Though Basil Rathbone's autobiography is enjoyable and well-written, it may disappoint you since he talks very little about specific films and plays he performed in. The Sherlock Holmes section is brief, and mainly captures the horror of a classically trained British actor being reduced to a caricature. Rathbone was a wonderful, theatrical actor capable of reaching greatness, but who instead frequently sold out -- and this dreamy memoir suggests some of the reasons. He was known in Hollywood mainly for the lavish parties he and his wife gave, and in fact he writes like a well-bred dinner guest amusing a stranger with anecdotes about co-workers, half-forgotten friends and lovers, and odd experiences. And while son Rodion and daughter Cynthia get almost no mention, there is a vivid and moving portrait of Basil's dog Moritz. That seems to sum up the charm and the limitations of this sweet little book.