Scan barcode
A review by libkatem
Never Have Your Dog Stuffed: And Other Things I've Learned by Alan Alda
4.0
"I brought a suitcase of books to Paris. And as soon as I got there, I started filling up another suitcase with books, many of them in French, which I could barely read, and many of whose pages stayed uncut. Just having books was the point, and lugging a valise full of them to the train station and hoisting it up onto the metal rack made me feel like a scholar.
"I sat and drank hot rum at Les Deux Magots, and that made me feel like Hemingway. If I had two rums, I felt like Sartre. Sartre liked to write in a crowded cafe` and, amazingly, I found, so did I." [chapter 7]
So... that spoke to me on a personal level. This was really the first time that I really related to Alda, not that I wasn't already engrossed with his story, because I was.
His early years, Alda traveled the burlesque and vaudeville circuits with his parents; his father was an actor, and his mother had an undiagnosed mental illness. His experience with catholic schools did not line up with my (mostly positive) experiences, though I've heard horror stories similar to his. I trust what he's saying. Alda also contracted Polio at a very young age, and was quiet ill. My heart breaks for these early experiences, and Alda has a deft, precise way of writing about it.
His life has taken a lot of twists and turns, and his tremendous work ethic finally led him to M*A*S*H (which, in my opinion, will make Alda immortal), and he always includes his loving relationship with his wife and their three daughters. I have such admiration for Alan Alda, and it really only grew with this book.
I can't wait to read the next one.
(And Alan, if you ever need a hug, I'd be happy to give you one.)
"I sat and drank hot rum at Les Deux Magots, and that made me feel like Hemingway. If I had two rums, I felt like Sartre. Sartre liked to write in a crowded cafe` and, amazingly, I found, so did I." [chapter 7]
So... that spoke to me on a personal level. This was really the first time that I really related to Alda, not that I wasn't already engrossed with his story, because I was.
His early years, Alda traveled the burlesque and vaudeville circuits with his parents; his father was an actor, and his mother had an undiagnosed mental illness. His experience with catholic schools did not line up with my (mostly positive) experiences, though I've heard horror stories similar to his. I trust what he's saying. Alda also contracted Polio at a very young age, and was quiet ill. My heart breaks for these early experiences, and Alda has a deft, precise way of writing about it.
His life has taken a lot of twists and turns, and his tremendous work ethic finally led him to M*A*S*H (which, in my opinion, will make Alda immortal), and he always includes his loving relationship with his wife and their three daughters. I have such admiration for Alan Alda, and it really only grew with this book.
I can't wait to read the next one.
(And Alan, if you ever need a hug, I'd be happy to give you one.)