It is a shame that actor Alan Rickman never wrote a memoir; these diaries are a poor substitute, and I have sympathy with the view that they should never have been published in this form. It took me to about page 200 (of 450) before I settled into a rhythm that allowed me to finish this book in an enjoyable way. I can understand others giving up before then. There is simply too much routine personal information and too much complaining about mostly small matters (a $50 charge to enter the Delta lounge, a late train, etc.). His assessments of plays, movies and actors are welcome but all too brief.
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