I just knew that Diane Keaton’s new memoir Then Again would resonate with me on more than one level. For one thing, her films, particularly Annie Hall and Manhattan, stand out in my memory as all-time favorites. But there is much more than her films to relate to: her eternal feeling of self-doubt, her close relationship and love for her mother, the asthma we both experienced as young girls and even her move to NYC as a young girl. I read her book laughing and nodding my head, just as I knew I would.
Her book is a beautiful salute to her mother, Dorothy Hall. She took her sacred journals, scrapbooks, letters and phone messages and carefully organized them, weaved within her own thoughts, and created the biography her mother was never able to write. She fulfilled her mother’s mission and dream, but not until after her mother’s death.
Her mother was born in a generation that was expected to stay home with her children, but she always wanted more. She was a feminist in her own right and she was a creative thinker, a master of collages, recording her thoughts and photography. But she herself went back to school at age 40 to become a teacher and was an inspiration. Keaton mentions that if her mom was the one to achieve the kind of fame she, herself, did in life, she would have hated sharing her with the world. She knew her mom was unique and stayed close to her until the end of her life.
It is clear that Dorothy’s love of the arts and goodness in her heart rubbed off her daughter. She loved following Keaton’s fame and she recorded in a book where she kept newspaper clips, photos and stories. Growing up, she encouraged each of her four children to be and do anything they desired. She never let their success in life spoil her own life or voice any regrets in her own. In her letters to her husband or Keaton, she was always grateful and strived to make the most of each day. Keaton embraced both her parents and kept them very involved in her career from the start. But her greatest memory is of having her dad see and hear her sing in Mata Hari in high school, she has never forgotten his reaction to her performance: “I could tell he was startled by his awkward daughter – the one who’d flunked algebra, smashed into his new Ford station wagon with the old Buick station wagon, and spent half an hour in the bathroom using up a whole can of Helene Curtis hairspray. For one thrilling moment, I was his Seabiscuit, Audrey Hepburn, and Wonder Woman rolled into one. I was Amelia Earhart flying over the Atlantic. I was his heroine.”
We do learn a lot about Keaton’s world, as well as some of her secrets. We learn that the real family, her family, behind Annie Hall, didn’t mind Woody’s interpretation, and that they were extremely proud of her Oscar. I have already mentioned her self doubt, and the book explores that part of her life, as well as her therapy. While living with Woody Allen, during a time without work, she went five days a week. We also learn that she was bulimic for five years. I related to her struggle, as I once suffered anorexia, and the talking cure worked for me, too. During that time, she lived in isolation and fear. Strangely enough, it was during her relationship with Allen and he didn’t know. Her only reason for telling is to “be released from the burden of hiding.”
Through her writings, Keaton is able to figure out why she parents a certain way, why she loves a certain way. Her mother loved one man, her husband, to whom she was married to until his death. Diane loved three men – Woody Allen, Warren Beatty and Al Pacino. And we hear about each romance, and each tale is told neatly without anything to be cleaned up. She still has great respect and compassion for each man, and I am sure that writing about these romances was somewhat cathartic.
As talented as Keaton is, and as much fame as she has achieved as an actress, director, photographer, she decided in her early 50s that she didn’t want to die alone. She adopted two children, Dexter and Duke, who she adores and has carved out a new life for herself in her second chapter of life. As much as I can relate to her love for her mother, I can also relate to her style of mothering. She believes in open communication and providing them with as wonderful a life as possible as a single mom. She writes letters to her children, just as her mother did when she was a girl, and here is how she verbalizes her hope for her daughter in one: “You’ll have your independence, just as Mother gave me mine. In return, let’s cut a deal. Promise me you’ll be the kind of woman who has empathy for others…stay human, sweetie, stay human.”
I was sad to see this book end. Of course, I also liked the inside scoop on some of her leading men, but she also taught me a thing or two about her own life and I thought about my own in the process. It’s also a tale of aging with grace, and I can’t think of a better example than Diane Keaton.
Disclosure: This book was published by Random House. I purchased my copy of this book and all opinions are my own.
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