And just like that...it's a new year
some recent celebrity memoirs I read—and the ones I enjoyed
Welcome to 2024 and what I hope will be the first of many times I write here, despite the fact that “And Just Like That”’s third season won’t premiere until 2025! After a feverishly busy summer recapping season 2 weekly, I spent fall in a bit of a rabbit hole, rewatching comfort shows (I’m just about done with my second or third viewing of “The Americans”) and reading a lot. A lot of those books happened to be celebrity memoirs; I went down quite the rabbit hole in October and November.
For the approximately four (4) of you who read my old book blog, She’s Full of Lit, you may already know that I consider myself a celebrity memoir connoisseur. I think I have pretty healthy relationships with celebrities, meaning that I don’t idolize or stan them in weird ways (no, not even Madonna) and recognize that what we see from them is what they want us to see—typically incredibly carefully crafted personas. Which is what makes the celebrity memoir so interesting—they are carefully crafted as well, revealing as much or as little as they want to us, while making us think they (the celebrities) are being super vulnerable. And sometimes they are! But a lot of the times, they aren’t; the memoir is part of the mystery and the persona.
That said, I think what separates a great celebrity memoir from just a decent (or bad!) one are two things: self-awareness (or the illusion of it) and some sort of hot goss that we wouldn’t have found just reading interviews with them. Some of my favorites? “Open Book” by Jessica Simpson. “In Pieces” by Sally Field. “Love, Loss, and What We Ate” by Padma Lakshmi (who was mentored by Nora Ephron!). “This Will Only Hurt a Little” by Busy Philips. “The Meaning of Mariah” by Mariah Carey. “Hello, Molly!” by Molly Shannon.
Anyway. Below are some quick takes on the ones I read this past fall. I’d love to hear what y’all thought of these, too! (None of the below links are affiliate links.)
“The Woman in Me” by Britney Spears
So much has been written about this one. It was heartbreaking, but I also got the sense that Britney hasn’t fully processed the trauma she went through during the conservatorship. I enjoyed the first half the most, but when writing about the conservatorship, it felt almost clinical and also quite defensive—as if she still needed to convince herself that she didn’t deserve it. I was not a huge Britney fan in my youth (I was more of a boy band fiend) but her stature in pop culture cannot be denie d so this one is definitely worth reading (and not just because Britney is very pro-Madonna!).
“Tell Me Everything” by Minka Kelly
I am a huge “Friday Night Lights” fan and have been for ages, but I never knew too much about Minka. I went back and rewatched a few press interviews with her during the time FNL was on the air, and she was always presented as a bit of a nepo baby—her biological father is guitarist Rick Dufay, who played with Aerosmith for a time in the ’80s. But, he was rarely, if ever, involved during her childhood. Minka was raised by her single mom, couch-hopping from friends’ and boyfriends’ places all her life. Before she made it as an actress, Minka was a surgical nurse—she worked hard to overcome the circumstances she grew up in and has clearly been to a lot of therapy to work on her relationship with her mother. This was raw, vulnerable, and full of new-to-me information—all things that make a great celebrity memoir!
“Love, Pamela” by Pamela Anderson
Before watching the accompanying documentary, I truly knew hardly anything about Pamela Anderson—other than the fact that she was married to Tommy Lee and was on Baywatch. While at times, this memoir felt a bit like Pamela was trying too hard to convince us that she is smart (as a defense mechanism against the “dumb blonde bombshell” stereotype that has plagued her for decades), it’s well-written and very introspective. And it should go without saying, but just because someone is conventionally attractive doesn’t mean they can’t also have brains. I was struck by Pamela’s dedication to raising boys who who wouldn’t become men who inflict damage on women—the way she had damage inflicted upon herself. She comes off as thoughtful, smart, introspective, and very creative.
“Down the Drain” by Julia Fox
Talk about someone who has lived a completely different life than I have. Raised by her dad in New York while her Italian mom remained in the motherland, Julia has gone through hell. Her parents were absent, she worked as a dominatrix in a dungeon, her dad slept with a friend of hers, she briefly lived with an ex’s mom while he was on the run from the law, she miscarried at a club, she overdosed several times, and she’s also had far too many of her friends die of overdoses. It’s remarkable that she is both still alive and as level-headed as she comes off. This one is full of both chaos and heart. (Dating Kanye West is truly one of the least interesting things about this woman!)
“If You Would Have Told Me” by John Stamos
I’m not really sure why I read this book. I’m completely ambivalent toward John Stamos; I watched “Full House” as a kid but I’m not a devotee and I never got into “ER.” That said, Uncle Jesse could have used a better ghostwriter. Sure, he’s had an interesting life, but this book comes off mostly as a fan letter to the Beach Boys. The phrase (and memoir title) “if you would have told me” is used far too often throughout the book; it’s a poor writing device and comes off as a crutch. One of the more interesting tidbits is Stamos revealing that, during the height of his “General Hospital” fame in the ’80s, he was still living with his parents. He did write movingly about his relationship with the late Bob Saget, but unless you’re a super fan, I’d skip this one.
“Greenlights” by Matthew McConaughey
Another book I’m not sure why I read. It’s hard to deny McConaughey is a great actor, but learning that he coined the phrase “McConassaince” himself and just kept repeating it to reporters, Donald Trump-style (“a lot of people are saying”), was wild. McConaughey comes off as a man who has kept every scrap of paper and journal he’s ever doodled in because he thinks every thought he’s ever had is the most profound thing to ever be thought. (No, really, there are photos of random journal pages and bad poems he’s written scattered throughout the book.) My best advice? If you read this book, have a gummy or three on hand, because he clearly did while writing it.
Next on my reading list? Finishing Mary Gabriel’s 850-page biography of, you guessed it, Madonna.