Crikey, what a weirdo! A fascinating weirdo, but still a weirdo. I might even go so far as to say that she was as nutty as a date pud. Not that this remotely detracts from her luminescence on screen - it doesn't - but what this book illustrates above all else is that Garbo barely lived off screen at all. She was only at her best when the cameras were on her, and when they weren't (ie, for the last fifty years of her life), she had one big Swedish peasant foot planted in self-indulgent crazy. What is refreshing about her though is her degree of self-awareness. She knew she was nuts, and stingy, and 'legend' obsessed, and dislikeable. She didn't shy away from any of it. She didn't try to amend any of it very much, either. Some of her bahaviour really is reprehensible at first glance. Dropping Marie Dressler like a hot rock (that they were scissor sisters at all was quite a revelation) and then shedding not a tear when Marie went to her early grave was pretty unkind. I can only presume this was because of the present Marie sent when Garbo was setting sail to Sweden - the one that paranoid Garbo sniffed the hand of Mayer behind. Ditto John Gilbert and his even earlier grave. His demise was ghastly and she didn't seem cut up about it at all. Indeed, the discrepancy between the still much lauded 'great romance', as popular legend has it, and Garbo's own very backhanded dismissal of the whole thing, is one of the most startling aspects of her story. Still, there must have been SOMETHING between them, even if he did compel her to take her frock to the dry cleaners, Lewinski style. Other memorable moments for me were Mercedes da Costa's lunatic mysticism (another weirdo!), pre-dating the Beatles-go-swami by thirty years; the fling with the strapping ship steward (that was very sexy - wish there were snaps); and the extraordinary episode of saving suicidal Hazel the maid. Overall, I suspect there's a better biography than this one to be read, and I shall endeavour to find it. Antoni Gronowicz had unprecedented access to her, and he captures 'her own words' very well, but it lacks an incisive assessment of her character, preferring to allow Garbo to achieve that herself. For that reason, grains of salt are required, I think. The chapter at the very end was a bonus but it stuck out a bit. Would have appreciated more of that earlier. Still, this was a highly entertaining read, consistently, if not objectively illuminating, about one of Old Hollywood's most compelling stars.