Lena Dunham Buzz & Feeds Millennials 'What She's 'Learned''

You actually won't learn too much about Lena Dunham after reading her memoir, one of the hottest books to come out this fall, that Hannah Horvath hasn't already told us during the three seasons of HBO's breakout hit "Girls."

In her first book, "Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She's Learned,'" Dunham, 28, details in depth the key touchstones that propelled the show she created, writes for, and directs into an international phenomenon. She tells her readers, who I assume are mostly female and gay boy millennials (something Dunham even references in the book), all about her obsessive-compulsive disorder, her shitty relationships, about the time she was raped and a glimpse into who the "real" "Adam" is; all while undercutting her stories with self-deprecating humor that greats like Woody Allen and Joan Rivers dished out.

But what's more interesting than Dunham's yarns of her childhood, and tales of her having awkward sex, is they unique way "Not That Kind of Girl" is structured; with a keen eye on 20-nothings.

I take a bus and two subways to get to work every morning, and on my long commute I have the privilege of checking out what a slew of my peers glare at while they're on their iPhones when they're transported to work, school or internship. Oftentimes, they furiously scroll with their thumb as a blue ray of light from Twitter beams out of their phone. And many times, I'll see them navigating through a web of BuzzFeed lists; those click-baiting articles that suck us in 15-minutes at a time during a weak moment at work.

But it's these two formats that Dunham capitalizes on and utilizes in her book, which makes "Not That Kind of Girl" such a zeitgeist success.

Dunham's memoir could only exist now, when social media rules with an iron thumbs up: in her book, she peppers chapters with lists, like "14 Things Never to Say to Your Best Friend" and "What's in My Bag?" Just like BuzzFeed, the lists are snappy, random (!!!) and are totally relatable. We've all been there, and we're all laughing together.

It's not just the handful of lists splattered throughout "Not That Kind of Girl" that draws in millennials. Dunham's book is composed like someone's Twitter timeline - albeit the chapters are more than 140 characters.

While some may find this formatting problematic, youths who are used to reading several short pieces that can be found on numerous pop culture websites, like Vulture, will probably find "Not That Kind of Girl" a delightful breeze to get through. Just like Twitter, or a 500-word piece on why Katy Perry's new music video is slightly racist, you didn't have to get invested in a section too long because just before the topic starts to lose your attention, it's changed. Dunham jumps from writing about jerky ex-boyfriends, to college life to creating a web series seamlessly; 80 pages go by in an instant. It's the literary equivalent to binging on a "Pretty Little Liars" season on Netflix.

But Dunham can get away with this au courant structure, baiting millennials who have at least three social media accounts, because her writing is top notch and each paragraph is injected with humor. If you had any doubts that Dunham's voice wasn't truly hers on "Girls" "Not That Kind of Girl" will set you right.

The book also further divides the wedge between Dunham and the character she plays on the show, Hannah Horvath. Yes - a lot of the plots and themes that are prevalent in "Girls" are in the book, but it's pretty clear she's only used them as jumping off points and takes them to an extreme on her show.

Though "Not That Kind of Girl" is of the now, it has a retro feel - from the '70s pink-and-black font to the Judy Blum-esque illustrations done by Joana Avillez, Dunham's friend. And Blum also happens to be one of Dunham's heroes and inspirations, which is evident from the book's ethos: passing a long advice that Dunham has picked up during her "normal" life, translating it for the every girl/guy.

Like "Girls," Dunham's "advice" isn't for everyone; it mostly applies to privileged kids who went to summer camp, didn't really have to work right of college and kids who were able to go to therapy. Fortunately for me (I guess), I checkmark the criteria. But even if you didn't have similar experiences in your 20-something years of life, like dealing with a sibling coming out or going to a British socialite's mansion in London and throwing up before making out with her, you can still enjoy them as stories, simply because Dunham is an excellent storyteller.

"Not That Kind of Girl" goes beyond just being a memoir. It's a pinpoint in the roadmap of Dunham's career. She was given a $3.7 million advance and has always been in the media spotlight. She's already sparked outrage: the actress came under fire last month when it was initially revealed, by Gawker no less (one of Dunham's enemies), that she wasn't going to pay the performers who would serve as her opening act on her book tour. But shortly after the news broke, Dunham took to Twitter and said the acts would be compensated - an ironic blunder for someone who made it big for telling her woes of being underpaid and working for free.

And just this week, Salon defended Dunham against misogynists who had issues with the book, specifically her retelling of the cringy, but also empowering, chapter of sexual assault by a college campus Republican named Barry.

"Women, it seems, if they are to speak at all about rape (or the experiences of violation that we do not give that name to), must follow a very narrow set of parameters," Salon's Katie McDonough writes. "Their accounts must be marketable, consumable. Never disruptive. A 'good' sexual assault story involves: a stranger, a woman held at knifepoint, immediate action to alert law enforcement, a seamless police response, an emotional but ultimately cathartic courtroom scene, a prison sentence. A 'bad' sexual assault story involves: everything else."

Dunham thanked the writer for her piece, tweeting:

"Some men are enraged by stories of sexual assault that don't have clear cut villains, pimps or men with guns... That's because these stories force them to ask hard questions about their history with consent... Well, we all have to ask hard questions.

"Grow the fuck up," she wrote.