Carl won big this Christmas, if winning is giving your wife something she loves so much it’s hard for her to concentrate on anything else. To wit: Andre Agassi’s autobiography. Read it. Whether or not you like tennis.
I’m coming to the conclusion that if I want to be a better writer, I need to read more memoirs. Not books about writing. Not mysteries or bestsellers, though those are fine. But, mostly if you read exclusively IN your field, you’re sort of eliminating the chance of bringing in any fresh material, yes?
Memoirs, people. That’s where it’s at.
Also Agassi has a Pulitzer-prize winning ghost writer. So, clearly, that comes with its own rewards.
In other media news, we watched The King’s Speech yesterday (Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, and Helena Bonham Carter (adoration of whom is mandatory in this house)). Am putting my money on Firth for Best Actor this year, and Rush for a nomination as supporting. A great, great movie (and for those of you concerned about such things the R rating is for isolated outbursts of vulgar language directly tied to matters of speech pathology. That’s it. No sensuality. No violence. Zip).
One of the best movies we’ve seen this year, we agreed. Carl made a caveat for Harry Potter, but that’s a personal and not necessarily professional assessment.
We’re not even half way into our Christmas mini-break, and it’s already a stellar success. Hope you’re all having a brilliant week.
Agassi’s memoir is calling.