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A review by jessicaesquire
Memoirs by John Waters, Tennessee Williams
I really wish I could have been around when this memoir originally came out. Because what you'd expect from a memoir written by a giant of the American stage and what you get in this memoir are definitely not the same. But the thing is, I am not sure that's bad!
If you want to read this to learn more about where Williams gets his characters from, how he writes, what themes and messages he's trying to get across in his plays, how his personal life is portrayed in his plays, etc etc etc you will get none of that. NONE.
Still, there is some real joy to be found in this kind of loose, rambly, gives-no-****s memoir. It is especially noteworthy that Williams is so open and unashamed about his sex life at a time when most gay men in public life were closeted. Williams would very much like you to know who he did sleep with and who he didn't, often he would like you to know how many times. He is not graphic, but he does like you to know just who he kept around for companionship and who was good for sex. He casually talks about cruising New York looking for sex. It is amazing, I have never read anything like it.
If you like gossip you will get very little. While clearly Williams has had lovers whose names we would recognize, he refuses to share them. There are a lot of pseudonyms. He loves to tell you which actors have been best in his work. But while I'm sure he has several biting opinions, he mostly keeps the criticism to himself. (Unless it's critics, in that case he has plenty.) He can tell you when each play opened and closed, which theaters it was in, how the critics received it, but mostly that's all you will get about much of his work.
Mostly this book feels like you are sitting next to Williams, who is probably on some kind of substances, and letting him go on. (He is quite open about his substance abuse.) It often lacks direction. It often lacks style. But there's something about the looseness of it that is its own strange pleasure, even if it goes on for much longer than you expected.
If you want to read this to learn more about where Williams gets his characters from, how he writes, what themes and messages he's trying to get across in his plays, how his personal life is portrayed in his plays, etc etc etc you will get none of that. NONE.
Still, there is some real joy to be found in this kind of loose, rambly, gives-no-****s memoir. It is especially noteworthy that Williams is so open and unashamed about his sex life at a time when most gay men in public life were closeted. Williams would very much like you to know who he did sleep with and who he didn't, often he would like you to know how many times. He is not graphic, but he does like you to know just who he kept around for companionship and who was good for sex. He casually talks about cruising New York looking for sex. It is amazing, I have never read anything like it.
If you like gossip you will get very little. While clearly Williams has had lovers whose names we would recognize, he refuses to share them. There are a lot of pseudonyms. He loves to tell you which actors have been best in his work. But while I'm sure he has several biting opinions, he mostly keeps the criticism to himself. (Unless it's critics, in that case he has plenty.) He can tell you when each play opened and closed, which theaters it was in, how the critics received it, but mostly that's all you will get about much of his work.
Mostly this book feels like you are sitting next to Williams, who is probably on some kind of substances, and letting him go on. (He is quite open about his substance abuse.) It often lacks direction. It often lacks style. But there's something about the looseness of it that is its own strange pleasure, even if it goes on for much longer than you expected.