Rutabaga's Reads 2023: Part 9

Thanks to my local library, I had this compilation in the works last year. (All three are library checkouts.) Now, I finally present my nonfiction compilation for 2023.

Beyond the Wand (Oct. 18, 2022) by Tom Felton.

Known as the bleached-blonde nemesis Draco Malfoy to Daniel Radcliffe’s Harry Potter, Tom Felton gives readers insight into what it was like for him to grow up in the wizarding world and enter life outside of it. His turns in movies like The Borrowers and Anna and the King meant he came into the Harry Potter franchise with some film experience, but nothing could prepare him for what it would really mean to land the iconic role of Draco. Having never read the books and fudging his way through the audition (something Draco would definitely do), he didn’t know the huge pop culture phenomenon it already was and how much more it would be after eight films. Unlike his costars playing Harry, Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson), Tom would attend regular school when not filming. He even worked at Bury Hill Fisheries, Surrey, in the early days of Potter, fitting for someone who loves fishing. He lets readers know some of the magic that went on behind the scenes to create the magical movies so many of us know, but far from them taking away the magic of Harry Potter, those chapters give valuable insight to readers who are part of a dedicated fandom. There is reflection on cinematic experiences with greats like Alan Rickman, Dame Maggie Smith and Ralph Fiennes (including on that infamous most-awkward-hug-ever with Voldemort) to his work with some of the other young actors. Not a spoiler: his love for Emma is real, but it isn’t the romantic love that some may think does or should exist. Then there is Tom’s life post-Potter. There’s some success onscreen, which leads to free designer clothes, being lent swanky BMWs and red carpets, but then there is the lonely, disillusioned part of Tom’s life in L.A. Like people the world over, Tom’s navigating life, but unlike many, he’s weathering the ups and downs of fame, and he invites us to read of his journey.

            Tom Felton’s memoir is actually pretty bloody brilliant. He’s extremely candid, from sharing that his first interaction with nine-year-old Emma was anything but a meet-cute to his youthful antics that lent him a troublemaker status all the way to his initial denial of substance abuse. He thought the intervention was a “massive overreaction to a non-existent problem,” as his vices “amounted to no more than a few beers a day, the odd whiskey and maybe a couple of spliffs.” I never knew that he attended rehab. In that phase of his life, he was far from the shining lights of any film production or red carpeted event and definitely not the “Broomstick Prick” of his Draco Malfoy days. He was a man who’d hit rock bottom, who might have a fortune in his bank account, but was not rich. The depth of this memoir took me by surprise with its Veritaserum honesty. It’s charming and entertaining, captures the growing pains of growing up (albeit on a scale involving fame) and showcases the toll that mental health turmoil can take on a person. There are no spells pouring out of this book, nor any curses to deflect, but Felton’s memoir is its own sort of magical and enchanting.

Uncle of the Year (& Other Debatable Triumphs) (May 16, 2023) by Andrew Rannells.          

The star of Broadway’s The Book of Mormon shares essays on everything from musical theatre (a given) to therapy, ambition, the uncertainty of adulthood, the water bottle tour of L.A. and Mark Ruffalo (he and his wife are, apparently, very kind people). Along the way, Rannells also navigates aging, dating, bad jobs, avoiding the gym, the unglamorous side of performing at the Tony Awards and growing up a little boy in Omaha, Nebraska, wanting Malibu Barbie for his birthday (spoiler: he got Malibu Ken, too). As his title suggests, he is an uncle, though “of the year” may be a bit of a stretch. He has 10 nieces and nephews. He sometimes curses in front of them inappropriately and, due to distance and his can-be-grueling schedule, he’s missed multiple birthdays and holidays. But Uncle Andy is silly, and he can make them laugh. He’s undoubtedly the fun one. His dedication states: “To all the aunts and uncles out there. Especially those without their own children. We are trying our best.” Because he is. And we are.

            I love this nonfiction book. No debate needed; this one is a triumph. I already knew him to be an accomplished performer, but he’s a charming raconteur and witty writer, too. Rannells is candid, which made me laugh out loud many times but sometimes made my heart hurt for him. His book is insightful, hilarious and poignant. If my delight in reading a book could generate sunshine and sparkles, there’d be sunshine and sparkles for days. Anyone reading this likely feels as though Andrew Rannells should be one’s new best friend, so relatable is his writing, even though, in my case, I have no history as a thespian. But the blend of humor and heart, sarcasm and stress hit true. Fortunately, his days of making “tens of dollars” are gone. Now, if only I could say the same for myself!

We Were Dreamers: An Immigrant Superhero Origin Story (May 17, 2022) by Simu Liu.

Marvel’s first Asian superhero, Simu Liu, shares his origin story, one that is its own kind of heroic, but isn’t without laziness and self-absorption. Simu spent the first four years of his life growing up in Harbin, China, with his paternal grandparents. He was happy there and well-loved, learning from his grandparents as his parents pursued their respective careers in engineering. He shares each parent’s story. They both endured hardships, as growing up during the Cultural Revolution and pursuing an education wasn’t merely an uphill battle, but a tooth-and-nail fight. His parents spent time in the U.S. before settling in Canada, where they finally brought Simu. It’s a drastic change for all of them – for his parents, who didn’t apparently realize the work involved in raising a child – and for Simu, who doesn’t truly know his parents. His trust and sense of security and safety in them is shattered at the age of six when he’s locked out of the family’s apartment as punishment. He spends his formative years with them untrusting and fearful while also wanting to gain their acceptance, and he is the “perfect” child and shining straight-A student. As the cultural divide grows within the family and puberty hits, Simu becomes rebellious and even once runs away from home (though his parents don’t bother to locate him for five days). During his years with his parents, it’s also revealed that his parents were physically violent toward him. University is freedom to him, but his lackadaisical attitude toward schoolwork and attending classes catches up to him and almost costs him a decent summer internship. His life really hits rock bottom when he’s laid off from his first job as an accountant less than a year out of uni (he was out of his element and a “chronic slacker”). But it’s this circumstance that also prompts him to go for his dreams, no matter how not-approved-by-parents they are. He shares the ups and downs of trying to make his way into acting, from answering questionable Craigslist ads to eventually landing his role on Kim’s Convenience to slowly-but-doggedly becoming “an alien with an extraordinary ability” in order to work in Hollywood (and the U.S. in general). The rest may be, as they say, history, but can that already be said when Liu’s only in his early 30s and has a long career ahead of him?

            In a world with Asian stereotypes, Liu subverts what it is to be a model minority by focusing on familial and societal pressures rather than polished accolades. As someone who grew up adopted and very well-loved, reading of his parents’ emotional, psychological and physical abuse toward him was tremendously hard. They’ve since reconciled, but overcoming such a tormented relationship took work. Liu’s autobiography is one of success, dogged determination and community (of the Asian actors who welcomed him), but it’s also one of upheaval, struggle and the pressure placed on him by his parents. His story is far more compassionate than many others’ would be, and his ability to forgive would make any inspirational fiction novelist proud. A celebrity memoir this is, but it’s got heart in its arduous path to being comfortable in one’s own identity and a family healing. Liu’s no-holds-barred candor is blunt and sometimes overwhelming, but I wouldn’t have respected the novel so much if it were less than frankly candid. Simu Liu is more than a dreamer. He’s a person who’s embraced extraordinary circumstances, when they’ve been brilliantly good and when they’ve highlighted his flaws. He’s a human being like we are, albeit one with Marvel superhero as a title.​​​

            Favorite line: “I want to be clear here – in no way did I possess a MENSA-level genius brain; there will be plenty of examples of my idiocy in later chapters that will make you facepalm so hard you’ll leave a bruise.” (p. 98)