Gosh this was a strange sort of read. Not only because of Carrie Fisher’s all-too-recent passing, but because of the blend of past and present, and somewhat vague interlinking theme.
The memoir is largely structured around nineteen-year-old Fisher’s brief affair with Harrison Ford – at the time in his thirties and married with two children. The middle portion is extracts from her teenage diaries, full of chaotic thoughts and fledgling poetry. It nestles oddly between the now-matured Fisher’s recollections and remembrances, which eventually give way to her opinions on comic cons and fan encounters.
The main takeaway for me is that Fisher’s writing is so vivid and lively. There’s a stream-of-consciousness, shoot-from-the-mouth quality that was a delight to read, and really brought her to life for me. The teenage diary really didn’t work for me, and I found myself wanting to skim or skip it, but the strength and quality of her later writing has made certain that I will read Fisher’s other books.
[Read from 2-8 January 2017]