Patton Oswalt is one of those famous people who have drifted on the periphery of my awareness for years, always with this vague idea that I'd really like him if only I took the trouble to, you know, pay attention. Oh, I caught his comedy specials when they showed up on Netflix or where ever (Youtube is my friend) (ok, I've seen them multiple times because Netflix is easy). I read his Twitter comments if they drifted through G+ or read about his assorted feuds and blow-ups. Since my movie watching is quite limited, I've only "seen" him in Ratatouille (and quite enjoyed him). Because of my complete lack of awareness of anything on TV from the mid 90s through to today (if it wasn't Mythbusters, I didn't know about it), I've missed much of his other work.
Random chance, my Scribd subscription, and the latest attention Salon paid him made me grab his new book. I picked up the audio version because, for reasons perhaps best not explored, I really, really enjoy listening to this man. Seriously, if he will talk, apparently I will listen. For hours. (And, yes, I have his earlier book, Zombie Spaceship Wasteland in my audio queue, although I already started reading it earlier this week.).
Now, what have I to say about the book, and about the author, since this stuff is all memoir? What is my reaction? I think I have a pretend love for him -- that is, it's all in my head that I feel so much affection for this person about whom I really know so little except for what he says about himself and what others screech about him. In my head, I wish I could sit down with him someplace comfortable, watch Godzilla movies, and listen to him pontificate about them endlessly while occasionally making my own comments. The reality of that is 1) not happening 2) I am also afraid he'd eviscerate my lowbrow movie tastes 3) I can't think of anything I have in common with him that could be the basis of a conversation, with the possible exception of Star Wars, and possibly Star Trek, trivia. And maybe we could discuss movies from the 1930s and 40s. Maybe. And growing up in suburbia in the 70s and 80s. I'm a few years older than he, so my memory portal is a bit shifted. I really don't know. I can't imagine he'd want to talk to me.
Then again, I have that thought about almost everyone.
But I like thinking about a possible conversation. He is, I believe, on G+ (Is that right, +Patton Oswalt ?) but I don't know that he pays the slightest attention. Ghost town and all that. Still, listening to him talk about his experiences, his thoughts, his memories, makes me wish I could talk with him. Seriously, it makes me think he's like a real person, despite the being famous and being on TV and publishing books that make best seller lists. I mean, I totally know that he's actual flesh, blood, memory, and experiences, like millions of others, but he still has that "Famous" aura which makes him one of the featured few while I'm one of faceless many. I pay attention to him, while he doesn't know dick about me, and he has no particular motivation to change that.
I run into that thought a lot, too. There's someone in the world who I admire, but it's a one way street where I can admire at a safe distance, but whatever comes back must be shared with everyone else on that street. What's on the other end of that street is for the rare, the lucky, the few -- it's really a ridiculous situation.
What in the world would I talk about with him? We could talk about depression. That's something about which I know quite a bit, and he does as well. And we could talk about The Princess Bride.
Which is how I am transitioning to the other book I've read this week, As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales about the Making of the Princess Bride by Cary Elwes. There isn't a lot to be said about this book, which is why I am tucking into this review. This is a sweet, fun, happy book about a sweet, fun, happy movie that I completely love. There's no dirt dishing here, and that's fine, because it would be out of place. Elwes also comes across as a nice human being, which is fine, too, because I'm perfectly content to think of him that way. In fact, I'm perfectly pleased to live thinking he has no deep dark deeds kept secret from the wider world (just the usual flaws that go with being human). As luck would have it, the movie popped up on TV while I was reading (well, reading and knitting, going back and forth because I do that). Reading about the movie while watching the movie was perhaps the best way to enjoy the book.
I wonder if Patton Oswalt has read the book? Or did he go to the 25th anniversary celebration of the movie? Did he read the original William Goldman book before seeing the movie? (I ran into the book a few years before the movie, which isn't some mark of superiority, just good luck).
I suspect that, in my subconscious, these two books may melt together, and Patton Oswalt will be dashing about in black suede pants and a mask, offering peanuts and scotch to assorted large rodents.