Not long before her death, Carson McCullers dictated some disjointed, random recollections to a secretary in an effort to create an autobiography. Very little was accomplished; what she did come up with has been presented in this book as her "unfinished autobiography." Actually it doesn't come close to being an autobiography, "unfinished" or otherwise. It doesn't even seem like the beginnings of one. It really is that unsubstantial.
This book was obviously published in hopes that fans of Carson McCuller's novels and stories will rush out and and buy it. If they do, they're in for a big disappointment; there is nothing very interesting here and McCullers tended to play fast and loose with facts pertaining to events in her life, her relationships with other people and her tortured marriage to Reeves McCullers. She also liked to gloss over the numerous flaws in her own personality; her alcoholism, her overinflated ego, her immaturity, her tendency to suck the life out of people with her unceasing demands for attention and adulation.
The book is padded with dull letters McCullers and her husband sent each other and the outline of a book called "The Mute", which eventually became "The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter." It would seem the publishers were willing to fill this slim volume out with anything in order to make this seem like something appropriating a memoir of sorts.
Don't be fooled. This isn't even an "unfinished" autobiography. This should not have even been published. That's how little this odd little book of meandering thoughts is worth.
