In this, the first of a two-volume memoir, Anjelica Huston speaks to her coming of age.
She is the daughter of famed director John Huston, whose films include The Maltese Falcon, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The Asphalt Jungle, and The African Queen. But she doesn't write much about this. She was the second child of his fourth wife (there would be five) yet, apart from a cursory recitation of the genealogy and family dynamics, she doesn't write much about this. It is left to guesswork to determine exactly what happened in her parents' marriage to cause their separation, as well as the specifics (emotional or otherwise) of the day her mother died in a tragic car accident. In fact, had I not done a little research of my own, I would not have known that her father had, in his younger days, struck and killed a pedestrian while driving down Sunset Boulevard. No mention is made of this or the resonance it might have had those many decades later when his (still) wife passed so suddenly through vehicular misfortune.
What is written about here is largely the architecture and environment of Ms. Huston's childhood home, St. Clerans, in Ireland. Much space is given to her surroundings - the weather, the animals, the gardens - with small snatches of character study when the mood comes upon her. There are many names to keep track of, but few solid touchpoints to equip them with singularity and meaning. It is as if (and this happens to some) those years have not only been rendered irrelevant to her, but have actually become inaccessible over the passage of time. Hence, we are left with a dry sort of triptych through the early stages of her life.
Privacy is merited for everyone, no matter the public nature of his or her profession. Boundaries, too. But then, why a memoir?
On to Volume II...