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Kate: The Woman Who Was Hepburn (William J. Mann) tells Hepburn's life through the lens of her relationship with her own image. Mann second guesses nearly every well-known aspect of Hepburn's history, including her relationship with the press, her gender and sexuality, her philosophy as an actor, her politics, and her relationships with various friends, men, women, and Spencer Tracy. It's a rather dispiriting take on the life of the unique actress, but not implausible. Mann posits that Hepburn, as she grew older, concealed the honest, complicated but compelling elements of her life (everything from ambiguous sexuality and gender identity to contrary politics and a thirty-year indefinable connection with Tracy) in favor of a more digestible narrative. The press colluded with her and the public ate it up, and here she is, the American icon of independence and pluck that we all know and love.
Me (Katharine Hepburn) is Hepburn's voice, above all else. It was odd to read after recently finishing Kate. I almost felt guilty with Mann's voice in the back of my mind, contradicting many pronouncements Hepburn makes with aplomb. One thing's for sure, though: Hepburn had clearly defined her voice by the time she wrote this book in 1991. She's quite funny. She also chooses to focus on some topics that I thought were unique: dealing with voice problems when performing in the theatre; making a garden with younger and more fit friends; discovering Shakespeare. There was a good bit of moonshine identifiable in some of her accounts, but none of this stuff is any of our business anyway, so what of it?
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