whatever autobiography you read i guarantee you will never read a more depraved and honest an account as kinski writes in this brutal document of his life. starting as a street urchin in war ravaged poland he describes the awful poverty he was born into, the terrible situation goes from bad to worse as he is sucked into the german army and straight into an english prison, then back on the streets as a cafe performance artiste and eventually the stage and cinema. the rising star takes on any role he can get if it pays, he spills the beans on everyone he works with, and it's messy, his descriptions of himself gleam with the visceral acts of a surgeons examination, his passion and art are the only things that remain true to him as his romances and relationships disintegrate, and the burden of responsibility weighs down upon his soul. his sexual addictions make up most of the book, and as a reader you question if such a life is fiction but he is relentless and graphic. women are treated with such abandon yet his passion is driven by a kind of super charged distorted love, obsessively destroying marriages and professional relationships. 
and in all the horror comes the troubled tale of a man dealing with the glamour of his profession, with the knowledge that it is mostly bullshit, except for his talent as a remarkable actor. 
the descriptions of his work with herzog are brilliant and shocking as he pours scorn and insults upon the director, yet he makes five remarkable films with him, two are made in the deep amazon which kinski has a deep respect and affinity for.
the accounts are well written, funny and tragic and like him or loathe him you have to remark that the man is incredibly talented and tortured by fate for it. the descriptions of being incarcerated in an asylum are stunning, just as a piece of observational writing.