Getting Naked Review: Is Bertinelli Real?
Kate Bowler made her name dismantling the lie that everything happens for a reason. Her new book, Joyful, Anyway, is about joy.
That should make you suspicious. It made me suspicious.
Bowler is a Duke Divinity School professor who was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer at 35. Her 2018 memoir Everything Happens for a Reason (And Other Lies Iâve Loved) became a bestseller by doing something the self-help world rarely does: telling the truth about suffering without wrapping it in a redemption arc. No silver linings. No âthis happened to teach me something.â Just the brutal honesty of a young mother whose body was trying to kill her while well-meaning people kept insisting it was all part of Godâs plan.
That book earned her a particular kind of trust. The trust of people who are tired of being told to look on the bright side.
So when Joyful, Anyway hits shelves on April 7, 2026 (five days from now), the question isnât whether Bowler can write. She can. Itâs whether the woman who built her reputation on rejecting false comfort can write a book about joy without becoming the thing she spent years tearing down.
I got an advance copy. Iâve been sitting with it for two weeks. The answer is complicated, which is probably what Bowler would want me to say.
Short answer: itâs the most honest joy book Iâve read â and the least actionable.
Quick Verdict
Aspect Rating Practical Usefulness â â â ââ Evidence Quality â â â ââ Originality â â â â â Writing Quality â â â â â Worth the Time â â â â â Best for: People whoâve been through something real and find most joy/happiness books insulting. Readers who want permission to feel good without pretending everything is fine. Anyone navigating chronic illness, grief, or loss whoâs sick of toxic positivity but also sick of despair. Skip if: You want a step-by-step joy practice with exercises and metrics, or youâre looking for positive psychology frameworks. You need a plan, not a perspective shift. Pages: ~256 (~4 hours reading time) Actually useful content: 50%
That 50% splits into two very different kinds of useful. About half of the useful material is perspective-shifting (the kind of thing that changes how you think about joy without telling you what to do about it). The other half contains actual practices. Theyâre scattered, not systematic. But theyâre there. More on that in a minute.
Bowlerâs argument is that the dominant models of happiness and joy in American culture are broken because they assume controllable circumstances. Be grateful. Choose joy. Manifest positivity. All of it runs on the assumption that your life is basically okay and you just need the right attitude adjustment.
For people whose lives arenât basically okay: chronic illness, grief, financial crisis, caregiving, loss. That advice doesnât just fail. It adds insult. It implies that your inability to feel joyful is a personal failing rather than a rational response to a hard situation.
Joyful, Anyway proposes a different model. Joy isnât the absence of suffering. It isnât optimism. It isnât even happiness (Bowler distinguishes these carefully). Joy, in her framework, is the practice of noticing and receiving moments of genuine goodness without requiring that those moments justify or redeem your pain.
The âanywayâ in the title is doing all the work. Life is hard. Joy anyway. Not joy because. Not joy despite. Joy alongside, coexisting with the mess, refusing to wait for circumstances to improve before you let yourself feel something good.
My biggest fear going in was hypocrisy. The woman who called out prosperity gospel writing a prosperity gospel for feelings. âJust choose joy!â in fancier language.
Thatâs not what this is. Bowler is ferocious about maintaining the tension. She never once suggests that joy is available to everyone equally, that itâs a matter of effort, or that feeling joyful means your suffering was worth it. She explicitly names the ways the self-help and wellness industries use joy as a cudgel, another thing youâre failing at if you canât access it.
The chapter on what she calls âthe tyranny of bright-sidingâ is the best critique of toxic positivity Iâve read since â well, since her first book. She names the specific phrases (you know them: âeverything happens for a reason,â âGod doesnât give you more than you can handle,â âjust think positiveâ) and dissects not just why theyâre wrong but why they cause harm. The person on the receiving end of those phrases isnât being comforted. Theyâre being silenced.
If youâve been through something that changed the shape of your life and youâre exhausted by people who havenât been through it telling you how to feel, this book will feel like someone finally speaking your language.
Bowler writes the way I wish more self-help authors would. Specific. Funny. Ruthlessly honest about her own contradictions. Thereâs a passage early on where she describes sitting in a cancer treatment waiting room, watching a motivational poster about choosing joy, and wanting to rip it off the wall. Then going home and feeling a sharp, unexpected joy watching her son eat cereal. Both things true. Neither one canceling the other.
Her prose does what Coelhoâs recent work attempts but doesnât quite pull off: it makes abstract ideas feel viscerally real. When Bowler talks about joy, you donât nod along theoretically. You remember a specific moment in your own life when you felt it (brief, unearned, surrounded by difficulty).
Most self-help authors canât do that. And itâs the primary reason Joyful, Anyway holds a pre-release Goodreads rating of 4.32 out of 5. People arenât rating the framework. Theyâre rating the experience of being inside Bowlerâs prose.
Most books in this space treat grief as an obstacle to overcome on the way to feeling better. Bowler argues that grief and joy arenât opposites. Theyâre neighbors. The capacity to feel deep grief and the capacity to feel genuine joy come from the same place: caring about something enough that its presence or absence moves you.
She calls this âthe full weight of caring.â If youâve ever laughed hard at a funeral, or felt a stab of beauty in the middle of the worst week of your life, Bowler is describing your experience. And sheâs saying itâs not a malfunction. Itâs how humans work when theyâre not performing emotional neatness for the comfort of other people.
For readers whoâve been dealing with the kind of crisis fatigue thatâs defined the last few years, this reframe is genuinely useful. Not as a technique. As a permission structure. You donât have to resolve the tension between âthings are badâ and âI just felt something good.â Both can be true at the same time. The book makes that case more convincingly than anything in the resilience books space right now.
Hereâs where Bowlerâs approach runs into the same problem I flagged in the Coelho review. Sheâs brilliant at naming what joy is and what it isnât. Sheâs less interested in telling you how to experience more of it.
There are practices in the book. A ânoticingâ exercise where you track micro-moments of goodness without evaluating or ranking them. A ârelease the narrativeâ practice where you let go of needing joy to mean something. A gratitude variant that specifically avoids the toxic positivity trap by pairing it with honest acknowledgment of whatâs hard. A communal practice about sharing joy without performing it.
Four practices across 256 pages. Theyâre good practices. But theyâre embedded in prose rather than presented as a usable framework. No step-by-step instructions. No âdo this for two weeks and notice what happens.â No way to measure whether youâre getting anywhere.
Compare that to Russ Harrisâs approach in The Happiness Trap, which gives you twenty defusion exercises with clear instructions and multiple variations. Harris writes like a clinician building a toolkit. Bowler writes like a professor building an argument. Both valid. But if you came here for tools, youâll leave wanting.
Bowler is a historian of American religion and culture. She canât always help herself. Some chapters detour into historical analysis of how American Christianity shaped the prosperity gospel, how positive psychology differs from its popular misinterpretation, how the wellness industry monetized joy.
This material is interesting. Itâs well-researched. And it slows the book down. I found myself skimming the historical sections to get back to the personal, specific, honest writing that makes Bowler worth reading. If youâre an academic or a history nerd, those chapters are a bonus. If youâre a person in pain who picked up this book because the title sounded like it understood you, theyâre detours.
Bowler writes from the experience of chronic illness, proximity to death, and the collapse of certainty. Thatâs her authority. Itâs also her limitation.
If your life is roughly functional and youâre looking for a joy practice to make good days better, this book will feel like it was written for someone else. Because it was. Bowler is writing for people in the wreckage. People whose circumstances wonât improve. People for whom âjust be gratefulâ is an insult, not advice.
Thatâs a worthy audience. But it means Joyful, Anyway doesnât scale the way broader self-help does. If your situation doesnât match Bowlerâs intensity, her framework might feel heavy for where you are. Not wrong â just not calibrated for your problem.
Bowler draws on positive psychology research (Barbara Fredricksonâs broaden-and-build theory, Sonja Lyubomirskyâs work on happiness interventions) and cites it properly. She also draws on theological and philosophical traditions. And she draws on her own experience: the cancer, the treatment, the living-in-between.
The evidence is mixed by design. Sheâs not claiming clinical rigor. Sheâs blending research with theology with memoir. Thatâs honest, and itâs what makes the book feel alive rather than clinical. But if you want a pure evidence-based approach to joy, youâll want to pair this with something like Lyubomirskyâs The How of Happiness for the research side.
Bowlerâs strength is that she asks the questions the researchers donât: What does joy mean when your body is failing? Who gets to claim it? What do we owe each other when someoneâs suffering and we show up with platitudes instead of presence?
Those arenât empirical questions. But theyâre the right questions for a lot of readers.
Joyful, Anyway starts where most joy books wonât go. It takes chronic illness, the collapse of comforting narratives, the wreckage of certainty, and builds a case for joy that doesnât require pretending any of that away.
Itâs not a toolkit. Itâs not a program. Itâs barely a self-help book in the way I usually define the category. What it is: the most honest exploration Iâve read of what joy means for people whose lives donât fit the assumptions of the happiness industry. Bowler writes better than almost anyone in this space. That matters.
Bowler earns the âanyway.â She doesnât pretend joy is easy, available on demand, or a sign that youâve healed. She makes the case that joy is possible and that your pain is real and that neither one cancels the other. Holding both at once is the whole practice.
The implementation gap keeps this from being a five. I wish sheâd spent forty more pages on the how â structured the four practices into a framework, given readers a way to build the muscle she describes so well. Without that, youâre left with a profound perspective shift and an invitation to figure out the rest yourself. Some readers will. Some will add it to the pile and move on to the next one.
But if youâve been cycling through joy and happiness books that make you feel worse because they assume a life you donât have, Joyful, Anyway is the first one Iâve read that starts where you actually are. Thatâs not everything. But for the right reader, at the right time, itâs enough.
Read an advance copy in mid-March 2026, sat with it for two weeks before writing this. Tested the ânoticingâ practice for ten days, tracking small moments of goodness without assigning meaning to them. Results: I noticed more than I expected, which was either the practice working or confirmation bias. Probably both. The grief-joy connection chapter has stayed with me longer than anything else Iâve read this year. Bowlerâs prose earns a permanent spot on the shelf. Her framework earns a conversation with a therapist about how to actually use it.