This ended up being a super depressing read. I really enjoyed My Booky Wook the first and was looking forward to more, but he wrote this pre-divorce and it was so so sad at the end.
Brand is really smart and I enjoy his writing. He doesn’t have someone else write for him, which I always appreciate in a celebrity memoir. His voice is clear, his asides are hilarious and you can feel his personality on every page. As in his first book, he isn’t trying to clean up his past and make himself look better. He knows he was horrible at times and doesn’t try to brush it off or blame it on other things. Although there are a few times where I feel he has the attitude of “This is who I am and I’m honest about it, so you can’t get mad at me.” and that doesn’t really fly.
He’s writing about clean and sober times now, so there’s a much happier and lighter tone. However, his sex addiction is still turned up to eleven and it’s sad to see. Even though women delight him on all levels, you get the sense early on that he realizes there’s something more than sex and that he’s both bewildered by it and drawn to it.
He continues his story about fame and how weird it is. He is huge in England and began to get excited about the idea of coming to the States to make movies. He steps off the plane and no one knew who he was. Although he tried not to let fame change him, it threw him to suddenly be able to walk around and not be mobbed. Suddenly he had to audition for a part just like all the other unrecognized actors instead of being welcomed in and asked to relax with tea and biscuits.
Some of the most interesting and powerful moments Brand writes about revolve around when he’s alone. He doesn’t seem to know who he’s supposed to be when it’s just him. He’s always entertaining everyone else and almost everything he does is with the intent so have sex and/or make people laugh, so when he’s alone it’s sad. When filming Forgetting Sarah Marshall, he hides in his trailer, petrified to go out and talk to anyone. He’s in Hawaii, miserable and depressed because he doesn’t know how to engage with anyone. He attempts to bed Mila Kunis and Kristen Bell but they both had boyfriends, so he retreats back to his trailer and rather quickly goes mad. I know I keep saying this, but it’s just so sad.
Several times when he travels he brings a girlfriend along to keep him company. Sometimes he even convinces himself that this girl will help him “be good” and not sleep around the set. He often then sends her home when he realizes there are many other women in the area that he can sleep with. He’s addicted to sex and his constant stream of women becomes more and more depressing to see. He has women waiting for him in bed, in the bath, in the kitchen, on the front step, the car, the hotel, the office… I get the feeling some people are impressed and jealous of the constant orgasms, but knowing his marriage didn’t last and seeing him want to make a genuine connection with a woman really bummed me out.
The final few pages are heartbreaking. He’s met Katy Perry, she’s invaded his brain and he writes about how happy he is and amazed that she’s in his life. Only she’s not any more and I wanted to know what went wrong.
It’s still a great book and I enjoy his writing and comedy, but man… I wish I had read this before the divorce.