Bayou Pages | “Open Book” by Jessica Simpson

review by Meredith McKinnie

“I wanted to see who I was, without using another person’s love for me as a measurement of my value.”

When I think of Jessica Simpson, I first think of the MTV show Newlyweds, in which she and then-husband Nick Lachey documented their first year of marriage, only to divorce three years later. I think of the infamous “Chicken of the Sea” line, in which Simpson questions whether the brand featured tuna or land birds. She embraced and seemed unfazed by the ditzy persona and sought intelligence in her romantic partnerships. You might also know Jessica Simpson from the astoundingly successful clothing and lifestyle brand that’s raked in billions of dollars since its debut in 2005. As a budding child star with a powerful voice, Jessica frequently came in third behind Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, a trend that would continue in record sales decades later. Britney’s dancing chops promised sold out tours, and Christina’s high note dwarfed Simpson’s otherwise impeccable range. What differentiated Simpson was her devout faith and belief in all things eventually working out according to God’s will. In this raw and honest memoir, Simpson details her upbringing and life since stardom, examining the highs and lows that rocked her Christian foundation and strait-laced image.  

Though a self-professed virgin until her marriage to Lachey, Simpson indulges how she gave up on seeking perfection in her actions. Always ogled as the sexy, yet pure, temptress, Simpson tortured her body and her mind to be the size and image that studio executives demanded. When sales lagged, she was told it was because she needed to lose 10 pounds. Simpson never knew herself enough to question authority. To escape, Simpson depended on alcohol and sleeping pills, assured that her now successful marriage to Eric Johnson and her commitment to their two kids meant she didn’t have a problem. In the opening chapter of Open Book, Jessica confronts her demons, the childhood tragedies that she ignored for too long and the hazy reality she then called a life. Committed to healing, Jessica revisits her past and shares with us those reflections in a frank outpouring of hard truths. She writes, “I was like a lot of women who get their wish: I loved being a mom, I just didn’t love being me.”

Like many celebrity memoirists, Simpson worked with a ghostwriter, this one Kevin Carr O’Leary. The twosome salvage Simpson’s voice, as each line reads like Simpson carefully selected each word, a gift to fans of the artist. The book reads as if Simpson is confiding in a girlfriend, hence the title that leaves little to the imagination. I wasn’t surprised by many of the book’s revelations, though I was surprised that Simpson was willing to share them. If you love memoirs or are Simpson-curious, this work is one for your reading list. 

“But then I remind myself that life is really just about one moment at a time. To not think about two years from now, but to think about right now. Two years from now will figure itself out.”