by Diane Keaton
Clearly Diane Keaton suffers from ADD, ADHD and a host of other conditions that are portrayed in her iconic Annie Hall persona. She is at the same time clearly an abundant “creative", and for anyone sharing the same traits, tribulations and closeted abnormalities, the tone and rhythm of her recently published autobiography “Then Again”, rings true.
If you’re used to linear plots or well developed themes in your reading, take a step back; Keaton’s endlessly looping reflections, run-on sentences and long-lingering reflections will drive you mad. For me they read as an unfolding of my own convoluted stream of consciousness as she shares her “collage” of revelations and wonderful anecdotes from her personal and professional life.
The book is not only about Di-Annie’s history but an intimate look into the life of her recently deceased mother Dorothy Keaton Hall, a suburban housewife of the fifties whose own awakening was portrayed through endless notebooks and catalogs left behind. Reflections on not only the lives of her four children but much of her inner self are captured as life moved on and the times changed dramatically for her in the sixties and seventies. After Dorothy ultimately succumbed to a prolonged case of Alzheimer’s disease, Diane chose to parallel her own life's stages against those of her mother in this book and what emerges is a deeply endearing portrait of mother and daughter; the life and joys they shared, and the many instances where intimacy was lost or connections just not made. There is some regret.
Sad and sweet, this is a wonderful book, and by all means not in the chick lit category, it deserves to be seriously treated and seriously read. I really, really loved it.
NOTE: This review was written by my new guest blogger, my husband George Kimmerle. I haven't yet read Ms. Keaton's book, but will post my own footnote after I do. Thank you, George!
