Audition: A Memoir by Barbara Walters | Biography | DONNE TEMPO
Audition: A Memoir by Barbara Walters
June/08/08 04:39 PM Filed in: Biography
Reviewed by Christian Toto
By her own admission, Barbara Walters is a terrific editor.
Her new confessional "Audition: A Memoir" (Roughcut, $29.95) throws that boast into question. There's plenty to be sliced away from this bulky memoir, both personal reflections that add little to the narrative as well as the kind of clunky phrasing you might read on a well-intentioned blog.
That's
not to say "Audition" is without merit. It's a
fascinating, compulsively readable look at a TV
pioneer's ascent. Here's a woman whose tenacity
and backbone let her survive - and thrive - in a
male dominated industry until society caught up
with her talent. While boosters of Katie Couric
blame sexism for her underwhelming stint so far
as the CBS news anchor, Walters faced hostility
so fierce it could practically be seen over the
airwaves.
She never played the victim card even though she certainly was entitled to do just that. She simply kept hustling, scoring enough big interviews to make sure her enemies couldn't lay a glove on her.
But "Audition" contains much more than career highlights. It's an exhausting account of her life, warts and all. Three marriages, troublesome times with her adopted daughter and a career marked by one self-described "audition" atop another. Consider the book an imperfect, and long overdue victory lap.
She grew up with an ambitious father who won, then lost, then won small fortunes as an entertainment broker. Family life was fairly stable despite her father's habits, but Walters' mentally challenged sister, Jackie, required constant attention. The broadcaster's memories of their bond make for "Audition's" most heart-rending moments. It's an aspect of her life most TV watchers won't expect.
We learn how Walters transitioned from stage actress to fledgling broadcaster, always working diligently behind the scenes to exploit every small opportunity that came her way. Pity the poor network relics, like Harry Reasoner, who dared stand in her way because of her gender.
Walters' recollections of her trip to China to report on Nixon's historic trip perfectly captures the ferocity of the anti-women attitude of the era. But as is too often the case in
"Audition," the writing betrays her.
"But though it was the trip of a lifetime, like Chinese food it was both sweet and sour."
Ouch.
Walters'
prose may be raw, but it reads as highly personal
and honest - what every memoirist should achieve.
For many readers, Walters' retelling of her famous interviews will be reason enough to buy this thick tome. We're reminded of her numerous chats with former Cuban dictator Fidel Castro, who clearly shared a bond with Walters that went beyond professional courtesy. Just reading how Castro skillfully cooked meals for Walters and her crew is the kind of anecdote that nearly justifies the book's near-600 page length.
Later interviews offer a different look at the maturing Walters. The broadcast giant appears eager to be accepted by her peers as well as her interview subjects. So we learn what celebrities became her friends, which she takes at face value instead of realizing the professional necessity behind their bonds.
And while her earlier years shattered glass ceilings left and right, her later interviews helped lead the way into today's celebrity journalism. What's eerily fascinating is how uncomfortable Walters becomes with this trend, one she personally helped bring about.
The pre-book publicity centered on Walters' affair with Sen. Edward Brooke, and while her recollections of their romance are intriguing, it's barely a blip on her colorful career. It's all part of the larger context of her love life, a portion of her personality she seemed incapable of conquering.
Walters in print comes off as both exceedingly self deprecating and, occasionally, full of herself, a transition that can leave the reader with verbal whiplash. In one chapter she'll go on about her limited physical attributes, the next she'll brag that she never was without a date and had killer legs.
Any public persona likely has an ego to match his or her abilities, but the ping-pong descriptions here prove distracting.
The final chapters dealing with "The View" and its most inflammatory members (Star Jones and Rosie O'Donnell) lack the gossipy tone of her Castro chats and feel perfunctory. She also glosses over O'Donnell's most outrageous statements regarding 9/11. Shouldn't Walters the newswoman have said something at some point to the bombastic O'Donnell?
"Audition," for all its flaws, is a highly readable memoir recalling the seismic impact one woman had on broadcast journalism.
By her own admission, Barbara Walters is a terrific editor.
Her new confessional "Audition: A Memoir" (Roughcut, $29.95) throws that boast into question. There's plenty to be sliced away from this bulky memoir, both personal reflections that add little to the narrative as well as the kind of clunky phrasing you might read on a well-intentioned blog.
She never played the victim card even though she certainly was entitled to do just that. She simply kept hustling, scoring enough big interviews to make sure her enemies couldn't lay a glove on her.
But "Audition" contains much more than career highlights. It's an exhausting account of her life, warts and all. Three marriages, troublesome times with her adopted daughter and a career marked by one self-described "audition" atop another. Consider the book an imperfect, and long overdue victory lap.
She grew up with an ambitious father who won, then lost, then won small fortunes as an entertainment broker. Family life was fairly stable despite her father's habits, but Walters' mentally challenged sister, Jackie, required constant attention. The broadcaster's memories of their bond make for "Audition's" most heart-rending moments. It's an aspect of her life most TV watchers won't expect.
We learn how Walters transitioned from stage actress to fledgling broadcaster, always working diligently behind the scenes to exploit every small opportunity that came her way. Pity the poor network relics, like Harry Reasoner, who dared stand in her way because of her gender.
Walters' recollections of her trip to China to report on Nixon's historic trip perfectly captures the ferocity of the anti-women attitude of the era. But as is too often the case in
"Audition," the writing betrays her.
"But though it was the trip of a lifetime, like Chinese food it was both sweet and sour."
Ouch.
For many readers, Walters' retelling of her famous interviews will be reason enough to buy this thick tome. We're reminded of her numerous chats with former Cuban dictator Fidel Castro, who clearly shared a bond with Walters that went beyond professional courtesy. Just reading how Castro skillfully cooked meals for Walters and her crew is the kind of anecdote that nearly justifies the book's near-600 page length.
Later interviews offer a different look at the maturing Walters. The broadcast giant appears eager to be accepted by her peers as well as her interview subjects. So we learn what celebrities became her friends, which she takes at face value instead of realizing the professional necessity behind their bonds.
And while her earlier years shattered glass ceilings left and right, her later interviews helped lead the way into today's celebrity journalism. What's eerily fascinating is how uncomfortable Walters becomes with this trend, one she personally helped bring about.
The pre-book publicity centered on Walters' affair with Sen. Edward Brooke, and while her recollections of their romance are intriguing, it's barely a blip on her colorful career. It's all part of the larger context of her love life, a portion of her personality she seemed incapable of conquering.
Walters in print comes off as both exceedingly self deprecating and, occasionally, full of herself, a transition that can leave the reader with verbal whiplash. In one chapter she'll go on about her limited physical attributes, the next she'll brag that she never was without a date and had killer legs.
Any public persona likely has an ego to match his or her abilities, but the ping-pong descriptions here prove distracting.
The final chapters dealing with "The View" and its most inflammatory members (Star Jones and Rosie O'Donnell) lack the gossipy tone of her Castro chats and feel perfunctory. She also glosses over O'Donnell's most outrageous statements regarding 9/11. Shouldn't Walters the newswoman have said something at some point to the bombastic O'Donnell?
"Audition," for all its flaws, is a highly readable memoir recalling the seismic impact one woman had on broadcast journalism.