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3.55 AVERAGE
3.55 AVERAGE
emotional
funny
informative
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
Did not like audio, may finish if I find a softcover copy someday
emotional
funny
lighthearted
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
emotional
funny
informative
inspiring
sad
slow-paced
An interesting read, but a bit tough to really get into since each journal entry is so short. I wouldn't have enjoyed it much if not adoring Alan Rickman so deeply, and therefore being interested to hear his (brief) thoughts on his life's experiences. Unfortunately it still wasn't one I was necessarily eager to pick back up.
emotional
funny
informative
mysterious
reflective
sad
slow-paced
I really wanted to love this book. Being a huge Alan Rickman fan I feel that my rating is giving him a disservice, however…..
It wasn’t written by a talented author. These were his diaries, his thoughts. I’m questioning why they needed to be published.
About 85% of this book is about him spending time with friends or the nitty gritty of filmmaking. It would be interesting to people who knew Mr Rickman personally but no one else. I don’t need to know that you went to John Lewis to buy a toaster!
I adore Alan Rickman. Devastated he passed away. The last 6 months where he was diagnosed with cancer until he died and then his wife Rima’s contribution at the end was heartbreaking.
2 stars for a book not intended to be seen by the public, written by a normal guy for his eyes only.
5 stars for Alan Rickman. True gentleman. Pure talent. Wonderful and generous man. RIP
It wasn’t written by a talented author. These were his diaries, his thoughts. I’m questioning why they needed to be published.
About 85% of this book is about him spending time with friends or the nitty gritty of filmmaking. It would be interesting to people who knew Mr Rickman personally but no one else. I don’t need to know that you went to John Lewis to buy a toaster!
I adore Alan Rickman. Devastated he passed away. The last 6 months where he was diagnosed with cancer until he died and then his wife Rima’s contribution at the end was heartbreaking.
2 stars for a book not intended to be seen by the public, written by a normal guy for his eyes only.
5 stars for Alan Rickman. True gentleman. Pure talent. Wonderful and generous man. RIP
"One of those days that has no rules - time passes too quickly, a lot of it one would like to rewind or re-do. But there it was - a great sprawling, hopeful splurge of a day.”
At the mention of Alan Rickman’s name, you cannot help but hear this actor's inimitable voice, voice that you do find here, in this recueil of diary entries. You also get the man’s concerns, his sense of humour, and how human he was.
“I hate it when my head, heart and aspirations are filled to the brim only with career. The rest of me hangs around like a jacket on the back of a doorknob.”
What is not 'normal’ to us was his fascinating acting life and corresponding circle of friends and acquaintances, most from the film industry and theatre, but also wider world. His professional life took him from one location to another across the globe, from one restaurant to another, in a never-ending life carousel. I especially relished the entries on the filming of favourite films, wanting ever more.
“To Shepperton for make-up and costume tests. Emma, Imelda, Imogen in the trailer - and Kate Winslet - first impression sweetness and steel.”
"Smacking the backs of Daniel [Radcliffe] & Rupert [Grint]’s heads - doubtless a fuss will ensue about corporal punishment.”
"Attenborough is an extra special man. Courteous to a fault, aware of every nuance in the room, and open enough to be excited by the idea of staying with Nelson Mandela. On an obsessive day like this he is an object lesson in how to live your life in all directions at once.”
If I had one complaint is that, due to the nature of these entries, you get a fragmented view. I would have loved to have had a ‘continuous' one, one where I could have followed Alan’s life through his eyes. He didn’t write this, and so I can only be too grateful we did get these diary entries, as well as the few drawings he penned. Glorious.
At the mention of Alan Rickman’s name, you cannot help but hear this actor's inimitable voice, voice that you do find here, in this recueil of diary entries. You also get the man’s concerns, his sense of humour, and how human he was.
“I hate it when my head, heart and aspirations are filled to the brim only with career. The rest of me hangs around like a jacket on the back of a doorknob.”
What is not 'normal’ to us was his fascinating acting life and corresponding circle of friends and acquaintances, most from the film industry and theatre, but also wider world. His professional life took him from one location to another across the globe, from one restaurant to another, in a never-ending life carousel. I especially relished the entries on the filming of favourite films, wanting ever more.
“To Shepperton for make-up and costume tests. Emma, Imelda, Imogen in the trailer - and Kate Winslet - first impression sweetness and steel.”
"Smacking the backs of Daniel [Radcliffe] & Rupert [Grint]’s heads - doubtless a fuss will ensue about corporal punishment.”
"Attenborough is an extra special man. Courteous to a fault, aware of every nuance in the room, and open enough to be excited by the idea of staying with Nelson Mandela. On an obsessive day like this he is an object lesson in how to live your life in all directions at once.”
If I had one complaint is that, due to the nature of these entries, you get a fragmented view. I would have loved to have had a ‘continuous' one, one where I could have followed Alan’s life through his eyes. He didn’t write this, and so I can only be too grateful we did get these diary entries, as well as the few drawings he penned. Glorious.
Cash grab. Family and friends should be ashamed.
For a book called Madly, Deeply, you'd expect some passion and depth. This series of diary entries rarely has anything more potent than a snarky Tweet. It has no teeth. Reading it is a reminder that who we are cannot be distilled into marginal notes.
Whatever Rickman's real plans were with this diary, be it as notes for future memoirs or just the therapeutic nature of journaling, you can't glean much from this other than that, here, even in the privacy of his scribblings, he hasn't revealed his inner world. He is still guarded, still afraid to say everything he means to say. More often than not he reminds himself, in text, to push away his judgments, his negative thoughts. This, rather than writing them down. We're given the impression, then, that he has an even private-er diary hidden somewhere else, one filled with his actual thoughts and feelings.
At least, that's what I want to think. The alternative is that he doesn't have anything interesting to say, even to himself.
In any case, this should neither have been published nor read. It's an embarrassing thing to muster up the courage of voyeurism, to peek into the private, secret thoughts of a person and see them nude. It's even more embarrassing when, after tearing your soul a little with that act, you find nothing of substance.
For a book called Madly, Deeply, you'd expect some passion and depth. This series of diary entries rarely has anything more potent than a snarky Tweet. It has no teeth. Reading it is a reminder that who we are cannot be distilled into marginal notes.
Whatever Rickman's real plans were with this diary, be it as notes for future memoirs or just the therapeutic nature of journaling, you can't glean much from this other than that, here, even in the privacy of his scribblings, he hasn't revealed his inner world. He is still guarded, still afraid to say everything he means to say. More often than not he reminds himself, in text, to push away his judgments, his negative thoughts. This, rather than writing them down. We're given the impression, then, that he has an even private-er diary hidden somewhere else, one filled with his actual thoughts and feelings.
At least, that's what I want to think. The alternative is that he doesn't have anything interesting to say, even to himself.
In any case, this should neither have been published nor read. It's an embarrassing thing to muster up the courage of voyeurism, to peek into the private, secret thoughts of a person and see them nude. It's even more embarrassing when, after tearing your soul a little with that act, you find nothing of substance.
21 August
New pillows, extra hangers, DVD player on its way.
22 August
4pm Riding lesson.
23 August
Day One, Perfume