Shelly, Also Known as Shirley by Shelly Winters. At least Winters starts out saying her memoir covers things as she remembers them and not necessarily how things were. This is the kind of gossipy celebrity memoir that has the nice gossip and name dropping that makes such books fun, but I came away with the distinct impression that she exaggerated some of her escapades. The woman clearly had some self esteem issues. She was also one of those Method people spouting about craft and what not. Then she turns around and claims she only had good performances in some of her films and only when she worked with great director's. I'm sure Method works for some people, but I hate the way so many Method actors claim it is the only way to give a good performance. the trashy gossip parts were fun.
Victoria Victorious by Jean Plaidy. A thoroughly well researched work of historical fiction posing as Queen Victoria's memoir. Plaidy seemed to really capture Victoria's personality (somewhat shallow and self-absorbed). A good example of the genre. It is unfortunate that Victoria herself was a bit of a pill and not overly interesting as a person.
Catherine the Great by Robert K. Massie. I was so looking forward to this. Massie's Peter the Great is one of my all time favorite biographies (and Peter I my all time favorite historical figure), and his Nicholas and Alexandra is also pretty darn good. I guess I was disappointed in that I've already read so much about Catherine and Massie did not come up with anything new or different to say about her. Massie's style is quite easy to read. After she becomes Empress, the book switches from chronological order to more grouped by subject which didn't quite work for me. Catherine herself was such a fascinating person it is always worthwhile to read about her. I also disagree with Massie's conclusion that she never slept with her husband. Even with Empress Elizabeth's permission for Catherine to have an affair in order to conceive a child it would have been very risky for Catherine to have that first child without at least some possibility that her husband was the father. Russia at the time had too many convenient convents in which to deposit inconvenient wives and Elizabeth could be fickle). Besides, Paul I looked and acted more like Peter III than the other candidate for the father (although looks are judged from paintings that may not be entirely accurate). And it wasn't until the birth of Catherine's second child that Peter made comments about not knowing who's child she was carrying.
The Tinted Venus by F. Anstey. Those three books were each over 550 pages long which is a bit much, so I read some other stuff on my Kindle. This was the best of that lot. Set in Victorian London, a hairdresser on a visit to a pleasure garden slips an engagement ring on the finger of a statue. The statue then becomes inhabited by the spirit of Venus, much to the chagrin of the hairdresser and his fiancee. It's got a nice bit of humor to it. io9 has started a periodic column suggesting what might have been nominated for Hugo awards had they been around starting in 1885, and this book made their short list for 1885. I enjoyed this book more than their columnist. Still, if you are interested in checking out classic (and therefore often free digitally) SF and fantasy, the column is well worth checking in on every few weeks.
Three Men Out by Rex Stout. Oh how I wish I would find more Rex Stout at book sales. His Nero Wolfe novels are some of the best things ever. This included three short stories including one where Wolfe is tricked into leaving the brownstone, one where Archie gets exasperated and takes a case without Wolfe's approval, and one where Wolfe escorts a distinguished guest to a ballgame. The mental image of Wolfe trying to fit into a stadium seat is utter delight.
Water for Elephants by Sarah Gruen. I downloaded the audio book version when Audible had it for free a few weeks ago. After listening to it for a week to and from work and getting half way through, I decided I'm done. I don't like any of the characters. The author won't use one word when five would do. I should have given up sooner when there was about a five minute description of the way a stripper's breasts moved when she slung them around. Who needs that? I might have done better with the actual book. The narrators chosen did nothing for me, and every now and again they'd insert some random, discordant music that served no purpose at all. Not recommended.
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