While I was reading Khloé Kardashian’s book Strong Looks Better Naked in a Brooklyn café, the person sitting across from me gingerly asked, “What genre is that?” I had no answer.
Before I opened the interestingly titled Strong Looks Better Naked, I had some vague expectations of vapid, salacious anecdotes and recycled yet humorous enlightenment. Khloé is, after all, the wittiest and most self-aware member of a family whose only job is to be gratingly open to the world. I assumed she’d be good for a few laughs, even if none of the Kardashians have much to reveal in a book that hasn’t already been excavated to death by themselves, tabloids, or their numerous reality shows and interviews. Self-help books are supposed to be all about revelations. But wait, is this a self-help book? A memoir? How-to? First question: What exactly is this?
What does Strong Looks Better Naked even mean?
In one chapter, Khloé writes about hitting the gym again after letting herself go in the Hamptons, amid marital issues with her still-husband Lamar Odom. On the next page is a gigantic inspirational quote from Colin Powell. In the next section are recipes (i.e. Koko’s Kale), and peppered throughout are selfies, journal-like musings and semi-advice.
It’s a How To. It’s a photo book. It’s an autobiography. It’s a series of Instagram affirmations mixed with memories. It’s boring to death. It’s all those things and absolutely nothing, and people are going to buy it, because nothing is all anyone would expect.
The book’s format is broken into three sections—Body (which includes fitness and food), Mind and Soul. Extremely important things.
The first half is primarily a diary of Khloé’s workout routine, written in the tone of that person who speaks with a dull chirpiness about what they do before the gym, at the gym and after the gym, with corresponding photos of her workouts plucked from her Instagram page. Body part by body part, Khloé runs down her full workout routine, with specific focus on the ass. Working out, she says, was always more of a coping mechanism than for sheer vanity.
“I would get there early and start out with some stretching exercises, and then do thirty minutes on the elliptical…” she writes. (Imagine me happily frolicking down the middle of a railroad track as a train approaches.) The paragraph ends: “…ready to seize the day.”
In this deeply unsuccessful attempt at writing self-help, Khloé shares suggestions and to-do lists on how to deal with body issues and working out (i.e. not looking at that scale), mostly by breaking down methods that worked for her. Throughout, she hast he mind-numbing, obvious approach of a fitness magazine. I suppose a Kardashian enthusiast (the book’s target audience) might appreciate these faux lessons and mantras. Literally no one else would.