Few memoirs manage to be both devastating and laugh-out-loud funny, but Not My Type: One Woman vs. a President by E. Jean Carroll pulls off that extraordinary feat. Known for her sharp humor and fearless candor, Carroll delivers a remarkable behind-the-scenes look at the trials that made global headlines, all while reminding readers what resilience, wit, and defiance truly look like.
The premise is simple yet extraordinary. After publicly accusing former President Donald Trump of sexual assault, Carroll finds herself in the center of a media storm, a courtroom battle, and a cultural reckoning. But Not My Type is not just a chronicle of those events it is a masterclass in reclaiming narrative power. Carroll does not just tell her side of the story; she owns it, dresses it up in flair, and delivers it with the precision of a seasoned satirist.
From the opening deposition scene where Trump’s attorney Alina Habba bluntly asks Carroll to “list” the people she has slept with Carroll turns humiliation into humor. Her response, infused with self-deprecating charm and irreverent confidence, sets the tone for the entire memoir. It is a story about being stripped down, literally and figuratively, by the system, and still managing to sparkle.
Reviewers have been quick to highlight how her voice carries the book. Ron Charles of The Washington Post described the audiobook as “shockingly hilarious,” urging readers to listen to it rather than read it, since Carroll’s own narration gives the story its soul. At 81, she narrates her life with the vitality of someone half her age her voice trembling, laughing, even growling at times. It feels like sitting across from a lifelong friend who has seen too much but refuses to be broken.
Carroll’s narrative brilliance lies in her ability to blend biting cultural commentary with moments of absurd humor. She recalls court days filled with tense legal exchanges, yet somehow finds joy in discussing shoes, hairstyles, and the subtle art of choosing the perfect courtroom outfit. Behind the fashion talk, however, lies something deeper the awareness that women are often judged not just for what they say but for how they look while saying it.
As reviewer Susan Tunis observed, Carroll is not your typical journalist or victim. She approaches tragedy through the lens of humor, authenticity, and unfiltered self-expression. Even while recalling the trauma of the assault and the years of public ridicule that followed, she keeps her trademark sparkle. There are moments of sadness and fury, but never self-pity.
Keri Stone captures it perfectly: “She is delightfully amusing while sharing the worst time of her life.” That balance between laughter and pain is what makes Not My Type unforgettable. It is a rare kind of memoir that allows readers to grieve, rage, and laugh all in the same chapter.
Ultimately, Not My Type is not just about one woman versus a president. It is about one woman versus the machinery of shame and disbelief, and how she used humor and grace to dismantle it. Carroll reminds us that justice can come with laughter, that strength can wear lipstick, and that truth, when spoken boldly, has its own kind of beauty.
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