Joan Rivers has a helluva memoir. Hundreds of pages detailing the brutal struggle she went through to finally make it to her Johnny Carson appearance which unlocked the doors to success. I didn’t realize that she was a chum of Treva Silverman, the hilarious writer for most of the Mary Tyler Moore shows that I actually enjoyed. No one believed in Joan’s talent but herself for many gripping, penny-pinching years, but as soon as she made it, everyone agreed that they had seen it in her and had supported her. Also amusing was the back & forth comment war in the margins from previous library patrons, wherein one tried to name drop how he knew various celebrities and another pencil commenter furiously scribbled a diatribe against the original comment. Gold.