The first half of Cher’s autobiography covers, fittingly, roughly the first half of her life so far. Born to an absentee Armenian father and a wannabe actress mother, Cherilyn Sarkisian seems to have been destined for an outrageous, implausible life from the start. Her mother, a knockout beauty, had terrible luck with the men in her life, marrying miscreants, drunks and other losers over and over again, yo-yo-ing young Cher and her sister from squalor to splendor and back again, depending on the economic status of her current paramour and her ability to put up with their drinking and infidelity. The family constantly moved houses and lived all over the country, a fact that combined with Cher’s undiagnosed dyslexia to keep her from every really settling in a school and finishing her degree. Inheriting her mother’s good lucks, though, opened up opportunities, some welcome and others decidedly less so.
Eventually, after years of clashing with her equally headstrong mother, Cher meets Sonny Bono and embarks on her recording career. It was hardly smooth sailing, as Bono was a controlling business partner and husband, somehow charming enough to keep Cher under his influence long past the point where most people would have smelled a rat.
Part One covers the whole of their television career, from their initial variety show, their separation and competing variety hours, and their eventual brief professional reunion. There are fun showbiz stories featuring the likes of Lucille Ball, John Lennon, Jack Nicholson, and more. And, of course, Cher’s romantic history post-divorce from Bono, including David Geffen, Gregg Allman, and Gene Simmons of Kiss. Cher also gives birth to he two children in this half of her memoir, though the book is somewhat light on reflections on parenthood, though Cher generously describes Bono as a devoted father despite his shortcomings as a husband.
The book ends at a curious moment. With her variety shows a thing of the past, and her recording career stagnant and uninspiring to her, Cher desperately wants to act in movies, but can’t get anyone to take her seriously. It feels almost like a cliffhanger, even though the reader obviously knows what’s coming next.
Cher’s prose isn’t terribly special. She’s a bit too reliant on hackneyed cliches when she wants to emphasize a point. And while her memory for names and dates seems extraordinary, the stories are nearly uniformly self-serving, casting some doubt on her candor. Still, Cher has had a remarkable life, and anyone with an interest in 20th century pop culture will probably come away from this book with enough fascinating information to satisfy them.