Quick Take
- Narration: Betsy Struxness handles the emotional range of this memoir with skill, capturing both the exhilaration of Broadway and the grief of the AIDS crisis without tipping into sentimentality.
- Themes: Broadway ambition, the AIDS epidemic, chosen family and loss
- Mood: Moving and ultimately hopeful, with stretches of genuine heartbreak
- Verdict: A memoir that earns its emotional stakes by being precise about its time and place.
I was halfway through a Tuesday evening walk when Christine Barker's account of her brother Laughlin's relationship with Perry Ellis stopped me in my tracks. Not because it was dramatic in a manufactured way, but because it was exact: the names, the places, the texture of a particular New York in a particular decade. That precision is what separates Third Girl from the Left from other AIDS-era memoirs I have read or listened to. Barker was there. She is writing from inside experience, not reconstructing it from a distance.
Betsy Struxness narrates the nine hours and seventeen minutes with steady emotional intelligence. She never overplays the tragedy and never underplays the joy of the earlier chapters, when Barker is a young woman from a military family chasing an improbable dream and, by a remarkable stroke of fortune, landing in the London cast of A Chorus Line. The shift in register between those early chapters and the later ones is significant, and Struxness manages it without forcing the transition.
Our Take on Third Girl from the Left
Barker structures her memoir in two registers that gradually converge. The first is the story of her own ascent: the discipline of a dancer's life, the culture shock of London and then New York, the intoxicating creativity of the theater world in the 1970s. The second is the story of her brother Laughlin, who follows her to the city and falls in love with Perry Ellis at the height of Ellis's fame. When the AIDS epidemic arrives, these two registers collapse into one, and the memoir becomes something harder and more essential. Barker does not look away from the toll the epidemic took on Broadway's theater community. She names people. She accounts for what was lost. That accounting is both painful and necessary, and it distinguishes the book from memoirs that treat the crisis as backdrop rather than as the central fact it was for everyone in that world.
Why Listen to Third Girl from the Left
NPR's Mara Liasson called this a beautifully written memoir and described it as remarkably hopeful, which is an accurate summary that might mislead listeners who expect lightness throughout. The hope in this book is hard-won. It arrives after grief, not instead of it. Reviewers have noted that the writing occasionally stumbles, that some passages feel clunkier than the emotional material deserves. That is a fair criticism. But those stretches are outweighed by the passages where Barker is writing at her best: direct, specific, and clear-eyed about a world that no longer exists in quite that form. One reviewer, an admitted lover of all things theater, called it a jewel of a book despite those moments of clunky prose.
What to Watch For in Third Girl from the Left
The Perry Ellis sections are the most historically distinctive portions of the memoir. Barker had direct access to that relationship through her brother, and she writes about Ellis with the kind of intimate detail that biographical accounts often lack. Listeners who come primarily for the Broadway backstage material will find plenty of it in the first half, but the book's real weight is in what comes later. One reviewer noted that the book is ultimately uplifting and even entertaining despite the horrors of that period. I would echo that: it does not end on despair, but it earns its resolution honestly, without shortcuts or sentimentality.
Who Should Listen to Third Girl from the Left
This memoir will resonate most strongly with listeners drawn to theater history, LGBTQ history, and the AIDS crisis as lived experience rather than historical summary. It is also a strong choice for anyone interested in what it meant to be a woman pursuing a performance career in that particular era, navigating a world that was creatively extraordinary and personally devastating in equal measure. One reviewer found it uncomfortable and too focused on depressing events; that reaction is honest, and listeners who are sensitive to grief and illness should know what they are entering. For those willing to go there, Struxness's narration provides a steady and humane guide through difficult material.
Frequently Asked Questions
How much of this memoir focuses on Perry Ellis specifically?
Ellis appears prominently but is not the central subject. The memoir is Barker's own story first, and her brother Laughlin's relationship with Ellis is one important thread within a broader account of that era in New York.
Is this audiobook suitable for listeners who are not familiar with Broadway or theater?
Yes. The theater context enriches the story but is not required knowledge. The emotional core of the memoir, which is about family, love, and loss during the AIDS epidemic, is universal.
How does Betsy Struxness handle the transitions between the joyful early chapters and the grief-heavy later sections?
With considerable skill. She does not try to signal emotional shifts with vocal theatrics. The transitions feel earned and natural, which is the right approach for material this emotionally varied.
Is A Chorus Line a significant part of the memoir or just the inciting event?
It is the inciting event that opens Barker's world. The memoir does not dwell on the show itself so much as use it as the door through which everything else enters: London, New York, the theater community, and ultimately her brother's story.
