Losing Carrie Fisher in 2016 bothered me. I loved and admired her from afar, the way many did. I thought she was brave, and she was funny, and she was brilliant.

I borrowed and listened to The Princess Diarist because I missed her, and I wanted to hear about her affair with Harrison Ford. Not exactly the most serious reason, but a reason all the same.

I loved the parts where she read her diary. I get that part. I get the teenage girl/young woman stuff. The part where her daughter read her poetry/stream of consciousness? Not so much. I am not good at poetry.

There wasn’t a lot about the making of Star Wars, but there was a lot of insight into the heart of a young woman from the perspective of her older self. I relate! I angsted so much as a teenager. Now…not so much.

It was a short book – I think I listened to the whole thing in one to two afternoons. Worth it if you want some gossipy deets on a steamy affair and the classic overthinking of everything by someone new to the sex game. Not worth it if you wanted a lot of cool Star Wars info. I didn’t need the Star Wars info to enjoy it.

I liked The Princess Diarist and its look at Carrie Fisher, who has been one of my heroines since I watched her blow out the grate on the Death Star and say, “into the garbage shoot, fly boy!” and always will be one of my heroines for her writing talent, her sharp wit and biting humor, and her always honest evaluation of herself.

Her last memoir is deeply personal and lovely. It made me miss her. I never met her, but I miss her.

Tagged: authors: carrie fisher, books: the princess diarist, genre: autobiography, genre: humor, genre: memoir