Part heartfelt memoir, part Hollywood tell-all, Tortured Soles is a love letter to late 20th century entertainment culture.
In this sure-handed memoir, celebrity journalist Fran Weinstein shares her evolution from “wounded little girl from the Bronx in bargain-basement buckled flats” to stiletto-wearing Hollywood insider with the sharp candor of your favorite aunt. Weinstein covers ample personal and cultural ground with admirable efficiency, balancing her painful childhood as the daughter of Jewish immigrants with her powerhouse role in the gossip mills of Hollywood in the 80s and 90s. Especially lovely is the way these two different selves engage through the recollections of the older, wiser Fran Weinstein.
Between iconic interviews and red-carpet shenanigans, Weinstein dishes up plenty of celebrity tidbits, like an Anne Heche meltdown and sweet red-carpet moments with Jennifer Aniston and Tom Cruise, but the glitz never overshadows her introspection. “Cajoling them [celebrities] into conversation delighted me as much as my childhood love of creating a dialogue with my Barbie dolls.” Every touch of tell-all connects back to the little girl reading her mom’s moving picture magazines. She takes pains to show how a less-than-ideal childhood formed the woman she became.
“Having no standards set for me—other than marrying when I was no more than nineteen years old, reproducing, and then calling it a day—I set extraordinary standards for myself. I learned to be self-sufficient and reliant.”
Weinstein’s self-reliance forms a solid thread throughout the memoir. We see her take on a peacekeeping role in her parents’ combative marriage, only to defy them as a young woman to further her education. She takes herself to get a harrowing abortion rather than marry the doctor her mother dreams of. She goes to Hollywood without connections or a plan and manages to apprentice herself to Robin Leach, one of the late 20th centuries pillars of celebrity journalism.
Weinstein’s storytelling is impressive—this is a writer who knows how to use a lede. She opens with a hooky anecdote that establishes two competing sets of bonefides. On the one hand, she was the trusted protégé of Robin Leach. On the other, she was the scrappy single mom whose son comes to do a first-rate impression of “Uncle Robin.” She keeps a firm hold on the balance of personal and professional, allowing the reader to get a solid sense of how she moved through a dysfunctional childhood to wealth and professional success.
It’s easy to appreciate Weinstein’s wry honesty. She frankly acknowledges that between truancy and poor grades she was ill-prepared to get into college—a goal she set of herself to avoid the “parents-to-husband pipeline.”
“I thought, you go to college—simple as that. You ‘go’ to the grocery store. You ‘go’ to a movie. No prep, no tutors, no planning.”
Her young self’s naivete is inherently likable, and her older self’s bemusement is clear-eyed and affectionately sharp.She even shares the degree to which her short stature “made me feel freakish at times, fueling self-consciousness.” She handles this insecurity vulnerably before linking it to her ability kick a door in wearing heels and her tenacity in interviews. “There was no way I would allow the disadvantage to hinder my ascent to greatness.”
The memoir’s pacing is brisk and intentional. Just as Weinstein doesn’t gloss pain, she also never dwells. Every painful instance in which a second-grade Fran plays peacekeeper for her parents is leavened by tidbits about her favorite celebrities (George Clooney) and madcap dashes to recover lost interview footage, keeping the tone balanced between meditative and quick.
Perhaps the loveliest thing about this read is the generous spirit that underpins it. Weinstein honors her younger self as “the real warrior and, now at last, my hero.” She honors the woman she became—first as a fledgling journalist and then as a powerful producer at Entertainment Tonight. Finally, she honors herself as a happily retired insider who can finally take a moment to reflect on what she is proud of and what she might have done differently.
Tortured Soles is an invitingly personal read. Come for the backstage pass but stay for the heart. If you read People, tune into Entertainment Tonight, watch the Oscar’s like it’s the Super Bowl, or enjoy late 20th century celebrity culture, this memoir is for you.
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