MEMOIR REVIEW: "Life Itself"

Roger Ebert might be the most famous film reviewer of all time. Back in 1975, he became the first film critic ever to win a Pulitzer Prize. Later, he co-starred in a film-review television program, "Siskel and Ebert," that made him a star.

Ebert's new memoir, "Life Itself," is an episodic, impressionistic and skillfully written exploration of his life, from his 1950s childhood in Urbana, Ill., to his recent battles against thyroid cancer, which have left him unable to speak, or to eat or drink through his mouth. What shines throughout the book is Ebert's humility, his down-to-earth and powerful sense of decency.

Such humility sometimes works against generating the drama that so many celebrity memoirs are known for. Readers won't find any cattiness or neediness in Ebert's big-hearted, unabashed celebration of the values that marked his Illinois upbringing. Describing his summers with neighborhood friends, he explains how kids created their own daily structure: "We would ... play softball, shoot baskets, go down into somebody's basement, play cards, go to the Urbana Free Library for Miss Fiske's Summer Reading Club, rassle on the lawn, listen to the Cardinals, play with our dogs."

Throughout his long journalism career, he has displayed an obvious gift for making friends. At the beginning, Ebert learned from straight-talking, been-around-the-block columnist Mike Royko: "It amused him," writes Ebert, "to explain the obvious to the downstate kid." Ebert also grew close to oral historian Studs Terkel: "For me, he represented the generous, scrappy, liberal, wisecracking heart of [Chicago]." Ebert never planned to be a film critic: "My master plan was to become an op-ed columnist and then eventually, of course, a great and respected novelist."

Ebert gives readers fascinating insights into Swedish director Ingmar Bergman, director Martin Scorsese, Woody Allen, actors Robert Mitchum and John Wayne. He also writes about his decades-long relationship with his co-star and fellow Chicago film critic Gene Siskel. About their passionate, on-air disagreements, Ebert writes, "It was not an act ... we were professional enemies," with differing views of film. Yet the two grew to care deeply about each other, despite, or maybe because of, their differences and constant disagreements. Ebert writes lovingly of the late Siskel, and clearly misses him.

As for Ebert's cancer, the guy is deeply appreciative of all the care and support he's received. "Isn't it sad [for me] to be unable to eat or drink? Not as sad as you might imagine. ... What I miss is the society," the social aspect of eating meals with family and friends. Roger Ebert may have created a new genre: the kind, well-adjusted, nondysfunctional memoir. Readers can't help but wish this supremely decent person well.

Chuck Leddy is a member of the National Book Critics Circle. He lives in Boston.