I see why this book is so much lower rated than her other two memoirs. It’s kind of scattered, and half of it is devoted to her affair with Harrison Ford, which isn’t told in a juicy manner but in a self-reflecting one, and the diaries that detailed her experience of that affair. I get why she wanted to tell this story herself; she wanted to control the narrative. It’s just . . . not super fun to read about.
My favorite parts of this book were the beginning and end, the parts that weren’t about her affair with Harrison Ford. (I did like a select few moments in that section, like her telling about one of her favorite memories with him, when she showed him her impression of him, and it made him laugh so hard he cried.) The beginning is about how she was cast in Star Wars, and the end is about her musing on her fame, and on her fate to be Princess Leia forever. I wish the Harrison stuff and the diary stuff would have been drastically reduced, and the other stuff expanded. Also, I’m hoping she wrote about more than just Harrison Ford in that diary! Most of the entries were about him even if just vaguely.
It was interesting to see the glimpse into her younger self, and what she thought of her, and also to see the early signs of her bipolar and substance abuse problems. I liked her showing her warts about fan interactions. It seemed honest. I’m sorry, but knowing how awkward and inappropriate so many people are, those people who all they say is I love my fans!!! they are lying. White lies, but still lies. Fans are people, after all, and a lot of them suck. I appreciate her acknowledgement of this. But she does hold affection for them as well.
I’m glad I read this. I miss Carrie Fisher and her wit and her honesty and just her general presence. I’m glad I’ve got Shockaholic still to go, though, because this one is a bit of a downer to go out on.
