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Memoirs
When memoirs was first published in 1975, it created quite a bit of turbulence in the media--though long self-identified as a gay man, williams candour about his love life, sexual encounters, and drug use was found shocking in and of itself, and such revelations by americas greatest living playwright were called a raw display of private life by the new york times book review as it turns out, more than thirty years later, williams look back at his life is not quite so scandalous as it once seemed; he recalls his childhood in mississippi and st louis, his prolonged struggle as a starving artist, the overnight success of the glass menagerie in 1945, the death of his long-time companion frank merlo in 1962, and his confinement to a psychiatric ward in 1969 and subsequent recovery from alcohol and drug addiction, all with the same directness, compassion, and insight that epitomize his plays
368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1975
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About the author
Tennessee Williams
763 books3,795 followersThomas Lanier Williams III, better known by the nickname Tennessee Williams, was a major American playwright of the twentieth century who received many of the top theatrical awards for his work. He moved to New Orleans in 1939 and changed his name to "Tennessee," the state of his father's birth.
Raised in St. Louis, Missouri, after years of obscurity, at age 33 he became famous with the success of The Glass Menagerie (1944) in New York City. This play closely reflected his own unhappy family background. It was the first of a string of successes, including A Streetcar Named Desire (1947), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1955), Sweet Bird of Youth (1959), and The Night of the Iguana (1961). With his later work, he attempted a new style that did not appeal to audiences. His drama A Streetcar Named Desire is often numbered on short lists of the finest American plays of the 20th century, alongside Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey into Night and Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman.
Much of Williams' most acclaimed work has been adapted for the cinema. He also wrote short stories, poetry, essays and a volume of memoirs. In 1979, four years before his death, Williams was inducted into the American Theater Hall of Fame.
From Wikipedia
Raised in St. Louis, Missouri, after years of obscurity, at age 33 he became famous with the success of The Glass Menagerie (1944) in New York City. This play closely reflected his own unhappy family background. It was the first of a string of successes, including A Streetcar Named Desire (1947), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1955), Sweet Bird of Youth (1959), and The Night of the Iguana (1961). With his later work, he attempted a new style that did not appeal to audiences. His drama A Streetcar Named Desire is often numbered on short lists of the finest American plays of the 20th century, alongside Eugene O'Neill's Long Day's Journey into Night and Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman.
Much of Williams' most acclaimed work has been adapted for the cinema. He also wrote short stories, poetry, essays and a volume of memoirs. In 1979, four years before his death, Williams was inducted into the American Theater Hall of Fame.
From Wikipedia
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October 23, 2019I really wish I could have been around when this memoir originally came out. Because what you'd expect from a memoir written by a giant of the American stage and what you get in this memoir are definitely not the same. But the thing is, I am not sure that's bad!
If you want to read this to learn more about where Williams gets his characters from, how he writes, what themes and messages he's trying to get across in his plays, how his personal life is portrayed in his plays, etc etc etc you will get none of that. NONE.
Still, there is some real joy to be found in this kind of loose, rambly, gives-no-****s memoir. It is especially noteworthy that Williams is so open and unashamed about his sex life at a time when most gay men in public life were closeted. Williams would very much like you to know who he did sleep with and who he didn't, often he would like you to know how many times. He is not graphic, but he does like you to know just who he kept around for companionship and who was good for sex. He casually talks about cruising New York looking for sex. It is amazing, I have never read anything like it.
If you like gossip you will get very little. While clearly Williams has had lovers whose names we would recognize, he refuses to share them. There are a lot of pseudonyms. He loves to tell you which actors have been best in his work. But while I'm sure he has several biting opinions, he mostly keeps the criticism to himself. (Unless it's critics, in that case he has plenty.) He can tell you when each play opened and closed, which theaters it was in, how the critics received it, but mostly that's all you will get about much of his work.
Mostly this book feels like you are sitting next to Williams, who is probably on some kind of substances, and letting him go on. (He is quite open about his substance abuse.) It often lacks direction. It often lacks style. But there's something about the looseness of it that is its own strange pleasure, even if it goes on for much longer than you expected.
If you want to read this to learn more about where Williams gets his characters from, how he writes, what themes and messages he's trying to get across in his plays, how his personal life is portrayed in his plays, etc etc etc you will get none of that. NONE.
Still, there is some real joy to be found in this kind of loose, rambly, gives-no-****s memoir. It is especially noteworthy that Williams is so open and unashamed about his sex life at a time when most gay men in public life were closeted. Williams would very much like you to know who he did sleep with and who he didn't, often he would like you to know how many times. He is not graphic, but he does like you to know just who he kept around for companionship and who was good for sex. He casually talks about cruising New York looking for sex. It is amazing, I have never read anything like it.
If you like gossip you will get very little. While clearly Williams has had lovers whose names we would recognize, he refuses to share them. There are a lot of pseudonyms. He loves to tell you which actors have been best in his work. But while I'm sure he has several biting opinions, he mostly keeps the criticism to himself. (Unless it's critics, in that case he has plenty.) He can tell you when each play opened and closed, which theaters it was in, how the critics received it, but mostly that's all you will get about much of his work.
Mostly this book feels like you are sitting next to Williams, who is probably on some kind of substances, and letting him go on. (He is quite open about his substance abuse.) It often lacks direction. It often lacks style. But there's something about the looseness of it that is its own strange pleasure, even if it goes on for much longer than you expected.
March 31, 2019
There isn’t much of literary value in this endeavor. Penned in the mid 1970s, Williams appears to offer a hip rationalization of his life and peccadilloes, though little is said about his work. He loves Lawrence, Chekhov and Brecht but does not reflect on them but rather notes several times that Jean-Paul Sartre didn’t show up at party. Not that he’s sulking. He cruises Mexico with Leonard Bernstein and keeps Gore Vidal and Truman Capote from being arrested. Then there’s the anonymous men.
The drink and then the drugs. There’s considerable family pain on display. I can relate. His family’s fortunes were always rising and falling—Hawthorne slamming highballs in a St. Louis boardinghouse.
It is the romantic in me, but his soulmate was Carson McCullers and I’m fascinated by his memories of her cooking for him. Art needs that quaint angle.
The drink and then the drugs. There’s considerable family pain on display. I can relate. His family’s fortunes were always rising and falling—Hawthorne slamming highballs in a St. Louis boardinghouse.
It is the romantic in me, but his soulmate was Carson McCullers and I’m fascinated by his memories of her cooking for him. Art needs that quaint angle.
May 31, 2007
Williams' Memoirs is a beautiful attempt to capture the complex nature of one's self and one's art. In a stream-of-consciousness/free-associative style Tennessee opens up about his experiences, and focuses on his loves and losses. He is a true connoisseur of written English, and knows exactly when to embellish or to back off, all for the sake of drama. In Memoirs, he takes his skill and deconstructs his life, giving the reader a look into who created some of the greatest theatrical pieces in the 20th century. Without Tennessee's language, his life and work could be seen as mere soap opera, but because of his beautiful, lyrical, heavy style his life and work are opera. Memoirs is going on my shelf for reference and inspiration, it will be there for my pure, true love for a master craftsman.
By the way, I said I have been plagued by what a memior should be...Tennessee gave me one of the best definitions in his book:
Do you think that I have told you my life story?
I have told you the events of my life, and described as best I could, without legal reprecussions, the dramatis personae of it.
But life is made up of moment-to-moment occurrences in the nerves and the perceptions, and try as you may, you can't commit them to the actualities of your own history...
If that's the case, well, the inadequacies of this attempt to tell my life story, and believe me, I've tried to tell it, may be, surely must be, to my advantage, and I trust no serious disappointment to you. pg. 250
Oh, Tennessee, if you were alive, I'm sure we would be fast friends.
By the way, I said I have been plagued by what a memior should be...Tennessee gave me one of the best definitions in his book:
Do you think that I have told you my life story?
I have told you the events of my life, and described as best I could, without legal reprecussions, the dramatis personae of it.
But life is made up of moment-to-moment occurrences in the nerves and the perceptions, and try as you may, you can't commit them to the actualities of your own history...
If that's the case, well, the inadequacies of this attempt to tell my life story, and believe me, I've tried to tell it, may be, surely must be, to my advantage, and I trust no serious disappointment to you. pg. 250
Oh, Tennessee, if you were alive, I'm sure we would be fast friends.
June 26, 2007
Trashy, tragic sweetness, went down very smoothly but made me a little sad in spots, most likely in a similar way to the cocktail barbituate combos he became famous for downing. The man is endlessly fascinating and, regardless of his addictions - and there were many, was still phenomenally talented.
April 14, 2023
“They offered me a $50,000 advance, and I thought I’d be dead by the time it came out”, John Waters quotes Tennessee Williams on writing his Memoirs. A statement which Williams allegedly wrote to ‘bait’ his enemies – i.e. critics of Memoirs on it’s publication.
However I think this statement pretty much sums up TW’s approach to the book.
In fact it was John Waters’ introduction that saved Memoirs for me. Waters invites us to view the book as if we’re basically down the pub with TW. And viewed in that sense, it works a lot better.
I think it’s safe to say, that if you’re not familiar with TW’s work, then this is not a good place to start. Or rather, it is definitely not a shining example of his formidable literary genius. (And I think his statement about the advance, ‘baiting his enemies’, lets us know that he would most likely wholeheartedly agree with this.)
The book itself is all over the place, and rambles along. Perhaps more sympathetically, should be described as a stream of consciousness. And this is clearly exactly what TW intends it to be. So pull up a pew, and a large whisky…
However I think this statement pretty much sums up TW’s approach to the book.
In fact it was John Waters’ introduction that saved Memoirs for me. Waters invites us to view the book as if we’re basically down the pub with TW. And viewed in that sense, it works a lot better.
I think it’s safe to say, that if you’re not familiar with TW’s work, then this is not a good place to start. Or rather, it is definitely not a shining example of his formidable literary genius. (And I think his statement about the advance, ‘baiting his enemies’, lets us know that he would most likely wholeheartedly agree with this.)
The book itself is all over the place, and rambles along. Perhaps more sympathetically, should be described as a stream of consciousness. And this is clearly exactly what TW intends it to be. So pull up a pew, and a large whisky…
October 30, 2025
When Tenn, born Tom, was asked if there was one theme running through his plays he replied "Have a care for the fragile ones." His life was one of great loss, foremost the lobotomy of his sister, for which he blamed himself for not stopping his mother Edwina, and great but brittle gain, from Pulitzer prizes to global fame to, finally, "the urge not to be forgotten." These MEMOIRS focus equally on his wild, uninhibited sex life and the staging of his plays. He was never happier than when living in Rome in 1947, after the success of STREETCAR and working on the minor play SUMMER AND SMOKE. "The freedom of life was the pacing up and down trying out dialogue, and the frascati afterwards and the giovanni in my apartment and cruising with American friends at night". Tennessee makes no pretensions to artistry. "I could write a whole book on the craft of play writing, but it would be a very short book with large margins between the sentences. The plays speak for themselves". The recollections of encounters with Gore Vidal, Truman Capote and Donald Windham are vividly rendered, though Tennessee does not tell us if those relationships became sexual. These thoughts suffer from what Williams dubbed his "stoned age". By the Seventies he was too drugged to compose either an autobiography or coherent plays. What we get is fragments of his memories while he tries, in vain, to uplift his latest failure, SMALL CRAFT WARNINGS. No matter. Here we have a genius going naked in the world, attempting what his doomed admirer the poet Anne Sexton called "the awful rowing towards God".
August 27, 2020
Tennessee Williams was one of the most brilliant and creative writers of the 20th century but his complicated persona comes to the forefront in this rambling, unaware memoir.
At times a poignant reflection on coming of age gay in the 1930s South, Williams begins his memoir with an interesting narrative of his time before fame as he gallivanted and came into his sexual identity. These initial stories are insightful and tell the story of a gay man experiencing the freedoms that come with embracing cruising and sexual exploration. Unfortunately the second half of the book devolves into a meandering collection of stories overflowing with remorse for failing his lover of 14 years, Frankie, who Williams abandons as Frankie dies of cancer. Add to this stories of a self-destructive man who refuses to acknowledge his responsibility in his own downfall and the latter half of the memoir becomes almost unbearable to read.
A fan of memoirs by literary greats, I simply couldn't get into this, a memoir that in its form reflects the morose complexities that came to define its author in his later life. Skip the memoir and instead read "Leading Men" by Christopher Castellani - though its fiction, it gives a much more honest retelling of the life of Tennessee Williams.
At times a poignant reflection on coming of age gay in the 1930s South, Williams begins his memoir with an interesting narrative of his time before fame as he gallivanted and came into his sexual identity. These initial stories are insightful and tell the story of a gay man experiencing the freedoms that come with embracing cruising and sexual exploration. Unfortunately the second half of the book devolves into a meandering collection of stories overflowing with remorse for failing his lover of 14 years, Frankie, who Williams abandons as Frankie dies of cancer. Add to this stories of a self-destructive man who refuses to acknowledge his responsibility in his own downfall and the latter half of the memoir becomes almost unbearable to read.
A fan of memoirs by literary greats, I simply couldn't get into this, a memoir that in its form reflects the morose complexities that came to define its author in his later life. Skip the memoir and instead read "Leading Men" by Christopher Castellani - though its fiction, it gives a much more honest retelling of the life of Tennessee Williams.
February 3, 2015
I'm surprised I hadn't read these memoirs before now. TW published them 8 years before he left our world (in 1983). In 1980, in the middle of a long blizzard storm and a transit strike in NYC, I managed to see one of the 14 performances of his 'Clothes for a Summer Hotel' on Broadway. Admittedly, I mainly wanted to see Geraldine Page, who starred in it. I wasn't, at that point, really writing plays seriously - but if I had been, the thought might have come to my mind that it might not have been that difficult attempting to meet TW during that production. Now that I've read his memoirs, it occurs to me that he may have been very welcoming to - well, anyone who would approach him with kindness.
The memoirs are a satisfying read. TW covers the ground of all his major plays in their first major productions (as well as some of their earlier, minor ones). In a roundabout style - blending the past with the present, while still remaining somewhat chronologically faithful - he illuminates for us his life as a writer. As much as we need to know, that is - since he says that the plays speak for themselves, and he explains very little regarding the content of any of them. (Personally, I wish he had written a bit more about 'The Night of the Iguana'; he says nothing about its film version, alas.)
Perhaps believing that 'memoirs' is another word for 'tell-all', TW tells us more than we (or I, actually) need to know about his sexual exploits - which are many and most of which read as disposable. (He explains that he had a huge amount of sex because he came out late in life. Hmm...yes, well...if you say so, TW.) Perhaps the saddest thing in the book is his confession re: leaving Frank Merlo, with whom he enjoyed his only lasting relationship (14 years). Although he did eventually see Merlo through his death, TW admits that he was never the same once he removed the one thing in life that maintained him. (That turns out to be quite sure.)
Apparently TW loved being Tennessee Williams. He had a fighting spirit to the end (it seems), even though he put himself through a lot of torment - which was 'aided' by the torment of his latter work being mostly indifferently received. He admits to not being an easy person to deal with. His memoirs show him off warts and all. He does come off as being quite difficult often - even if he does not exactly read as any kind of monster. Although he is not a tragic figure (he had too much fight in him for that - unlike his tragic contemporary William Inge), a certain sadness still hangs over the memoirs. One somehow wishes he had had more of an anchor for himself in life. The memoirs read as the work of someone constantly at sea, restless and longing.
The memoirs are a satisfying read. TW covers the ground of all his major plays in their first major productions (as well as some of their earlier, minor ones). In a roundabout style - blending the past with the present, while still remaining somewhat chronologically faithful - he illuminates for us his life as a writer. As much as we need to know, that is - since he says that the plays speak for themselves, and he explains very little regarding the content of any of them. (Personally, I wish he had written a bit more about 'The Night of the Iguana'; he says nothing about its film version, alas.)
Perhaps believing that 'memoirs' is another word for 'tell-all', TW tells us more than we (or I, actually) need to know about his sexual exploits - which are many and most of which read as disposable. (He explains that he had a huge amount of sex because he came out late in life. Hmm...yes, well...if you say so, TW.) Perhaps the saddest thing in the book is his confession re: leaving Frank Merlo, with whom he enjoyed his only lasting relationship (14 years). Although he did eventually see Merlo through his death, TW admits that he was never the same once he removed the one thing in life that maintained him. (That turns out to be quite sure.)
Apparently TW loved being Tennessee Williams. He had a fighting spirit to the end (it seems), even though he put himself through a lot of torment - which was 'aided' by the torment of his latter work being mostly indifferently received. He admits to not being an easy person to deal with. His memoirs show him off warts and all. He does come off as being quite difficult often - even if he does not exactly read as any kind of monster. Although he is not a tragic figure (he had too much fight in him for that - unlike his tragic contemporary William Inge), a certain sadness still hangs over the memoirs. One somehow wishes he had had more of an anchor for himself in life. The memoirs read as the work of someone constantly at sea, restless and longing.
September 27, 2023
I had to pop in here and give this a rating and review. That's since I had occasion to quote from it on Twitter, thus: "I'm gonna cornhole Tommy tonight!"
What does it mean? What do you think it means?
It's fun, it's certainly extremely, um, circuitous and given to digressions and tangents. It's very interesting on his episodes of mental ill-health. It's kind, and compassionate, and perceptive and funny. Pretty much everything I look for in a memoir, and I'm always looking for a good memoir.
ETA: Discursive! That's the world I was looking for! It's definitely discursive, if not absolutely alliterative.
ETA: hmmmHMMMhmmm pretty dang sure I neither reviewed nor edited this elderly, tottering review about a month ago.
What does it mean? What do you think it means?
It's fun, it's certainly extremely, um, circuitous and given to digressions and tangents. It's very interesting on his episodes of mental ill-health. It's kind, and compassionate, and perceptive and funny. Pretty much everything I look for in a memoir, and I'm always looking for a good memoir.
ETA: Discursive! That's the world I was looking for! It's definitely discursive, if not absolutely alliterative.
ETA: hmmmHMMMhmmm pretty dang sure I neither reviewed nor edited this elderly, tottering review about a month ago.
March 16, 2009
"People please, if you have never read Tennessee Williams' Memoirs, run yourself a warm bath, turn off all your appliances, pour yourself a glass or wine and...treat...your...self!"
This was a fascinating portrait of not only a truly unique and complex individual, but of a time lost in America - that of the bohemian. I recommend this book to anyone who is a fan of the theatre and writing but you may be disappointed by the lack of actual insight to his writing and his process. This is more of a recount of his early awkward youth to his sexual awakening to becoming an egregiously neurotic asshole. It was incredibly honest. I loved it.
This was a fascinating portrait of not only a truly unique and complex individual, but of a time lost in America - that of the bohemian. I recommend this book to anyone who is a fan of the theatre and writing but you may be disappointed by the lack of actual insight to his writing and his process. This is more of a recount of his early awkward youth to his sexual awakening to becoming an egregiously neurotic asshole. It was incredibly honest. I loved it.
March 30, 2026
What a wonderful and terrible life indeed.
October 12, 2013
لا شك في حيوية تنيسي ويليامز التي لا تقل هولاً عن صراحته
إلا أن السيرة أجمل في ثلثها الأول وفصلها الأخير، أما ما عدا ذلك فتفاصيل علاقات شخصية أقرب للنميمة، يمكن أن تكون ممتعة لمن على دراية أو اتصال بالحياة الفنية الأمريكية، ويمكن (حلبها) أحياناً للخروج بخلاصة ممتعة تجعلها أقرب للنقاط الثلاثة.
كذلك، فالسيرة تشجع على تجربة ويليامز مرة أخرى في مسرحيات مكتوبة أو في روايته (الربيع الروماني للسيدة ستون)
كعادة أسامة منزلجي في ترجماته، الترجمة لا يمكن وصفها بالخطأ، وإن كان من الصعب وصفها بالجمال، وكالعادة: يحسب له تقديم كتاب جديد إلى اللغة العربية رغم عيوبه، وما يبدو لي استسهالاً من مترجم يمكن أن يحقق ما هو أجمل.
إلا أن السيرة أجمل في ثلثها الأول وفصلها الأخير، أما ما عدا ذلك فتفاصيل علاقات شخصية أقرب للنميمة، يمكن أن تكون ممتعة لمن على دراية أو اتصال بالحياة الفنية الأمريكية، ويمكن (حلبها) أحياناً للخروج بخلاصة ممتعة تجعلها أقرب للنقاط الثلاثة.
كذلك، فالسيرة تشجع على تجربة ويليامز مرة أخرى في مسرحيات مكتوبة أو في روايته (الربيع الروماني للسيدة ستون)
كعادة أسامة منزلجي في ترجماته، الترجمة لا يمكن وصفها بالخطأ، وإن كان من الصعب وصفها بالجمال، وكالعادة: يحسب له تقديم كتاب جديد إلى اللغة العربية رغم عيوبه، وما يبدو لي استسهالاً من مترجم يمكن أن يحقق ما هو أجمل.
October 31, 2014
This was the first memoir I ever read, while I was at school. It opened a whole new world to me, because at the time (mid-1980s) I just didn't think a gay man would write an open account of his life. How wrong I was, and utterly relieved that someone with the stature of Tennessee Williams could be this revelatory about himself. He edited certain aspects out, unknown to me at the time, and played around with the truth somewhat, but that doesn't stop this being a wonderful, funny, sad and inspirational story of this exquisite playwright's life.
Unlike biographies of course, he doesn't die in the end, which was nice too!
Unlike biographies of course, he doesn't die in the end, which was nice too!
August 3, 2020
„Nu există oameni mici, ci doar percepții minimaliste asupra oamenilor.”
June 13, 2023
This memoir features an account of the writer's later years mixed with stream of consciousness anecdotes from his life. The book was written in the early 70's while he appeared as a performer (to drum up waning interest) in his play "Small Craft Warnings". Then, he relates his ongoing efforts to develop and launch "Out Cry". It's touching to read of his frustration with the lukewarm reception these later works met. His isolation seems largely self imposed, yet the unmistakable message of the memoir is his personal and artistic dependence on collaboration.
Fans of Mr. Williams' many famous works will enjoy learning more from his (often agonized) perspective about their conception, staging, and reception. He is still conflicted about decisions made on huge successes as well as on big disappointments. In the case of "Kingdom of Earth" (which was not a success according to this account), he denounces his favorite director for deciding to stage it as written in a big splashy premiere, and congratulates another director for their revelatory cutting in a later small production.
This book is notorious for its confessional nature. I was not shocked but I understand many readers were. Williams needed to have company for work, for fun, for drinking, for traveling, for everything. It's completely ridiculous to say, about such a prolific and provocative writer, that his memoir was too candid. Imagine how stale and forgettable the book would have been that those critics seem to want. The real revelation for me was how much all his memories in this book sound like his plays:
"
One day the charmingly eccentric old lady said to me: "I want to give you a party. Pick out some friends from this book."
The book she handed me was the Social Register of New York and the only friend, a distant relation, whom I could find in it was a Mrs. Inman, née Coffin, a lady of high degree but afflicted with periods of deep melancholia. Some months before she had returned from Europe with half a million dollars in Belgian lace. Then deep melancholia struck her, the lace was left out of whatever fine lace should be kept in for moth protection, and the moths ate it up. Oh, well. Tant pis. She was nevertheless on the upgrade from her psychic syndrome and she came to the party, very silent but benignly present. I'd had to confess to my hostess that this relative was the only acquaintance I could find in the register.
"
Fans of Mr. Williams' many famous works will enjoy learning more from his (often agonized) perspective about their conception, staging, and reception. He is still conflicted about decisions made on huge successes as well as on big disappointments. In the case of "Kingdom of Earth" (which was not a success according to this account), he denounces his favorite director for deciding to stage it as written in a big splashy premiere, and congratulates another director for their revelatory cutting in a later small production.
This book is notorious for its confessional nature. I was not shocked but I understand many readers were. Williams needed to have company for work, for fun, for drinking, for traveling, for everything. It's completely ridiculous to say, about such a prolific and provocative writer, that his memoir was too candid. Imagine how stale and forgettable the book would have been that those critics seem to want. The real revelation for me was how much all his memories in this book sound like his plays:
"
One day the charmingly eccentric old lady said to me: "I want to give you a party. Pick out some friends from this book."
The book she handed me was the Social Register of New York and the only friend, a distant relation, whom I could find in it was a Mrs. Inman, née Coffin, a lady of high degree but afflicted with periods of deep melancholia. Some months before she had returned from Europe with half a million dollars in Belgian lace. Then deep melancholia struck her, the lace was left out of whatever fine lace should be kept in for moth protection, and the moths ate it up. Oh, well. Tant pis. She was nevertheless on the upgrade from her psychic syndrome and she came to the party, very silent but benignly present. I'd had to confess to my hostess that this relative was the only acquaintance I could find in the register.
"
March 10, 2025
Viena no atklātākajām un godīgākajām grāmatām kādu nācies lasīt un tas ietekmē arī turpmāko viņa darbu lasīšanu un iestudējumu vērošanu. Paplašina asociācijas. Atskats uz dzīvi, kuru ietekmēt nav bijis arī viņa spēkos, un apstākļi savijušies filozofijā par teātri, kino, mākslu, nereti arī sabiedrību, kura viņam apkārt. Emocionāli plaša ģeogrāfija, autors meklējis mieru, identitāti, iekāri un brīžiem ļoti vieglprātīgu iespēju izpausties un ļauties. Viljamss grāmatā ir poētisks, pat teatrāls, arī brīžos, kad balansē uz vulgaritātes robežas, bet ar visu to, nezaudējot veselīgu pasmiešamos par sevi un labu devu ironijas.
February 20, 2018
A first-class Epicurean. Broadcasting his home life and personal experiences across page to stage and screen in an attempt to find something worthwhile. Bawdy, trashy, and delightfully formal about all of it. We would've been friends.
January 24, 2021
This is my favorite book to reread, almost yearly. I wish Tennessee would have written more books like this, about his life. I enjoy his prose and blatant honesty more than any of his plays (and I adore Streetcar, more than most). His writing style speaks to me, as much as the content of his writings about his personal life. He discusses his relationships with his family, friends, and lovers, which are sprinkled about as he travels and takes up varying occupations throughout his younger years. His taste for adventure and people, as a young playwright, are fascinating. This book does have some references which are hard to follow, but for the most part it is an easy read. Also, it is a fun reread because it is a diary, meaning there is no real plot that you remember and each time you read it, it hits you like the first. It's like a brand new book. I am trying to give it five stars, but goodreads will not let me.
February 29, 2016
Trata-se, como o título indica, de uma autobiografia escrita ao sabor da memória, seguindo um fio condutor cronológico mas cheia de derivas e dispersões, avanços e recuos no tempo, constantes chamadas à actualidade do escritor enquanto a escrevia. Trata-se, além disso, de um texto que recusa assumidamente a objectividade narrativa, em que predomina o discurso directo, muitas vezes acompanhando a própria corrente de pensamento do autor. Tudo isto torna o livro fascinante, pois o que se perde em objectividade por força de uma memória que é, voluntária e involuntariamente, selectiva, ganha-se numa aproximação, num insert, à alma e ao psiquismo do escritor, às suas emoções e sentimentos, às suas alegrias e aos seus dramas profundos, e sobretudo a um sentido de humor terno e irónico que nunca se poupa a si próprio. E que é escrito no estilo lírico e leve do escritor, num texto de fácil leitura mas com uma profundidade capaz de captar o essencial da alma humana, quer na sua faceta mais prazenteira quer nos abismos mais atormentados.
Quando foi publicado pela primeira vez, em 1975, o livro suscitou enorme polémica, sendo alvo de intensa crítica e mesmo reprovação, sobretudo pela crueza e naturalidade com que Williams se refere às suas aventuras amorosas, ele que era um homossexual convicto e bastante praticante. Trinta anos depois, a sociedade já deu muita volta, e, apesar de serem muito interessantes, as façanhas sexuais de TW, creio eu, já não chocarão ninguém. Entre outras coisas, nomeadamente os seus encontros com pessoas célebres, as suas deambulações pelos lugares da sua predilecção (Nova Iorque, Nova Orleans e Key West), e acompanhamento da sua carreira de dramaturgo (de um dos maiores dramaturgos da América), o que mais realça esta autobiografia é o enorme compromisso de Williams com a escrita, uma disciplina obsessiva que o levava a, mesmo depois das noitadas mais extravagantes, levantar-se todos os dias (todos os dias!) cedíssimo, engolir enormes chávenas de café, e passar todas as horas do dia a escrever, alternando a escrita dos textos teatrais com contos, romances e poemas.
Quando foi publicado pela primeira vez, em 1975, o livro suscitou enorme polémica, sendo alvo de intensa crítica e mesmo reprovação, sobretudo pela crueza e naturalidade com que Williams se refere às suas aventuras amorosas, ele que era um homossexual convicto e bastante praticante. Trinta anos depois, a sociedade já deu muita volta, e, apesar de serem muito interessantes, as façanhas sexuais de TW, creio eu, já não chocarão ninguém. Entre outras coisas, nomeadamente os seus encontros com pessoas célebres, as suas deambulações pelos lugares da sua predilecção (Nova Iorque, Nova Orleans e Key West), e acompanhamento da sua carreira de dramaturgo (de um dos maiores dramaturgos da América), o que mais realça esta autobiografia é o enorme compromisso de Williams com a escrita, uma disciplina obsessiva que o levava a, mesmo depois das noitadas mais extravagantes, levantar-se todos os dias (todos os dias!) cedíssimo, engolir enormes chávenas de café, e passar todas as horas do dia a escrever, alternando a escrita dos textos teatrais com contos, romances e poemas.
April 21, 2013
I first became interested in Tennessee Williams when I saw the movie A Streetcar Named Desire (1951). I was struck by how lyrically eloquent several of the lines were. The writer really captured sentiment, characters, life very well. So, I read the play. Then, I wanted to know the background of this fellow who had such a gift for writing, so I picked up this book. I have read it twice now and each time I learn something new. Since he is such a brilliant writer, he could not help, of course, but to write his autobiography with the same characteristic charm, insight, and eloquence as he does with his plays. Here are some of my favorite excerpts:
"There are sometimes hints, during our lives, of something that lies outside the flesh and its mortality. I suppose these intuitions come to many people in their religious vocations, but I have sensed them equally clearly in the work of artists and most clearly of all in the work of Laurette (Taylor). There was a radiance about her art which I can compare only to the greatest lines of poetry, and which gave me the same shock of revelation as if the air about us had been momentarily broken though by light from clear space beyond us." (p.86)
"How much trivia there is to be set down in the record of one's life: There must be much between the lines that is more deserving of recollection but somehow that remains a nebulous state while the mere surface history comes back clearly to mind." (p. 113)
Well, there are quite a few more but I will post them on here later. I highly recommend this book if you a fan of Mr. Williams or just enjoy good writing. I will say the book is a bit scandalous because Williams recounts almost all his lovers he has had but it is not all brash because he dearly loved several of them.
"There are sometimes hints, during our lives, of something that lies outside the flesh and its mortality. I suppose these intuitions come to many people in their religious vocations, but I have sensed them equally clearly in the work of artists and most clearly of all in the work of Laurette (Taylor). There was a radiance about her art which I can compare only to the greatest lines of poetry, and which gave me the same shock of revelation as if the air about us had been momentarily broken though by light from clear space beyond us." (p.86)
"How much trivia there is to be set down in the record of one's life: There must be much between the lines that is more deserving of recollection but somehow that remains a nebulous state while the mere surface history comes back clearly to mind." (p. 113)
Well, there are quite a few more but I will post them on here later. I highly recommend this book if you a fan of Mr. Williams or just enjoy good writing. I will say the book is a bit scandalous because Williams recounts almost all his lovers he has had but it is not all brash because he dearly loved several of them.
January 22, 2019
I love Tennessee Williams' plays but I was inspired to read "Memoirs" because of the snippets from it that John Waters included in "Role Models." And, needless to say, Waters didn't steer me wrong. This book was juicy and honest and hilarious. Tennessee Williams is as intriguing as his work. Though he was admittedly high all the time at the time this book was written and published, I think he was extremely lucid. At least, in the ways that count. I couldn't help reading lines from this out loud to my boyfriend. I can't wait to reread some TW now!
November 30, 2019
when I was 15 my great loves were Oscar Wilde, Tennessee Williams and Freddie Mercury. thankfully over the past 10 years several women have also joined this list, but my teenage love affair with Tennessee's life and works has not disappeared. it was strange and yet pleasing to read to this again while in New York - it added to the atmosphere. (and made me get a ticket to the Rose Tattoo starring Marisa Tomei - I highly recommend.)
To know me is not to love me.
To know me is not to love me.
September 30, 2007
Just like other certain indivduals who are born with the 'it' factor, Williams had "it" in spades. He truly must have been a great person to know at the local bar. This is a fantastic memoir by one of the great playwrights, but beyond that it is the man's personality that comes through these pages. Funny, funny, and hysterical.
June 6, 2011
I loved this book, but then I love Tennessee Williams. It's a very candid look into his personal life that helped shape his work, rather than the work itself. It can be sporadic at times, it jumps from the present to past several times in a chapter, but it comes across as if you are sitting in the room with him as he is reminiscing about his life. For any fan, it is a must read.
September 27, 2007
this was real good, but...i had tennessee way up on a pedestal and then when i read his memoirs i was sort of disappointed about the way he talks about people and things...like sex (he was a ho i think) and other things. but it was probably good for me to be disillusioned. i still like him.
June 21, 2020
Amazing stuff, truly. He reaches through time to the ordinary person, a train of thought life review of a man born way before his time
May 3, 2026
Vorab sollte klar sein, dass es sich um ein misslungenes Werk handelt, das einem nur selten das liefert, was man darin lesen möchte. In der Einleitung behauptet Williams, es wäre das erste Buch seines Lebens, das er, um Geld zu verdienen, geschrieben habe. Er bereitet einen darauf vor, dass er zwischen längst vergangenen Zeiten und seiner wenig glanzvollen Gegenwart, den siebziger Jahren, ständig hin und her springen wird. Er deutet an, als Anfangssechziger habe er abgebaut und spüre, es bliebe ihm nicht mehr viel Zeit. Acht Jahre hat er nach dem Erscheinen dieser „Memoiren“ dann noch gelebt.
Grob kann man sagen, der 1911 Geborene, mit Zwölf hatte er zu schreiben begonnen, später Literatur studiert, hat jahrelang etliche Durststrecken und Niederlagen durchmachen müssen, bis ihn die Chicagoer Premiere von „Die Glasmenagerie“ 1944 plötzlich zum jungen Dramatikerstar katapultierte, bald auch von Hollywood gut alimentiert. Und dann ist er durch sein internationales Jet-Set-Leben in den 1950-er Jahren („ich war wohl jedes Jahr in Italien, meistens in Rom oder Venedig“) und vor allem nach dem Krebstod seines Lebensgefährten Frankie Merlo 1961 (sie hatten ihre Höhen und Tiefen während vierzehn Jahren) in polytoxikomane Abhängigkeiten von Alkohol und Medikamenten-Drogen geraten, zu der diverse Therapien, Klinikaufenthalte, auch seine chronische Herzkrankheit gehörten. Nach dem Stück „Die Nacht des Leguans“, 1961, (auch verfilmt), kam im Grunde nichts mehr, was die Kritiker besonders ernstgenommen hätten oder was ihm viel Geld gebracht hätte. Eine Art „Skandalbuch“, wie es seine „Memoiren“ in den 1970-ern wohl noch waren, konnte er da gut gebrauchen.
Man muss dem Autor wohl zu Gute halten, dass er selbst nirgendwo auf diesen gut 300 Seiten willens ist zuzugeben, dass er mehr oder weniger fertig ist, es irgendwie wohl nicht mehr kann. Er serviert uns zwischendurch gerne Anekdoten von der Aufführung, bei der er selbst in einer Nebenrolle auftritt – und wie er mit seinen Gedächtnislücken und seiner Eitelkeit den einen oder anderen Abend schon geschmissen hat. Er erzählt von Einaktern, die bestimmt doch noch uraufgeführt wurden, Projekten, die er mit dieser und jenem verfolgt, vormals verrissenen Texten, die noch Potenzial hätten. Es kommen überhaupt viele Namen aus der amerikanischen Theaterszene der vierziger und fünfziger Jahre vor sowie, inzwischen verstorbene, Schauspieler und Regisseure der 1970-er Jahre, denen er huldigen möchte. Den Lesern des 21. Jahrhunderts bringt das nicht mehr viel.
Leider, er bekennt sich aber dazu, möchte Tennessee Williams sich über die eigenen Erfolge kaum noch äußern, weigert sich, das eine gegen das andere Stück abzuwägen, sich zu seinen Stärken und Schwächen als schreibender Handwerker zu äußern. Zur Quelle für literaturgeschichtliche Arbeiten eignen sich diese „Memoiren“ schlecht!
Er ist ein Plauderer. Er verplaudert sich dann ständig. Zumindest etliche Partien des Buchs scheinen ins Diktaphon gesprochen, von jemand abgetippt, vom Autor später redigiert worden zu sein. Immer wieder neue großartige Freundinnen, absolut geliebte junge männliche Engel, von denen, sind sie erst vorgestellt, hinterher kaum noch was kommt. Hastige Sprünge. Er muss zig Wohnorte gehabt haben. Man kriegt so halb noch mit, dass die drei Orte New Orleans, Key West und Manhattan ganz wichtig waren für dieses Leben.
Ein Leben, in dem man einerseits die Großen der Kultur trifft, Anna Magnani, Elia Kazan, Gore Vidal, Carson McCullers, Jewgeni Jewtuschenko, in dem man andererseits immer seine Party Crowd findet und dann wirklich oft wirklich zu viel trinkt. Vielleicht, weil man unheimlich schüchtern ist, es immer bleiben wird, nur irgendwie überspielt, sagt er. Er sagt es mehrfach.
Wo man beim Lesen nicht drum herum kommt, ist dieses ewige Zwinkern und tuntenhafte Chargieren, hach, was hab ich nicht alles ausgefressen, was war ich damals noch schlimm, was habe ich bis zur bitteren Neige ausgekostet, von dem ihr in allen euren Träumen nie was wusstet! Als würde dem Herrn dauernd seine Hose rutschen und die ältlichen Leute wüssten nicht, wie sie mit der unübersehbaren Tatsache eines rosaroten Spitzenhöschens umgehen sollten.
Das Buch taugt fast gar nichts, aber, ich hoffe das mit der folgenden Kostprobe unterstreichen zu können, es ist an vielen Stellen lustig und unterhält einen gut.
Grob kann man sagen, der 1911 Geborene, mit Zwölf hatte er zu schreiben begonnen, später Literatur studiert, hat jahrelang etliche Durststrecken und Niederlagen durchmachen müssen, bis ihn die Chicagoer Premiere von „Die Glasmenagerie“ 1944 plötzlich zum jungen Dramatikerstar katapultierte, bald auch von Hollywood gut alimentiert. Und dann ist er durch sein internationales Jet-Set-Leben in den 1950-er Jahren („ich war wohl jedes Jahr in Italien, meistens in Rom oder Venedig“) und vor allem nach dem Krebstod seines Lebensgefährten Frankie Merlo 1961 (sie hatten ihre Höhen und Tiefen während vierzehn Jahren) in polytoxikomane Abhängigkeiten von Alkohol und Medikamenten-Drogen geraten, zu der diverse Therapien, Klinikaufenthalte, auch seine chronische Herzkrankheit gehörten. Nach dem Stück „Die Nacht des Leguans“, 1961, (auch verfilmt), kam im Grunde nichts mehr, was die Kritiker besonders ernstgenommen hätten oder was ihm viel Geld gebracht hätte. Eine Art „Skandalbuch“, wie es seine „Memoiren“ in den 1970-ern wohl noch waren, konnte er da gut gebrauchen.
Man muss dem Autor wohl zu Gute halten, dass er selbst nirgendwo auf diesen gut 300 Seiten willens ist zuzugeben, dass er mehr oder weniger fertig ist, es irgendwie wohl nicht mehr kann. Er serviert uns zwischendurch gerne Anekdoten von der Aufführung, bei der er selbst in einer Nebenrolle auftritt – und wie er mit seinen Gedächtnislücken und seiner Eitelkeit den einen oder anderen Abend schon geschmissen hat. Er erzählt von Einaktern, die bestimmt doch noch uraufgeführt wurden, Projekten, die er mit dieser und jenem verfolgt, vormals verrissenen Texten, die noch Potenzial hätten. Es kommen überhaupt viele Namen aus der amerikanischen Theaterszene der vierziger und fünfziger Jahre vor sowie, inzwischen verstorbene, Schauspieler und Regisseure der 1970-er Jahre, denen er huldigen möchte. Den Lesern des 21. Jahrhunderts bringt das nicht mehr viel.
Leider, er bekennt sich aber dazu, möchte Tennessee Williams sich über die eigenen Erfolge kaum noch äußern, weigert sich, das eine gegen das andere Stück abzuwägen, sich zu seinen Stärken und Schwächen als schreibender Handwerker zu äußern. Zur Quelle für literaturgeschichtliche Arbeiten eignen sich diese „Memoiren“ schlecht!
Er ist ein Plauderer. Er verplaudert sich dann ständig. Zumindest etliche Partien des Buchs scheinen ins Diktaphon gesprochen, von jemand abgetippt, vom Autor später redigiert worden zu sein. Immer wieder neue großartige Freundinnen, absolut geliebte junge männliche Engel, von denen, sind sie erst vorgestellt, hinterher kaum noch was kommt. Hastige Sprünge. Er muss zig Wohnorte gehabt haben. Man kriegt so halb noch mit, dass die drei Orte New Orleans, Key West und Manhattan ganz wichtig waren für dieses Leben.
Ein Leben, in dem man einerseits die Großen der Kultur trifft, Anna Magnani, Elia Kazan, Gore Vidal, Carson McCullers, Jewgeni Jewtuschenko, in dem man andererseits immer seine Party Crowd findet und dann wirklich oft wirklich zu viel trinkt. Vielleicht, weil man unheimlich schüchtern ist, es immer bleiben wird, nur irgendwie überspielt, sagt er. Er sagt es mehrfach.
Wo man beim Lesen nicht drum herum kommt, ist dieses ewige Zwinkern und tuntenhafte Chargieren, hach, was hab ich nicht alles ausgefressen, was war ich damals noch schlimm, was habe ich bis zur bitteren Neige ausgekostet, von dem ihr in allen euren Träumen nie was wusstet! Als würde dem Herrn dauernd seine Hose rutschen und die ältlichen Leute wüssten nicht, wie sie mit der unübersehbaren Tatsache eines rosaroten Spitzenhöschens umgehen sollten.
Das Buch taugt fast gar nichts, aber, ich hoffe das mit der folgenden Kostprobe unterstreichen zu können, es ist an vielen Stellen lustig und unterhält einen gut.
Ich war nicht sonderlich überrascht, als sich herausstellte, daß der erwähnte Chirurg nicht nur nicht der Leibchirurg des Königs war, sondern, wie er lachend einräumte, nie auch nur ein einziges Mitglied der königlichen Familie kennengelernt hatte. In den Staaten ausgebildet, war er schlicht Chirurg bei der thailändischen Armee.
Er war mir aber trotzdem sehr sympathisch.
Die Operation ging unter provisorischen, um nicht zu sagen primitiven Bedingungen vonstatten; ich machte mir mehr Sorgen um mein Herz als um diesen angeblichen Brustkrebs und hielt während des ganzen Eingriffs mein Fläschchen mit Nitroglyerzerintabletten umklammert. Die Wirkung der Lokalanästhesie ließ während der Operation nach; das Ganze dauerte etwa eine Stunde, und der histologische Befund lautete auf Gynäkomastie – eine recht häufig auftretende Vergrößerung der männlichen Brustdrüse bei Leberschädigung durch vorhergehenden Alkoholmißbrauch.
In der Klinik war kein Zimmer für mich frei. Unmittelbar nach der Operation trank ich einen kräftigen Schluck Sherry und ging dann mit einer kleinen Gesellschaft von Thai-Jünglingen ins beste Restaurant der Stadt, wo wir uns zur Feier des Tages an Steak au poivre und einheimischem Wein gütlich taten.
Mein restlicher Aufenthalt in Bangkok war ein Traum, den ich eines Tages wieder zu träumen hoffe. Ich wünschte, es stünde mehr Raum zur Verfügung, um seine exotischen Wonnen eingehender zu preisen!
Dann kehrte ich über San Francisco in die Staaten zurück und las zum ersten Mal im Leben meinen Namen in Schlagzeilen, die etwa wie folgt lauteten: „Tennessee Williams scherzt über Krebs und Tod“. Im weiteren Text hieß es, ich sei „hässlich, elegant und arrogant“.
All das ist fünf Jahre her, und nun suche ich nach einem guten Vorwand, wieder nach Bangkok zu reisen. Kann sein, daß ich bereits einen gefunden habe – jedenfalls wird es dieses Mal keine Operation sein.
February 27, 2026
I guess I should give Williams points for daring to come off as such an unpleasant man, but this memoir, muddled in chronology and intent, feels tossed off with not a lot of thought. Indeed, supposedly when someone asked him why he published it, he said because he got a large advance and he thought he'd be dead by the time it came out. The key tone is one of self-pity, even though at times he rails against self-pity. He mentions getting joy out of life, but he rarely describes those moments. He seems to only remember negative reviews, which increased considerably in the 1960s and 70s. He makes a deliberate choice to not discuss his plays, which seems almost perverse. He makes fairly clear what happened to his ill-fated sister Rose (normal adolescence, then aberrant behavior, followed by a partial lobotomy and permanent institutionalization), but doesn't illuminate how his legendary play The Glass Menagerie reflects the lives of his family, which is pretty much accepted gospel now. He is honest about his sex life, but his anecdotes about lovers and friends mostly come off as flat and uninteresting. Finally, his stylistic voice is unimpressive. I didn't like this but it is a fast read.
April 4, 2021
A nicely written, invaluable document of queer life leading up to, and exceeding, the 1950's. Critics badmouthed the tell-all nature of this book, and perhaps I would've found it more boring were it not for Williams having none too many flights of fancy in regards to his own persona.
A little dated in scope--Williams's snub towards femme and campy gay men comes off a little tone-deaf considering the high camp, if not "draggy," reputation of his own work.
A little dated in scope--Williams's snub towards femme and campy gay men comes off a little tone-deaf considering the high camp, if not "draggy," reputation of his own work.
June 1, 2024
told my boss i was reading this and he says ‘wasn’t he a depressive alcoholic’. A lot of it was just talking about the people he has taken up with and all these famous writers and producers and actors having dinners and drinks together. I would say the last third is very very good, almost cried at one point. tennessee williams you are always famous to me. THANK U FOR THE BOOK SJ I COULD HAVE NEVER DONE THIS WITHOUT YOU
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