Diane Keaton dedicates her new book Then Again [[Kindle]] to her "city of women" and to two gay men: Her editor/novelist David Ebershoff and her agent/memoirist Bill Clegg. Against the odds, she succeeds in the pastiche of mixing her mother's diary entries with her own recollections and in her collage-style of assembling them in not-quite chronological order. Or, succeeds on her terms. They may not be your terms, if you're looking for prolonged passages about most of her movies, her documentaries, her photography, her famous house flipping, her art collection, her love life, or her experience of being an intelligent women in a sexist industry that prizes mediocrity. Those topics are touched upon rather than dwelt upon because the primary focus here is family, particularly her mother. And yes, Annie Hall is based on her immediate family, the Halls. (Keaton is her mother's maiden name.) Although she deftly skewers Marlon Brando (who passes her once and says only, "Nice tits,") the book might well carry a disclaimer reading "No Bridges Were Burnt In the Making of This Memoir." After forty years in a ruthless business, she has no bad thoughts about anyone living. Despite its lacking the level of candor and honesty about Hollywood that I wanted, I was gripped enough to read it in one night.