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Me: Stories of My Life Hardcover – September 1, 1991
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A NEW YORK TIMES Notable Book of the Year
A Book-of-the-Month-Club Main Selection
From the Paperback edition.
- Print length420 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherKnopf
- Publication dateSeptember 1, 1991
- Dimensions6.75 x 1.75 x 9.75 inches
- ISBN-100679400516
- ISBN-13978-0679400516
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A NEW YORK TIMES Notable Book of the Year
A Book-of-the-Month-Club Main Selection
From the Paperback edition.
Product details
- Publisher : Knopf; First Edition (September 1, 1991)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 420 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0679400516
- ISBN-13 : 978-0679400516
- Item Weight : 1.85 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.75 x 1.75 x 9.75 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #134,415 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #536 in Rich & Famous Biographies
- #1,375 in Actor & Entertainer Biographies
- #1,606 in Women's Biographies
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This autobiography is episodic and a bit like listening to her abrupt and pointed style of talking. What's interesting especially is reading about her family. There were tragedies, a lot fun, too. She was athletic and strong, a trait that stood her in good stead for a long, productive life. She was always opinionated and headstrong, and for a long time, box-office poison due to a notable film failure. She covers this failure with a good, clear-eyed look at what went wrong.
If you love classic film, and the great actresses like Bette Davis, Vanessa Redgrave and Hepburn, you'll enjoy reading this bio.
Another example, something she learned after an arduous day of gardening: “Don’t drown the plant—just give it a chance to absorb all it can. Roots are like us—they can’t be forced—they must be made to work for their own.” To which she added that, for herself, it was a bit late, “but profit by this…. Get those weeds out. And plant carefully.”
There were portions like that, but few and far between. Mostly (to me, at least), this book read like a laundry list: names, places, performances. She could be amusing, as with her contention that “Spencer Tracy was like a baked potato…. because he was very basic as an actor. He was there -- skins and all—in his performances. He was cooked and ready to eat.”
The rest of the pages sounded (to me) more like dictation than writing, and most of them fell short in the Feelings Department. Except when it came to Spencer Tracy, with whom she lived for twenty-seven years. She had regrets about the fact that he was a married man. “I was complacent. I didn’t push for action. I just left it up to him. And he was paralyzed.” She writes about this incompletion and says of his abandoned wife, “Sad. “I’m sure that it was all a great burden to her also…. Traveling down a road which really didn’t exist… a mistake sitting right on your lap for life.” She says, “I like life and I’ve been so lucky… I don’t lock doors. I don’t hold grudges. Really the only thing I’m not mad about is wind. I find it disturbing. I mean wind in the heavens.”
There was one very irritating duplication of text starting on page 340 that hip-checked some of her memories of north Wales. I blame editors for errors like that. But, overall, I am glad to have read this book. It leads me to say of Hepburn what she herself wrote about someone else: “I liked her. She was sweet. She surmounted trouble.”