Knock Wood

From insecure dilettante and rebellious Daddy's Girl. . . to serious actress and Mrs. Louis Malle: the less-than-compelling psychological soul-journey of beautiful Candice--enlivened, however, by glamorous trimmings and a humorous, intelligent delivery. First, in a chapter that strains for stylishness (a failing throughout), Bergen recaps the early career of ventriloquist/father Edgar, with his beloved dummy Charlie McCarthy and his late marriage to 19-year-old Southern belie Frances. As a father, Edgar was devoted but remote and demanding; little Candy, growing up in a dreamlike Beverly Hills, worked hard for his approval (word-perfect appearances on his radio show). But ""someone--a Freudian fairy godmother--sits on our shoulders and whispers that fathers can't be Mr. Right. Sorry, you have the wrong number."" So Candy, blooming into gorgeousness at 13, was ripe for sexual confusion--repressing her ""illicit love,"" having a crush on a 36-year-old movie star (who made a disturbingly heavy pass), deflecting the other men (and women) with lecherous intentions. At college she was May Queen, a part-time super-model, a would-be photographer--but a self-conscious flunk-out. (""Beauty may enhance your sense of entitlement, but it does nothing to build your confidence in your ability to rule the realm."") Her amateurish film debut in The Group immediately followed; ""self-absorbed,"" she joined the Beautiful People for a while--soon finding herself at age 21, in the Sixties, ""beyond straight. . . peering at the generation gap like a tourist."" So then came a hush-hush affair with hippie-ish Terry Melcher (son of Doris Day), Carnal Knowledge, and a long relationship with a counter-cultural film-producer--who introduced the impressionable Candy to Huey Newton, Joan Baez, Baba Ram Dass, Esalen, Rolfing, Abbie Hoffman, and psychedelic drugs: ""Who better than Robin for a girl schooled so literally in manipulative relationships? Wasn't he a ventriloquist in kind?"" (His real name wasn't ""Robin""; Bergen is coy about names throughout.) And, nearing 30, Bergen vowed to find ""the self I had already lost""--facing up to her Father complex, studying acting. . . and eventually finding grownup love with filmmaker Malle. This is no Hay wire, then: it lacks the inherent drama, textured portraits, and depth of the standout growing-up-Hollywood memoirs. But, when not reaching awkwardly for prose-effects, Bergen writes amusingly (about co-stars) and tenderly--about her family, with a touching sketch of Edgar's last bow. And many readers, of course, will be attracted to the Beauty-Is-Only-Skin-Deep drift of Candy's sad/glad story.