Who and Me
by Barry Letts [New, Expanded Edition] (Fantom, 2021)
The first half of Barry Letts’s unfinished Doctor Who memoir. There’s not much here that Letts didn’t offer up during assorted DVD commentaries, but his conversational style nonetheless makes this slim volume a pleasant read. The ‘new’ material is largely just repetition.
Don’t Tell Mum I Work on the Rigs, She Thinks I’m a Piano Player in a Whorehouse
by Paul Carter (Allen & Unwin, 2005); audiobook read by Paul Carter (Bolinda, 2012)
Less the story of life on the oil rigs, more a series of anecdotes celebrating the lifestyles (on, away from, and in transit) of those who work them. Carter has an easy writing style but a curiously hurried delivery (in the audiobook).
Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself
by Alan Alda (Random House, 2007)
Alda’s second memoir falls short of ‘Never Have Your Dog Stuffed’ insomuch that the framing material—as Alda seems to see it; in fact, the actual memoir—shares too much space with speeches that he has given and which inspired his reflections.
Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist
by Michael J. Fox (Hyperion, 2008)
Much-loved film and television star Michael J. Fox seems, if anything, even more likeable in this memoir covering his post-acting life with Parkinson’s. The titular optimism comes across not only by way of his actions but in his engaging, companionable writing style.
Lolly Scramble: A Memoir of Little Consequence
by Tony Martin (Pan, 2005)
The best comedians are those whose humour derives from perspective. Kiwi turned Aussie Tony Martin is one such person, shunning the celebrity world to glean amusement from his everyday life. (Read aloud, his recounting of an amateur theatre mishap becomes life-threateningly funny.)