Madly, Deeply - The Alan Rickman Diaries

 

 I always feel there’s something slightly underhand, immoral even, about reading someone else’s diaries. As a journal/diarist myself I would be horrified if anyone were to read my words. For me, anyway, the diary fulfils several goals. It’s an aide memoir when you need to remember when, where and with whom you did what and why! And it’s like a conversation you have with yourself, no holds barred, chastising both yourself and others, triumphant when things go right , whingeing at the unfairness of life, critical of those who interrupted your own personal rhythms, a place to expound your own theories and philosophies of subjects, metaphysical, existential and downright prosaic et cetera et cetera. But did that stop me reading Alan Rickman’s diaries? No it didn’t!

I did wonder whether those of us who are diary keepers respond to someone else’s diaries differently from those who are not diarists. I found myself understanding many of Mr. Rickman’s comments that were not always complimentary about friends and colleagues but I can imagine people that don’t keep diaries feeling outraged perhaps. I also wonder how much editing went on of entries that might be deeply contentious.

Something I found fascinating as someone who tends to be a little starstruck at times was the multitude of entries referring to “famous people“ who are his friends. People like Emma Thompson and Ruby Wax with whom he did everyday things like meet for lunch or go round their houses. These diaries offer us a personal insight into people we know only from their work on stage and screen.

It was interesting also, to read his take in response to events I had only read about in the news. I remember being sad, objectively, reading about the death of Natasha Richardson but for Alan Rickman it was devastating because she and her husband, Liam Neeson, were good friends of his. 

It was very revealing to read of Mr. Rickman’s thoughts about his own art and craft, the highs and the lows, the creative frustrations and the ultimate successes alongside those irks that all of us have from time to time with plumbers and electricians and the problems of owning property!

And I found it profoundly moving as Mr Rickman descended into his terminal illness how the entries became brief, monosyllabic almost. And after reading I felt sad that we’ve lost a man so talented, so creative and so intelligently critical of himself and the world he inhabited.

I was fortunate enough to win a copy of this book from a Canongate Books draw! My diary entry for that day was very upbeat! 😉