I spent the last couple of days reading Barbara Walters’ memoir, Audition – a 400-page thick book about this respected journalist whom I greatly admired. Released in June last year, I found her self-written memoir a very good read, a rare adjective for memoir/autobiographies which could be dreadfully boring most of the time. Though her memoir lacked of fancy words and redundancy in story-telling, it was a very entertaining and inspiring read and as if listening her talking to an old friend and she had no trouble name-dropping those involved in the matter she talked. I didn’t grow up watching Barbara Walters on her ‘Today’ show on NBC while she was still in the network prior 1974. I knew her from her talk show ‘The View’ and I had an opportunity to read an excerpt from her memoir sometime last year in Vanity Fair (the one with Bobby Kennedy’s picture on the cover) and instantly I got a gripped on it. What really made me connected to her story was about being seen as this perfect...
One man's delirium revisited