Most shocking tell-all books

One of the coolest things about Steve Martin is just how many different creative forms he’s tried out. His cartoon work with Harry Bliss is particularly gratifying because they have a natural affinity for each other. For someone who became famous as a solo performer, it speaks to Martin’s curiosity and eagerness to play. This graphic memoir about Martin’s 40-year career in the movies is unassuming and tidy—it goes down easy. It’s especially pleasing to hear Martin recall working on classics such as All of Me (“Back in bowl!”) and Roxanne, as well as working with comedy legends like Carl Reiner and Mike Nichols (Nichols directed Martin in a much-maligned and underrated version of Waiting for Godot) .

Even though he became a superstar in his own right, for years, Paul Newman lived in the shadow of Marlon Brando. Then again, so did every other American actor of Newman’s generation. But ultimately, he emerged as someone different and more relatable than the enigmatic Brando. Newman touched audiences because we could see ourselves in him. And he just got better with age. His run in the late ’70s and early ’80s was remarkable. It was in 1986—when he finally won an Oscar for acting (The Color of Money)—that Newman sat down with Stewart Stern (who wrote the screenplay for Rebel Without a Cause) to record a memoir. The transcripts sat untouched until recently. Here, they've been collected into an invaluable, self-lacerating look into the life of a star, particularly concerning Neman’s struggles with alcohol and fidelity. It's all been neatly edited by Newman's family, while the raw transcripts, some of which made their way into Ethan Hawke’s HBO docuseries about Newman and Joanne Woodward, The Last Movie Stars, are likely far tougher.

One of the truly classic American memoirs. Written by playwright/director Moss Hart, Act One is both a bitter account of his early life in poverty and a remarkable behind-the-scenes look at his collaboration with legendary playwright George S. Kaufman. A number one bestseller for months—it spent a year on the list—the book became a pantheon text for generations of theater students. Essential.

Sunny recollections of the American version of The Office by co-stars Jenna Fischer (Pam) and Angela Kinsey (Angela). Sure, a yen for the show is required for this to work for you, but even for a casual fan, there is enough to draw you in. Affectionate tributes abound to crew and cast members—the stories about Melora Hardin (Jan Gould) are especially poignant. Handsomely designed, it feels like a lavish, uber-cheerful yearbook. In fact, it’s based on the podcast, "Office Ladies” that Fishcer and Kinsey co-host. But as an add-on, it’s a gem, a must for anyone that cares about The Office.

This dishy memoir from a veteran stage actor isn’t your typical autobiography—rather, it’s an episodic series of celebrities profiled as Langella experienced them, not as they actually were. In some of his remembrances, Langella is gleefully caustic; Marlon Brando, he recalls, was “a self-indulgent, lazy bore," while Laurence Olivier is described as “a master of deception.” Elsewhere in the book, Langella writes with more tenderness, particularly in his tales of Hollywood grand dames—ever the casanova, he memorably romanced Rita Hayworth, visited Elizabeth Taylor’s boudoir, and had phone sex with Bette Davis. Dropped Names is a bittersweet book, by turns cruel and sad, funny and affectionate. In the preface, the author advises, “Don’t turn the page if you like your stories spoon-fed or sugar-spread.” Take note before you dive in.

Imagine a book as your favorite dessert. This book looks cool and feels cool to hold and touch. It has four major sections devoted to Blondie fan art—and that is cool as hell. And then there’s Harry herself, the ultimate in New York downtown chic—sardonic, alert, smart, and smart-ass. Face It is generous and just plain fun.

Alan Cumming is incorrigibly charming. He’s irresistible, which is part of his appeal as a performer. He manages the tough trick of bringing that charm to his memoirs. In Baggage, his second memoir, he writes winningly about his early days in the movies in the ’90s, and the pleasures and downsides of living a busy, charmed life. But Cumming is deeper than just charm, which is why he’s able to write about it so effectively. Baggage is a lovely depiction of the acting life.

A no-bullshit account of Kim Gordon’s music career, notably her time with the influential post-punk bank Sonic Youth, one of the bright spots of the indie music scene in the ’80s and ’90s. Gordon is a lively writer, alternatively pugnacious, thoughtful, analytical, and tender. We also get an unvarnished look at a partner scorned—there is much space devoted to Gordon’s bandmate and former husband, Thurston Moore. But this isn’t a gripe session and the narrative doesn’t get bogged down in bitterness. A crisp, absorbing read. Brings an entire scene to life.

Oh, come on, this is so much fun. You never know if an actor can make it on the page, but Tucci passes the test with flying colors. He’s a pleasure. The man lives an epicurean life and writes about it without fuss. We’ve known since Big Night that food is central to Tucci’s life (as was clear in his recently departed CNN show) and Tucci writes like he cooks—economical, self-effacing, warm, and funny. Featuring great food stories from his acting life, Tucci also includes a handful of recipes with an absoluteness that would make Marcella Hazan proud.

While O’Connor is no stranger to controversy, particularly during her pop moment heyday in the early ’90s, this memoir is beautifully spare, plain-spoken, and bracing. It is direct, as you would expect, but also funny. Not only do we get a sharp evocation of her troubled family life growing up—and O’Connor never courts sympathy or wallows in self-pity—but an entertaining, nuanced guided tour to her musical life. Like many people in her position, O’Connor acknowledges how lucky she is to have her every dream come true. “More than that,” she writers upon meeting Muhammad Ali, “dreams that I never even dared to dream came true.”

Okay, so this isn’t a traditional memoir. However, these essays about 1970s movies serve as a record of Tarantino’s early moviegoing years, tagging along with his mother and stepfather, who allowed him to see grown-up movies. Lucky for him, Tarantino grew up during an incredible era of moviemaking in this country. This collection of essays is what you’d expect—opinionated, digressive, occasionally mean-spirited, sometimes sloppy, a dishy blend of kibbitzing, gossip, and criticism. Tarantino is especially good writing about young Brian De Palma, the impact of Rocky, and the underrated joys of character actor Joe Don Baker and writer Donald Westlake. But it’s the evocation of watching movies in a theater during this period that gives the book a lift.

Sports autobiographies date back to the first part of the 20th century. At best, they are diverting reads and informative candy, though often full of boring, egotistical ramblings. Right up front, Andre Agassi gets kudos for his pick of co-authors in J.R. Moeringer (who also ghostwrote Prince Harry's Spare), and his willingness to write a tough, introspective story. In Moeringer’s hands, Agassi’s story ascends to a place few sports memoirs ever reach. Up there with Ball Four as one of the great sports memoirs every written.

Louis Armstrong is one of the towering American artists of the 20th century, but in addition to revolutionizing music, he dabbled in writing—and also collages and illustrations, on the side. He’s at his best in Satchmo: My Life in New Orleans, written in a clean, breezy, enviably conversational style. Rich in observation, it’s a classic, no doubt.

If you want to be exacting about it, Personal History is more of an autobiography than a memoir. It's a formidable, comprehensive book, but also intimate, questioning, and vulnerable. Graham, the longtime publisher of the Washington Post, witnessed her fair share of celebrity, Washington-style. Hell, she helped dismantle Richard Nixon’s presidency by publishing the Pentagon Papers and later exposing the Watergate burglary. She also hosted Truman Capote's infamous black and white ball in 1966, arguably the celebrity bash of the century. Graham is never imperious, and if she keeps the reader at a certain distance, clearly choosing carefully what to put in and leave out, she never feels inauthentic. A memorable depiction of relentless self-doubt.

Keith Richards is the living embodiment of rock ’n’ roll, which is funny, because we’ve been obsessed with his pending death since the ’70s. Part of the legendary Glimmer Twin duo with bandmate Mick Jagger, Richards has an easy, avuncular affinity for reminiscing. Working with the deft James Fox (White Mischief), we get a finely distilled articulation of Richards' life and times. The high praise heaped on the book is well-earned.

Where it all began for Bourdain—at least as far as the cult of Bourdain is concerned. His voice already in full form, Bourdain’s account of the fast-paced rock ’n’ roll life of a line cook to top chef douchebaggery is a classic of its kind. Intelligent, self-aware, curious, belligerent—Bourdain’s winning formula.

When we think of a tell-all memoir, we think of salacious dirt about someone or something—but for Tina Fey, “tell-all” means something more like “tell all my errant thoughts, anxieties, and feelings.” Bossypants is a roving collection of waggish anecdotes, humorous essays, and behind-the-scenes tales from a singular career in comedy. Fey muses on feminism, creativity, motherhood, and more in these gut-busting essays, all told in the lacerating and insightful voice you know and love from Saturday Night Live or 30 Rock.

This gutsy memoir by a former Nickelodeon actress burned up the bestseller list in 2022. At six years old, McCurdy began auditioning for acting gigs at the behest of her mother, Debra, who dreamed of molding her daughter into “Mommy’s little actress.” Wanting only to please her mother, McCurdy submitted to a strict regimen of “calorie restriction,” along with more extreme violations; Debra bathed McCurdy until she was sixteen and even subjected her to regular genital exams well into her teenhood. When McCurdy was 21 years old, Debra died of cancer, leaving McCurdy to sort through decades of emotional, mental, and physical abuse. It took quitting acting and discovering therapy for her to find peace—a journey she chronicles in this raw and revealing memoir, brimming with catharsis and compassion.

One of our most soulful performers delivers an intimate story of grit and grace, tracing her life all the way from her poverty-stricken upbringing to her Oscar and Tony-winning success. Davis grew up in Rhode Island, where she suffered brutal bullying at school and physical abuse at home. Miraculously, she survived her childhood to study at Juilliard, but misogyny, racism, and colorism dogged her path through Hollywood. In Finding Me, she explores the duality between overcoming her struggles and carrying that broken little girl inside her, now and always. It’s a work of startling strength, resilience, and wisdom, chronicling how one of the best actors of our time became who she is. As Davis writes, “I knew my life would be a fight, and I realized this: I had it in me.”

During her tenure at the helm of Vanity Fair in the eighties and nineties, Tina Brown kept daily diaries documenting her life in the fast lane. Published together in one volume, those diaries make for devilishly good reading, packed with glamour, gossip, and ambition. Magazine lovers and pop culture obsessives will find a lot to love here as Brown takes us behind the scenes of stories that have since become cultural history, from the iconic cover of a naked and pregnant Demi Moore to Vanity Fair’s scoop about the meltdown of the marriage between then-Prince Charles and Princess Diana. But beneath all the dishy bits, there’s a compelling personal story—one of a young expat brought in to save a struggling magazine, forever afraid that she’d be the next victim of Condé Nast’s brutal boardroom politics. Eventually, she was. But before it all ended, Brown had one helluva ride.