Such is John Lithgow’s belief in the power of the spoken word that when his elderly father was ill and in despair, Lithgow offered to read to him. His father chose a story by P.G. Wodehouse, and as Lithgow read, the miracle happened – his father began to laugh. It sounded, writes Lithgow in his new memoir, Drama: An Actor’s Education, “like the engine of an old car, starting up after years of disuse.” To Lithgow’s grateful ears, “It was the most wonderful sound I’d ever heard. And I’m convinced that it was sometime during the telling of that story that my father came back to life.”

“That moment was a gift to both of us,” said Lithgow when we caught up with him during his book-tour. “I was able to do for my dad [theater actor and producer Arthur Lithgow] what he had done for my brother and sister and me. He read aloud to us throughout our childhood, taking us into another world, and making us laugh. I love that process. That’s why I’ve listened to and narrated audiobooks all my adult life.” The prize-winning actor who has starred in such diverse productions as the television series, “3rd Rock from the Sun”; the Broadway hit, “M. Butterfly”; and the film, “The World According to Garp”, has also narrated everything from Dr. Seuss to his own compilation of the work of fifty poets, titled The Poet’s Corner, for which he won an AudioFile Earphone’s Award.

“I love telling stories,” Lithgow says. “Narrating and acting are both forms of story-telling. You are taking people on an imaginary trip, giving them a temporary illusion of an altered reality. It’s always been mysterious to me why we humans need that, but we do. Anything that has an emotional impact, every art – music, painting, theater, books – is a story told.”

His story, Drama, includes a colorful and peripatetic childhood, during which he decided to become a painter in the Norman Rockwell mode. (Alas, no way.) On to his early acting career, including failure as curtain puller for Marcel Marceau, and the triumph of winning a Tony Award for his first Broadway role. Throughout, there is much joy and some heartbreak. Lithgow tells the truth with no waffling.

“I wondered sometimes, ‘should I include this or that?’ But you are either honest or dishonest as a story-teller. I believe that the writing is better if you are honest.” He chuckles. “The truth is that the urge to expose kicks in when you write a memoir. You disclose things you never thought you would reveal. Even my best friends may read this book and say, ‘My God, I never knew this about you!’”

Writing was fun, difficult, rewarding. “Narrating though,” groans Lithgow, “takes so long and is such drudgery.”

But we thought he liked telling stories!

“I do. Telling a story as an actor on stage can be an ecstatic experience. When there’s a spark between you and the audience, you are often as uplifted as the spectators. It may sound strange, but when an actor is stirred by his own performance, it is most gratifying. In the recording booth, however, you’re talking to an unseen audience. To keep yourself alive and engaged and engaging is hard work. Hard and worthwhile.”

He ponders for a moment. “This book was different, though. I found that I loved the experience of speaking in my own voice. Of course, there were passages throughout the book that moved me to tears. And in truth, the whole last chapter was very hard to get through. But, that’s good. When it affects me that much, I hope I can count on it affecting the listener.”

Suddenly, he laughs. Enough of this seriousness. “We are all emotional show-offs, we actors. In this audiobook, I was able to tell my own personal story and be an actor. I can’t wait for you to hear it.”