This was great! His descriptions of other SF giants was especially interesting as well hearing how SF changed over the years. ( )

A book written by a guy who loves to write, talk and give speeches. Sure he loves to toot his own and I loved every page. Great book if you are a fan of his works. ( )

I thoroughly enjoyed Asimov's remembrances of his life and science and writing. He is beyond intelligent, so witty and it was a pleasure to experience his life. ( )

Asimov, Isaac. I, Asimov. Doubleday, 1994.
I, Asimov, an almost 600-page memoir, written when his health was failing and published after his death, won Isaac Asimov his final Hugo. It was his third published autobiography. It gives the reader a good feeling for what it must have been like to know him—at least a bit. His assessment of his own talent seems about right—that he was a writer who would always be known more for the quantity and variety of his work rather than for the quality of any single creation. He wrote obsessively. The book count mattered to him, and in the end he had more than 400 original book-length titles to his name. He never agreed with critics and readers about which were his best stories. Though he eventually became a tenured full professor at Boston University, he was never much interested in research and was best known for his lively lectures. He was much in demand as a public speaker, and he would have done more but for his fear of flying and general unwillingness to travel. He was well known for his sense of humor and adlib limericks to fit any occasion. The memoir tells us quite a lot about his public and professional life. He tells us of many enduring friendships with his competitors and colleagues. There are sketches of famous science fiction writers of his era, from Robert Heinlein to Robert Silverberg, and portraits of his many editors—especially of John Campbell, for whose Astounding magazine he wrote many of his most famous stories, including the bulk of the Foundation series. The memoir tells us much less about his intimate relationships and emotional life. For instance, we know almost nothing about his relationship with his son David, for whom he established a trust fund. Asimov completed the memoir just months before his death. His daughter Robyn provides an epilogue with the bare facts of his final illness and death, though she does not mention that he suffered from AIDS acquired from triple-bypass surgery in the early 1980s. As far as I can tell, there has been no major objective critical biography of his life and work. A book by Michael White seems to have been carelessly researched. Asimov has lately become the target of criticism for his boorish behavior towards women, which he seems to have thought was a loveable aspect of his character. It has been reported that the secretaries in his publisher’s office called him “the man with a hundred hands.” A few years after his death, Asimov’s son was arrested for possessing a large horde of child pornography. Finally, it would be enlightening to know his first wife’s side of the story of their failed marriage. Someone also needs to do a major critical assessment of his novels. Until these holes are filled, I Asimov will have to do. 4 stars. ( )

This is the third volume of autobiography produced by the great SF writer and scientist, a more thematic and distilled version of a two volume autobiography he had produced some ten years previously. It is very long, over 500 pages, divided into some 166 very short chapters, each dealing with a theme or a significant person in his life. For the most part, this style worked for me, though occasionally it felt a bit bitty. I only discovered Asimov's SF in 1987 and spent the next few years devouring them (the Foundation saga, then the empire novels, then the robot novels), with several of them becoming among my all time favourite novels. I was gutted when he was died in early 1992. This autobiography brings across well the vast range of his writing interests, and his desire for a simple and peaceful life, with an antipathy towards travelling. I found his descriptions of his declining years quite difficult to read. While he was 72 when he died, given a few differences, he could have lived longer and given us more great works. ( )