I finished My Side, Ruth Gordon's second autobiography, and enjoyed it very much, again. What an interesting life. I was impressed by how hard she worked and how open to life she was. There's a section about worrying and wishing for more that I found very moving. I don't think I'll read her third one which I have but haven't read, because that one looks like mostly anecdotes.
But I did feel like reading another book I've had around, Jed Harris, The Curse of Genius by Martin Gottfried, because of his relationship with Ruth Gordon and their son, Jones Gordon. Skimmed it, but it was interesting.
If the name isn't familiar, he was a theater producer and director, the wonder boy of the late '20 with four consecutive hits. But his career faltered and flamed out, eventually. He was a mean SOB who took great pleasure and pride in being a mean SOB - tormenting playwrights with false promises about producing their plays, insulting and belittling actors. He directed Laurence Olivier in "The Green Bay Tree" and on opening night he whispered to Olivier waiting in the wings, "Good-bye, Larry. I hope I never see you again." Olivier got his revenge by basing his portrayal of Richard III on Harris' movements, expressions, and appearance. George S. Kaufman famously said that when he died, he wanted to be cremated and have somebody throw his ashes in Jed Harris's face.
It's interesting to wonder what attracted Ruth Gordon, a woman of huge kindness, sweetness, and kindness to him. Probably some of it was his intelligence, and vice versa. He was hugely successful and Ruth liked the finer things in life, and in 1928 he was at the top of his game and sexy. She had Jones with him because she was afraid it was her last chance to have a baby after several abortions. Ruth got smart and moved on, but there was no shortage of women who were willing to put up with him. At least two who were involved with him suicided and he was blamed.
He was hateful to Jones, too. When Jones was four years old his father told a friend, "That kid's no good." Later, as a young man, Jones lived with him and endured constant criticism and thrown ashtrays.
Anyway, this book is mostly a collection of anecdotes about Harris and I ended up enjoying it, while feeling sorry for anyone who ever tried to do business with him or be in any kind of relationship with him. What a monster. Of course he lived to be almost 80, the stinkers always do.
Now I'm reading Peter Pan because Ruth Gordon made her debut in it in 1915, and I've never read it though I saw the Mary Martin production several times and probably saw the Disney version. It's a bit twee for me, seems like it's more for nostalgic adults than children, but I like that there are truly scary parts.
After that I think I'm going to read Life Mask, a historical novel by Emma Donoghue. I didn't like her Slammerkin much but Room was one of the best books I've ever read.