I finished reading Diane Keaton’s book Then Again this weekend. I really enjoyed it; it’s not a typical celebrity autobiography…actually, it’s more about Diane’s relationship with her mother, Dorothy. It’s especially interesting if you’ve ever had a family member with Alzheimer’s, and the book does a really good job of detailing the difficulties and heartbreak of the disease.
Of course, there are also some great insights about Hollywood, LA, Woody Allen, etc. Diane Keaton seems to be all over Westwood and Brentwood – I’m bummed I’ve never seen her while in LA! Guess there’s still time. :)
A favorite excerpt:
When I heard the D sound in a first name that became Diane, I still wasn’t sure, but I got up anyway and more or less rushed to the podium. I knew winning had nothing to do with being the “best” actress. I knew I didn’t deserve it. And I knew I’d won an Academy Award for playing an affable version of myself. I got it. But the fact that Annie Hall, a comedy, won best picture thrilled me. For some unfathomable reason, comedy is invariably relegated to the position of second cousin to drama. Why? Humor helps us get through life with a modicum of grace. It offers one of the few benign ways of coping with the absurdity of it all. Looking back, I’m so happy and so grateful and so proud to be in a Great American Comedy.