With all the LauraPalooza hullaballoo this summer, we’ve been remiss in getting around to the THIRD Little House on the Prairie cast member autobiography to be published recently, following Melissa Gilbert’s Prairie Tale and Melissa Anderson’s The Way I See It. But by now you’re no doubt well aware of the existence of this latest book, Alison Arngrim’s Confessions of a Prairie Bitch, which came out in June and received an impressive amount of media attention, including appearances on The Today Show and FOX News. In other words, you probably don’t need us to tell you about the memoir by that lady who played Nellie Oleson.
But we will anyway, because Confessions of a Prairie Bitch is GREAT.
Saturday morning my phone rang and it was Beyond Little House contributor Sandra Hume calling to say she’d just finished reading it and loved it, too, so it seemed it was high time to post a review.
Like the LHOP cast memoirs before it, I first started reading Confessions with that tiny, tentative optimism that always accompanies a celebrity’s book effort: you hope at least that it won’t be awkward witnessing this famous person try to get the hang of the whole writing-a-book thing. Of the two previous books, for instance, I found myself quietly abandoning one of the Melissas while she went on and on about Season Three. Ah, well, these things happen.
With Confessions, though, there’s no need to manage expectations. Alison Arngrim is a natural storyteller, and an extremely funny one at that. Growing up at the Chateau Marmont with her teen idol brother, her mother who played the voice of Sweet Polly Purebread, and her father, Liberace’s manager, Arngrim had one of the freakiest Hollywood childhoods around, and she clearly delights in recounting the weirdness. Yet for all the hilarity she’s also able to write an understated but powerful account of her years of unreported abuse—a disturbing story that takes place long before her LHOP audition—and later, describe the loss of her close friend (and TV husband) Steve Tracy.
But the most remarkable strength of the book is what Arngrim has to share besides her personal misfortunes: from the start she makes it clear that being cast as Nellie Oleson saved her life. Not only did her screaming-tantrum performances give her an outlet for her anger, but she quickly found that playing a deeply-hated character on a popular television show required her to develop a thick skin and a stronger sense of self. (It took only one disastrous publicity appearance for Arngrim to realize that she could never wear her Nellie costume in public, because, she said, “It was simply too dangerous. It incited people.” You think she’s kidding? Read the book.)
No doubt some actors have to pretend that their most famous role is as important to them as it is to fans, but in Arngrim’s case, it’s the honest truth. Our world loves to constantly recycle the pop culture past and put old personalities on reality shows for no good reason, but Confessions will convince you that there’s really something to be learned from the return of Nellie Oleson—that bringing her back, sausage curls and all, isn’t just nostalgic but redemptive. My only complaint about the book is that it’s so squarely aimed at adult readers, because there’s plenty that teen girls can take away from Arngrim’s story.
Then again, it’s adults who really know the TV series, and Confessions of a Prairie Bitch handily delivers in that regard, too. If you thought you knew everything about the goings-on at LHOP’s Simi Valley set from the Melissas’ books, think again: you find out what Michael Landon wore (or, uh, didn’t wear) under his trousers, what it was like to film the infamous wheelchair-rolling-down the hill scene, and “what’s wrong with Baby Carrie” (and why she fell down in the opening credits). In the hands of another writer all this might have seemed merely dishy, but Arngrim manages to make her unvarnished portrayal of the LHOP cast and crew an affectionate one. In the post-LHOP chapters she describes her developing activism and her decision to go public with her abuse story for the sake of The National Association to Protect Children, and gives a hilariously surreal account of her first visit to France, which has long hailed her as a cult icon. (When you read it you’ll forgive her for not being able to show up at LauraPalooza due to a scheduling conflict with a gig at a French monster truck rally. Yes, they have those there.)
I know, I’m going on and on. So should you read yet another LHOP actress bio? Do you really want to climb that haystack again? In the case of Confessions of a Prairie Bitch, yes. Yes, you do.
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