Reading Lena Dunham’s new collection of autobiographical essays, “Not That Kind of Girl,” is not unlike the pleasure of visiting websites that feature celebrities without makeup or in “before” plastic surgery photos. Most of us haven’t been interviewed by Vogue at 11 about our attitudes toward contemporary fashion, or had the New York Times cover a vegan dinner party we threw at 17. Despite strongly disagreeing with most of the advice her predecessor offered, Dunham found herself intrigued by Gurley Brown’s willingness to share her “assorted humiliations and occasional triumphs” with other women. Dunham is willing to expose herself — not in the superficial way that so many of her generation “expose” themselves via selfies, sex tapes and social media posts, but by revealing her own humanity. Some may find fault with the ephemera Dunham includes in this collection: the contents of her bag, a caloric record of what she’s eaten, advice lists and fragments of e-mails. [...] the inclusion of the lighter material subversively allows Dunham to also acknowledge what’s darker: the fifth-grade teacher whose attention turns creepy and inappropriate, the not-so-consensual sexual encounter she experiences in college, what it’s really like to struggle with self-doubt and self-hate, and to emerge from those experiences with your mind and soul intact.