by George Carlin
with Tony Hendra
George Carlin still lives in memory (and a number of HBO specials) as one of the most significant comedic talents of the last half of the 20th century. He'll be less known as time goes on, after his death in 2008. One day, his name will be spoken like that of Lenny Bruce: with some reverence, but without a clear understanding of his comedic style. One should certainly see his later work, though, as it was the best biting comedy we're likely to come across. Watching those performances, and some old YouTube clips from the sixties and seventies, one can wonder what Carlin was like as a man. Was he the cranky angry character we sometimes see? Or was he more like Al Sleet, the Hippy-Dippy Weatherman, a character he created in his early days? His previous books read like selections of his comedic performance. This one purports, however, to be a memoir (though in his introduction, Tony Hendra points out how both he and Carlin disdained the terms memoir and autobiography), and here we get a better sense of the man behind the many personae. With Hendra, Carlin recorded hours of tapes in which he reflected on his life. The two of them worked on the resulting text until Carlin's death. This is not a comedic work, but a sincere and honest reflection on his life. As such, it is very well-written, engaging, revealing, and is a small window into the man himself. Small window, that is, because one senses there are layers of his character that he never reveals. There is a streak of stubborn loneliness in the man, though he acknowledges a life-long desire to belong to a group or society. Why is it, even late in life, that he insists on a kind of outsider's view, observing the foibles of humanity while not really engaging with those even closest to him? There are clues in his early life, the nearly aborted baby son of a broken marriage that had had one last fling. Growing up in New York before World War 2, and having nostalgic feelings for that war despite his hatred of war itself. His short turbulent service in the Air Force. His dire need to belong to a mainstream entertainment industry in the sixties, and his need to break from that in the seventies. His severe drug addictions and his struggle to make his performance reflect more who he was than who the audience wanted him to be. All of this is related here, sincerely, self-critically, but also with a tinge of self-congratulation. Carlin knew he was a groundbreaking comic, late in life, when he shook off the constrictions of television comedy. At the very end, he was planning on a new phase in his career, but years of heart trouble finally caught up with him. He was (just) 71 when he died, an event which seemed to happen off stage. Carlin was a complex man, full of flaws openly acknowledged here. A sometimes moving, always interesting and well crafted memoir.
Also by Carlin: [When will Jesus bring the Pork Chops?]