voice actor on the podcast \u003ci\u003eWelcome to Night Vale\u003c\/i\u003e, she will guest star on upcoming episodes of \u003ci\u003eBroad City\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBoJack Horseman\u003c\/i\u003e. She lives in New York City.\u003cb\u003eThe Junior Anti-Sex League\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My mother could not have picked a worse time to teach me about        sex.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One night, when I was five years old, she turned on the TV to a        special about sex education. Kids my brother Danny’s age were        holding bags of flour, calling them their “babies,” and        scrambling to find “babysitters” for them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why are they doing that?\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They're learning about babies, how to take care of them, and        how they're made,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh.\" I knew the last part: they were made in their mothers'        bellies. I had seen my mother pregnant with my sister. But now        the kids on the screen were in a classroom, and a teacher was        talking to them about cells and body parts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What's she talking about?\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"She's explaining sex to them.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had heard that word before. I knew it was a loaded term,        something grown-ups only said in whispers. \"What is that?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's how you make a baby,\" she said, and went on to describe        the most absurd, unappealing process I could imagine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She had always believed in telling children the truth, at least        to the extent that they were capable of understanding. She was        open about private parts and calling them by their real names.        Her instincts about openness and honesty were right on, but        still, I was horrified.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You did that?\" I blurted out. She nodded, and with a sickening        feeling I counted up myself, my brothers and sister, and        realized she must have done it at least five times.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Any other questions?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had only one more. \"When you did it, did you say 'Whoa'?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My mother had the best of intentions. She made it clear this was        not something to be discussed in polite company, that it needed        to be kept a secret. But I had a tendency to blurt out secrets.        I have always been compulsively honest, and usually at the wrong        times. Five months earlier I had ruined my father's birthday        surprise party by asking, \"You don't know about our cakes,        right?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Objectively speaking, sex seemed shockingly gross and        ridiculous. But as the shock wore off, the world felt different.        I could tell that sex was a Big Deal. It was something new and        exciting, a secret grown-ups kept to themselves. Just knowing        about it made me feel powerful. I had to tell someone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And I had a big scene on the set of Mrs. Doubtfire the next day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was not my mother who had gotten me into acting. Not really.        She was not a stage mother. But she was an actress: she had        studied theater in college and never missed an opportunity to        perform. My brothers and I went to Theodore Roosevelt Elementary        School, and every year on Teddy Roosevelt’s birthday, Teddy        himself would come by, in person.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \". . . And I said, 'Don't you dare shoot that bear!' They made a        little stuffed bear and named it after me, and that's why we        call them teddy bears today!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Teddy\" was only about five foot two, with D-cup breasts and a        hat I had seen in my mother's closet, but her performance was        convincing enough to make some of the kids ask, \"Is that really        him? I thought he was dead.\" My mother disappeared into the        role, morphing from a tiny woman into one of the most macho men        who ever lived.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We lived in Burbank, in Southern California's San Fernando        Valley, twenty minutes away from Hollywood. My mother always        said of our hometown, \"It's as if someone picked up a small city        in the Midwest and plopped it down in the middle of Los        Angeles.\" Burbank tried its hardest to stay quaint, but it was        also home to Warner Brothers, NBC, and Disney Studios. The        tentacles of the entertainment industry reached into everyone's        lives. My father worked as an electronics engineer at CBS, NBC,        and the local channel KTLA. Classmates came to school in cars        with license plate frames reading part of the magic: walt disney        company, and my brothers would borrow movie screeners from        friends with well-connected parents when we didn't want to wait        for video. Given the omnipresence of the entertainment industry,        getting into acting wasn't an unusual thing for a Burbank kid to        do. Children all over the world do ridiculous, borderline        dangerous things, and no one around them questions it, because        it's ingrained in their culture. So it was with child acting in        Southern California.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When I was a toddler, the oldest and most outgoing of my        siblings, Danny, started trying out for commercials. He was cute        and a quick study, booking a few TV ads, and even some small        parts in movies. Watching my mother and Danny rehearse, I had an        epiphany. What they did was like when I performed my stories at        home, only better, because people wanted to see you perform!        Shortly after my fifth birthday, I went right up to my mother        and told her, \"Mommy, I want to do what Danny does.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No, you don't,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They were already starting to feel burned out. She was relieved        that Danny had never become recognizably famous, and that he        didn't want to be an actor when he grew up. He had been a        confident, resilient kid, but the cycle of auditioning was        getting to him. It would be worse with her anxious,        oversensitive daughter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"How about this,\" she said when I kept asking to audition. \"Your        brothers and I are going to pretend to be the people at a        commercial, okay? We'll tell you what to do and then tell you if        you got the part.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As always, I took playing pretend very seriously. I \"acted\" the        lines about cereal or Barbies as well as I could, but every time        my mother would say, \"You were great, but you didn't get the        part.\" And every time I would shrug.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's okay,\" I'd say. \"I can just go on another one.\" For the        first time in her life, my mother had no idea what to say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I would follow Danny's example: get a few small roles, have fun        with it, save some money for college, then give it up after a        few years. I would never be famous. But after getting a few        commercials, I was called in for a movie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"So what would you think if your dad dressed up like a woman?\" a        man asked me, along with a few other girls who were auditioning.        The other girls looked at the ground, murmuring, \"I guess it        would be funny.\" I burst out laughing and said, \"I would be on        the floor!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I got called back. And then got called back again, and again. We        were called to do a screen test in San Francisco, and before I        knew it, I had the part. I was going to be in a movie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But just because I'd gotten the part didn't mean I knew what I        was doing. There was definitely a learning curve. For example,        how was I supposed to know what to do if I had to go to the        bathroom during the pool scene? (My mother and I eventually came        up with a code so I wouldn't end up peeing on the lovely and        handsome Pierce Brosnan.) How was I supposed to know that asking        some of the crew members to \"clap for me\" was inappropriate?        Everyone clapped for me when I sang in the kindergarten holiday        concert. Why couldn't they do it here, too? My mother was,        predictably, furious, pulling me aside and saying, \"'Clap for        me' is not acceptable!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She and my father were determined not to let being in a movie go        to my head. I always knew they loved me and they were proud, but        they had to keep me grounded. If I said something like \"I'm the        greatest!\" my mother would be right there to bring me back down        to Earth. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You're not the greatest,\" she said. \"You're just an actor.        You're just a kid.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The day after the sex talk, we were shooting a scene where we        helped Sally Field choose a dress to wear to her birthday party.        Her ex-husband, Robin Williams, has been denied custody of their        kids, and to spend more time with them, he answers her ad for a        housekeeper and nanny. Robin, dressed in full drag as an        eccentric Scottish nanny named Mrs. Doubtfire, was supposed to        come in, ask about the party, and realize he had a major        conflict. Lisa Jakub would say her line, then I would say mine.        But I wasn’t focusing on the scene. I was bubbling with        excitement, because I knew this thing, this big open secret, and        I could not keep it in any longer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My mother had stressed that sex was something that happened only        when you were married, so when Virginia, one of the        hairdressers, came over to touch up my bangs, I impulsively        asked her, \"Are you married?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh,\" I said. \"So you've done it, right?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She looked surprised, then laughed, embarrassed. She didn't        answer, and I felt unsatisfied. As soon as she walked away I        announced in a singsong voice, \"I KNOW ABOUT SE-EX! I KNOW ABOUT        SE-EX!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The whole crew was laughing, and I was giddy. They knew that I        knew what they knew! I was triumphant, full of pure childish        glee-until I saw my mother standing off to the side of the set.        She was enraged. When my mother was angry, she was terrifying.        She looked like Margaret Hamilton as the witch in The Wizard of        Oz, or Emma Goldman's mug shot. How many times had she lectured        me about behaving properly on the set? How many times in our        conversation had she stressed that this was not something to        talk about in public? How had I forgotten both of these things?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I immediately stopped singing, and with a sinking feeling I knew        I had done something bad, and that I was going to be in deep        trouble. Instantly, I felt humiliated, and worst of all, I knew        I had brought it all on myself. I thought I might start crying.        I wanted to apologize, tell my mother I would never do it again,        anything to get that scary look off her face and rescue what was        left of my pride.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I watched as Robin, in full Doubtfire drag, walked up to Chris,        the director.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Did you hear that Mara was asking Virginia about sex?\" Robin        said, and they both burst out laughing. They both had kids. They        had both worked with kids. They knew what kids were like.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You know, Mara,\" Chris said, turning to me, \"if you want, you        can tell Sally her dress is sexy.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I didn't dare. But I looked to my mother, and her face had        softened a little. I was still going to get a lecture, but        because they had been able to laugh it off, I had probably        managed to avoid a spanking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I stayed awake that night, thinking of how badly I'd embarrassed        myself. It was the first of many nights like that in my life.        Did anyone else remember? What did they think of me? I had        learned my lesson, and too well. Sex was powerful, something I        needed to respect.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But if it was so secret and special, though, why did it suddenly        seem to be everywhere?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There’s a saying that if a child doesn’t learn about sex from        her parents, she’ll learn about it on the street. I learned a        good amount about it on one particular street: Melrose Place.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You have an audition for a soap opera,\" my mother told me        shortly after my sixth birthday, handing over my \"sides,\" the        script excerpt for the audition. \"Your character's mother came        from Russia, and her time here in America is almost up. She        wants to stay here, though, so she gets married to a man named        Matt, but he is actually gay.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What does that mean?\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It means a man loves other men, not women. Or when women love        women. It's just the way some people are.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, okay,\" I said. It seemed a little unusual, but not gross or        disturbing. I thought of the girl at my preschool who had once        told me she loved me and wanted to marry me. I had said, \"Sure,\"        so as not to hurt her feelings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Two men can't do it like men and women do it, could they?\" I        asked my mother a while later, as an afterthought.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not like men and women, no,\" she said carefully, after a        moment. \"It wouldn't work.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lucky them, I thought, not having to do any of that gross sex        stuff.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I got the part. My mother laughed when she saw the call sheet:        next to my name it said “(K),” for kid: I was going to be the        only one on set.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At first, we would tape my episodes and watch them later, my        parents fast-forwarding through the racier scenes. But        eventually my mother relented and just let me watch the episodes        in their entirety. She had a strange barometer for what was        appropriate: she was upset when I watched Hocus Pocus at a        friend's house, but took me to see Four Weddings and a Funeral        in the theater. To be fair, she must have figured I wouldn't        understand what was happening on Melrose-after all, I had        thought the couple having sex in Four Weddings was just bouncing        on a trampoline I couldn't see.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Melrose Place was the most terrifying show I had ever seen.        People I knew and loved were playing characters who hurt one        another in spectacularly detailed ways. Michael was driving        drunk and doing it with three different women. Sydney was using        drugs and doing it with three different men. Even Billy and        Alison, the nice characters, were doing it, sometimes with each        other, sometimes with other people. (Matt, my gay stepfather,        didn't do anything bad, but that was because they weren't        allowed to show two men kissing on TV.)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had always wondered what grown-ups got up to when they weren't        with their kids, and now I knew. To me, Melrose Place was an        exposé on the secret lives of grown-ups. A little exaggerated at        times, maybe-probably in real life there were fewer fights        ending in pools-but at its core, I believed it told the truth,        and I was scandalized.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I thought you were only allowed to do it if you were married!\"        I told my mother.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I said you should only do it if you're married,\" she said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But they did it anyway. \"Should\" meant nothing to them. There        was only one conclusion I could draw: children were clearly        morally superior. Kids could be cruel, but it was simple and        reflexive: you're in my way, so I'll push you; you said        something I didn't like, so I'll call you stupid. But grown-up        cruelty was premeditated, calculated, and clever. Kids, I        believed, were virtuous because we didn't have that thing, that        invisible, corrupting force that held all grown-ups in its sway:        sex.","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303381782757,"sku":"NP9780143128229","price":24.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780143128229.jpg?v=1767744012","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/where-am-i-now-isbn-9780143128229","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}