Superstar, Jr.
This book has kind of saved my life in a way a lot of other books can't because they try so hard to make things meaningful "meaning" gets placated, sucked into ego and other stuff. Molly Shannon, the memoirist, definitely has a sense of self, an ego, but her memoire is truly given over to other people, especially her father, who was a beautiful mixed bag of greatness and not-so-greatness, an alcoholic cheerleader/lunatic who was responsible for the death of Molly's mom, sister and cousin because of a horrible car accident in 1968. But somehow all of that is contextualized through focusing on just getting through. Molly's early life in Cleveland, her ambition to get out of there, her struggles and triumphs in NYC and LA... And yet even though the book is stuffed with wonderful show-biz anecdotes (a lecherous Gary Coleman, a lovely Lorne Michaels, etc.), the focus always swings back to James F. Shannon, that boozy Catholic husband and father who is a combination