The Lady Is a SLUT!!

I recently received a copy of "Conversations with Joan Crawford" in the mail, which I devoured in mere HOURS. I had been dying to read this book for months and was finally able to purchase it through Amazon.

As I expected, the book does NOT disappoint. It opens with the usual Foreword and Preface, then delves nicely into a quick, to the point biography on the lovely lady herself. Following that short bio are a plethora of conversations held between the author (Roy Newquist) and Joan Crawford. Through these interviews you become acquainted with a rather unexpected side of Joan. A sweet, sensitive, yet tough and sardonic woman. Her use of curse words (most commonly, it seems, "shit") is plentiful, and her humor is her own brassy brand. Those who say Joan Crawford had no sense of humor clearly have not read this book.

Throughout these conversations the pair touch on subjects like family relations, Joan's marriages and children, her films, and even her alcoholism. One topic they seem to skimp over is sex. Yep, sorry, but Joan went into no details about the men whom she was boning in her trailer between takes.

The book was well-written and flows very nicely. Aside from a few spelling/punctuation/grammatical errors, everything seems very well edited. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. If you are anything like me (and God help you if you are) you will love it, too. I definitely got a kick out of her cursing, especially when she said "fuck." I'm just 12 years old like that... :)

Favorite quote: "Disney films are made for retarded children."

Yes, y'all, Joan Crawford did, in fact, say that. PROPS!!

I give this book a 4 out of 5.

The Disillusionment

I recently bought "Yvonne: An Autobiography," the reportedly juicy memoir written by Yvonne de Carlo, while drunk. It arrived in the mail today, and I have only had a chance to skim through a bit. In doing so I learned how Ms. de Carlo lost her virginity, and found the "F-word" once.

It's rather awkward for me, being subjected to the sex life of this woman. As a little girl I had no stable maternal authority figure. As a replacement, my young heart settled on the creepy, yet simultaneously cool, Lily Munster. So reading about Yvonne de Carlo's sexual exploits is something like listening to my own mother recount her glory, or, well, whore-y, days. Still, it is like those things you can't unsee. As much as you would love to look away, you just can't, because as disgusted as you are, the fascination wins you over.

All in all, from what I have read Yvonne seems honest, candid, and very witty. I look forward to finishing this book. I will post a full review once I complete reading the book.

Happy entrails! (Haha.)