My Autobiography (Neversink)
“The best autobiography ever written by an actor. An astonishing work.” —Chicago Tribune
Chaplin’s heartfelt and hilarious autobiography tells the story of his childhood, the challenge of identifying and perfecting his talent, his subsequent film career and worldwide celebrity. In this, one of the very first celebrity memoirs, Chaplin displays all the charms, peculiarities and deeply-held beliefs that made him such an endearing and lasting character.
Re-issued as part of Melville House’s Neversink Library, My Autobiography offers dedicated Chaplin fans and casual admirers alike an astonishing glimpse into the the heart and the mind of Hollywood’s original genius maverick.
Take this unforgettable journey with the man George Bernard Shaw called “the only genius to come out of the movie industry” as he moves from his impoverished South London childhood to the heights of Hollywood wealth and fame; from the McCarthy-era investigations to his founding of United Artists to his “reverse migration” back to Europe, My Autobiography is a reading experience not to be missed.
‘The trouble with English politics is that women interfere too much in them, and with that I shall say good-night, Lady Astor.’ Then he nodded curtly to both of us and left. ‘What a disgruntled man,’ said Lady Astor. But the boy spoke up for him. ‘Oh no, Mother, he’s really very nice.’ I could not but admire the man, in spite of his anti-feminism, for there was an honesty and forthrightness about him; humourless but nevertheless sincere. * As I had not seen my brother Sydney for a number of
health, disillusioned and embittered. The luncheon took place at the house of Monsieur Balbi, publisher of the Paris l’intransigeant, and was most interesting although I did not speak French. Countess Noailles, a bright, birdlike little woman, spoke English and was extremely witty and charming. Monsieur Briand greeted her by saying: ‘I see so little of you these days; your presence is as rare as that of one’s discarded mistress.’ After lunch I was taken to the Elysée and there made a Chevalier
was always happy to see me and would prepare something for me, fried bread in dripping or one of Grandfather’s eggs and a cup of tea. She would read to me or we would sit together at the window and she would amuse me by making remarks about the pedestrians as they passed by. She would invent stories about them. If it were a young man with a breezy, bobbing gait she would say: ‘There goes Mr Hopand-scotch. He’s on his way to place a bet. If he’s lucky today he’s going to buy a second-hand tandem
the hotel where the show girls stayed, with a libidinous hope that never materialized. The elevated trains swept by at night and flickered on my bedroom wall like an old-fashioned bioscope. Yet I loved that hotel, though nothing adventurous ever happened there. One young girl, quiet and pretty, was for some reason always alone and walked with a self-conscious air. Occasionally I would pass her going in and out of the hotel lobby, but I never had the temerity to get acquainted, and I must say she
we had quite a large audience laughing. Very soon I saw Ford Sterling peering over the shoulders of others. When it was over I knew I had made good. At the end of the day when I went to the dressing-room, Ford Sterling and Roscoe Arbuckle were taking off their make-up. Very little was said, but the atmosphere was charged with crosscurrents. Both Ford and Roscoe liked me, but I frankly felt they were undergoing some inner conflict. It was a long scene that ran seventy-five feet. Later Mr Sennett