I finished Steve Martin’s “Born Standing Up” at the gym today. He writes extremely well. Before that, it was Marco Pierre White’s “Devil in the Kitchen” which I enjoyed more. It wasn’t as well written, but I loved it. Here I was thinking, I haven’t come down to the inevitable discussion of books, and I have these two excellent memoirs handy (okay, one excellent one and the other I adore) then it happened.
Over coffee this afternoon, my friend Jim referred to “Harpo Speaks”.
Unfair! Until Max Maven writes a memoir, “Harpo Speaks” is definitive of the genre. And I have nothing to say about it, except that I still like “Devil in the Kitchen” better, though I have no good reason to. "Harpo Speaks" is an amazing work all around. Sigh. Shutting up, for now.
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While your choices are all fine, I suppose, I nominate William Shatner's Star Trek Memories. While I don't recall the circumstances by which I acquired the dog-eared paperback edition I read, I fondly remember chuckling at his stories of misunderstandings with fellow cast members and the tricky game of contract negotiation he and Nimoy used to raise both of their salaries for the various Trek films.
Truly a classic of the genre.
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