Margo’s Got Money Troubles by Rufi Thorpe

Look, I’ll be honest with you. When I first picked up “Margo’s Got Money Troubles” by Rufi Thorpe, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Another millennial sob story about how hard adulting is? Please. But holy smokes, folks, this book knocked me on my ass faster than one of Margo’s dad’s signature wrestling moves. It’s a wild ride that’ll make you laugh, cry, and maybe—just maybe—reconsider your judgments about OnlyFans creators. (No? Just me? Okay then.)

The Setup: One Hot Mess Coming Right Up

So here’s the deal: Margo Millet is, to put it mildly, in a bit of a pickle. She’s 20 years old, has a baby, no job, and an eviction notice with her name on it. Oh, and her dad? He’s an ex-pro wrestler named Jinx who’s just shown up on her doorstep asking to move in. If this were a country song, someone’s truck would be breaking down right about now.

But Margo’s not going down without a fight. In a move that’s equal parts desperation and “screw it, why not?” she decides to start an OnlyFans account. And that, my friends, is where things get really interesting.

The Cast: A Motley Crew of Misfits and Mayhem

Thorpe has assembled a cast of characters that feel like they walked straight out of a Florida Man headline, and I mean that in the best possible way. Let’s break it down:

• Margo: Our protagonist, a walking disaster with a heart of gold and a surprisingly savvy business mind. She’s like if a Hooters waitress and a philosophy major had a baby, and that baby grew up to be… well, Margo.
• Jinx: Margo’s dad, an ex-pro wrestler with more baggage than an airport carousel. He’s part sage, part train wreck, and entirely entertaining.
• Bodhi: Margo’s baby, who mostly serves as a cute, pooping plot device. (Hey, babies gonna baby.)
• Mark: The English professor who knocked Margo up. He’s about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.
• Shyanne: Margo’s mom, a Hooters waitress turned respectable wife who’s still figuring out how to parent her hot mess of a daughter.

It’s a dysfunctional family sitcom waiting to happen, and Thorpe milks every interaction for maximum comedic and emotional impact.

The Writing: Sharp, Snarky, and Surprisingly Heartfelt

Here’s the thing about Rufi Thorpe’s writing: it’s like getting punched in the gut by someone wearing brass knuckles made of cotton candy. It’s sweet, it’s painful, and you’re not quite sure how to feel about it, but damn if you don’t want more.

Thorpe’s prose crackles with energy, veering from laugh-out-loud funny to gut-wrenchingly poignant in the space of a sentence. She’s got a knack for nailing the absurdity of modern life, especially when it comes to the ways we commodify ourselves online.

Take this gem, for example:

I mean, come on. That’s the kind of line that makes you snort-laugh and then immediately want to text it to all your friends.

The Plot: OnlyFans and Only Fans

The heart of “Margo’s Got Money Troubles” is, well, Margo’s money troubles. But it’s really about so much more than that. It’s about survival in a world that seems designed to crush you. It’s about the lengths we’ll go to for our kids. And yeah, it’s about getting naked on the internet for cash.

Thorpe doesn’t shy away from the nitty-gritty details of Margo’s foray into OnlyFans. We’re talking full-on, no-holds-barred exploration of what it’s like to commodify your body and personality for strangers on the internet. It’s raw, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s absolutely fascinating.

But what really elevates the story is how Thorpe uses Margo’s OnlyFans journey as a lens to explore bigger themes. We’re talking about power dynamics, economic inequality, the value of labor (emotional and physical), and the ways technology is reshaping our concepts of intimacy and authenticity.

The Themes: More Than Just Boobs and Bills

Don’t let the raunchy humor and OnlyFans plotline fool you—this book has layers, people. Thorpe is tackling some heavy stuff here:

1. The impossibility of “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” in modern America
2. The complex dynamics of parent-child relationships, especially when roles get reversed
3. The blurry line between empowerment and exploitation in sex work
4. The performative nature of identity, both online and off

It’s like if “The Catcher in the Rye” and “Belle de Jour” had a baby, and that baby grew up to be an Instagram influencer. Deep, man.

Comparisons: Standing Out in a Crowded Field

“Margo’s Got Money Troubles” isn’t the first book to tackle millennial struggles or the gig economy, but it might be the funniest and most unflinching. Fans of Ottessa Moshfegh’s “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” will appreciate the raw honesty, while readers who loved the humor and heart of “Shrill” by Lindy West will find a kindred spirit in Margo.

It’s worth noting that this is a departure from Thorpe’s previous works like “The Knockout Queen” and “The Girls from Corona del Mar.” While those books had their moments of levity, “Margo’s Got Money Troubles” leans hard into the comedy while still maintaining Thorpe’s trademark emotional depth.

The Verdict: A Must-Read for the Extremely Online Generation

Look, I’m not saying “Margo’s Got Money Troubles” is going to solve all of society’s problems. But it might just make you laugh while you contemplate them, and honestly, isn’t that what we all need right now?

Thorpe has crafted a novel that feels urgently, painfully relevant to our current moment. It’s a book that asks hard questions about how we assign value—to ourselves, to our work, to our bodies—in a world where everything seems to have a price tag.

Is it perfect? Nah. Some readers might find the explicit content a bit much, and there are moments where the plot veers into the realm of the improbable. But you know what? Life is improbable sometimes, especially when you’re young and broke and trying to figure it all out.

Final Thoughts: Cash Money and Catharsis

“Margo’s Got Money Troubles” is the literary equivalent of a night out with your wildest friend—the one who always has the best stories and somehow convinces you to do things you’d never normally do. It’s messy, it’s hilarious, and you might have some regrets in the morning, but damn if it isn’t a good time.

So here’s my advice: buy this book. Read it. Laugh at it. Cry with it. And maybe, just maybe, let it challenge some of your preconceptions about what it means to hustle, to parent, to love, and to survive in our brave new digital world.

Just, uh, maybe don’t read it on the bus. Trust me on this one.