1. Carrie Fisher: A Life on the Edge by Sheila Weller (started 12/10; finished 2/11): B

It's a bit of a sad irony that Carrie Fisher herself published several autobiographical books which were far more focused, concise, polished, clever and—most importantly—entertaining, than this much more broad, unauthorized biography. There was some minor controversy among Fisher’s family about this book being published without their blessing, but there needn’t have been; there is nothing scandalous here that in any way outweighs anything Fisher always freely admitted herself—or that she offered as a bombshell on her own, as with the revelation of her affair with Harrison Ford during production of the original Star Wars in her fantastic, under-appreciated 2016 book The Princess Diarist.

I did quite enjoy Carrie Fisher: A Life on the Edge, in spite of how very long it took me to finish it—apparently typical of my reading habits in mid-winter, when the weather and hours of daylight prevent me from getting any reading done while walking home from work. This one took me nine weeks to finish, necessitating that I return the book to the library, put another reserve on it, check it out a second time, and even renew it at least once after that. I would say the book’s narrative pace picks up significantly in the second half, so I got much more into it then. Broadly speaking, I would only recommend this book to Carrie Fisher completists, who would definitely be satisfied by it. It basically fills in on the details of her life that she did not bother with in her own books.

It could be argued that it was wise for her to do so, however, given how much better how own biographical works were. I read her 2008 book Wishful Drinking in 2009 and gave it a B+; I read her 2016 book The Princess Diarist in 2017 and gave it a solid A. I never did read her 2011 book Shockaholic and perhaps I should have; I did read her fictionalized but highly—notoriously—autobiographical 1987 novel Postcards from the Edge in 2004 and gave it a B; I think the main issue there was that so much time had passed it was a little dated. She subsequently published three other novels, in 1990, 1993 and 2004, and I didn't even know about them until reading this latest biography. In short, I did learn a lot. But, I would still argue that the most insight you will get into Carrie Fisher is from her own words about her own life.

2. The Beautiful Ones by Prince (started 2/24; finished 3/2): B

Here is a quasi-autobiography presented in a much different way than it might have been otherwise, had its author not died in the middle of working on it with an editor—Dan Piepenbring, who wrote the 44-page introduction. It should be noted that the book has 288 pages, so 15% of those are filled with Piepenbring's original content, which I would estimate could be raised to at least a quarter of the book's actually readable text, as the rest of the book that's actually "in Prince's words" is extentively padded not only with rare photographs from Prince's own collection, but duplicated in full with scans of Prince's handwritten pages. These, which largely focus on Prince's early life from birth until his first couple of albums in the late seventies, are also transcribed (by Piepenbring) and set in regular book typeface to make it actually readable. All that said, the overall result is a book that is uniquely, if inadvertently, enigmatic and therefore oddly appropriate, in the end, for its author. Prince as an artist and individual was never meant to be explained to the world in any straightforward manner, and even if The Beautiful Ones laves much to be desired in terms of telling Prince's life story, it serves as a sort of comforting coda-companion to his legacy.

3. Planet Funny: How Comedy Took Over Our Culture by Ken Jennings (started 3/2; finished 9/14): B+

I have no records to prove this, but in all likelihood, this is the longest I have ever taken to read a book in my life. It took me six and a half months. To read 275 pages. I'm pretty sure it didn't even take me that long to slog through the 1100+ pages of Stephen King's The Stand: Complete & Uncut Edition in the mid-nineties. But, that staggering amount of time to complete one book is not this book's fault. It's an unfortunate victim of timing, having been the book I had recently started when the world succumbed to the worst global pandemic in a century. Lockdowns, mobility restrictions, closed schools and businesses . . . for many months, I, like many others, just didn't have the focus or the patience for light reading for pleasure. Even this book's subject matter felt particularly dated for quite some time. Who wants to talk about comedy at a time like this?

Well, I did still watch comedies, and stand-up specials, during that time. Somehow that type of escapism was easier. Eventually we settled into a sort of "new normal," and I was able to ease small periods of reading into my new work-from-home routine, mostly reading during my lunch breaks. Ten pages here, ten pages there. And finally, I finished the book. It still felt like a bit of a relic of "The Time Before," in its analysis of a culture not yet radically altered by disease. And yet, a large percentage of it proved still to be relevant, particularly what Jennings writes about seemingly obligatory humor on social media. In the end, I found this book to be surprisingly insightful—it's not especially funny, actually, although it's sprinkled with plenty of humor (and there is some irony in its subtitle being edited to more of a "quip" for the paperback edition: How Comedy Ruined Everything). Ultimately his point, and it is a very valid one, is that comedy has its place, and contrary to current popular culture, its place is not absolutely everywhere. I might go so far as to say this is Ken Jennings's best book to date.

4. It's Garry Shandling's Book Edited and with an Introduction by Judd Apatow (started 9/14; finished 10/9): B

This book, which I checked out of the library at the same time as I did Planet Funny—which means I had it in hand seventh months as compared to six months; I just managed to read this one in three and a half weeks—actually has a lot in common with the Prince book, The Beautiful Ones. The subjects of both books are not only dead, but they died within a month of each other, in 2016. They are both told largely in their own words, albeit to a lesser degree with Shandling, as this includes a lot more excerpts of other people's conversations about him, largely interviewed for this book. They even have similar, image-heavy page layout designs. It's Garry Shandling's Book is physically larger in dimension and has more pages, which makes it much heavier. Both books were put together by passionate devotees, much more famously so in the case of Judd Apatow having such affection for his longtime mentor. (Key difference: Prince was far more famous than Garry Shandling, whereas Dan Piepenbring, the devottee who assembled that book, is not famous at all.) And the affection runs through here, both from Apatow and from everyone he interviews. It's an affecting read for anyone who is a fan of comedy, even if Shandling's legacy as an incredibly giving friend to many holds up better than some of his older standup material. His ultimate turn in the direction of Buddhism gets a tad insufferable, but any fan of Garry Shandling, or particularly his two undeniably groundbreaking shows (It's Garry Shandling's Show amd The Larry Sanders Show), will enjoy this book.

5. Mother's Secret: A Nutritionist's View of Family and Alzheimer's Disease by Marilyn Walls (started 10/6; finished 12/11): A-

Now, assessing a book in any objective way gets tricky (if not outright impossible) when the author is someone you know. I won't say I had any negative expectations of this book; my expectations were definitively neutral, honestly—and as such, the book very much exceeded them. This is a deeply felt, meticulously researched, eloquently written account of Marilyn's dealing with her own mother's rapidly declining health in her final days.

Marilyn Walls had for many years been the Nutrionist on staff at the PCC Central Office, having retired in 2017—incidentally the same year this book was published. Soon after learning of my mother's death this past summer, she emailed me offering to send me a copy. I replied with appreciation and my address, and put it on my list to read once the two library books I'd had at home since February were done.

It was a lovely gesture, as Marilyn thought it might offer some measure of comfort to read about her own complicated relationship with her mother: "Because losing your mother can be complicated," she wrote in part, quite specifically, as her inscription at the front of the book. Hers was not complicated in any way similar (or, in my view, to anywhere near the same degree) to my relationship with my mother, but she was still right, to at least some extent. I did figure there would be a lot that was not comparable, as my mother did not have Alzheimer's or any sot of dementia. But, then: there does come a point in Marilyn's story where her mother is hospitalized with a stroke. And this passage has stuck with me evere since I read it:

"It's like all the brain's information is kept in a card file," Mary Catherine described. "And with a stroke that file is dumped out on the floor. When your mother is asked a question, her brain reaches into that pile of messed-up cards on the floor and pulls a card. It may or may not be the right one. Sometimes there's no card to be found. Eventually, with therapy and healing, some of that card file can be put back together. But usually it's not exactly like it was. Often some cards, information or memories, are never retrieved."

Now that I understood perfectly. In fact I'm not sure I ever heard a more perfectly succinct description of a person's experience with a stroke, or certainly what happened with Mom after her own stroke in 2014. In the end, I guess Marilyn's inclination to share her book with me was well founded: the book is worth reading on its own merits, but for me personally, that passage alone made it worth it. The chapters alternate between the details of her mother's end of life, and forays into densely researched scientific and nutritional information (fifteen pages of references at the end of the book) about her mother's medical conditions, and how they are linked to both diet and lifestyle. I could write a book of my own just on the myriad ways my mother could have extended her own health and life with the very same tools, except I fear I would not be capable of conveying the same concurrent reverence for mine, as Marilyn clearly has for her mother, their own challenges notwithstanding.

In any case, although granted it was in a year when circumstances had me reading far fewer books than average (roughly half my usual number), this was easily the best of the books I read in 2020.

6. The Anarchist Jurisdiction Cookbook: An exasperated look at what life in current circumstances has become, an expression of love for you all, and hope for what we can be by Stephanie Steiner (started 12/11; finished 12/17): B

Okay so yeah, this book, barely more than a pamphlet at a whopping 71 pages in length, still took me a full week to read. But let me explain! I've been reading pretty much exclusively in twenty minute incriments during lunch breaks on weekdays, and one of those weekdays my lunch was occupied by a Zoom hangout. So really, I spent only four days reading this one.

And, I must confess, I still skimmed a lot of it—it is a cookbook, after all, much of it meat centric, and people don't often read these cover to cover as I otherwise did. But, I wanted to support my old boss—two books by former PCC employees in a row!—and so, even though this technically came out October 5, I ordered it on her birthday in November as my gift to her. Side note: the text throughout is sprinkled with hyperlinks which, I discovered, do not work when you tap them on printed pages. Thus, it might actually serve you better to order the Kindle Edition. Or hell, get the best of both worlds and buy both! (I still only bought the print edition because my generosity has limits.)

Anyway, I'd say the only healthy thing about the recipes offered here is the sprinkling it also has of humor; my personal favorite was the "Super-Fast Breakfasts & Snacks" section near the end. (I particularly like the breakfast suggestion of eating m&m's out of a bowl with a spoon.) That said, any kind of evaluation on my part here is a bit unfair, as I almost never actually use cook books, being married to a stupendous Indian cook who has never cooked any meal from a recipe. But, much like when yet another foodie former coworker published a book on Pacific Northwest seafood in 2015, I still felt obliged to get and read it even though it's not completely in line with my interests. I mean, I gave them my money, what more do you want!

[posted 11:05 a.m.]