Kiss Me Like a Stranger: My Search for Love and Art by Gene Wilder

read by the author

My first reaction to listening to the audiobook version of this autobiography, which Gene Wilder narrated himself, was, “Ah, that voice—that’s the gentlest voice in the world. I love that voice.”

My second reaction was, “Man, Gene Wilder was really screwed up.”

It’s a truism that a lot of comedians and comedic actors are pretty screwed up. The line between a desire to please others and make them laugh, and an enjoyment of fame and attention—and a *need* for all of that, as a stand-in for love or a way of staving off deep, crippling anxiety—can be a fine one. In Gene Wilder’s case I think he spent most of his adult life on the sane side of that line. But he achieved that only after a lot of therapy.

We get to hear about the events of his childhood and young adulthood that shaped him as a person and contributed to his artistic and comedic sensibilities. Mr. Wilder was very open about who he was and how he responded to things, so we really get a sense of his life journey. For example, he was, if not scarred for life, at least greatly set back and discouraged, by an early encounter with the opposite sex, and while he definitely seems rather bitter about the other person involved, he doesn’t hold back about his own reaction, either.

We get to hear about his training as an actor, his friendships and romantic relationships, and his films--though the one thing I found a little disappointing about this book was that he doesn’t go into as much detail as I’d like about the making of most of his films. The only one he spends much time on is Young Frankenstein; I’d have loved to have heard much more about the personalities and the general experience involved with, say, The Frisco Kid and Blazing Saddles. Still, what he did include was more than I already knew. I loved, for example, hearing his impression of the young Harrison Ford.

And we get to hear, of course, about Gilda Radner. They had a deep love and a tumultuous relationship and he doesn’t spare himself or her in his descriptions. And we get to learn about the woman he married and was with until he died, Karen Webb.

This autobiography is full of beautiful little nuggets about the life of a very gifted man who had a lot of issues. Highly recommended to anyone who is a fan of his work.

Calypso by David Sedaris

read by the author

If you’ve never heard David Sedaris read, go google Santaland Diaries right now. You want an excerpt of him on NPR. Go ahead. I’ll wait. 

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All right, now that you’ve listened, you’re starting to get the picture. Sedaris is a memoirist and a performer of his memoirs, which are written in short… anecdotes? They’re more structured than that. Stage performances? You do definitely want to hear him read his work, but it also works very well in print. Stories? They are definitely that, but also highly personal and, to say the least, quirky as hell. Also deeply, sometimes shockingly, funny. You’re never sure how much of them to actually believe.

The term I see bandied about is “semi-autobiographical essays.” Which seems accurate enough, if a little pedantic. He collects these semi-autobiographical essays into books every so often, and Calypso is one of those collections.

It’s a bit of a departure from a lot of his previous work, because he was writing these stories/memories/anecdotes at a time in his life when he was dealing with the death of two family members. It’s still funny, because he’s a man who can see the humor in literally anything, and make you see it, too--and be a little shocked at yourself for laughing.

What you’ll be laughing about in this collection is a series of family vacations at a beach house on the Carolina coast, haunted by bickering, badgering, the arrival of middle age, and both the specter and the reality of mortality. There are snapping turtles and book signings, transatlantic travel and family dinners. Sedaris writes in lovingly, gleefully unsparing detail about everyone’s quirks and faults, his own most of all.

If that idea makes you squeamish, or really, if you’re squeamish at all, you should probably skip this one. But if you can handle a little tumor humor and a lot of blatant (but never gratiutous) oversharing, dive in. If he can laugh at his life, and make us laugh at it too, maybe you can start seeing the ridiculousness in yours.

Oh. And if possible, listen to the audiobook version, which he reads himself.

I’m Just a Person by Tig Notaro

read by the author

Full disclosure: I have a massive crush on Jett Reno, Tig Notaro’s character on Star Trek: Discovery. That may or may not have influenced my review.

Those of you who aren’t Star Trek folks (though honestly, what do you do with your time???) may have heard of her famous stand-up routine where she began with, “Good evening. Hello. I have cancer. How are you? Hi, how are you? Is everybody having a good time? I have cancer.” If you haven’t heard of it, go google it now.

Basically what happened was, Ms. Notaro was hospitalized with a painful and life-threatening condition, and her mother died after a freak accident, and her girlfriend broke up with her, and she was diagnosed with bilateral invasive breast cancer, all within 4 months in 2012. Bringing it to her standup routine in that raw way was her way of trying to be as alive as possible.

This memoir is about that year—the four-month period just mentioned, and the 8 months or so that followed. It’s full of all the despair and hope and chaos and love and confusion and connection that you would expect. Ms. Notaro was of course knocked completely flat by all of this; she doesn’t claim any special strength or courage. Quite the opposite. She’s not self-deprecating in the least, but she’s honest and straightforward and utterly humble.

And she managed to face her world falling completely apart with a kind of grace. A very human grace, peppered with failures and lapses in kindness and common sense—but still, a grace. I think that, and her unflagging sense of humor, derive from her refusal to refuse to face the facts, tempting as it might have been. 

That’s what I find admirable about her. And what I admire and appreciate about the book is her willingness and ability to keep the raw parts raw and not try to gloss them over or tie a pretty bow around them. At the same time, while the reader does accompany Ms. Notaro to the depths of the worst days of her life, there are notes of humor and hope throughout.

I wish her a long and happy life. And I hope you will check her memoir out. It’s harrowing sometimes, but it’s also beautiful and satisfying and will give you all the feels.

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

read by Martin Jarvis

With the new series set to premier this month, I had to read Good Omens. I’d avoided it for all these years because, honestly, I’m not a huge fan of Terry Pratchett’s. (Yes, go ahead and pelt me with raw carrots or something.) I just didn’t love Neil Gaiman enough to read this collaboration—and I love Neil Gaiman a lot. But the on-screen version of American Gods was so good, I decided I had to have the necessary background to properly appreciate this adaptation.

And it turns out to have been an excellent idea. Good Omens is terrifically funny, in a style reminiscent of Douglas Adams’ best work: somehow ludicrous and dry at the same time. Basically two angels, one fallen (Crowley) and one not so fallen (Aziraphale), are friends who have “gone native” here on Earth and are living happily among us. But then it turns out that the End Times are about to happen—and neither of them wants that.

Also in the mix: the Antichrist, age 11; Anathema Device, a witch and a descendant of the eponymous Agnes Nutter; the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse; and a couple of misguided but very devoted witch hunters. Hijinks ensue.

There are tons of scenes that stick in my head in a very visual way—but if I told you about them, I'd be like that preview of that really hilarious movie that shows all the funniest pratfalls and sight gags and one-liners to get you all excited, and then when you go to see the actual movie, you realize you've already seen all the best bits. So I'm not gonna do that.

I will tell you that it's about free will, more or less. Free will, and the absurdity of the human condition, and yes, it's also a buddy comedy, sort of. It's got elements of the Hitchhiker's Guide and of American Gods, which you would expect. But it's also got elements of The Screwtape Letters (but less preachy), Lucifer (the TV show) (but smarter), The Good Place, and The Preacher.

Verdict: definitely read it. Especially if you plan to watch the show. If you like this sort of thing, this is definitely a great example of it. If you have no idea what sort of thing this is, this is a good place to start. If you don't like this sort of thing... I still think you should give it a try, because this might very well change your mind. If it doesn't, I'll still shake your hand and wish you well.

Robin by Dave Itzkoff

Read by Fred Berman

Wow. Just… truly. Wow.

When Robin Williams died, it hit me hard. Yes, he’d been in quite a few embarrassingly bad movies. But he’d also been the heart and soul of some that had been sources of joy and comfort and solace to me. He was a bright light in the world and the loss of that light made my world noticeably dimmer.

I was also deeply furious with him, for having taken his own life. And bewildered that somebody who was so loved by so many, and had such obvious and brilliant talent, would do such a thing. How could he fail to understand that the world would be a dimmer place without him? That lasted a long time.

Finally enough time had passed that when this book came to my attention I decided I could stand to read about him. And it was just right. Itzkoff takes us through his life story, from his parents and their backgrounds, through his lonely childhood and his insecure early career, to the years we remember best. And of course we didn’t know him at all. In some ways, nobody did; I came away with the impression of an incredibly lonely man.

Itzkoff is gentle with his subject, but thorough. This isn’t a money-grubbing, celebrity-shaming tell-all, by any means, and yet I came away with an impression of having at least glimpsed every side of Robin Williams, including the less-shiny bits. But I also came away with an impression of the whys. Why he became who he became, why he took those roles, why he ended his life. Whether my impression is accurate or not, of course I will never know. Nobody but Robin Williams really knew Robin Williams. But I feel like I know some of the reasons for that, and I’m glad. And devastated all over again that he’s gone.

The narrator, Fred Berman, does a great job giving us a feel for the voices of the people whose quotes he’s reading, without quite mimicking them. I’d give him five stars--but he somehow failed to learn that Marin (as in Marin County, where Robin Williams spent much of his adult life, so it gets mentioned a lot in the book) is pronounced with the emphasis on the second syllable. This was seriously and frequently irritating and seems like a major oversight. Aside from that, excellent narration.