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A Paper Life by Tatum O'Neal
A Paper Life by Tatum O'Neal |
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At age ten, Tatum O'Neal became the youngest Oscar winner in history for her performance in the film classic Paper Moon. As the sidekick to her father, the flamboyant star and man-about-town Ryan O'Neal, she became a fixture at the most glamorous Hollywood parties and counted celebrities ranging from Cher to Stanley Kubrick among her childhood friends. Yet behind the glittering façade of Tatum's life lay heartbreak: abandonment, abuse, neglect, and drug addiction. She reveals the most intimate secrets of her dysfunctional relationships with her father, Ryan O'Neal, and stepmother, Farrah Fawcett, as well as her alcoholic mother, Joanna Moore, and ex-husband, tennis pro John McEnroe. After the collapse of her marriage and with no real family to turn to, Tatum succumbed to the demons of her past that would nearly kill her. Now she has emerged clean and sober, rediscovering herself as an actress, mother, and wonderfully vibrant woman in what she considers the prime of her life. Reviews: Daily News Philadelphia Inquirer People Janet Maslin, New York Times Publishers Weekly Liz Smith Philadelphia Inquirer Read A Paper Life by Tatum O'Neal Online Paperback: 336 pages Visit A Paper Life by Tatum O'Neal HarperCollins Website About the Author: Tatum O'Neal made her screen debut as a pint-size con artist in the 1973 film Paper Moon, costarring with her father, Ryan O'Neal, and winning that year's Academy Award for best supporting actress. She has been acting on and off ever since, notably in such memorable movies as The Bad News Bears (1976) and Basquiat (1996). Married at age twenty-two to John McEnroe, she is the mother of three children. She lives in New York City. The story of paper moon reflects my childhood, but it also closely parallels my mother’s and strangely foreshadows my daughter’s. Three generations of women: we all lost our mothers early in life -- the first literally, to death; the second virtually, to addiction; and the third, my daughter, temporarily, when I succumbed to familiar demons. It is a cycle that I’m determined to break. My mother was born, like Addie, in the heart of the Great Depression, not in Kansas but in Americus, Georgia. The elder of two daughters of Henry and Dorothy English Cook, she was named for her mother but later christened herself Joanna. A letter from her cousin Libba that I discovered after her death depicts her early childhood as cozy: rocking on the old porch swing, sitting by the potbellied stove, sliding down the banister at her grandmother’s. She was the only one not in the car when her father swerved off the road because her mom fell asleep on his shoulder, plunging down a sandy embankment into a ravine. Both her mother and her baby sister, Virginia, died instantly. Libba’s letter recalls, in haunting detail, how she got the news: “We were on the playground. . . . My ma had come to school. ... Set as favorite Bookmark
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