Look, I'll admit it. I was skeptical.
Not because I don't like Colin Jost—I've watched enough Weekend Update to appreciate the guy—but because celebrity memoirs are a minefield. For every Tina Fey giving us Bossypants, there are a dozen phoned-in ghostwritten disasters that read like extended press releases. I'm Glad My Mom Died was one of the rare ones that actually delivered—raw, honest, and genuinely funny without feeling manufactured. So when I pressed play on A Very Punchable Face, I was bracing myself for disappointment.
I was wrong. Delightfully, thoroughly wrong.
The Staten Island Ferry Chapter Alone Is Worth Your Credit
Here's the thing about Jost: he's genuinely funny on the page. Or, well, in the ear. The man has spent fifteen years writing jokes for a living, and it shows. But what surprised me—and this is where I have to eat some crow—is how good he is at the emotional stuff too.
The book bounces between absurdist set pieces (Czech teenagers attacking him with potato salad, an insect laying eggs in his legs, watching paramedics perform CPR on a raccoon) and genuinely moving moments. The chapter about his mother, a doctor who was on the scene at the Twin Towers on 9/11, hit me harder than I expected. I was walking the lakefront with Denise, and I had to stop for a minute. She asked if I was okay. I blamed allergies. (She didn't believe me.)
That tonal range—from absurd to heartfelt and back—is what separates this from the celebrity memoir slush pile. Hard Times tried for something similar but never quite nailed the balance the way Jost does here. Jost understands that comedy works best when it's grounded in something real. My students would probably call this "having range." I call it good writing.
Why Author-Narrated Memoirs Either Soar or Crash
I've listened to enough author-narrated audiobooks to know they're a gamble. Some writers should never be allowed near a microphone. But comedians? Comedians who've spent years doing live performance? That's a different story.
Jost narrates his own book, and honestly, I can't imagine it any other way. His timing is impeccable—those little pauses before a punchline, the way he undercuts his own sincerity with a well-placed aside. This is a guy who's been delivering jokes to a live audience for years, and you can hear that experience in every chapter. The self-deprecation never feels forced. It's just... him.
The SNL behind-the-scenes stuff is particularly fun to hear in his voice. You get the sense he's telling you these stories at a bar, not reading from a teleprompter. When he talks about hosting the Emmys ("For every accomplishment, there is a setback"), there's a weariness in his delivery that the printed word couldn't capture.
One small gripe: the book apparently has photos in the print version, and occasionally Jost references them. "As you can see in this picture..." No, Colin, I cannot see. I'm driving on Lake Shore Drive. This is a minor annoyance, but if you're an audiobook-only listener like me, just know you're missing some visual context.
The Memoir That Knows What It Is
Let's be real for a second. This isn't a groundbreaking literary memoir. Jost isn't trying to be David Sedaris or Mary Karr. He's not excavating childhood trauma or making grand statements about the American condition. He's a comedy writer telling funny stories about his weird life, with occasional detours into genuine emotion.
And you know what? That's fine. That's more than fine—it's refreshing. The book knows exactly what it is and executes that vision well. It's smart without being pretentious, funny without being desperate, and heartfelt without being saccharine.
Is there some toilet humor? Sure. A few chapters land better than others. But the hit rate is remarkably high for a collection of essays. I laughed out loud multiple times—actual laughter, not just the mental acknowledgment of humor. (My students would be horrified to learn their English teacher listens to poop jokes. Don't tell them.)
Who Should Listen (And Who Should Skip)
If you're an SNL fan, this is essential listening. If you want a breezy, genuinely funny memoir narrated by someone who actually knows how to land a joke, you'll have a great time. Skip it if you're looking for deep literary introspection or a heavy emotional journey—that's not what Jost is going for, and the book is better for it.
Would I Listen Again?
Probably not cover to cover, but I could see revisiting specific chapters. The Staten Island Ferry story is genuinely one of the funniest things I've heard in an audiobook this year. The 9/11 chapter is worth a re-listen for entirely different reasons.
At just under eight hours, it's the perfect length for a week of commutes or a couple of long walks. It doesn't overstay its welcome, which is more than I can say for most memoirs.
Larry David's blurb says he wants to kick Jost in the balls after reading it. I just want to buy him a drink and hear more stories.
That's the highest compliment I can give a memoir: I wanted more time with the author. Even if his face is, admittedly, very punchable.
