In his boisterous and breezy memoir, Sheen starts with his birth, when he was nearly strangled by his umbilical cord, and goes on to a childhood in and around Los Angeles, where he made home videos with other showbiz kids. Along with his mother and three siblings, he frequently traveled to locations where his father, Martin Sheen, was filming, notably the set of Apocalypse Now. In an account laden with expletives and endearingly weird spelling choices (“dood,” “kool”), some of the actor’s most riveting chapters evoke his own stints on film sets, particularly his brutal experiences during the filming of Oliver Stone’s Platoon, in which the author starred. Though he went on to play parts in many more movies and in TV shows like Two and a Half Men, he turned his attention primarily to booze, drugs, gambling on sports, and encounters with sex workers. Don’t look for the usual redemption narrative here. Though Sheen does spend the last few pages of the book on what he says have been eight recent years of sobriety, undertaken for the sake of his children and grandchildren, he devotes most of the book to an exhaustive and sometimes exhausting survey of life on the edge. Despite many hours at meetings, he doesn’t have the respect for Alcoholics Anonymous—that “medieval gibberish club”—that he has for the many escorts he employed, whose charges he views as “a convenience-tax for a guaranteed outcome the other dating scenarios couldn’t offer.” Sheen’s three marriages zip in and out of the narrative with dizzying speed, leaving the reader no wiser about the women involved.
