Oh, dear. I should have looked at the e-mail from my editor more closely. I thought I had been asked to review a memoir by Jim Carrey. Instead, I was asked to review a teasingly autobiographical novel co-written by Jim Carrey and titled Memoirs and Misinformation. The protagonist is a movie star named Jim Carrey, whom we meet holed up in his lonely Brentwood home, suffering some kind of emotional breakdown and/or existential crisis while binge-watching documentary series about Pompeii and predatory dinosaurs. The mood is portentous; so is the prose. Death is in the air. The Santa Anas, “those devil winds that sapped the soul,” are blowing. The book’s first sentence: “They knew him as Jim Carrey.”
Oh, dear. It’s written in the third person.