Geraldine Turner, musical theatre star and actor extraordinaire, comments airily, after relating some horrendous early memories: “I love dogs more than people. You know where you are with dogs.” And after devouring this immensely readable memoir, one can understand why.

Turner was born and raised in suburban Brisbane and extreme parental violence. Little Geb learned to endure – and of course to love – a mother who makes Gypsy’s monstrous Mama Rose look like Mother Theresa. Turner’s unflinching recollections of being in the eye of this unending storm of dysfunction is all the more effective for the absence of self-pity. As she notes much further on when offered a role of stupendous difficulty: “‘I can do that,’ I say, without really thinking. If I did, I’d throw up.” True.

Turner’s Turn is actually many turns, personal and professional, that make a life and career which encompasses the growth from ho-hum to greatness that is contemporary Australian showbiz.

Her references range from Cyd Charisse and Yvonne de Carlo to “Steve”, who is Sondheim, and “Hal” who is – well, there’s only ever...