My only complaint is that I wanted more, which is a good complaint to have. It made me laugh and cry and then laugh again and then pee and then cry. Lots of fluids lost. But in a good way. A book to make you appreciate the tragically funny and beautiful horror of family. - Jenny Lawson, Author of Let's Pretend This Never Happened and Furiously Happy
Daniel Grunman remembers his grandmother telling him, We're Jews. We don't believe in tragedy. We believe in horror, atrocity and injustice. And we recognize all of them as inherently hilarious.
The Grunmans consider themselves a supremely functional family, in that they manage a wry self-awareness about the drinking, the pot smoking, the long-seething resentments, the brooding jealousies and the perpetual, judgmental subtext. In twenty hilariously poignant flashbulb vignettes a family comes to light, revealed in lean exchanges of unconscious cruelty and recognizable evasion.
With deft, delicate brush strokes, award-winning playwright and humorist Dylan Brody delivers a family so specific that we fear we trespass on their intimacy. We observe behavior in such startling detail because our tour guide effortlessly guides us to those small bits that matter the fingertip manipulations of a cocktail napkin, the generational echo of an inflective grunt. We watch them behave, we hear them speak, we learn their tells.
Deaths, losses, betrayals and slights resonate along umbilical bonds of familial connection.
Secrets will be revealed. Son, father, mother and daughter will lash out at one another and reach out toward one another. Words will be spoken and silences will descend. Jokes will be written. It will never be too soon.
In Dylan Brody's latest novel, the author weaves a hysterical, heartfelt tapestry of a family raveling, unravelling and then somehow marvelously re-raveling again. As a well-experienced comic and storyteller (check out any of his CDs if you haven't already), it would be easy for Brody to settle for simply telling jokes. Instead, we're solidly in New Yorker territory here with warm echoes of Ann Beattie and Philip Roth. So...young Daniel Grunman isn't so young anymore. His prodigy sister is reaping all the success that he was supposed to be getting. Meanwhile, every important lesson that his pot-smoking, intellectual, hipster parents taught him suddenly seems hollow. How best then to navigate a life? And what more can be learned while there's still time left? Brody invites you on a funny, frenetic, highly intimate tour of a family you'll realize you already know. Very highly recommended.
Full disclosure: I know Dylan Brody. And for that reason I definitely judged this very objectively as I'm wary of over-praising "friend reviews." That said, this is a VERY good book, novel, novella, linked short stories, family saga, however you might describe it. It is a joy to read, very moving and TIGHT. I couldn't stop reading. His observations are so honest, funny and clever. The narrative is headlong, like there's a motor on it. It's a survival manual for all artists who come from families.
Comedy is a classification of fiction that comprises talks or works expected to be funny or entertaining by prompting giggling, particularly in theatre, film, stand-up satire, TV, radio, books, or some other diversion medium.
The book which I will suggest to you folks today is an exceptionally captivating and extremely fascinating book the substance of this book will make you fall head over heels for this book.
"Generally Painless" by Dylan Brody is an elegantly composed treasury. The book is around 220 pages long, separated into 20 sections. Somewhat Painless, a wordy novel, catches the humor, misfortune, and sheer human intricacy of a broken family taking on the appearance of practical in his depiction of the Grunmans.
Every Reader expects an original where one of the primary characters is a comic to be entertaining, however, it's a joy when it is likewise so learned and familiar. The information isn't just about 'the matters of the stage that involves the two grown-up kids, but about families and sentiments. Dylan Brody in Relatively Painless summons a world that the Grunmans family made and appears to be destined to proceed within any event, when it very well may be productive for all to change. Indeed, even after its individuals have fled, the family exists emphatically in the personalities of everybody regardless of whether they own up to such an impact.
Starting with Daniel and Lindsay's relationship, Brody catches kin characteristically. This is the excellence of Brody's art; he flourishes through utilizing family generalizations we know all about and starts to cut out the truth. In Daniel and Lindsay's case, this is shown later in the novel as the desire and profound respect go on true to form yet the two kin meet up even with their folks to remain light. Brody's capacity to reveal these delicate minutes without the platitude is excellent. Subsequently, the improvement of this relationship tells the truth - the two of them display ways of behaving seen in the initial section yet find an adoration and security in the other which I think numerous about us find in our kin once we age. All things considered; it is in many cases said kin are we have left when companions dismiss.
Everybody can peruse this book, the accounts will revenue the youthful every reader and the energetic every reader. The characters will have a durable effect on your head, you'll partake in the setting.
Written cautiously, this book is something that will be a joy to peruse and I prescribe you to peruse it. This book is certainly worth the buy and worth the read.
For centuries, the best and most honest writers of tragedy have been writers well-versed in comedy and Dylan Brody is no exception. Relatively Painless, an episodic novel, captures the humour, tragedy and sheer human complexity of a dysfunctional family masquerading as functional in his portrayal of the Grunmans.
Beginning with Daniel and Lindsay's relationship, Brody captures siblings stereotypically. This is the beauty of Brody's craft; he thrives through using family stereotypes we are all familiar with and begins to carve out the reality. In Daniel and Lindsay's case, this is demonstrated later in the novel as the jealousy and admiration continue as expected but both siblings come together in the face of their parents in order to stay buoyant. Brody's ability to uncover these tender moments without the cliché is admirable. Thus, the development of this relationship is honest - they both still exhibit behaviours witnessed in the opening chapter but find a love and safety in the other which I think many of us find in our siblings once we age. After all, it is often said siblings are all we have left when friends turn away.
It is through these characters that we are introduced first to Brody's talent as a humorist and then his mastery when it comes to unravelling tragedy in a way which feels undeniably human. Nothing is protracted or gratuitous. Lindsay's experience with grief is moving and messy. Brody is brave enough and good enough to write moments in all their awkwardness and ugliness. Not once did I need to suspend belief; Brody capitalises on the ordinary and our complex, and often useless, coping mechanisms in these situations. And so, the exploration of Daniel and Lindsay's parents, Ellen and Paul, was superb too.
At times, as Ellen spoke I found myself fuming in response. I truly believe there is no higher compliment to made to a writer than that I vehemently disliked one of the characters. That said, by the end, Brody's writing of Ellen was raw and touching because he writes people not characters or caricatures. The writing and development of both Ellen and Paul was stunning. As the novel progresses, despite often being from Daniel's perspective, you soon realise the crux of the plot relies utterly on Ellen and Paul as parents and as individuals. Therefore, as mentioned above, although Brody begins with the stereotypes, he ends with a genuine portrayal of human beings struck by tragedy and grief.
A reader expects a novel in which one of the main characters is a comedian (not a comic, but we'll get to that later) to be funny, but it's a pleasure when it is also so knowledgeable and fluent. The knowledge is not just about 'the business' of show business that occupies the two adult children, but about families and feelings. Dylan Brody in Relatively Painless conjures a world that the Grunman family created and seems fated to continue even when it might be profitable for all to change. Even after its members have flown the coop, the family exists strongly in the minds of everyone whether they admit to such an influence or not. And the Grunmans will live in the minds of lucky readers for quite some time as well.
The careful and at times both humorous and painful depiction of two parents and their two children allows the reader to consider the forces of their own family of origin, but to do so by reading a story that evokes smiles and winces in almost equal measure. Those shocks of recognition do not land unpleasantly because Brody leads us through this almost cinematic tale with enormous sympathy for all of the characters, which for us as the readers translates into an invitation to have greater sympathy for the cast in our own family follies. Along the way we get the inside dope on a callback and the distinction between a comedian and a comic along with other bits of knowledge that illuminate the world.
Hannah Arendt wrote that, “An artist creates his own authenticity. What matters is imaginative conviction and boldness, a passion to invade alien territory and render an account of one’s discoveries.” Might the passion to reconnoiter familiar territory be even more dangerous than those 'alien' spaces and yet delightful? James Joyce investigated every dimension of a life that he had known so well. So did Jane Austen and so many others much to our advantage. Dylan Brody in looking at imperfect people in a perpetual set of relationships delivers that authenticity with "imaginative conviction and boldness" his success in rendering an account of his discoveries satisfies and enriches the reader of Relatively Painless.
There are books about families, and then there’s Relatively Painless a collection of moments so intimate, so specifically observed, that reading it feels like leafing through someone else’s emotional photo album. Dylan Brody’s writing is rich in subtext and subtlety, and yet it cuts deep. With biting humor and a clear-eyed understanding of generational dysfunction, he creates a family that’s somehow entirely unique and eerily familiar.
The brilliance of this book lies in what Brody doesn’t say. His mastery of silence, gesture, and awkward space turns every line into a loaded exchange. The Grunmans don’t scream or fall apart melodramatically they judge, dismiss, wound with a look or a shrug. The tragedy is never tragic in the traditional sense; it’s steeped in quiet, habitual cruelty, wrapped in a joke, and passed off as just another family dinner.
But what makes Relatively Painless soar is its humanity. It never condemns. It simply observes with humor, compassion, and remarkable restraint. This is not a story of redemption; it’s a story of recognition. And if you’ve ever felt both fiercely attached to and emotionally exasperated by your family, you’ll find something of yourself here. Unforgettable.
This novel arrives just in time for the holidays when the stresses of family life and career paths reach their climax. The cathartic, binge-worthy collection of short stories straps the reader into an emotional roller coaster ride with the fictional, superficially Jewish Grunman family who frequently find themselves in the familiar pressure cookers of life, such as a car, airport terminal, restaurant, apartment, funeral, bar or office. Each chapter is an alluring appetizer loaded with candid conversations from the hopelessly humorous characters. The introspective and self deprecating situations seem to be taken directly from Dylan Brody's own life as he grapples with his perception of success and the constant yearning for his parents approval in the midst of a disorienting career in Hollywood. The tasty mix of sardonic, insightful, tragic and heartwarming scenarios inspire laughs, occasional tears and plenty of "we've all been there" reactions. This is a perfect gift for family members or friends who are in desperate need of humor and stress relief as they struggle to survive the holiday season. It is an entertaining companion to the satirical works of David Sedaris.
Relatively Painless is one of those rare books that feels like someone opened a window into your own past and then handed you a flashlight and a glass of wine. Dylan Brody dissects the Grunman family with precision, but never cruelty. Every flaw, every slight, every awkward silence is presented with such honesty and empathy that you can’t help but see your own family in theirs.
Brody doesn’t just write scenes he captures emotional frequencies. The humor is dark and razor-sharp, but what makes the book powerful is how tenderly it handles grief, resentment, and generational trauma. He writes about family like someone who has been both wounded by it and saved by it. And in doing so, he gives us a book that is, yes, painfully funny but also, profoundly healing. I read it in one sitting, and I’ll be thinking about it for weeks.
Relatively Painless is a triumph of dark comedy and emotional insight. Dylan Brody walks the tightrope between satire and sincerity with incredible balance, delivering a portrait of familial dysfunction that feels uncomfortably familiar and unexpectedly healing. The Grunman family is drawn with such specificity that they become universal; their neuroses, failings, and quirks echo the uncomfortable truths many of us carry about our own families. What elevates this book is not just its humor though it is genuinely, sharply funny but its ability to find beauty in grief and connection in conflict. The dialogue is as smart as it is biting, and the structure short, vivid scenes creates an almost cinematic rhythm. It's the kind of book that leaves you thinking about your own family's "tells" and unspoken histories.
There’s something quietly revolutionary about the way Dylan Brody writes about family. In Relatively Painless, he bypasses the tropes and dives straight into the raw, messy truths. The Grunmans are painfully relatable fiercely loyal, deeply wounded, and tragically funny. Brody masterfully threads humor through heartbreak, reminding us that laughter isn’t the opposite of pain it’s often the only thing that makes it bearable.
Each vignette reads like a perfectly tuned monologue, intimate and precise, layered with emotional subtext that sneaks up on you. One moment you’re chuckling at a quip; the next, you’re holding your breath at a line that slices too close to your own experience. This isn’t a book that simply tells a story it reveals the way we live, love, and hurt within the sacred mess of family. A must-read for anyone with a beating heart and a complicated last name.
Dylan Brody has written the kind of book that sneaks up on you. Relatively Painless doesn’t just unfold, it peels itself open like a memory you didn’t know you had. Each vignette is sharp and startling, filled with the kind of dialogue that feels overheard at a family dinner you swore you’d never attend again, but somehow miss with an aching fondness. Brody’s gift is his ability to make us laugh in the same breath that we feel gut-punched by the weight of generational pain. The Grunmans are at once exasperating and exquisite, hilarious and heartbreaking. I didn’t read this book so much as I felt it echo in the places where I store my own unresolved conversations. Rarely has dysfunction been so lovingly rendered.
There are few writers who can so effortlessly blend humor with heartbreak, but Dylan Brody proves himself a rare talent in Relatively Painless. With the precision of a playwright and the soul of a memoirist, he gives us twenty snapshots of a family whose emotional wiring is as tangled and short-fused as any real one. This is the book I didn’t know I needed one that reminds me that grief can be hilarious, love can be cruel, and silence is sometimes louder than the most dramatic scene. I laughed out loud in public and cried alone in bed, and I’ll be pressing this book into the hands of everyone I love and argue with. Which, as Brody would agree, are often the same people.
I didn’t expect Relatively Painless to knock me sideways. I knew Dylan Brody could write funny his reputation precedes him but I wasn’t prepared for the depth of emotional intelligence on every page. He writes like someone who has eavesdropped on every therapy session I’ve ever had. The Grunmans are vivid, specific, and maddeningly familiar. Their conversations drip with subtext, their silences with meaning. There’s so much story packed into so little space that you find yourself pausing after each vignette just to breathe. This isn’t just a book it’s a mirror, held up to the cracked, complicated beauty of family life. And it’s one I’ll be returning to again and again.
Haunting. Hilarious. Heartbreaking. Dylan Brody dives deep into the big/little moments of a family’s life and turns them inside out, so we see them, hear them, smell them, live them as if they were our own. He intricately weaves the magic and ache, wit and wordplay through time and memory, creating a thick, rich, darkly funny tapestry of characters we can’t help but love, and mini-epiphanies that make us laugh/cry in recognition that this is, in fact, somehow our story. Dive in and luxuriate Highly recommended!
Dylan Brody strikes a perfect balance between humor and heartbreak in this unforgettable collection. With precise, poetic language and a deep understanding of the human condition, he peels back the layers of familial love and dysfunction. Each story left me thinking, smiling, or both. Relatively Painless is anything but it’s moving, raw, and absolutely brilliant. This is a book that everyone should read.
Relatively Painless is a masterclass in emotional storytelling with a razor sharp wit. Dylan Brody captures the chaotic beauty of family life in a way that’s both painfully honest and hilariously relatable. The vignettes are vivid and intimate, like overhearing conversations you’re not supposed to hear but can’t turn away from. I laughed, I teared up, and I saw pieces of my own family on every page. This book is a rare gem
I know Dylan Brody as a comic, mostly standup. Quite a bit like the central character in this sharp-eyed. piece of fiction. But I was surprised with the vividness and truthfulness of the other family characters, the mother father and sister, in this shortshort book, which seemed entirely-autobiographical to me, in a good way. I thought each character was tragically flawed, making them each a very sympathetic, also allowing me to empathize with each of them. Kudos to Mr. Brody.