Notes From My Nightstand

Since I've heard from a bunch of you about my renewed reading "habit," I thought I would give you a quick update. 

Finished "Love You Madly, Holly Woodlawn" and "Backstage, You Can Have" and was struck by the number of similarities between two very different people: One, an Andy Warhol cult figure (Holly Woodlawn), and the other, once the No. 1 actress at the box office (Betty Hutton). The common thread, of course, is fame. And it seems that no matter how small or big one's fame is, many people are left ill-prepared for when it fades.

"Cybill Disobedience" was everything I expected it to be and more. In addition to all of the catty gossip and Hollywood dish -- I had no idea that Bruce Willis arrived at his "Moonlighting" audition having just narrowly lost the role of Des in "Desperately Seeking Susan" to Aidan Quinn (thank god!) and that the network wanted Robert Hays ("Angie" and "Airport") to play David Addison, but Shepherd followed her chemistry gut. (She had final say, somehow.) 

Although I'm unduly inclined to side with the L'Oréal blonde given my odd affection for her -- and you have to think her version of events is bound to present her in the same light that Vaseline-smeared lens did back in the 1980s -- I really was taken aback at how demonized she seemed to be on both shows, particularly "Cybill," which had started out so wonderfully as a collaboration with Chuck "French Kissin' in the USA" Lorre before he completely turned on her for reasons she claims she can only begin to speculate about. (Maybe I need to find if he has a memoir.) It's also unclear why Christine Baranski wanted absolutely nothing to do with her co-star, and seemed to encourage others including Alicia Witt to behave the same way. (Kudos to Zoe, though, for f**king Season 2 addition Peter Krause!) Shocking to think that Cybill thought Paula Poundstone would be right as Maryann -- talk about trying to Vivian Vance the role! -- or that the network considered Sally Kellerman. 

I then polished off Sloane Crossley's acclaimed 2008 debut, "I Was Told There'd Be Cake," which I have been meaning to read since I first saw the title. She's hilarious -- her parents' abnormal concern about fire definitely struck a chord, and so much more.

Then the other night I was missing my brother Bill's voice, so I plowed through "Lapsing Into a Comma," which made me feel like he was reading to me. 

I’m about halfway through "Brain on Fire: My Month of Madness," a book I now realize I’d started -- and abandoned -- once before. It’s not that Susannah Cahalan isn’t a decent writer, or that her story isn’t worth telling. It’s that the medical mystery at the heart of the story is so relentlessly frustrating that it can annoying to read. (It turns our narrator into an angry and paranoid lunatic who is hard to care about.) Watching doctors repeatedly dismiss her symptoms and label her a closeted alcoholic -- when she’s actually suffering from a potentially fatal disease -- is exhausting.

I gave up the “if I start a book, I must finish it” rule years ago, but I’m sticking with this one for now, hoping that once doctors figure out what's wrong, there will be a satisfying payoff to justify the aggravation. 

Next up in my psychological que: "Tune In Tokyo," my pal Tim Anderson's debut about his time teaching English in Japan, which left Damian in stitches when he read it right before our Asian adventure in 2024. 

Previously: "Rebel With a Clause," "Answered Prayers," "On the Road" and "Breakfast at Tiffany's"

"Eternal Flame," "Appropos of Nothing," "Girls Like Us," "Pleasure and Pain" and "Gay Bar: Why We Went Out" 

 

 P.S. Ended up watching the Betty Hutton film “The Perils of Pauline" (1947) yesterday and was surprised to hear this ditty! Wonder if Brian Elliot, who later penned the Madonna hit "Papa Don't Preach," had ever heard of it or if it's just a small coincidence. If any of my readers in Palm Springs know Carlo Bruno, who helped care for Hutton in her golden years, please tell him we're headed his way next month for Indian Wells!