94 books like The Comedy Writer

Anything to do with Jim Carrey, I’m in. In fact, when teachers would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d reply “Be Jim Carrey.” As a longtime fan, I was excited to learn that he would finally be charting his life in an autobiography. As it turns out, the book was mostly wild fiction. What’s so engaging about this book is how he blends real-life occurrences like his body of film work and relationship with Renee Zellweger with completely off-the-wall fantasy like mentor Rodney Dangerfield returning as a Rhino, Kelsey Grammar leading a cult, and Carrey struggling with his career as his entire essence goes virtual. It’s extremely experimental, but the inclusion of celebrities will leave you grinning.     

Nick Hornby is one of my favorite writers, and About a Boy is one of my favorite books of all time.

I love how his prose is pared down but so profound; every sentence, however simple, carries weight, and his characterization is wonderfully human. In this book, Hornby champions mainstream entertainment, something I’m passionate about, as I can’t stand cultural snobbishness.

It’s an homage to a golden age of light entertainment, and, like television comedy, this is a book that "makes us all part of something."

Woody made fun of movie novelizations in Manhattan, but they have a special charm, especially when written by the director.* Tarantino’s gripping novel captures the changing of the guard in Hollywood ’69 as only a native son could, with special attention paid to Manson’s floppo music career.

The book also features some intense scenes that aren’t in the flick. For instance, in one chapter, Manson Family acolyte “Pussycat” creepy crawls into an elderly couple’s home at midnight and strips naked in their bedroom while they sleep and then…yeah, well, try not turning the pages, I dare ya. 

*(Another fine example is The Last Days of Disco, With Cocktails at Petrossian Afterward by Whit Stillman.)

Did you remember when Jill Peel won an Oscar in 1950s Hollywood, and then destroyed her career by standing up to sexist producers? Then past her prime, she attempted a creative comeback by embarking on her directorial debut? Of course not! It’s all fiction, of course. But with McMurtry at the helm, you can’t help but mistake it for real life. One of my all-time favorite writers, the talented Texan manages to capture Hollywood, sexism, and complex people in an honest way. If you’re a fan of the everyday situational humor exuding in his works like Terms of Endearment and The Last Picture Show, you’ll thoroughly enjoy this still very relevant look at aging and gender in the motion picture industry. 

I've been a huge fan of the Marx Brothers for many years. So, when I found a book that featured Groucho Marx as an amateur detective, I jumped on it. This, the first in a six-book series, is a treat to anyone who is a fan of the golden age of Hollywood. It is a cavalcade of famous names from the era of black and white films. Goulart does a tremendous job balancing a mysterious plotline with the lighthearted fun that you'd expect from a novel featuring Groucho Marx. And I'm happy to report that Goulart captures the essence of Groucho perfectly. The book, as well as the series, is a terrific tribute to one of Hollywood comedy geniuses. And it's a damn good mystery as well.

He is a fictionalized account of the comedian Stan Laurel's life. Being a massive fan of Laurel & Hardy, whose films remain irrepressibly funny to this day, and having read several factual books about Stan and his sidekick, it was a no-brainer to pick this up and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Whilst at times it feels like a ‘tick box’ situation regarding some of the events that an aficionado of Laurel would expect to be covered, at other times it provides an acute insight into the man behind the films. The similarity of the process on show here is so close to Blonde that a comparison is inevitable, and whilst he doesn’t provide the same emotional impact and is quite clinical in the telling, it nevertheless remains an important work in its own right and therefore is highly recommended.

Elmore Leonard knew the vagaries of the movie business back to front, and he serves them up on a platter of delicious satire in this story about an East Coast loan shark, Chili Palmer, who comes to Los Angeles chasing a deadbeat debtor and winds up in his own fractured fairy tale version of the Hollywood dream.

Chili’s an endearing character, street smart with a unique blend of humility and self-confidence. When his collection job throws him into company with a group of movie people, he sees them and their milieu with clear-eyed objectivity.

Talking to an underworld associate, he says, “The movie business, you can do anything you want because there’s nobody in charge.” Leonard’s mastery of dialogue and character, along with his wit and sly affection for the industry he’s skewering combine to make this book a complete delight. 

I have this weird rule. It’s more of a habit I developed while reading for the last few years: for every fiction book I read, I alternate with a nonfiction book afterward. It’s not that strange of a rule, but it has been what has felt right since 2019. And for nonfiction works, I tend to feast on memoirs by comedians. It’s just my thing.

Maniscalco’s coming-of-age memoir recounts his journey of venturing to LA as a humble youngin’, grinding away, to eventually develop his full-fledged star status. Food is an interesting device in this one, as it’s the backdrop, the motif, and the recipe for not only staying afloat but daring to thrive also.

Another good example of developing voice when it comes to food as an amorphous topic.

Jon Stewart once proclaimed that Richard Pryor, Lenny Bruce, and George Carlin were the “Holy Trinity” of stand-up comedy. After reading Scott Saul’s first-rate biography of Richard Pryor, I was transformed by the detailed writing and Saul’s portrait of an artist who struggled to find his voice. Saul’s premise was not to write a full biography but to examine the life and times of Pryor from his birth to his mid-life successes in 1980. I could not have written a book about George Carlin, Pryor’s contemporary, without Saul’s deeply researched tome. It’s a great read.

I always relate to stories about outsiders, because I have often felt like one myself. 

This hilarious, poignant memoir is about a fat, gay kid growing up in a poor, isolated farm town where he stayed home reading while the other kids played football and tortured animals. He is still fat and gay, but he is no longer a sad little outsider: he ended up being a highly respected comedy writer. 

Have you ever noticed that it’s the lonely, nerdy kids who often grow up to be the successful ones?