Book Review: I Regret Almost Everything by Keith McNally
A memoir titled I Regret Almost Everything certainly piqued my curiosity—how could a life filled with restaurants, art, and creativity come with such a heavy sentiment? Keith McNally’s exploration of his own storied existence captured my attention from the get-go, as I found myself drawn not just to his triumphs but also to the raw vulnerabilities he lays bare. The title, a paradox in itself, echoed throughout the pages, inviting me to ponder the complexities of life through his unflinching honesty.
McNally, known for his impactful roles as an actor, restaurateur, and writer, showcases a life teeming with experiences. Yet, in his narrative, it becomes clear that his journey hasn’t been without its tribulations—chief among them, a debilitating stroke in 2016 that altered everything he once knew. He writes candidly about grappling with loss, self-acceptance, and the nuanced landscape of grief. “In some ways, it was only after I lost my voice that I learned to speak my mind,” he reflects, a sentiment that resonated deeply with me. This assertion invites readers into the paradox of silence and voice, a theme that reverberates throughout the memoir.
While McNally’s varied experiences as an actor, playwright, art collector, and creative force are fascinating, the fragmented narrative sometimes left me disoriented, wondering which decade or relationship he was referencing, especially given the complexities of recounting a life with such rich layers. Listening to the audiobook in snippets added to this challenge; some parts felt like meandering pathways that took a while to traverse. However, one can’t help but admire McNally’s relentless pursuit of authenticity. His wit and self-deprecation shine throughout, often crossing the line into bitter self-loathing, a hallmark that encapsulates his darker reflections on life.
In discussing his restaurant ventures, which include no fewer than 19 establishments, McNally grapples with his identity beyond just being a restaurateur—a title he seems to reject. “I despise this word,” he notes. His deep understanding of hospitality, despite his complexities, stands as a centerpiece of his character. The stories of culinary creation serve as a backdrop to his broader tales of personal struggle, making for a fascinating dichotomy.
A standout quote for me was, “Grieving isn’t a corridor one passes through on the way to wellbeing… it’s always ajar.” This perspective encapsulates a significant theme in the book: the notion that healing isn’t linear, a sentiment that spoke to my own experiences of loss and recovery. It’s this level of reflective introspection that elevates McNally’s work, allowing readers to connect their own stories with his narrative.
McNally manages to weave in reflections on family and friendship as sources of strength, and by the end, it’s clear he emerges from his trials with a newfound wisdom—though he might balk at that term. Through therapy and the unwavering support of his five children, he crafts a message that speaks not only to the scars life leaves but also to the beauty of acceptance.
I would recommend I Regret Almost Everything to readers who appreciate memoirs that delve into the intricacies of the human experience, especially those navigating grief or seeking solace in shared stories of resilience. McNally’s candid revelations and the warmth of his family ties provide a comforting reminder that amid chaos and regret, there is growth and understanding.
Ultimately, this memoir left an imprint on me, illustrating how, despite the weight of our past, we can find light and connection in the world around us. Keith McNally’s journey, complex and compelling, is a testament to the richness of life—both in its struggles and its triumphs.
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