I read “The Bedwetter” by Sarah Silverman within a few months of reading “Bossypants” by Tina Fey. I don’t read a lot of autobiography, but I like comics so I figured these would both be fun for beach and subway.
It is obvious that people are writing memoirs to cash in on current fame not as a reflection on a life fully lived. Have I told you to read “Between Silk and Cyanide” by Leo Marks? It’s the sort of thing you get when people have done great things and had a long time to think about their story. Reads much like a Feynman. These two comics are funny people, and they are funny now. They are in their fighting days and they are fighting now. Tina Fey’s 30 Rock is still airing. These books are necessarily a collection of anecdotes – the funniest things they remember as they got to the peak of their careers.
Of those anecdotes, it seems like Tina Fey has a little more heart and thought behind it while Sarah seems more scattershot. I didn’t know much about either beyond a few examples of their recent work. They seem like fine people, at least from what they’ve told me about themselves… Hang on, that doesn’t seem to mean anything.
I do enjoy some autobiography – Halima Bashir’s “Tears of the Desert” was very good.
Now I’m off to read a little more about brain-damaged people with Oliver Sacks’s The Mind’s Eye.
- or maybe not even the peak. Who knows? They aren’t telling their story, just “Hey, here’s what I remember so far.” (back)
