According to its author, A. Scott Berg, Kate Remembered cannot be like his other books, which are "a collection of objectively told stories of great American cultural figures of the twentieth century," because Berg is "quite frankly incapable of writing about her (Katherine Hepburn) objectively." The obstruction to his otherwise habitual objectivity is caused, Berg explains, by his belief that "Katherine Hepburn established the greatest acting career of the twentieth century," and also because "Katherine Hepburn was a close friend of mine for two decades."
    Considering the elusive quality of objectivity under any circumstances, one wonders what there is about not admiring someone, and not being their friend for two decades, which would make a claim of objectivity more plausible. In any case what does Berg’s pronouncement of self bias really amount to. Berg repeatedly establishes that Hepburn was "different from other movie stars," the transition from her screen and private personas more fluid, her greatness more founded on her actual character, and so forth. As no one who doesn’t think Katherine Hepburn was a great actress and an alluring person is likely to read a book about her, Berg is on solid ground here.
    Given that Hepburn is the person everyone wants to be close to, and that Berg was close to her, his profession of bias can be seen as a profession of his own personal value. Hepburn liked people who were fun, witty, and interesting. Surely Berg must be all these things. Many of us never had the opportunity to win Hepburn’s regard and intimate acquaintance, but even if we had had the opportunity we should likely have squandered it. Not only that, but Berg’s acquaintance with Hepburn was sought after and achieved, rather than fortuitous, and so those of us who made no effort to be Hepburn’s companion cannot blame fate or the lack of opportunity, its our own fault.
    No one can doubt that Berg cared deeply for Hepburn, nor that he admired her work, nor that he admired her personally. Berg’s acquaintance with Hepburn, begun around a magazine portrait of Hepburn by Berg, becoming a long term biographical relationship, was founded in the genuine affection and genuine vanity of both parties. Genuine affection is always an amiable quality, and such genuineness and amiability as Kate Remembered possesses may be confidently attributed to Hepburn and Berg’s friendship. The rest of the book is the beneficiary of their vanity.
    Berg’s contention that "more than my remembrances, this book is intended to convey hers," does not convince. The book, lacking animation and force, is stolidly self aware. This state of affairs does not result from timidity or lack of self confidence, but rather in the possessiveness he exercises over his own importance as confidant and recorder.
    This sense of dependency and control made virtuous by reciprocity is highlighted by the lack of an index, which forces readers to ride along with Berg, rather than access the book in accordance with their own experience of Hepburn’s life and work. This is unfortunate in that Berg, while a studious arranger of information, is too concerned with masking the awkward juxtaposition of being made subject, medium, and interpreter, to be any fun as a companion himself. Kate Remembered contains a command of information, rather than any insight, it dispenses rather than animates material. It is, in fact, the antithesis of Hepburn herself.
    One doesn’t care that Hepburn, "after showing us for a century how to live...showed us, at last, how to die." One really doesn’t want to know that Berg has deliberate daydreams about meeting Hepburn in a romantic setting when she was "fresh from Bryn Mawr." The soul of candor is not vapid either philosophically or erotically. The soul of candor is personal and intimate, something which Kate Remembered escapes entirely.