It turns out that Jane Fonda is more of a puzzle
to herself than she is to the rest of us. In an honest effort to figure herself out she began to relive it in writing–
starting from scratch. For starters, her mother killed herself during Jane’s adolescence, and she found no solace from
her brutally detached father.
She describes a chamaeleon-like existence relative
to men, as if she were defining herself through them. First as a bombshell with sex-addicted movie director Vadim, then as
social activist with famous war-protester and later politician Hayden, then with star power as doyenne of philanthrophy
paired with media mogul Turner. We all noticed that. Somehow, she didn’t, but is now making an effort to understand
these patterns.
Aside from her arduous book tour now going full
blast, she lives alone in her Atlanta home where the entry is a vagina-sculptured tunnel. So she’s reborn every time
she comes and goes.
She began writing her memoirs at 62, when she saw the
flow of her life. She was urgently self-demanding and cut herself no slack. Actress that she is, she found her life in three
acts and knew she was embarking on the final act.
So the book is organized in three parts: Act 1:
Gathering, Act 2: Seeking, and Act 3: Beginning.
Yes, with 35 years of marriage and a hugely successful
acting career behind her she feels like she is just beginning. No longer a compliant pleaser. No longer haunted by destructive
perfectionism. No loner feeling insufficient or co-dependent. Just ruthlessly curious, exacting, and endearing.
