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The Art of Men (I Prefer Mine al Dente)

The Art of Men (I Prefer Mine al Dente)

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John Travolta.

Parker Stevenson.

Ted Danson.

Maksim Chmerkovskiy.

Kelsey Grammer.

Patrick Swayze.

Woody Allen.

Woody Harrelson.

And many others. . . . In three decades in Hollywood, Kirstie Alley has lived with, worked with, loved, or lost all of these men, and in this revealing memoir, she peels back the layers (and sometimes the sheets) on her relationships with all of them.

From the early days of her childhood in Wichita, Kansas, surrounded by her loving father, her inquisitive and doting grandfather, and a younger brother she fiercely protected when she wasn’t selling tickets to see him naked, Kirstie Alley’s life has been shaped and molded by men. “Men, men, glorious men!” gave her her first big break in Hollywood and her awardwinning role on Cheers, and through two marriages, a debilitating cocaine addiction, the death of her mother, roles in some of the biggest comedies of the last twenty years, and a surprising stint on Dancing with the Stars, men proved to be the inspiration for multitudes of the decisions and dramas in Kirstie Alley’s life.

In this collection of linked essays that’s both hilarious and poignant in turns, Kirstie chronicles all the good, the bad, and the ugly men who have influenced and guided her. She demonstrates how men can be the air that women breathe or the source of all of their frustrations. But for better or worse, Kirstie shows that a life well lived is a life lived in the company of men, especially if they

remember to put the lid down. The Art of Men (I Prefer Mine al Dente) is a hilarious excursion into love, joy, motherhood, loss, sex, and self-discovery from one of Hollywood’s most enduring stars.
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  • Atria Books | 
  • 320 pages | 
  • ISBN 9781451673609 | 
  • November 2012
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Read an Excerpt

I like children. If they’re properly cooked.

—W. C. FIELDS

The Art of
“Retarded” Young Men


MIDWAY THROUGH filming Look Who’s Talking Too with John Travolta, we were night shooting in an airport in Vancouver; it was about 2:00 a.m., and it was freezing. I couldn’t wait to wrap and get back to my cozy hotel room. Turns out I was one month pregnant, and it was really hard to stay awake. I recall being so tired that if I’d fallen into the gutter and a Nazi put a Luger to my head and threatened to blow my brains out if I didn’t rise—I would have told him to pull... see more

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