The Journals of Spalding Gray

by Spalding Gray, Nell Casey (Editor)

Riveting, funny, heartbreaking, at once raw and these journals reveal the complexity of the actor/writer who invented the autobiographical monologue and perfected the form in such celebrated works as Swimming to Cambodia.Here is the first intimate portrait we have of the man behind the charismatic performer who ended his life in 2004: evolving artist, conflicted celebrity, a man struggling for years with depression before finally succumbing to its most desperate impulse. Begun when he was twenty-five, the journals give us Gray’s reflections on his childhood; his craving for success; the downtown New York arts scene of the 1970s; his love affairs, marriages and fatherhood; his travels in Europe and Asia; and throughout, his passion for the theater, where he worked to balance his compulsion to tell all with his terror of having his deepest secrets exposed.Culled from more than five thousand pages and including interviews with friends, colleagues, lovers, and family, The Journals of Spalding Gray gives us a haunting portrait of a creative genius who we thought had told us everything about himself—until now.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Biography, Autobiography, Ebooks

455 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 2011

About the author

Spalding Gray was an American actor, screenwriter, performance artist, and playwright.

Reviews

[Lee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pretty wrenching stuff, as expected, but the sheer levels of misery and self-flagellation were still a surprise. Maybe it's simple enough to say: This is what being an original gets you. But the constant harrowing failure to know who he even was most days, the battles to find any kind of path when none seemed possible, the struggles with his sexuality and identity, the impossibility of justifying to himself anything he was doing (harder still in that he was breaking new ground all the time)...and was it worth it? For the audience, yes, what a unique and wonderful legacy, but it's pretty clear that nothing was going to fill the void for this particular artist. Depressing but fascinating.

"I sometimes feel like that; like I am this open conduit through which I let other energies pass. It started as an actor and the other energies were other people’s scripts. Now it is my life that is passing through me."

[Angie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ugh, I'm not really sure how to rate or review this. I have a thing for Spalding Gray. I can't even really describe what that thing is. One of my favorite life events ever is seeing him dance to Chumbawamba on stage, boombox in hand, the whole audience cracking up. I love the guy. This journal... I kept thinking, "Should I be reading this?" Would he have wanted this published? I don't know. Ultimately... probably. But it is so sad. Sad and self-absorbed (although I guess a journal wouldn't be any other way). Obsessive and crazy and tortured and not very funny at all, and did I mention sad? While I was reading it I thought, this is curing me of my Spalding Gray obsession. But it didn't, really. Between this and Steven Soderbergh's excellent documentary "And Everything Is Going Fine", I appreciate him more than ever. Spalding, if you're out/up/over there, thanks. I hope you cheat on your lovers less in your next life.

[Ghym · Rating 5 out of 5]

So just who was Spalding Gray? I think his agent puts it best when she says: "He was somebody who could experience the same boring thing as you and then spin a story from it that made you realize just how interesting it had all been." He did this through one-man shows which were the perfect showcases for his crazy personality. Spalding Gray’s stories were full of dark humor, sarcasm, neurosis, hypochondria and the occasional deep observation. In other words, he was Woody Allen or Jerry Seinfeld, by way of Rhode Island.

In this age of special effects, one marvels at how he entertained so simply. He didn't employ fancy costumes or scenery but the audience was fascinated by the way he described his world because he was nothing short of a master storyteller. He knew what to exaggerate, what to downplay, where to put a witty line. His timing was impeccable.

He began his career in experimental theater in the late 60s. He cofounded the Wooster Group, a theater company that still survives today, and it was there that he learned how to be himself on stage. Still, he spent some time floundering around, not sure if he wanted to be an actor or a child psychologist or even a porn star.

His career path finally became apparent when he created his first solo show in 1979, Sex and Death to the Age 14. From that point on, he was off and running, with Swimming to Cambodia in 1983 shooting him into the stratosphere. Swimming To Cambodia was about his experience being an actor in the political drama The Killing Fields. It was his unique take on Cambodian culture, and even though it was an unlikely subject to garner popular appeal, it worked. The monologue was also made into a somewhat popular film.

He soon appeared on Letterman and moved effortlessly from the downtown world to the uptown one, at Lincoln Center. He appeared as a character actor on films (like Beaches) and in TV (like the Nanny). On stage, he occasionally performed other people’s work: such as in the 2000 Broadway revival of the Best Man.

In his 50s he discovered the joy of parenthood when he settled down with Kathie Russo, a woman he originally began having an affair with. He had two boys with her, and was quite happy and settled when he got into a car accident. The car accident didn't kill him but it took a hefty physical and emotional toll. Already a depressive person, the son of a mother who committed suicide, Gray suffered extensive brain injuries that pushed him down into a despair so deep he couldn't see his way out. He constantly threatened to kill himself and made several attempts. He was also in a great deal of physical pain, and upset about having sold a beloved house. His wife tried to save him by getting him psychiatric treatment--even ECT--but nothing worked. In January 2004, he jumped from the Staten Island Ferry. His wife thought him missing, but two months later his body turned up in Greenpoint. Here was a man who referenced water in one of his most beloved works and ironically, it’s the same way he died.

Almost two years ago, a documentary was made of his life called And Everything Is Going Fine, directed by his friend and onetime boss, Steve Soderbergh. It used his old recorded monologues and interviews to tell the story of his life. And there was an off-Braodway production about his life called Stories Left to Tell, not to mention a memorial book called Life Interrupted. There is also a sort of biography called Spalding Gray’s America, which is worth seeking out. His life affected so many people, and he was such an influence in the theatrical world, that it’s not surprising there are so many tributes to him.

And here is another one. Gray was scrupulous about journal keeping, writing from the late 60s to days before he died. The book is broken up chronologicallly, with each decade getting a chapter and an intro. In all the pages Gray writes as though he is speaking to an imaginary psychiatrist. Despite Casey's suggestion that he wanted these published, I doubt the journals were ever intended for that purpose. They are not polished at all. It seems like they were just a way for him to work things out in his head. The most fascinating parts are when he's torn between Russo and girlfriend Renee Shafransky in the 1990s. Shafransky was the woman who helped propel him to stardom. He seemed to gravitate towards women who wanted to be involved in his career. He goes back and forth between the two women until Russo tells him she is pregnant. At first he encourages her to have an abortion but finally he accepts and even loves being a parent. We get a sense of a man who had to be dragged kicking and screaming into fatherhood and commitment, and then realizes these are the two best things to ever happen to him.

The slide into decline after the accident is obviously hard to read. He really did not want to be alive by the end, even though he seemed to have so much going for him—friends, family, work. It is a document of madness as Gray obsesses over a house he has let go. Based on these pages, he seems to have had OCD in addition to the depression.

The Cambodia section and the parenthood stuff will be familiar to those who have seen his monologues, but there are aspects here that he didn't go into much detail about on stage. His struggle to figure out his sexual orientation is really interesting. Though mostly heterosexual, he has dalliances with men in gay bathhouses. For the most part he doesn’t fret or worry about these experiences, like some men might. Mostly, he opens himself up to the possibility that he may not be 100% straight (although there is one moment when he freaks out about it a little, and he worries about AIDS).

The book is punctuated with interviews of people Gray knew in his life, and autobiographical data, to help put it all in perspective.

For the most part, I think Nell Casey did a good job. The only thing I would have done different is delete some of the dreams Gray writes about. Reading about someone else's dreams is just really boring, regardless of who it is, and I don’t think these dreams reveal much about his personality or psychiatric state. I also think it’s great that his widow wasn’t emotionally threatened by some of the private things he reveals here, and that she allowed Casey free reign.

I'm not sure I would suggest this to someone who didn't know Gray's work. I think for those people, you need to start with his performances, which as I mentioned are all on film. Even for someone who knows his work and life story, I often found the journals a little hard to follow. There’s a real stream-of-consciousness feel sometimes that defies understanding.

As much as I enjoyed reading this book, it is a heavy, depressing, haunting experience. It is hard to read about all the successes and good times he had, and about his family, knowing how it is going to end. It's also odd to read private journals when we don't know whether the dead person would have wanted us to be reading it. The journal pages often read like rough drafts of his shows, and there is nothing more embarrassing for a writer than to have someone read an unedited rough draft.

Still, I'm happy we have this, since I think we lost an amazing talent when we lost Spalding Gray and this book gives us a more complete picture of the man who had the theater world at his feet, simply by sitting behind a plain wooden desk, drinking a glass of water, and telling us all about his crazy life.

[C C · Rating 4 out of 5]

December 28, 2011

Today I meant to propose to Renee but I got cold feet and decided it would help if I wandered around Washington Square park with Stephon and Gish, and we talked about the emptiness of art and performance, I asked them if I they I thought I confessed too much when I performed my monologues, and they said, no, of course not Clucky, you always confess just enough, but we wish you'd stop performing under blankets. I agreed, but how else to express the modern condition?
Afterwards we went to Stephon's loft on Prince street for an early nap and then cocktails. Cocktails Cocktails Cocktails! (Note to self: ask Dr. Smelvin if my love of cocktails has more to do with cock or tail.) After the nap but before the cocktails I tried to sleep with Gish, but she rejected me and I wept, something Dr. Smelvin said was common in Carrier Pigeons. Following the after-nap cocktails but before the pre-dinner cocktails, Stephon tried to sleep with me, but I rejected him, and he wept. He told me he thought a "polishing of the brass" might help him unlock his kundilini. I told him I thought his kundilini was wonderful just how it was, especially with a little paprika sprinkled on top.
We all laughed and took showers with our clothes on and then headed to the living room for cocktails.

And then Gish tried to sleep with Stephon, which made me jealous, so I left the loft and slept with the elevator operator, a beautiful puerto rican named Jesus, and then I returned to the loft worried that I contracted hepatitis so I phoned Dr. Lipschitz to ask him to administer an AIDS test and fretted over the fact that my mother, being a Christian Scientist and a racist, would disapprove of both Jesus and the AIDS test and the only way I could calm down was to freebase Miller Lite.

Then I saw Stephon and Gish in front of me and we laughed about not screwing each other and all the laughing made us horny so we screwed each other
and ordered good Chinese and I gathered them in the living room and told them the story of our day, about how we wandered around Washington Square and I asked them if I confessed too much when I talked, and they said no. Afterwards I went home to Renee.

[Porkpie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a heartbreaker, in more ways than one.

I had a ton of respect for Spalding Gray growing up - I loved his work, his art, and to this day I secretly harbor the dream that I could also be a monologist.

But reading his journals revealed another man entirely - nearly a complete reprobate, with hideous levels of self-absorption and a near psychopathic approach to intimate relationships. The stars fell from the sky right quick after reading this book.

But somehow, I couldn't put it down. I developed a sort of respect for him again while reading this - and no small amount of pathos in the later chapters as he nears his decision to commit suicide.

This is a very rough read, and there will be times when you'll want to throw your hands up in adamant disgust with it. But it definitely is a compelling, harrowing and visceral look into an artist's life with absolutely ZERO celebrity varnish.

[J · Rating 5 out of 5]

Highly recommended for fans of Spalding Gray. Nell Casey has deftly assembled Gray’s journals, notes and tapes and interspersed explanatory passages to provide background and clarify some of Gray’s arcane references. She has also included helpful excerpts from interviews conducted with Kathleen Russo, Elizabeth LeCompte, Willem Dafoe, Eric Begosian, Steven Soderbergh, Jonathan Demme, and Spalding’s brothers Rockwell and Channing. The one disappointment, no fault of Ms. Casey’s, is that Reneé Shafransky did not contribute to ‘The Journals’. Without Ms. Shafransky, Gray’s girlfriend and wife of 14 or so years and she who directed his monologues, produced his films, edited his writing, and guided him, one wonders if Spalding Gray would have risen to the heights he did. I am left hoping that one day Reneé Shafransky writes their story.

[Marjorie Elwood · Rating 4 out of 5]

Brilliant, tortured, whiny, and self-absorbed, Gray was all of that. Having seen him perform one of his monologues, read his books, and watched Swimming to Cambodia, and loved all of them, I was surprised by how much I disliked him as portrayed in his journals - the obsession with sex, drinking, and himself. And yet, his journal entries went a long way toward explaining both his art and his eventual suicide.

[Kasandra · Rating 5 out of 5]

Compulsively readable. Warning: if you are at all even a teensy bit neurotic, while you are reading this, you will become FAR MORE neurotic, over-thinking the smallest things. I had to put this down repeatedly because it was so honest and painful and depression-inducing. But it's also funny and insightful. I am sure some fans of Gray's won't like him any more after reading this; he certainly could be an asshole, and he admits it. But to see what anxiety and confusion were transformed into in his stage art is to be more amazed than ever by his performing ability. Engrossing.

[Kevin · Rating 2 out of 5]

I couldn't finish these, so this isn't a true review. It's an explanation of why I didn't finish a book I selected and paid for. I love journals and I admire a lot of Spalding Gray's work in his monologues. But these journals lack any observation of the outside world or any real insight into the world inside Grey's head. They are banal with ambition and narcissism and whining. I suspect Grey may need the instrument of his voice. WIthout it, he can't really fully express his talent.

[Alex Robinson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Interesting, if harrowing companion to his famous monologues. By the time I got to the sad ending I didn’t wonder why he had taken his life but instead how he held on as long as he did.

[J. Schneider · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is an absolutely painful book. It is extremely interesting and being from Rhode Island adds an extra treat. It is odd to go back in time to NYC psychobabble times where shrinks like Pavel existed. Ultimately, despite his talent and insights, this journal is that of a very disturbed and unwell person that seemed unreachable. It is a log of narcissism and immoral behavior ending in a sick suicide.

[Kiof]

Narcissism and self-absorption veering, post-accident, into total nihilism. Gray’s quirky stage persona was a mere shadow of a much darker energy that can be observed throughout this volume. The relentless self-criticism, even in his better days, reminds me of Tolstoy’s diaries, which are similarly interesting yet difficult to stomach in even moderate doses.

[Pam Bustin · Rating 5 out of 5]

A hard read but a good read. Grateful for his work in the world.

I too carried the question… would he want these published? I lean toward yes - or at least that he wanted someone to read all his journals. The asking “will you read this?” May have been directed at a certain person, but I found myself whispering back, “Yes. I will read this. No matter how dark.”

I couldn’t put it down.

[Doug · Rating 4 out of 5]

Painfully sad. You know that Gray is performing for us. But he is patron saint of modern melancholia, and a knight-poet fighting against internal hordes. This is a significant book.

[Ray Hubley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Devastating to ply one's way through. And an exemplary job of annotation and editing -- big congrats and thanks to Ms Casey as well as Kathleen Russo.

[Bayneeta · Rating 4 out of 5]

A complicated, obsessive, self-absorbed, alcoholic individual. His free-ranging sexual activities continued in spite of several long-term "committed" relationships. An interesting man and a surprisingly loving father. Entries in the final years preceding his suicide are particularly hard to read.

Steven Soderbergh's Everything Is Going to Be Fine documentory is a nice companion piece. Several of Gray's autobiographical monologues are available as videos or audios.

[Andrew Clark · Rating 3 out of 5]

Man. Hard read. I enjoy Spaulding Gray’s work, but his struggles with life and his creativity were maddening. I don’t k know if it was all too relatable or that his inability to connect and express beyond his “outward-facing persona” made it all to much to absorb. This is a hard book for fans (at least this one) to read. This is a hard book for creatives to read. Enter with caution.

[Patrick · Rating 3 out of 5]

Covered as part of my review of Impossible Vacation: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

[Gracie · Rating 5 out of 5]

a very human human. miss ya, spalding.

[Atar Hadari · Rating 4 out of 5]

Better than a memoir. Rawer than a novel.

[Tom Trondson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fun!

[Lauren · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was late to learning this existed. Pretty tough to make it through a longish posthumous collection of diary entries, so it’s a credit to the editor and to the complexity of Spalding Gray that this was so engaging.

[Paula Dembeck · Rating 3 out of 5]

These journals reveal the inner life of this actor/writer/performer who struggled several years with depression and ended his life in his early 60s. The journals begin when he is 25, include his childhood, his craving for success, the New York art scene in the early 70s, and his love affairs, marriages and travels.

Towards the end of his life, an automobile accident left him with physical disabilities and brain damage, and thus began his downward spiral towards suicide. These times are marked increasingly by notations in his journals which reflect the rantings of his tired and paranoid mind.

Spaulding is famous for inventing the autobiographical monologue, a format many are familiar with in his presentations of "Swimming to Cambodia".

This volume is constructed not just with his diaries and notes but also from interviews with family, colleagues and friends.

A rather sad ending to an interesting career.

[Pavol Hardos · Rating 2 out of 5]

For some reason it took me a while to admit I am giving up on this book. I read around a third and realized that this is really not for me. I doubt this incessant, self-centered, neurotic whining was ever meant for public consumption, but if it were, it probably wouldn't entice anyone who already was not a Spalding Gray fan to begin with. Not that I think that Gray is *solely* about narcissistic whining, but that's simply how these jottings come across to an uninitiated outsider to his oeuvre. There were some insightful, pleasant and even a few wise observations or sentences, but they were too few and far between. I *get* why he is important and I appreciate his monologues (well, the bits available here and there I was able to see since starting this book), but were I to form an opinion about him from these journals it would be neither terribly positive nor particularly fair.

[Kate]

Surprised that I enjoyed reading these as much as I did. Prior to reading this book I was unfamiliar with Spalding Gray except as a punchline in a Simpsons episode ("A Milhouse Divided"). I just went ahead and assumed that his shtick was the same as Garrison Keillor's. That is apparently not the case.

The thrilling thing is that every person with a Twitter account (or Facebook, or Tumblr, or whatever) is basically a little Spalding Gray, obsessed with the not-me that occurs when relating the narrative of one's life to others, confessional but never truthful. Occasionally the terror of a consciousness evaporated completely by too much exposure to the open air occurs within Spalding's journals, but it's usually jammed back down again by relentless monologuing. And don't get me started on his relationships, good god.

[Ben Richmond · Rating 2 out of 5]

I love Spalding Gray, but I'm not sure I wanted to read his journals. They're not terribly different from the work he published during his lifetime except that they're much darker and rougher. I guess it makes sense that someone's (then-private) journals would be the outlet for those thoughts that he couldn't otherwise find an outlet for, but that still raises the question "Why read them?" when Gray has given so much of himself to us in a more readable form elsewhere. I don't think that these are any more or less authentic, but rightfully private and hidden away.

Still moments of beauty, humor and insight prevade throughout.

[Karen-Leigh · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really loved Spalding Gray's monologues and looked forward to his journals but was disappointed. They were dull, repetitious and depressing. Not enough humor to leaven the gloom and not a sign of his wit. It was a hard slog to get through.

First read March 14, 2015 I should have read my own first review before rereading but I didn't so reread and actually got more out of the book the second time around. A sad life but his journal was unique and very honest.

My opinions haven't changed in August of 2019...it is awful how one's own mind can betray you.

[Monica · Rating 4 out of 5]

Of course, not a very pleasant read but an interesting experience of going deep under the psychic skin of a very brilliant narcissist. I think what surprised me was the extent to which Gray was compulsive and fairly thoughtless about his constant need to find sex and have affairs. I wonder how much his fame played a role in his behavior.

Gray's becoming a father helped him for once to care about other people. I found this part of his life very touching.

[Moneen Daley Harte · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you love Spalding, you will not be too surprised by this edited version of his journals. They are compiled and presented with love. While much of Spalding's intimate life has already been revealed, what we do learn, feel and benefit from is the even more extraordinary influence and patience the women is his life gave him. Elizabeth LeCompte got closer to him than anyone it would seem - very beautiful art and love story.

[Kyle · Rating 3 out of 5]

If the thought of venturing into the mind of a brilliant, narcissistic, disturbingly tragic figure, appeals to you, you'll enjoy this book. The selection of journal entries and editorial notes contextualizing them make the book more interesting and add a flow to it, saving it from being a meandering expression of pure id. And, in many respects the best part of the book is seeing the world of an actor/writer/artist living a bohemian life in Soho in the 80s and 90s.