No one looked like her. No one walked like her. No one talked like her. Sexy yet vulnerable, and unexpectedly talented, she was no ordinary screen goddess. Few really knew her. What others wrote, she called "Lies! Lies! Lies!" Here, at last, is Marilyn Monroe's account, in her own singular voice. It was June 1, 1962, her thirty-sixth birthday. Famed photographer and reporter George Barris had come to see Marilyn on the set of what would be her final, unfinished film. They had met eight years earlier, become friends, and planned to do a picture book and autobiography. Now the time was right. For the next six weeks Barris photographed and interviewed the actress. "Don't believe anything you read about me except this," she told Barris. And so she began to confide the truth about herself. Barris last talked to Marilyn on August 3, less than twenty-four hours before she was found dead in her house. At their last meeting, she was effervescent and eager to embrace life. "I feel...

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