I am not a fan of audio books. I prefer pages and ink. However, if you have any interest in Al Pacino’s new memoir, Sonny Boy, I urge you to listen to the actor read it himself. The text offers many pleasures, but it is also ragged and discursive, full of anecdotes that end before they’ve gotten to their point, the 84-year-old author at times chasing memories like a cat swatting at a laser pointer. For both good and ill, reading Sonny Boy is like spending several hours with a beloved elder—your charming uncle, say, given a bit more to rambling these days—so why not get as close to the full experience as possible? Plus, it’s Al Pacino, so: that voice.
Read Full Article »
