‘Being Henry’ is the memoir of Henry Winkler who took the world by storm as The Fonz on the long-running sitcom Happy Days. Originally designed as a showcase for Ron Howard, the child actor who played Opie on The Andy Griffith Show and later became a successful director as an adult, it soon became a star vehicle for Winkler and The Fonz. When I received an advance reader’s copy of ‘Being Henry’ from Bookish First, I was thrilled and excited to read about the beloved actor, who has remained married to his wife, Stacey, for more than 45 years – no small feat in Hollywood.
The good news is he’s still a very nice man – a self-described ‘mensch.’ The bad news is this is one of the most boring memoirs I’ve read. It would be easy to say that’s because he’s fair and even-handed and there are no scandals to report, but the real reason is the book is very disjointed with a meandering, often random timeline, and just plain boring.
Winkler’s parents were German Jews who fled to the U.S. before World War II, and his mother lost her entire family in concentration camps. This is an unspeakable tragedy and may be partly responsible for their inability to express their love for him. Winkler notes in the book that he struggled with intimacy until well into his seventh decade. Also, he was dyslexic, but his parents just thought he was being lazy. Later in the book, he struggles with whether he should attend his father’s funeral and, while he attended and spoke at his mother’s funeral, his remarks were basically cheap jokes at her expense. He just couldn’t forgive them for what he sees as his difficult childhood. I sympathize with him, but please let the dead rest in peace.
One thing that really rubbed me the wrong way was his condemnation of two producers he worked with – he admits he struggled with whether he should do so, considering they are both dead and can’t defend themselves. But then he decides they were both terrible people and he shouldn’t hold back.
He also complains throughout the book at his inability to go anywhere in public without being recognized. While I can imagine that would be annoying, he wouldn’t be in the position he’s in now, courting his fans and inveigling them to buy his book, if he hadn’t become a national – and later global – icon as The Fonz. So he had no problem with the trappings, but resented the fans who made it possible.
I don’t mean to sound so negative – I still think he’s a very nice man with a loving family – but his memoir fell flat with me. Perhaps because I had just finished reading ‘Making It So,’a truly brilliant and extremely well-written memoir by Patrick Stewart, best known as Jean-Luc Picard on Star Trek: The Next Generation. I really didn’t expect his book to resonate so deeply with me. He, too, had issues with his father, but he looks back at him with tenderness and understanding. He’s currently on his third marriage, but says the deepest regrets of his life are his too failed marriages for which he takes full responsibility.
Read side by side, you couldn’t find two more different memoirs: one that looks at the author’s life on a surface level and can’t bury old resentments, the other a deep self-revelation, painting a complete picture of an imperfect man who recognizes his imperfections and strives to improve every day. Well, I guess this review ended up being more of an endorsement of Patrick Stewart’s memoir than a review of Henry Winkler’s, but at the end of the day, that’s how I see it.
The good news is he’s still a very nice man – a self-described ‘mensch.’ The bad news is this is one of the most boring memoirs I’ve read. It would be easy to say that’s because he’s fair and even-handed and there are no scandals to report, but the real reason is the book is very disjointed with a meandering, often random timeline, and just plain boring.
Winkler’s parents were German Jews who fled to the U.S. before World War II, and his mother lost her entire family in concentration camps. This is an unspeakable tragedy and may be partly responsible for their inability to express their love for him. Winkler notes in the book that he struggled with intimacy until well into his seventh decade. Also, he was dyslexic, but his parents just thought he was being lazy. Later in the book, he struggles with whether he should attend his father’s funeral and, while he attended and spoke at his mother’s funeral, his remarks were basically cheap jokes at her expense. He just couldn’t forgive them for what he sees as his difficult childhood. I sympathize with him, but please let the dead rest in peace.
One thing that really rubbed me the wrong way was his condemnation of two producers he worked with – he admits he struggled with whether he should do so, considering they are both dead and can’t defend themselves. But then he decides they were both terrible people and he shouldn’t hold back.
He also complains throughout the book at his inability to go anywhere in public without being recognized. While I can imagine that would be annoying, he wouldn’t be in the position he’s in now, courting his fans and inveigling them to buy his book, if he hadn’t become a national – and later global – icon as The Fonz. So he had no problem with the trappings, but resented the fans who made it possible.
I don’t mean to sound so negative – I still think he’s a very nice man with a loving family – but his memoir fell flat with me. Perhaps because I had just finished reading ‘Making It So,’a truly brilliant and extremely well-written memoir by Patrick Stewart, best known as Jean-Luc Picard on Star Trek: The Next Generation. I really didn’t expect his book to resonate so deeply with me. He, too, had issues with his father, but he looks back at him with tenderness and understanding. He’s currently on his third marriage, but says the deepest regrets of his life are his too failed marriages for which he takes full responsibility.
Read side by side, you couldn’t find two more different memoirs: one that looks at the author’s life on a surface level and can’t bury old resentments, the other a deep self-revelation, painting a complete picture of an imperfect man who recognizes his imperfections and strives to improve every day. Well, I guess this review ended up being more of an endorsement of Patrick Stewart’s memoir than a review of Henry Winkler’s, but at the end of the day, that’s how I see it.