I have always been captivated by memoir as a literary genre. The celebrities will focus on the things that brought them to the point where people would be interested in reading about them. But how much of the “bad stuff “ will they include? After all, you need all the ingredients to come up with the finished recipe.

A number of factors can be involved in the veracity of selecting life events for inclusion. Age can alter recall. So can various substance abuse. Add to that the challenges faced by someone with Alzheimer’s. All of the above could conspire to make the reader wonder if the author is a reliable narrator of his own life.

"Even the title could be a cipher. What does Milch mean? Life is work? Life owns one’s work? Does this expand to the lack of control over one’s destiny, and perhaps an excuse or alibi for what does transpire? It’s hard to say but fascinating to think about."

This is what David Milch, writer/director/producer of such seminal television classics as “Deadwood,” “NYPD Blue” and “Hill Street Blues,” is up against in LIFE’S WORK.

I have long been a great admirer of Milch’s work, with “Deadwood” being on my Mount Rushmore of greatest TV shows. It was famous for its explicit, quasi-Shakespearean dialogue. I even analyzed one particular episode for the “Extra Hot Great” podcast, in which I calculated 1.6 curses per minute. Of course, “Deadwood” was a premium cable show, free from the censorship that constrained his other gritty series. So just for a lark, I went back to “NYPD Blue” and found similarities in the almost Damon Runyon-like writing --- without the blue language, of course, although teetering near the line as much as possible. (Milch’s other HBO projects, including “Luck” and “John from Cincinnati,” did not fare as well and were canceled fairly quickly).

As is often the case, it can be disappointing to learn too much about your heroes. Milch, as even he describes himself, was not a nice guy, but he came by it honestly. He grew up with an abusive father, a doctor who was demanding of his kids to pursue excellence. His father was also an alcoholic who eventually committed suicide. These and other factors undoubtedly had an impact on the man the son would become.

Milch was a hard-living, multi-tiered addict, including drugs, booze and gambling. At one point, he was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder (an owner of thoroughbred horses, he is millions of dollars in debt). He was a brilliant student, the type for which everything seemed to come easily despite a lack of studying or completing assignments. He graduated with honors from Yale, won numerous awards for writing, and hung out with and was admired by the likes of Robert Penn Warren. By any measure, he seems (at least outwardly) to have had a good, productive life that many would appreciate.

But that doesn’t sell books these days.

The non-TV subjects of LIFE’S WORK deal with all these issues. It’s a conversation right out of therapy. It makes me wonder if the book wasn’t some sort of cathartic exercise. Or was it, as many of these things are, a legacy for the family, an explanation, an apology? And, again, given Milch’s situation --- he’s been very open about his dementia in various interviews --- are we obligated to accept everything he offers without question?

Even the title could be a cipher. What does Milch mean? Life is work? Life owns one’s work? Does this expand to the lack of control over one’s destiny, and perhaps an excuse or alibi for what does transpire? It’s hard to say but fascinating to think about.