Wishful Drinking, by Carrie Fisher

Based on Fisher's one-woman show, this memoir is brutally honest, sincere and candid, and damn funny. It is a very fast read that has an odd but endearing style of writing: choppy but still very readable. More a collection of anecdotes than a narrative it still manages to cover a lot of her life: being born to famous showbiz parents, her two marriages and subsequent divorces, the death of a close friend (in her bed!), her addictions, and her mental health issues. She manages to take all this pain and turn it into a witty, insightful set of stories. Well written, and well done.

First Sentence:

I have to start by telling you that my entire existence could be summed up in one phrase.

Armada, by Ernest Cline

Despite having basically the same plot as the excellent Ready Player One (video game playing awkward teen stumbles into a massive intrigue, meets and falls for a beautiful ingénue, and then becomes the hero of the world) I couldn't put this book down, and in fact read it in one sitting! Cline fills it with not only references to classic video games and science fiction movies, but manages to make them seem fresh rather than derivative. The basic plot closely resembles The Last Starfighter, but instead of being ignored Cline embraces this (and all alien invasion tropes) by saying that these exist to prepare the populace for the reality of extraterrestrials. I love that he also tosses in other pop culture references to movies like Firefox and Red Dawn but doesn't explain them—either you get them or you don't. I'm sure I didn't get them all, but I liked the instant memories the ones I did brought to mind. I haven't met anyone that didn't like this book, from my fellow 1980's kids to my own kids!

First Sentence:

I was staring out the classroom window and daydreaming of adventure when I spotted the flying saucer.

Coreyography, by Corey Feldman

All I really knew about Corey Feldman before reading his memoir was I liked several of his early movies —Gremlins, The Goonies, Stand By Me, and my favorite, The Lost Boys — and like many child stars, he fell into a well-publicized spiral of drug abuse and unfounded arrogance. After reading Coreyography, though, Feldman comes across as a somewhat tragic figure. Yes, drug abuse is self-inflicted and not usually worthy of much empathy, but abusive parents and sexual molestation make the descent into addiction somewhat understandable, an escape from what must have been a horrible reality. His father was largely absent in Feldman's earliest days, leaving him in the care of his untreated schizophrenic mother and a family that looked at him like a paycheck rather than a person. Later, when his father returned to run his career, an assistant hired by his dad began molesting Feldman, starting a cycle of exploitation that lasted for years and included a couple of half-hearted suicide attempts. When Corey turned 15 he legally emancipated himself from his family, but he had already been introduced to cocaine and sadly found himself with his only adult role model being his friend Michael Jackson. Jackson was still a few years out from his own downfall, but still a long way from what I'd call a positive influence. Two failed marriages and a couple of stints in rehab later, Feldman appears to have gotten his life together and the book ends on a hopeful note, Feldman bonding with his son. This is a surprisingly personal and revealing memoir; I'd expected braggadocio and rationalizations, but instead got an honest look back over an amazingly unhappy life.

First Sentence:

I am three years old, sitting at the small round breakfast table in our tiny kitchen, eyeing a half-open box of cereal.

So, Anyway..., by John Cleese

John Cleese is hilarious. Anyone that has seen him perform (Monty Python, Fawlty Towers are the best known) has seen his genius, but this memoir shows his true talent is writing. He covers his life from his earliest days right up to the forming of Python; while this is fascinating, it was a bit disappointing as well. Of course I'd love to hear the stories behind one of the funniest shows I've ever seen, but understand that could probably fill an entire book by themselves and that wasn't the issue. The disappointing part was the hints at his life after 1969 that we don't get to see. For instance, Cleese mentions three wives, but is still married to his first throughout the text. That nit aside, this is still a great read.

Cleese has always been known for farce, but I always found his humor very sharp as well, and his wit and wisdom come off well here. I especially appreciated his take on religion: "All the vital questions have been dumped in favour of half-baked, po-faced rituals which are basically a form of middle-class rain dance. Still, it did give me the chapel scene in The Meaning of Life." Cleese nails political correctness as well, saying it "may have started as a kind intention, but was soon hijacked and taken ad absurdum by a few individuals without any sense of proportion—which means, by definition, that they are without any sense of humour either." He believes that if political correctness existed in his early career at the same level it does today, much of the comedy he wrote wouldn't have seen the light of day. Makes you wonder how many laughs we are missing now because comedians are hampered by society's race to mental austerity...

First Sentence:

I made my first public appearance on the stairs up to the school nurse's room, at St. Peter's Preparatory School, Weston-super-Mare, Somerset, England, on September 13, 1948.

Crashed, by Timothy Hallinan

Junior Bender is the next in a long line of quirky criminals with a heart of gold. Okay, so heart of gold is a stretch, but Junior is a cross between Dave Robicheaux and Bernie Rhodenbarr with a dash of Spenser thrown in. The plot follows a wide range of shady characters, with the main thread finding Junior blackmailed by a dirty cop into finding a saboteur on a porn set starring a fallen child TV star. The mystery drives the action, but I sometimes miss the old Agatha Christie style where the clues are there for the reader to solve right along with the detective. Crashed follows the more modern style where the hero figures everything out using an observation he keeps to himself. The adventure is the thing, though, and this book delivers that in spades! This initial volume in the series is quite good and I'll be looking for the second soon.

First Sentence:

If I'd liked impressionism, I might have been okay.

Tough Sh*t, by Kevin Smith

I like Kevin Smith's work; from Clerks to Green Arrow to Daredevil I find him both clever and funny. There are several autobiographical stories in Tough Sh*t—many of which are covered in more detail elsewhere—such as Smith's feud with Bruce Willis and the arrogance of Southwest Airlines. In and around the vignettes Smith weaves in advice for how to approach life. The guidance is often odd, such as where he compares the odds of a single sperm fertilizing an egg and creating a human being to self-actualization: "Remind them they've already beaten the odds, so the existence that follows is merely a victory lap to do with as they please." A phrase I found less specious and much more thoughtful occurs a little later in the chapter: "In the face of such hopelessness as our eventual, unavoidable death, there is little sense in not at least trying to accomplish all your wildest dreams in life." Smith's trademark humor and irreverence come through loud and clear throughout this short but entertaining read.

First Sentence:

I am a product of Don Smith's balls.

As You Wish, by Cary Elwes

Who doesn't like The Princess Bride? Both the book and the movie are top notch, classics that can be enjoyed generation after generation. The movie starred (among others) Cary Elwes, one of my favorite actors—right up there with Nathan Fillion, Bruce Campbell, and Cary Grant. Now Elwes has written a memoir of the making of the movie, and it is a truly fun read.

When The Princess Bride was being filmed, Elwes was just starting his acting career and was unbelievably nervous at being cast by Rob Reiner and expected to share the screen with such luminaries as Billy Crystal, Carol Kane, Christopher Guest, Chris Sarandon, Mandy Patinkin, and a host of others. One of the great things about this book is that these actors all contribute anecdotes to Elwes memories, making for a very well-rounded story. For instance, as inconceivable as it sounds, Wallace Shawn made the entire movie convinced he was about to be fired. His agent told him Danny DeVito was the first choice for the role and felt he never could measure up!

After reading this I felt compelled to rewatch the movie, and found it as enjoyable as ever. If anything, reading As You Wish made it even more so! Great book.

First Sentence:

The note simply read: IMPORTANT.

Stories I Only Tell My Friends, by Rob Lowe

Rob Lowe is a fascinating man. He is best known for playing Sam Seaborn in The West Wing, but I always think of him as Billy Hicks in St. Elmo's Fire. Lowe's autobiography is told in an easy manner and brimming with wonderful anecdotes. Being a successful actor, the fact that it is filled with stories about other famous people isn't surprising, but the number of stories where he interacts with recognizable names as a pure coincidence is amazing. At one point Lowe ran into a guy at a Dodgers game that just happened to operate Scooter and subsequently got to visit the set of both The Muppet Movie and The Tonight Show. Lowe's mom married a psychiatrist whose brother worked as a CGI animator on a "cheesy Western" set in space—Star Wars—and invited Lowe and his brother to visit that set as well. At sixteen he meets a girl on the beach that he dates for a while whose parents turn out to be Dyan Cannon and Cary Grant. Lowe was born in Ohio but when he moved to Malibu in 1976 the house in which they lived was down the street from the Sheen family and Rob became close with Emilio and Charlie.

Other stories are more what you'd expect, such as becoming friends with Tom Cruise and Patrick Swayze on the set of The Outsiders, hanging out with Bill Murray in Paris, or a friendly rivalry with Michael J. Fox. You know, normal movie star stuff. Besides acting, though, Lowe is also known for his addictive lifestyle and a sex tape with an underage girl. He covers these topics as well, although not in great detail. Considering the book is named Stories I Only Tell My Friends this isn't surprising; when friends get together they tend to not focus on the negative. This is an entertaining, lighthearted read that gives an interesting peek into the life of a celebrity.

First Sentence:

I had always had an affinity for him, an admiration for his easy grace, his natural charisma, despite the fact that for the better part of a decade my then girlfriend kept a picture of hi running shirtless through Central Park on her refrigerator door.

The Garner Files, by James Garner and Jon Winokur

As a kid I used to watch Maverick reruns with my dad, and we both liked The Rockford Files as well. On the silver screen we were both fans of The Great Escape and Grand Prix, and Support Your Local Sheriff! remains my favorite western comedy (yes, it is better than Blazing Saddles, but they are close!). So yeah, I have always liked James Garner. His charm is evident on both the big and small screen, but that is what comes of being a top-tier actor. What is the man like off-screen? Turns out, pretty much the same.

Garner comes across as honest and sincere on paper, and not far from that self-confident image seen in much of his work. This isn't all that surprising as he doesn't consider himself a great actor in the classic sense, but simply reacts to what is happening in any given scene by drawing on his personal experience. In The Great Escape he plays a scrounger, which is what he did while serving in the Korean War. Maverick was a drifter, and so was Garner before he landed in Hollywood. He loves to race cars, competing in the Baja 1000 multiple times, making his performance in Grand Prix that much more authentic. He did many of his own stunts as well, ending up in the hospital entirely too often. He was once in a car that was expected to briefly burst into flames, but the fire didn't go back out as expected. The crew reached him in time and no harm was done, but his insurance policy for the film was cancelled. Garner continued to drive and finished the film, all without insurance. If that isn't the definition of macho, I'm not sure what is.

A lot of Garner's attitude towards life comes out here as well, and interestingly I seem to either passionately agree or passionately disagree on many topics. He is a huge fan of the Oklahoma Sooners; I love the Texas Longhorns. He is a self-described "bleeding-heart liberal," where I lean more to the conservative side. On the other hand, his approach to religion matches mine closely ("I don't like people who try to ram their religious beliefs down my throat. Hey, if it works for you, fine, but it doesn't work for me, okay?") and I was impressed by his early definition of self-respect: "I thought [Uncle John] was the most successful man in the world because he was content with what he had." Oh, and we both despise onions. Having drinks with Garner would be a fascinating evening.

Great actor, great guy, great book.

First Sentence:

Norman, Oklahoma, is located near the center of the state, in the middle of "Tornado Alley" where, April through June, dry polar air from Canada mixes with warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico to produce hundreds of tornadoes.

My Lucky Life In and Out of Show Business, by Dick Van Dyke

I've been a fan of Dick Van Dyke for as long as I can remember. Even as a kid watching The Dick Van Dyke Show never failed to make me laugh, and Mary Poppins and Bye Bye Birdie are perennial favorites of mine (although as I grew older I admit I became more interested in watching Ann Margret than Dick Van Dyke—va-va-voom!). The autobiography talks a lot about his entertainment career, and Van Dyke's trademark humor is prevalent both in the language used and the anecdotes shared. He is light on his family details but he is a very private person so that isn't all that surprising. He does delve into his alcoholism and divorce rather frankly, though, so it isn't a fluff piece by any means. As might be expected with his sunny and outgoing disposition, Van Dyke has a healthy approach to life and a similarly healthy respect for his talent. "I've been lucky my whole life. I have worked with extraordinary people and always felt as if my work was play. I have also been fortunate that people have liked what I do, and as a result, they've liked me. I've tried never to take that for granted, to appreciate every compliment, kiss, and handshake, because I can imagine the opposite." Words to live by, and Dick Van Dyke does.

First Sentence:

It was nighttime, February 1943, and I was standing next to my mother, thinking about the war in Europe.

Just One More Thing, by Peter Falk

Between Columbo, The Princess Bride, and Robin and the 7 Hoods, Peter Falk is one of my favorite actors. This book is an autobiography of a sort, but with less a narrative and more a collection of stories. In Falk’s own words, the book contains “stories that supply a chuckle, that are designed for people like me, who pick up a book when they get into bed, read for 12 minutes, and doze off, hopefully with a smile on their lips.” While I read a lot more than 12 minutes a day, I certainly had a smile on my lips every time I opened it!

The tales shared range from Falk’s tortured path to acting—via accounting—to his six arrests to his glass eye to working with John Cassavetes. Falk’s sense of humor is dry and sarcastic, and his self-deprecating approach comes off as genuine, not the false modesty that many Hollywood types project. One of my favorite anecdotes was about Columbo’s famous raincoat; the Smithsonian believes they have it, but Falk has it in his closet at home! At one point he writes, “It’s a known fact that most actors starve to death.” Considering he was nominated for an Oscar for his first major role, it has been a long time since he has worried about starving. Now with a successful memoir under his belt, it will be that much longer.

First Sentence:

It was 1955.

Shatnerquake, by Jeff Burk

Imagine a world where celebrity rules supreme, where entertainment stars are worshiped as deities, where actors are blurred with the characters they play. (No, not this world!) Here, William Shatner is a mega-star and a bit of a conceited ass. (Still not this world!) He is attending ShatnerCon, a convention to honor him, when the followers of a rival (Bruce Campbell, naturally) detonate a Reality Bomb, which brings all the fictional characters Shatner has ever portrayed to life. Unfortunately for the real William Shatner, the copies all have a single goal: to kill the original!

Not even 100 pages long, this had me in stitches. The idea of Captain Kirk, Mirror Universe Captain Kirk, Denny Crane, T.J. Hooker, Bob Wilson, the Negotiator, everyone Shatner has played all running around trying to kill each other is fantastic. The farce gets more violent (and even funnier!) as the various characters begin to interact, and when Kirk finds a working lightsaber it spirals completely out of control. This is a hilarious read, so over-the-top that you don’t even notice how ridiculous it all is because you are laughing so hard!

First Sentence:

Sniveling little sycophantic shits, thought William Shatner looking from the limo’s back seat.

Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way, by Bruce Campbell

This is one of the funniest damn books I’ve read in a long time. I opened it last night and couldn’t put it down until I was done; I often laughed out loud, once even waking up my sleeping wife! Campbell tells us how he landed a part in a Mike Nichols movie and what happens as the production gets underway. What starts as simple research into his role as a doorman ends up with Campbell being chased by the Secret Service, and simple suggestions to the cast and crew result in script changes that increasingly move the lighthearted romantic comedy further from its roots—and closer to something fans of Ash might recognize!

Campbell is at his funniest here: self-deprecating and sly, outrageous and absurd. We see a Buddhist in a fistfight and picking up a one night stand. We see a duel fought outside a southern strip club. An eco-terrorist is captured and a plot to rob the Smithsonian is foiled. There are funny Photoshopped pictures throughout as well; my favorite was the Welcome to Michigan sign that included the phrases, “Great Lakes, Great Times, Ohio State Sucks!” I loved Campbell’s In Chins Could Kill and this one was even better! Groovy!

First Sentence:

I read the e-mail out loud and wrinkled my nose when I got to the “another book of this type” part.

Who Killed the Electric Car? Directed by Chris Paine

Who Killed the Electric Car? was a really good documentary. I don’t normally blog about movies, but this one was quite interesting. As the title suggests, the subject is the rise and fall of the EV1, a fully electric car made by GM. While the content is clearly slanted in favor of the EV1, the presentation is non-confrontational and informative—a refreshing change from the accusatory crap that usually passes for documentaries these days. Interestingly, the filmmakers don’t pin the demise of the EV1 on any particular group, but spread the blame (seemingly fairly), over the automakers, oil companies, and the government. They go out of there way to not blame the consumer, but I don’t agree with the reasoning there. While there are many EV enthusiasts and a waiting list always existed for the (limited supply of) vehicles, if the demand was truly that widespread I can’t imagine that both GM and the lawmakers would both walk away. This is of course one of the points of contention into which the movie delves, but no hard numbers are presented and I was left unconvinced of this point.

I was a bit amused at the subtle indignation of the writers that oil companies lined up against the EV. Big oil doesn’t want a challenger in the marketplace? Wow, what a surprise. The natural gas companies fought electricity, steel fought plastics, rail fought the automobile, the entertainment industry fought VCRs and now the internet—why is anyone surprised that oil is fighting electrics? To me, this is a silly argument.

On the other hand, one excellent argument made is that it took laws to force seat belts in cars, enforce gas mileage improvements, and mandate catalytic converters. Will it take a law to get EVs on the road for good? It can’t hurt, but then the product has to provide obvious advantages over current offerings for the marketplace to care. Being better for the environment simply isn’t enough. Electricity beat natural gas without government intervention because it was a clear improvement to consumers. In a world that can’t even agree if global warming is a real issue, a greener car isn’t a killer app. Can you imagine NASCAR running an all-electric race? Bubba wouldn’t stand for it (although I think it could be pretty interesting)!

Towards the end the movie discusses other green friendly alternatives, such as gas-electric hybrids and fuel cells. It avoided all the ethanol silliness, although I was surprised to see no mention of natural gas. Natural gas seems a big deal here in Austin, but if it was mentioned in the movie, I missed it. Interestingly, these other green options don’t get much screen time; electric vehicles are the main focus here.

A friend of mine is busy converting a gas powered car to an electric one, and our conversations have forced me to question many of my stances on electric vehicles. Would I drive one today? My answer is still no, but some of the reasons I’d have given as to why a few months ago I now understand aren’t valid. I have driven a pickup for over fifteen years now, and fill the bed with cargo often enough so I feel justified in owning one. Until recently when I thought of electrics, the image I had was a large version of the toys in which my kids ride around the yard. I couldn’t imagine one that would have the power to tow a trailer or haul a load of dirt. I’ve been corrected in this line of thought: plenty of torque available but at a cost to battery life. So why won’t I use an electric as my primary car? Range.

Range is the killer for an EV in my opinion. The claim is that the range of an electric will meet 90% of the needs of the average driver. 90% feels high (for at least me), but let’s go with it for now. 90% is great, but what do I do for the other 10%? I’m not interested in being a three vehicle family—two electrics for my wife and I for everyday use and an internal combustion for travelling or hauling—but that seems to be the electric answer. When charging stations become prolific on the highways range may cease to be an issue, but I can fill my gas tank in under ten minutes and be on my way right now; if my cell phone and laptop are any indication, I suspect a battery charge will take considerably longer. Coupled with the fact that the more weight you have to move the bigger the drain on the batteries, this is a huge hurdle.

In summary: I still don’t entirely agree that the EV1 got an unfair shake in the marketplace, but this movie certainly made me consider it. If the EV1 had the same or improved perceived value to the average consumer as a traditional car, the EV1 wouldn’t have vanished so quickly. I don’t think electric vehicles are ready for the mainstream quite yet, but they are certainly viable. With technology continuing to advance at a steady clip, it is only a matter of time before we have real alternatives to internal combustion machines. If you are at all interested in this topic, check out this movie!

Sinatra: The Life, by Anthony Summers and Robbyn Swan

The last two books I’ve read both had Sinatra as a character. The first depicted Frank as so connected to the mob he could order a hit on a high school student for simply implying Sinatra donated money to Julliard. (Did I mention this was a pretty stupid book?) The second referred to Frank as The Voice; the author’s father was a disc jockey and when he abandoned his family the kid used Sinatra as a surrogate voice on the radio. In any case, after reading about Old Blue Eyes in two books in a row I decided to do a bit more research on him.

I read the Kitty Kelley book back in high school but don’t really remember much about it so I hit the library to see what they had. Not surprisingly there were a bunch of choices, so I picked the latest one. It was really interesting, concentrating on Sinatra’s various relationships with friends and lovers and his mafia connections. With the benefit of more recent memoirs (and legal testimony) and the fact that many of the then-players are deceased, more and more facts are coming to light about what has long been only rumored. The old adage says where there is smoke there is fire, and it appears that it is true here: Sinatra was as mobbed-up as his detractors have always maintained. Sam Giancana and Lucky Luciano are two of the best known mafiosos, but far from the only ones with whom he was friendly. His addiction to Ava Gardner is also well documented, but I’d always heard that Sinatra and George C. Scott had a feud of sorts over Ava (I believe Scott abused her and Sinatra tried to stop him) but there was nothing of that here.

Of course, you can’t talk about Sinatra without discussing music. The Frank revealed here is a man with a passion for crafting beautiful harmonies. I love his work with Riddle but it was hard to just read about it and get any real appreciation for his talent. (I found myself listening to a lot of Frank while reading this—A Swingin’ Affair! is by far my favorite album, every track is a solid winner.) Some of the stories around the songs were interesting, though; for instance New York, New York and My Way are two of his signature songs, but he didn’t actually like either one. Luckily for us, he decided to record them anyway!

First Sentence:

March 18, 1939. In a studio on West 46th Street in New York City, a band was playing Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee.”

If Chins Could Kill, by Bruce Campbell

I remember watching The Evil Dead when I was in high school and thought it was fantastic. Horror movies aren’t my favorite, but this one was special. It was both funny and shocking, the perfect movie for a bunch of underage kids with a case of beer. Evil Dead II was even better; the scene where Ash chases his own hand around the cabin—finally securing it with a pile of books, the topmost being A Farewell to Arms—is one of my favorite scenes in any movie ever. While my best friend at the time raved about the director (the soon-to-be-famous Sam Raimi) Bruce Cambpell was the reason I kept watching. If Chins Could Kill is Campbell’s life story, and I couldn’t put it down.

After a brief background, he jumps into the story of how The Evil Dead was shot. These guys were pretty much making it up as they went and created a cult classic by accident! Not knowing much about film I found this really interesting. Buying every bottle of Karo syrup in a 30-mile radius to create the gallons of fake blood needed and creating a camera dolly with two-by-fours and Vaseline are just two of the many anecdotes presented. Groovy!

First Sentence:

There is an L-shaped scar on the left side of my chin.