This book starts out so well — Busy has put up with a lot of shit during her years in Hollywood (I mean…James Franco alone…) and she pulls no punches calling out the hypocrisy and misogyny she has seen and fought.
“Men love a woman who laughs at the joke, especially if the joke is at her expense. “She’s so cool. She just gets it.”
Her happier stories are great reads, too — her triumphs and behind the scenes joys. But something starts to sort of slip about 2/3rds of the way through the book. She seems to have trouble balancing how much she wants to share about her personal life. And while I know it’s not my place to expect someone to divulge more personal details than they want to (although…it is a memoir…), she skips over enough about her marriage and her home life that it sort of confused me. Her husband sounds awful — I kept waiting for her to reveal that she finally left his ass — but instead she peppers stories of his indifference and sometimes even cruelty towards her with mentions of their decisions to buy a house and have a second child. I mean, it’s her life — it’s not like she can change what happened or how she chose to handle major life decisions. It just seemed tonally weird. I appreciate her bravery in bringing so much light to injustice in her work, so maybe that just made the contrast with her stories of her personal life seem starker.
So much of what she said felt so relatable emotionally, despite her and I taking very different life approaches. Like when she talks about things like, “am I not enough, am I too much?” – I felt those lines so hard.
Agreed that I didn’t get her marriage at all and would have liked a deeper glimpse into it.