Alan Arkin (1934–2023)

Alan Arkin is a different kind of actor. He has a stage presence so strong he often appears to be a total mismatch with the rest of the cast, observing more than participating. So with his short book Out Of My Mind.

In the book, Arkin relates a bunch of stories of inexplicable events. There is a sudden memory of himself approaching a scaffold in revolutionary France. There are hot flashes and blinding lights, crippling fear and sudden cures. His normally totally concrete-reality mother show more suddenly revealed his dead father appeared before her shortly after his death. And she never spoke of it again. Mostly, the stories seem to reflect his study of East Asian religions, with their extensions into reincarnation and life forces. They have cured of him of going to a therapist.

These kinds of events and stories are often told, and usually have no explanation. In this case, Arkin wants there to be no explanation. He says as a young man his was adamant that what he believed should be imposed on the whole world, even as his views changed. Today, he insists he has no such belief system or ideology. He takes it as it comes, meditates a lot, and attempts to be at peace. He says he tried to write down all the things that he was absolutely sure of and could only come up with two for all eternity: Everything changes, and there is no such thing as too much garlic. If that helps.

The Alan Arkin we see on TV, films and plays is like that – slightly removed from the vortex, and observing it as an education. Usually with pained incomprehension. That he is actually like that in person is a revelation to me. I first saw him in a TV drama/special called The Lovesong of Barney Kempinsky. It aired just once, in 1967, and I have not only not forgotten it, it has made me want to see everything he showed up in ever since. I have not been disappointed.

This little (100 page) book of semi-memoirs on the unexplainable is a finetuned insight into the man. It will not likely change the reader’s outlook on life, but it explains quite a bit of his.

David Wineberg show less

A nice mini autobiography of actor Alan Arkin. He narrates his journey of challenging everything he was initially taught and how he views the world. He began studying eastern philosophy and meditating. I loved the ending when he talked about what he has learned about himself and knowledge gained from meditating for the past 50 years.

I'm hesitant to choose a star rating for this book because I can't help but feel like it is not the book's fault, but the publication. Whoever line edited this must have done it drunk. There is literally a typo or missing word every other page throughout the whole thing (my edition was first edition, from what I see it was never reprinted.) That being said it SHOULD be reprinted. Someone at Harper Collins ought to pick this back up, actually edit it this time and reprint it. (Also, I'm show more looking for an editing job if they need help with this project.)

Seriously, this book has potential. It could be Jonathan Livingston Seagull or Ishmael. It has the philosophy dripping through it for fresh minds just being introduced to the topics of great thinkers of past. It's also an entertaining story. My wife and I read this aloud over a few nights and we were laughing together throughout it. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

So four stars because of the author. No stars to whoever didn't pay attention to what the typist was doing. show less

This heartwarming children’s book is about a piano-playing cow. And it is written by Alan Arkin.

Yes, the same Alan Arkin who made his screen debut tormenting poor, blind Audrey Hepburn in that chilling thriller, Wait Until Dark, and was lately seen trading quips with a clueless Steve Carrell in Get Smart.

That Alan Arkin.

“Cute” would be the operative word here.

Unsurprisingly for someone who communicates through different mediums (he’s also a composer and musician), Arkin does a pretty show more good job when it comes to just telling his story. But his writing is not always up to the same level as his storytelling skills. I found his overuse of dialogue tags particularly aggravating, made more so by the fact that I was reading the book aloud. After a little while, the reiterations of Cassie said and David said become unnecessary, especially if there are only two characters involved in the conversation.

Arkin is most effective when describing Beethoven’s music or having his characters describe it. It is clear that he is passionate about the subject, and somehow that makes the emotion deeper and the prose more fluid than they are elsewhere.

But with the exceptions of those sections, I’m afraid I just couldn’t dredge up much interest in the story Arkin was telling. I expected to love it—it sounded light and whimsical, and how could I say no to Beethoven?—but somehow it just fell flat for me. It may have a lot to do with when I read it; at the time I had just finished reading Eleanor Estes’ Pinky Pye with my sister, which was about a typewriting kitty. And then there was this, about a piano-playing cow. Far too much anthropomorphism all together.

I definitely prefer Actor!Arkin to Author!Arkin, and I’m not sure I’d recommend this book, particularly. But I may keep it around. Perhaps, a few years from now, I’ll pick it up and find the magic that I missed this time. show less