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285 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2004
As soon as I get through writing this review of Tatum O’Neal’s first autobiography A Paper Life (2004) which was written when O’Neal was 40 years old, I’m going to begin reading her second (ghostwritten) autobiography Found: A Daughter’s Journey Home (2011) which was published when O’Neal was 47. Before cracking open the second book, I can say this with absolute certainty: One can only pray that O’Neal finally developed some self-awareness and insight, for she was totally devoid of any when she wrote A Paper Life.
A Paper Life convinced me that Tatum O’Neal drew the short straw when it came to her own parents. If Tatum’s childhood stories are to be believed (and whether her “truths” should be believed is an open question based on the word of her inncer circle), the child Tatum O’Neal never had a chance. She portrays her mother as a full time speed-addicted alcoholic and her father as a whorish bully without a loyal bone in his body.
That may be completely true, but the dumpster fire that Tatum’s life had become by the end of A Paper Life can’t possibly be completely blamed on outside influences and forces. Nevertheless that is what the author asserts is the truth and what she asks readers to believe.
O’Neal is dismissive of the thought that she played any part in wrecking her own life. She imagines herself as a virtuous heroine surrounded on all sides by dastardly villains. Here’s a quote from a review of a 1993 trashy “made for television” film called A Woman on the Run in which she played a female police officer who murdered a romantic rival. O’Neal quotes from an unnamed review to support the proposition that she (Tatum) is the same type of victim as the murderer: “Tatum O’Neal’s performance in the title role steadily conveyed the impression of a virtuous woman undone by diabolical men.” (p.233). In other words, “a victim.” Even more galling, O’Neal adds this prescient thought: “I felt a certain resonance with the story of a tough determined female underdog.” (p. 232).
That’s lunacy. It’s also almost as incredible as O’Neal trying to capture some credit for her ex-husband’s successful tennis career. (He was the number-one-ranked player in the world before they knew each other.) Poor Tatum felt victimized by the fact that she didn’t receive sufficient credit for the career that her spouse had built before they had even met.
A Paper Life concludes with the author having been through at least four bouts of drug rehab after becoming a hard-core IV-heroin addict. After O’Neal's husband filed for divorce, the parties had reached a workable child custody arrangement where the three children alternated two-week stays between households. This arrangement worked for a time, but O’Neal completely lost custody of her three young children after her seven year old daughter found mommy’s drug syringe in her bedroom and told her father about what she had seen. After this, the courts allowed O’Neal to have only supervised visitation with the children, and the visits were contingent upon O’Neal producing clean urine specimens. O’Neal’s response was, in essence, “Everybody is so mean to poor poor poor ME-ME-ME…” (p.260-61).
To sum up, at the end of A Paper Life, forty-year-old Tatum O’Neal was estranged from her parents, her siblings, the father of her children, and Hollywood. Her relationship with her children had to have been rocky at best. One would think - or at least assume - that Tatum O’Neal had learned her lesson, or at least “a” lesson.
Had Tatum O’Neal - poor, poor little victim - learned a lesson and turned over a new leaf? That’s what I hope to learn from her second autobiography Found: A Daughter’s Journey Home. I am not optimistic that she learned much, for here is a quote from O’Neal as she tried to distance herself from her prior calamities: “I’d felt victimized because of my guilt over using drugs…” (p.275).
There’s that word again. Poor poor little victim!
Yeesh.
My rating: 7/10, finished 2/25 (4022).