I got this book from a friend to take on my trip. I finished it on the flight to Washington DC and left it behind for someone else to enjoy.
The book is a memoir of Gene Wilder's life (he's in his 80's now, born in 1933. Early on I felt the book was stilted, I did this, then I did this...etc. Telling instead of showing. I marked some passages that caught my attention, here's one:
p. 56 [about Acting] Stanislavsky method is to have the character want something (your objective) which needs "actions" to achieve them. Lee Strasberg used sensory memory to evoke a feeling needed in a role instead.
The author seems an honest, kind but very sad man. He tells some of the story through conversations with his psychiatrist - which is a bit awkward but at least breaks up the "telling". He could have used a lot more creativity in the writing. Maye his only point was to record his life.
I was touched at how love unfolded in his life. Always there, on the fringes sometimes, never any really big highs or really deep lows. His family relationships sustained him throughout his life. I felt an acceptance for what life had given him.
Published: 2005 Read: July 2014 Genre: Memoir