Then Again by Diane Keaton
Diane Keaton’s Then Again had such great potential. I was very intrigued by the pairing of her mother’s journals with her memoir - what a tribute to her mother and an interesting way to gain perspective on her life. I’ve always enjoyed Diane Keaton’s persona in movies. I think the first movie I saw of hers was Baby Boom and of course I fell in love with her in Annie Hall. But she was just playing characters, right?
I don’t really follow celebrities, so the biggest reveal for me in the book was that she was Annie Hall (and not that she had bulimia, which was engaging because I had no idea how much bulimics can eat and that Woody Allen didn’t question it much). The character and her family were based on her life. Which brings me to why I wanted to read this book in the first place. Maybe it was because I had just seen Woody Allen and his jazz band and then Midnight in Paris and I was thinking about Annie Hall (one of my favorite movies) and thought, Wouldn’t it be fun to read a celebrity memoir?
It was fun. It was light. It was easy. It’s been a while since I’ve read a book like that. I wasn’t expecting much more than that and I really enjoyed the bits of the journals that her mother kept. She seemed just as interesting as Diane (and a better writer). And yet, it’ll probably be quite some time before I read another celebrity memoir again for two reasons: There were too many random mentions of famous people who I didn’t know or care about. And, and, there were too many random mentions of brands at inopportune times. I know I have a tendency to be cynical about things but I didn’t need to know what car Diane Keaton drives (repeated more than once); that as her mother was dying she went out to get lunch for everyone at Baja Fresh (whatever that is); and as they were taking out the body of her mother they walked by two chairs bought at the Pottery Barn. Seriously? The last one (and this is just a short list) was the most egregious. Maybe those chairs were significant, maybe there is a sentimental reason for mentioning Pottery Barn. It doesn’t matter. The experience was ruined for me by those little mentions.
The memoir is a collage of letters, journals, memoir, photos and it is obvious that Diane Keaton is artistic. The story of her life is interesting. Of course it is - she’s a movie star. I liked the juxtaposition of her mother’s journals. It was good. It just wasn’t great. And the editor in me isn’t completely blaming the author.
