The Book of Sheen: A Memoir

“It’s the reason Dad has a focus and a drive that can’t be taught.”

While Charlie has followed in his father’s footsteps as an actor, he lacks his father’s life experiences. Martin Sheen was able to traverse the difficulties and temptations of his Hollywood experiences, but Charlie struggles with that same journey. When he suggests that his father has something “that can’t be taught” (13), he forgives himself for not being able to balance the pressures of celebrity and fame the way his father can.

“Before Dad had a chance to speak to his pop after the show, Francisco spotted a poster in the lobby with Dad’s fancy new American name. He left the theater without saying a word.”

After Martin Sheen changes his name because it will increase his chances of getting cast, he feels the tension between honoring his heritage and pursuing his career. Later, when Charlie also adopts the Sheen stage name, he notes how his father made the shift easier for him. Martin’s experiences imbue him with empathy for his son’s struggles, as his relationship with his own father was permanently damaged by this decision.

“Why now can’t I wrap speech around a basic word, a simple sound?”

Sheen’s stutter is a source of frustration, but unlike in later situations, in which he is able to explain the root causes for his actions, he can’t understand the source of his stutter or predict its appearance. The narrative draws a parallel between his stutter and his addictions, noting how he is similarly unable to get to the root of his behavior.

“The very first Super 8 film camera I got my hands on was a silent Movexoom 2000 during our time in Ireland in the spring of 1972.”

Throughout the book, Sheen laments his poor choice of roles, acknowledging that many of his projects were chosen for the paycheck rather than any artistic ambition. Yet, in this passage, he reveals a sincere love for film and filmmaking, evident even in his childhood. He is sincerely interested in the creative process, and he loves movies, highlighting his loss of creative energy as a result of his addictions.

“The Spaghetti Western lakeside lunch was the only quality time I shared with Brando during his time in the Philippines.”

Sheen’s story about Marlon Brandon provides an insight into the unconventional nature of his childhood. He grew up surrounded by the glitz and glamor of the film industry, so he was acclimated to celebrity at a young age. This context becomes important as the narrative continues and Charlie’s life unfolds in front of the media.

“When I wasn’t making a Super 8 or hoping that one of the cute girls thought I was rad, I was playing as much baseball as possible.”

Sheen loves baseball, but whereas the circumstances of his childhood granted him easy access to film and filmmaking, the programs on offer at his local schools meant that he was denied the opportunity to indulge his love for baseball in the same way. Throughout the narrative, Sheen returns to baseball to reconnect with his core identity through a beloved childhood pastime. His list of what he was preoccupied with—film, girls, and baseball—reminds his reader that although he grew up around celebrity, he was also a typical child.

“It was a much smoother father-son, Estevez-to-Sheen morph than the one Dad had suffered with his old man. I told him how important it was to honor him by carrying the name forward.”

For Martin Sheen, the decision to use a stage name was difficult. He needed to balance practicality and pragmatism with his sense of responsibility to his family and his heritage. For Charlie Sheen, the “smoother” process is made easier both by his father’s empathy for the decision and the fact that, by taking the name Sheen, he will be carrying his father’s legacy forward.

“That went on for about a month until we dropped the birth control ball, and Paula clocked back in as a plus-one.”

Sheen’s distinctive, flippant style of narration is a defense mechanism. As he describes the birth of his first child, for instance, he cloaks the reality and the seriousness of the moment in frivolous narrative flourishes. His first child is a “plus-one,” while her conception is framed as dropping the “birth control ball.” This narrative style allows Sheen to skate across the top of the situation without interrogating the actual, consequential ramifications of his actions. Even in his prose style, he prefers to joke rather than to take responsibility.

“As the characters in the story grew weary and emotionally shattered, the actors did as well.”

Charlie Sheen presents Platoon is presented by as the artistic peak of his career. His acting wins plaudits but leaves a mark on him. His character is “emotionally shattered,” as Charlie is by the acting process, creating a situation in which his greatest acclaim is born from a moment of emotional distress. Subconsciously, Sheen links the destructive and difficult shoot with praise, associating artistic achievement with distress.

“A few weeks after we called it quits, I took hot-tub Lisa to see Platoon on a Friday night in Westwood with a packed house.”

After breaking up with the mother of his first child, Sheen quickly rebounds by taking his next romantic interest to the cinema, although the nickname “hot-tub Lisa” highlights his superficial attraction to her. Though they are nominally viewing his film, Sheen seems more interested in the crowds. The quality of the performance is measured through feedback and praise; he is basking in the adoration and thrilled by the acclaim.

“I did seven films in the two years following Wall Street.”

After receiving plaudits for his performance in Platoon, Sheen becomes self-conscious about his talent. He does not believe that he was good in Wall Street, yet many people compliment him, leading him to doubt the sincerity of their praise. He responds by taking less ambitious roles in exchange for a good paycheck and less emotional duress, disconnecting from his love of film because of not wanting to live up to his ideals. Sheen discovers that he can maintain his celebrity lifestyle without having to make himself vulnerable (as he did on Platoon) by taking roles that he considers to be beneath him, unchallenging, and unimportant.

“I didn’t have an answer for him.”

At a rehab facility, Sheen is asked why he is trying to “kill [himself]” with his addictions. He has no answer, yet the framing of his response turns his lack of answer into a punchline that ends the chapter. In the next chapter, the question is forgotten during a brief period of sobriety. This pattern is repeated as he cycles through addiction and sobriety until he refocuses, at the end of the narrative, on family and simple living.

“Maybe I blurred the lines, maybe the lines blurred me. I was having way too much fukken fun to carve out any time for soppy reflection.”

Sheen’s account of addiction is also the account of a search for identity. As he looks back, he adopts language that reflects his past attitude, while his narrative tone denotes sarcasm that pushes back on those past rationalizations for his behavior. There is also a note of irony in these asides, as what his past self saw as “soppy reflection” is exactly what he is presently engaged in to commit to his sobriety.

“I kept it together during my ceremonial duties but drank way too much and crossed over into full-spectacle toward the end of the reception.”

Sheen’s addictions cause problems at his own wedding, illustrating the extent to which addiction dominates his life at that point. His description of himself as “full-spectacle” highlights his current self-awareness and the frankness with which he assesses his past behavior.

“Believe it or not, the relief I felt from being asked instead of told made a huge difference.”

Sheen praises Brett Ratner for asking him—rather than telling him—to moderate his drug use, lest they not be able to finish filming. His story emphasizes the need for empathy in addressing addiction. In a broader sense, however, the story also reveals how the movie industry is willing to tolerate addiction so long as it does not endanger profits or production.

“The fake stories got so ugly, there was no point in defending myself with the facts.”

The accusations of domestic abuse against Sheen are among the most serious he faces during his career. From his perspective, however, the entire incident is a misunderstanding. Sheen does not delve into the supposed “facts,” deciding not to engage with the media. As a narrator, he is aware of how this particular moment from his past makes him less sympathetic, but his decision not to divulge the facts is implied to be a protective gesture for him and his loved ones.

“The final booze hurrah at my home didn’t really pan out how I envisioned.”

Whenever Sheen is told to attend rehab, whether by the courts, his friends, or his family, he is insistent that he must deal with his addiction on his own terms. He does not believe that conventional methods will work for him, so he never commits entirely to the addiction programs. Yet his own self-conceived remedies rarely work either and often, as in this case, become another excuse to keep abusing alcohol and drugs.

“Okay, here’s the deal—I’m the missing piece in the Jeff puzzle, so please spare all the other folks the suspicion and hassle of the drug test.”

Sheen’s reliability as a narrator can be judged on the way in which he frames the conversation in the doctor’s office. He confesses to bringing drugs into a rehab facility and asks that, since he has confessed, the other patients be spared investigation and punishment. As in other examples throughout the book, Sheen’s deeper identity, beyond the behavior fueled by addiction, is demonstrated to be characteristically caring and even protective.

“As uncomfortable as it felt to expose that part of myself, it was equally as liberating.”

Sheen spends years fearing that his stutter might make him unemployable in Hollywood; he tracks the roots of his alcohol addiction to his efforts to treat his stutter with alcohol. On the set of Spin City, for the first time, he decides to be open about his stutter and confides his fears to the cast and crew. Their acceptance and adaptation not only lead to a burgeoning creative relationship but also allow Sheen to rehabilitate himself in the public’s eye. After a lifetime spent self-medicating his stutter, he learns that openness and vulnerability can offer a different path.

“We announced our engagement, and the town gave us a standing O.”

Sheen’s marriage to Denise Richards comes at a moment of professional and personal success. Having reformed his reputation through his acting on Spin City, Sheen believes that he has his addictions under control. The marriage is a culmination of this positive press, and Sheen speaks about it in those terms, describing the media’s reaction as though it were a performance.

“Fire up the blimp: one down, and twenty cities to go.”

The public speaking tour generates income for Sheen at a difficult time, but rather than being lauded for his acting or being revered as a celebrity, he is treated like a curiosity. The show is not good, and the audience boos, meaning that Sheen must stand on stage every night and receive the opposite of the adoration and plaudits he once craved.

“The longer I loitered in their halls the more they started seeing me as a fulltime guinea pig for the cause.”

After his public announcement of his HIV status, Sheen is credited with bringing attention to the serious matter. Yet he is wary of becoming a “guinea pig for the cause,” allowing organizations to capitalize on his celebrity and turn him into a different kind of spectacle. This passage highlights Sheen’s continuing trajectory toward stepping out of the limelight in order to take care of his needs and address his addiction.

“It was actually satisfying to give my parents the comfort of knowing (for those few short hours) that I wasn’t toe-tagged in a morgue.”

Near the end of the book, Sheen feels in danger of being swallowed up by his addiction. Told in his half-joking way, with casual diction like “toe-tagged,” he still addresses the seriousness of his parents’ fears with a blunt assessment that addresses their worry that someday he will die from his addictions. This desire to be able to offer something more becomes an important foundation of his desire to deal with his addictions.