If you’re looking for a celebrity tell-all--the kind where newly domesticated A-listers recount alcohol-fueled blowups or air Hollywood’s dirty laundry--then you probably shouldn’t read Dear Mr. You.
Quite literally the opposite of name-dropping gossip, actress Mary-Louise Parker’s new book is a series of letters to the men in her life, and it very pointedly leaves out the guy you’re all thinking of. (You know, the one who left her seven months' pregnant for another celeb.)
Oh, and it’s also really, really good.
In “Dear Abraham,” she addresses her longtime accountant, a man who took a chance on a feckless, chain-smoking actress who once fell asleep in his office. In “Dear Daddy,” she tells her deceased father what he’s meant to her, with the caveat that explaining how much she misses him would be like “blue trying to describe the ocean.” In “Dear Future Man Who Loves My Daughter,” she implores that person to be a little bit of a jerk: “Make her unhappy. Put yourself first. Do that awhile.”
In short, she writes with a poetic urgency and flighty grace that you’ve seen before in the characters she’s played. And the result is remarkably compelling.