Then Again by Diane Keaton is everything one would expect from a memoir by a woman who embraces her quirkiness. When her mother died, Keaton inherited a collection of papers--including letters, scrapbooks, and journals--her mother had accumulated through the years. These papers reveal to Keaton a woman she both knew and didn't know and, above all else, loved.
Interpolating her own memories, inserting parallel journal entries by both herself and her mother written around the same time, and never letting her loyalties to those who have touched her heart, Keaton a heartwarming account of her life, replete with celebrity names. This is not a kiss-and-tell book nor is it strongly feminist, although Keaton does discuss both the opportunities she had that her mother couldn't because of the times in which they both respectively lived and she honestly looks at her own mid-life career as an actress in a youth saturated industry.
With every turn of the page, Keaton expresses a sincere gratitude for all the parts of her life; her confusion and quirkiness abound as does her compassion. She doesn't dish the dirt to pander to paparazzi driven needs as some writers might. Instead, she honors everything--every moment and every person--for being a part of her life. After all, how many women are afforded the opportunity to have an intimate relationship with their adolescent movie star crush?
If you already love Diane Keaton, the actress, be prepared to love her even more. If you like her, don't be surprised if you find yourself falling in love. And if you are hoping she'll tell you what she really thinks about Woody Allen's relationship with Mia Farrow or how good Warren Beatty is in bed, you'll be profoundly disappointed. As for me, I was perfectly delighted.