Starred review from November 30, 2020
In this intimate memoir, Irish actor Byrne charts his rocky rise to stardom and his battles with alcoholism. An introvert and the eldest of eight siblings growing up in 1950s and ’60s working-class Dublin, Byrne was an altar boy who enrolled in seminary school at 11. But he quickly distanced himself from religion after being molested by a priest: “I’ve been picking at it with a pin ever since... afraid to use a jackhammer.” After leaving seminary, he worked odd jobs, joined an amateur theater group, and landed a role on The Riordans, an Irish soap opera, in the late ’70s. Though he was considered a sex symbol, Byrne writes of feeling insecure and unattractive thanks to “my thrice-broken nose and beetroot-colored face.” When, in 1995, Byrne achieved international stardom with The Usual Suspects, he hit rock bottom: one morning he woke up wearing a bloody shirt and shaking violently from alcohol withdrawal, and was jolted in terror when a woman whom he could not name stirred in the bed beside him. This led to him reaching for help and getting into a recovery program. Byrne writes with candor and an exceptional humility, and has an easy hand with clever turns of phrase. Simultaneously frank and emotionally stirring, this memoir entrances.
December 1, 2020
Actor Byrne channels his fellow countrymen and Ireland's literary masters--Beckett, Heaney, Joyce, Yeats--to create an exceptionally lyrical and expressive memoir about his childhood and early career. In contrast to magical imagery paying homage to Ireland's soulful and glorious traditions and history, Byrne's intimate reflections on everything from the church to the theater also transport readers to impoverished places populated by the proud yet flawed men and women who influenced him in profound and sometimes perverse ways. Known for his iconic roles in such films as Miller's Crossing and The Usual Suspects and in HBO's penetrating psychological drama series, In Treatment, Byrne came to acting relatively late in life, having been called first to study for the priesthood and then apprenticing as a plumber. Once committed to performance, however, he made up for lost time, landing roles in the company of such theater titans as Burton and Olivier. Bracingly revealing about his struggle with alcoholism, achingly passionate about the Ireland of his youth, and piercingly frank about his acting life, Byrne is a vivid, evocative, and sumptuously compelling memoirist.
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Starred review from November 5, 2021
In Byrne's second memoir, after (Pictures in My Head), a world-weary elder statesman of the stage and screen comes to grips with a lifelong search for belonging, and presents a breathtaking jumble of memories, dreams, and tributes to his childhood and family. Visiting the Dublin village where he grew up, he reflects on his early years as a lonely child who didn't fit in. He sought "refuge in imagination" and left home at 11 to join a seminary to become a priest. Byrne describes the trauma of being molested during his training; he was eventually expelled from the seminary for "incessant breaking of rules" and "disrespect for authority" and became a plumber's apprentice before discovering his passion for the stage. He writes lyrically about Catholic rituals, his first love, and even his ominous taste for alcohol, and describes tales of celebrity interactions (he went horseback riding with a woman he later learned was Ava Gardner and went drinking with Richard Burton) with humor and self-deprecation. Particularly heartbreaking is his account (both witnessed and imagined) of his beloved sister's mental illness. VERDICT Byrne has the soul of a poet; his use of language is exquisite. His stories will touch not just his fans but anyone who has experienced the pain of being on the outside looking in.--Lisa Henry, Kirkwood P.L., MO
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Starred review from November 15, 2020
The acclaimed Irish actor recalls his path to success and the well-cloaked turmoil he faced along the way. It'd go too far to say that Byrne (b. 1950), star of The Usual Suspects and In Treatment, is as fine a writer as his countrymen James Joyce and Seamus Heaney. However, he writes with much more depth than the typical celebrity memoirist, accessing some of Heaney's earthiness and Joyce's grasp of how Catholic guilt can shape an artist. Growing up in Dublin, he aspired at first to be a priest, seduced by images of "young lads with dodgy haircuts, beatific smiles gazing heavenward to answer the call to the priesthood." But a priest's sexual assault soured him on the church, and he stumbled through a variety of menial jobs, including a stint as "a toilet attendant at a major Dublin hotel." There's no cheerful tone of dues-paying here: Pride isn't in Byrne's nature (he saw it drown a childhood friend who died bragging he could hold his breath). The author grew up with a schizophrenic sister who died young, developed a slow-growing alcoholism, and feared abject failure. The sudden success of The Usual Suspects left him with "such tumult in my mind I was afraid I would fall down and be found weeping in the street." Despite the darkness, Byrne also possesses a winning dry humor that reads as authentically humble: his mother finding ways to cut him down to size in public by sharing embarrassing childhood stories, the time he had to audition for Hamlet using a motorcycle helmet for Yorick's skull. There's little in the way of celebrity dishing, but the author shares a boozy conversation with Sir Richard Burton, who cautioned him that fame is "a sweet poison you drink of first in eager gulps. Then you come to loathe it." Byrne is an impressive chronicler of both his eager gulping and his loathing. A melancholy but gemlike memoir, elegantly written and rich in hard experience.
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