Book #10: Born Standing Up

Steve Martin: MUCH more than goofy accessories.
I never considered myself a huge fan of Steve Martin. Watching his films gave me the impression that he was a)typecast as a smug, smarmy guy, or b) WAS a smug and smarmy kind of guy. I had known he was a stand-up comedian, which begat a great SNL run, and acted as a springboard into film, in which he seemed to my mind to play the uptight "straight" guy. However, I very much enjoy autobiographies. This is simply because- public persona or not- the story is in the words of the subject itself. There's a lot to be said for a story that comes right from the source. In any event, I decided to pick up Steve Martin's "Born Standing Up", which documents Martin's early efforts in the comic realm to his rise to superstardom.

Martin's beginnings are indicative of what is so commonly heard in show business: lots of repitition, lots of practice and hard work. Anyone who's read Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers" knows that success is born of a marriage of hard work and opportunity. Martin is no different. What is refreshing is to get an account of this process as it went on, step by step. While there were tremendous amounts of detail (some of which may not have been all that necessary), it's a testament to the kind of guy Steve Martin is: recognizant of his roots and the people who lent a hand along the way, however large a role they may or may not have had. One of the finest examples of this is when Martin waxes nostalgic for the magician who got him his first gig working in the magic shop at Disneyland. Again, refreshing to hear that account at the ground floor.

The fondness for which Martin seems to regard his beginnings are really sewn up with his acknowledgment that making it big was not necessarily the best thing to happen to him. As he describes, "I realize that I misunderstood what my last year of stand-up was about. I had become a party host, presiding not over timing and ideas but over a celebratory bash of my own making." This admission brings a sense of realness to what Martin must have gone through, while at the same time making a subtle suggestion to the reader, whether they are an aspiring comic or not: savor it. Savor all of it. The top isn't all gravy, and when and if you reach the top, you may be surprised by how little you can recall of the joys of being in pursuit of the elusive brass ring.

The man's a genius simply for transitioning between the banjo and the top of the heap

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this narrative of an awkward guy whose dedication to the absurd and- perhaps more importantly- the precision needed to nail the absurd in its most pure and sphincter-tightening awkwardness paid off. At the same time, Martin addresses the reader in a tone that is part-troubador, part-poet, part-romantic, part-cynic; all of these hats fit and come together to paint a picture which many can relate to, and these hats don't needed the added distinction of an arrow going through them.