In Their Own Words (And Voices)
Anyone glancing briefly at the high/low list of books I’ve consumed in 2020 would see I’m no literary snob. But I admit to a long-held prejudice against audio books. I would argue that you MUST read any book under the category “literary fiction,” as opposed to it being read to you. It’s the act of hearing the author’s words in our own internal voice that brings them to life and stamps the best of them forever on our artistic consciousness. But autobiographies are another matter—as life stories resonate most when told by those who lived them
The story behind the title, “Barry Sonnenfeld, Call Your Mother” (which finds the teenage Sonnenfeld being summoned over Madison Square Garden’s sound system just as Jimmy Hendrix takes the stage) may be the most iconic instance of Jewish mother neurosis I ever heard. It’s certainly the funniest, thanks in part to the New Yorker’s slightly nasal narration. Born just ten blocks from my current home in Hudson Heights, Sonnenfeld started his mainstream film career as the Cohen brother’s cinematographer before segueing into directing, building an impressive resume that includes “The Addams Family,” the “Men in Black” trilogy and “Get Shorty.” I say mainstream because his introduction to films was as a cameraman in porn—the recounting of which is so graphically unsexy, that I momentarily regretted choosing the audio format. Porn aside, hearing of near-death Red-eye flights and insufferable meetings with Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman made me feel like a Hollywood insider. While the countless odes to his wife, “Sweetie,” made this an unexpectedly moving love story.
I expected “I Loved Her in the Movies: Memories of Hollywood’s Legendary Actresses,” to be little more than Hollywood’s-golden-age gossip (perfect for lulling me to sleep when faced with occasional insomnia). But actor/author Robert Wagner surprised me with his ability to critically examine the appeal of Irene Dunne, Myrna Loy, Norma Shearer, and others as well as Pauline Kael or Andrew Sarris ever could. Memories of Barbara Stanwyck (divorced and 23 years his senior when they met) are made even more touching by the gentlemanly restraint he shows when touching on their four-year romance.
Wagner warmly remembers Joan Crawford’s drive and unique “quality of directness” to paint a humanizing portrait that is a welcome contrast to the gorgon she’s most often portrayed as. And the argument he makes for Lana Turner as a legitimate, skilled actress is extremely insightful.
I imagine most movie lovers will feel grateful that Wagner was able to verbalize the shared affection we have for these legendary women. Any whispered toast to Bette Davis or Rosalind Russell that I’d imagined in my head while watching one of their films, Wagner has made for me. All I have to do is second it.
Though I listened to Michelle Obama’s “Becoming” two years ago, she set the standard in audio books for me, and is included here as a vocal champion of “storytelling” (both hers and our own). Hearing her talk about a first love overshadowed by her Princeton ambitions; of being introduced to life in the White House, and the tearful final hours before she left it; of navigating the ever-present security detail to bring some semblance of normalcy to date night or her daughters’ sporting meets allowed me to really appreciate the honesty and humility we know to be her hallmark.
Lastly, while I chose to read—as opposed to listen to—"Howard Stern Comes Again,” I must include it in any mention of autobiographical works I read this year. Stern has long been labeled a shock jock and sophomoric. But this collection of interviews (from Lady Gaga divulging her history with cocaine to Bill Murray waxing philosophical on the purpose of life) reveals Stern to be a master of connection on par with Cavett, while chronicling his personal exploration and growth. And it’s that evolution that gives “Comes Again” its cultural heft. And heart.