Thoughtful yet unsatisfying autobiography by the Swedish film actress and director. Zetterling, who co-starred with such greats as Dirk Bogarde, Danny Kaye, Tyrone Power, and Peter Sellers. comes across as a latter-day Piaf. Fatherless from birth, uneducated, she more or less drifted into a career in the Swedish theater, then the cinema. ""I was born an unsatisfactory child. What I have tried to do is to describe my efforts to be reborn, in order to clear the decks. My sad truths were not lies, they were very much a reality. . ."" This reality was an inner confusion that led her in and out of the arms of Ingmar Bergman, Peter Finch, Tyrone Power, and others. Her portrait of Power is worth the price of the book. He is depicted in all of his anger, directed at his pretty-boy image. Tirading one night, he burst out, ""Someday I will show those motherfuckers who say I was a success because of my pretty face. . .it's so fucking tiring being everybody's darling boy at my age. . .the critics thought there couldn't be any intelligence behind the facade. Shit, double-shit."" Despite such glimpses, Zetterling's style is too choppy to create a sense of where she is headed. Part impressions, part diary, part aphorisms, her book leaves one at the end wondering just where she is now: one diary entry, dated ""December 24, 1979--midnight,' states: ""Autobiography an impossibility, yet I shall plug on nevertheless."" How true.