Look, y'all, you're on the Internet, so you've heard of Allie Brosh. You've read the tale of the Alot, or the God of Cake, or her simple dog; you've announced your ambition to CLEAN ALL THE THINGS; you've laughed until you coughed at her turn of phrase and magical ability to make uncomplicated art so expressive.
And if you suffer from a mental illness, or you know someone who does, you've read and re-read and posted and clutched to your heart her pieces on depression, her dealing with which led to an online silence a year and a half long. The empathetic joy I felt last May when she resurfaced with that brilliant second piece still resonates with me, and I feel like she captures the experience of anhedonia--the most difficult thing for a depressed person to explain--perfectly. I'm awed and grateful.
My mother, besides dealing with her own depression, has plenty of experience with having a mentally ill child (coughs, points to self), and she feels a maternal protectiveness towards Brosh that's just beautiful--and which made Brosh's book, signed no less, the perfect Christmas gift. Nothin' wrong with giving someone a gift you really really want to read yourself, either.
Brosh reprints the hits here, but there's tons of new material: childhood stories, pieces on motivation and secret selfish thoughts, a long hilarious letter to her dogs about theirflawed approach to the world ("Misconception #4: I should eat bees.). It's terrific stuff, and I'd tell you to buy it, but chances are you already have. Good job!