This is the first time that I’ve read any of Spalding Gray’s work, though I’ve been meaning to do so for quite some time. (I got lucky and snatched up a few books at a local white elephant sale.) He veers wildly between unbridled optimism and sheer despair, with more of the former than the latter, surprisingly. He tells his stories with a candor that is refreshing today, when everyone seems to have something to hide. (...and yet he kept “personal” diaries/journals, too. One can only wonder about their contents.) I admit that some of these early monologues seem a bit underdeveloped, and even flat in some places. Overall though, I really appreciated the dark humor and a tone that is solely his own. I think that this was a good gateway book to the rest of his performances; it has piqued my interest, rather than dulling it. I look forward to reading and watching more.