So, I'm not adverse to an autobiography or two but they don't immediately cry out to me from the bookshelves and demand to be read. This book, however, had received such ardent fanfare on my much beloved #bookstagram that I decided to jump on the bandwagon. 
 I did not regret it. 
 Okay, so perhaps I should start by professing that I actually had no idea who Amy Poehler even was before reading this book (I know, I know. What crazy person reads an autobiography about somebody they don't even know?!?). Upon reading this, I have now discovered that the only thing I have ever even seen her in is Mean Girls (Again. I know, I know). I'd like to also say that this doesn't amount to a damn thing, and I am 1000% sure that I want to marry this woman (ya' reading this, Amy?)! I can understand how she has gained such dedicated and loving fans: she opens up her heart and invites us all inside to keep warm. 
 Yes Please isn't set out in the traditional sense of a narrative - with a beginning, a middle and an end - yet that adds only adds to the aesthetic of the book and the sense that there is someone truly special hidden among the pages. Order is not important, but conception is: I didn't leave this book with a complete chronology of Poehler's life, but I did leave it with a complete sense of who she is as a person. And that is much more important. The Amy Poehler I gathered from the pages was comparable to having cake for breakfast every day for the rest of your life and not getting fat: in short, bloody awesome! 
 Poehler lets us glimpse scenes from her life but, paramount to this, she guides us through her life. Each memory serves a purpose. Every scene she devises for her reader leads on, in an almost stream-of-consciousness style, to another, and another, until we are gently led by the hand - using hilarity, humanity and humility - into a manifesto on how to learn and become better people, ourselves, from it. She does more than relays the facts, she bares her soul. 
 The only summary of my feelings would be this: 
 I arrived in San Francisco with that rare combination of sadness and joy. There should be a name for that feeling. Maybe it's "intimacy." 
 And that is exactly how I felt finishing the book. I left a piece of myself, tucked between the pages, but I also took a newer, better piece of myself away from reading this. 
 This book is also hilarious, no, this book is HILARIOUS! Poehler has that certain type of humour that I love. You know, the funny kind. This book is also profound and cathartic to read. This book is instructional and motivational. This book is feisty and fearless. This book is judgmental and non-judgmental, in all the right places. This book is celebratory of bass-ass, kick-ass women; just like the one who wrote it. This book makes me feel that I too am a bad-ass, kick-ass woman. This book is magic. 
 And what more is there left to say?