Mom mom's had "sparks" too. She came through, and so too did you. When I was thirteen in 1977 and saw Star Wars for the first time I thought you were the most intriguging space sista ever, and you still are. You made the double bun into an iconic hair do, and played the Princess Grace of outer space. May the kindest tradewinds of the force prevail in your life. Kindest regards, Love, Klytus.

I wish she were happier and less damaged.

I'm not looking forward to those two dates below Princess Leia's picture.

I have a feeling, that in order to truly appreciate her story, you must either know Ms. Fisher or be bipolar yourself. This is in no way a criticism of her, since I don't know her, or her story, since I haven't read it. But, I am bipolar. And I'm sure that at my bipolar best, I don't make sense to a lot of people and leave many scratching their heads, going "huh?". You see, one thing I have learned about my illness, is that I'm usually nowhere near as funny and clever and bright and all those great things as I think I am when I am riding that manic wave.

Me too. On all counts.

For those of you who don't know what bipolar is like in a first-hand kind of way, imagine this: everything you knew to be true about yourself is, well, not. Not at all.

I hope this book serves to help the general public be a bit more kind about mental illness in general.

I've never read her and, in panning her latest, you made me want to read her.

I knew a guy who had to get ECT fairly regularly to keep him from suicide. After a treatment, he never knew me. Then he would start to remember me. Then he would have to have another treatment.

It takes great courage to have bipolar disorder. Mental illness ain't for sissies.

mental illness is hell. i am so glad that carrie wrote this book to expose part of the hell to others.

i recently finished 40 electroshock treatments. my memory suffered greatly, but it helped my depression quite significantly.

mental illness will always be among us. whether they are family members, celebrities, or street people - it is worth honoring their journeys and their stories.

especially as long as they can still tell them.

A lot of people find mental illness entertaining. I don't get it, personally. It sounds as if Fisher has been writing in an amusing way about mental illness and has finally broken down and written the truth. There is nothing funny about mania. Nothing. It seems fun to the sufferer while it's happening, and manic people sometimes do entertaining things, but the amusement is the kind of amusement that the students in "Carrie" took when they humiliated her at the prom. You may think you're laughing with the victim, not at her, but the victim has no idea what is going on and is on a path of self-destruction. Being amused at it is like laughing at a schizophrenic who is mumbling to himself.

I have nothing but sympathy for Fisher. She's in a hell that few can understand, and she is reaching out to people and failing to connect. I am bipolar, but blessedly the meds work for me (as they do for most bipolar people). No ECT necessary. Thank the powers. No alcoholism (did you know that alcohol can throw a bipolar person's moods out of whack - I rarely drink).The meds I'm on don't scramble my brains - but the first ones they put me on sure as hell did. I could barely remember my name. I live a fairly quiet life, don't drink excessively, don't stay up too late, and have a strong support system. She ... doesn't.

It's NOT wonderful that she thinks that her suicide will be hilarious. It's just flat out tragic. Don't underestimate the pain of what she's experiencing. Don't romanticize mental illness. Don't criticize her for not "pushing aside the craziness" to reveal greater truths. She can't.

Perhaps "Wishful Drinking's" biggest disappointment, for those of us who have long loved Fisher's writing, is the relentless focus on Fisher's "Star Wars" identity, her Hollywood family, her encounters with famous family friends like Cary Grant. Instead of pushing aside the twinkling craziness of her outside life to meaningfully reveal the crazy on the inside, as she has always done so well, Fisher is now gathering all the starry stuff around her for comfort and reassurance about who she is and what she means.

Well, she also wants to sell some books you know. What do you want, a soul searing confession that no one would buy? No, readers do want to know about her crazy Hollywood family, her "Star Wars" identity, etc. And she is graciously, hilariously willing to share that, her take on it all. Why do you treat it as such a sad sad thing?

The Daily Mail had an excerpt about her meeting Cary Grant- her mother thought she was an LSD addict and Carrie funnily writes, "Of course she did what any mother would do-call Cary Grant." It's an extremely funny set piece, but you'd never know it from this review. Rebecca acts as if it were some burden on Fisher to have to tell us about her Hollywood pals- I think Fisher knows she's lucky to have such great material!

This review is trying to make me feel sorry for Carrie Fisher- the sighing, the implication Carrie's exploiting her past and just need to let us know how she feels. This is nonsense. Carrie Fisher doesn't need the pity this review invites. It's a disservice to what an extremely perceptive, funny, literate, wry writer Fisher is.

I saw Carrie Fisher perform "Wishful Thinking" as a one woman stage show this past August. She was entertaining ... the chart to which you alluded of her dysfunctional family was hilariously presented on stage as a "show and tell." On opening night, there was a problem with her microphone and a stagehand whisked her offstage for repairs. Debbie Reynolds was in the audience and as the "dead air" of the empty stage began to accumulate, Mama got up and tap danced a little routine for the audience. They loved it. "Wackadoo" always has a Plan B.