Autobiography

Dec 03, 2013 Clint rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: 2013

Morrissey is the most infuriating, arrogant, self-pitying drama queen you will ever come across, and he rules so hard. This book is a train wreck, it has no organization (no chapters!), the first paragraph is about ten pages long, there are tons of references to his own songs, tons of hokey alliteration, his command of Mexican-American slang is just pitiful, he suddenly, and frequently goes off on tangents totally unrelated to what he's talking about at any certain point (like, for example, he'l ...more

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Dec 17, 2013 Andrew Schirmer rated it 4 of 5 stars

Shelves: biography , music

Oh, it was a good read, good read
It was a good read, good read
It was a good read, good read
Oh-oh,
It was a good read, good read
It was a good read, good read
Oh, it was a good read, good read
Oh oh oh oh o
Oh, it was a good read
It was a good read
Oh, a good read
Oh, it was a good read
Good read, good read
Oh
It was a good read...

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Nov 07, 2013 karen marked it as in-the-pipeline

a conversation i just had with morrissey:

k -

gak!! someone just got me this book all the way from england, and i really really really want to read it immediately, but i have so freaking many books i have already promised to read. what am i supposed to do??? when am i going to get a chance to read this?? i am super-anxious and depressed over this, moz!

m -

my love, wherever you are
whatever you are, don't lose faith
i know it's gonna happen
someday, to you

please wait
please wait
oh wait
don't lose fait ...more

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Sep 05, 2015 julio marked it as no

Recommends it for: myself, 20 years ago.

Recommended to julio by: nobody who knows me now.

oh, moz.

description

lol:

"Morrissey, though, didn’t have to attain the chip of being needily undervalued; he was born with it. He tells us he ditched “Steve”, his given name, to be known by his portentous unimoniker because — deep reverential breath here — great classical composers only have one name. Mussorgsky, Mozart, Morrissey.

His most pooterishly embarrassing piece of intellectual social climbing is having this autobiography published by Penguin Classics. Not Modern Classics, you understand, where the a

...more

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Erika Damian wrote: "I must be one of the only people on the planet that could not name even one of his songs ;) I know he sang something about eating meat ...more
Sep 06, 2015 12:09PM

julio that's what I was thinking
Sep 06, 2015 12:26PM

Sep 28, 2015 Jaidee rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: three-stars

3 " oh dear Morrissey" stars

As you read my review, have a listen to one of our most misunderstood geniuses:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhdOQ...

Here is a trivia question:

Which are facts about Morrissey?

a) Morrissey is a musical wonder.
b) Morrissey should have been born nobility but instead was born to a poor Manchester family
c) Morrissey is a whiny drama queen that needs to get over himself.
d) Morrissey is disappointed in everybody that he meets.
e) Jaidee was in love with Morrissey at the age ...more

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Jaidee Elaine wrote: "Wonderful review! I have always loved The Smiths but I don't want to read his book because I just KNOW he will come across as a whiny l ...more
Sep 30, 2015 08:10AM

Susan It is short, at least. Apparently novella length, but it sounded so bad it might be good - if you know what I mean :)
Sep 30, 2015 08:44AM

Nov 14, 2013 Mariel rated it 5 of 5 stars

Recommends it for: the world created me

Recommended to Mariel by: well there must be

Shelves: my-love-life

From nowhere comes the California cobra chords of Run run run by Jo Jo Gunne and Heaven must have sent you by the Elgins- wide variables on an open pitch, all adapting to different listeners- the well and the ill. All of this starts me, and I cannot stop. If I can barely speak (which is true), then I shall surely sing.

The fields run to the edges of the pages, gilted leaves tucked as a mark between to say, to someone (anyone?) this is still happening. Haircuts bob up and down in television seas.

From nowhere comes the California cobra chords of Run run run by Jo Jo Gunne and Heaven must have sent you by the Elgins- wide variables on an open pitch, all adapting to different listeners- the well and the ill. All of this starts me, and I cannot stop. If I can barely speak (which is true), then I shall surely sing.

The fields run to the edges of the pages, gilted leaves tucked as a mark between to say, to someone (anyone?) this is still happening. Haircuts bob up and down in television seas. They are breathed on colors of don't do that. They still say, somewhere. The 1960s Manchester is wide open mouth in front of television baby. Heart in it and breath holding. The poets live in your heart and they say, they say. Everyone is on, tonight. They will have their say. I was moved. Morrissey could speak to me about families inside of tv with tucked in faces, cared about. Where streets hold in that someday they won't be able to say but right now, and right now is forever, his sister is tormented by a gaping chorus of the big bad teachers from Pink Floyd's The Wall. When he writes of the shatters of A.E. Housman, the heart shards not picked up but shadows casted. You could live this way, another. This was the Morrissey book of my dreams when he sings this way. He writes of the price of everything happening this way forever. The feeling I had most of all:

The written word is an attempt at completeness when there is no one impatiently awaiting you in a dimly lit bedroom- awaiting your tales of the day, as the healing hands of someone who knew turn to you and touch you, and you lose yourself so completely in another that you are momentarily delivered from yourself. Whispering across the pillow comes a kind voice that might tell you how to get out of difficulties, from someone who might mercifully detach you from your complications. When there is no matching of lives, and we live on a strict diet of the self, the most intimate bond can be with the words that we write.

He asks if you can live this way and live. Can you have it both ways? asked not as a question but something to come back to every day. I think you can, if you continue to ask.

I loved the way it comes back to life. When it meant everything, still meaning. New York Dolls a secret just for me. No, no, no. David Bowie wouldn't have been better off dead without the EMI America years on the bed-board. Oh, Morrissey. Wait, but that didn't happen. But didn't you always say? So that you never said, now, that you loved Sandie Shaw? I wouldn't be surprised if Autobiography will later be reissued as alliances fall in and out of place. For now he still likes Nancy Sinatra and Michael Stipe. There were some things I never knew (or forgot). Johnny Marr gave him the Moz nickname ("Misery Mozzery"). Once I was told it was the custom to take the first two letters of a name and pair it with the Z for an instant British nickname. At least that was the excuse of a (apparently) friend for saddling me with "Maz". Maz wants answers on that one. At the risk of ruining a carefully cultivated reputation as supremely cool person, I had a lot of "Hey, wait a minute" moments when something I thought I knew about The Smiths or Morrissey history was contradicted. It is a virtue to know a lot about Morrissey. I cry these words to sleep. It is exactly like in Trainspotting when it was (Renton said it wasn't but do we care what he thinks?) a virtue to know a lot about Sean Connery. He was friends (sorta) with the mother of one of the Hindley and Brady victims. I could've sworn pitch forks were brought to door over misunderstandings of their track "Suffer little children". My third eye doesn't see eye to eye with the mother or Morrissey on Hindley's completely illegal extended stay in prison roving sense of justice. The UK "got lucky" that she died when she did. Does anyone want to leave that ugly door open that the infamy of a criminal could keep them in prison indefinitely, if people remember to be mad forever? It terrifies me if the end of sentence could be ignored. They may not have admired Lord Longford for fighting to uphold the law but I sure as hell did. For all that, I loved the Morrissey view on his home. I had the feeling more than anything that he still lived there. It comes up as a voice he wants to listen to because he keeps hearing it that he cannot love who he will, be who he is. Because if you were that way you did not belong. I had the feeling that it never happened because he did it and he lived anyway. It is a curious book that way. I wonder if he could care that much that if you were gay back then you did not belong there.

This is getting away from me. Flash back to waiting for the shows where people could be happy to come on. Some other place to live. I don't know if I ever related to Morrissey more than when it happened again. Telling it when he already expected it to happen is exactly how it feels even more than the first time. He could just stand somewhere and it is go ahead and do it and time stops and at the same time you want to throw yourself away or throw them away. My parents say you are a bad influence. We can't be friends anymore. What are you going to do? It is choose your own adventure of wounds. Yeah, they are right about me. They used to run the streets, young. Somewhere to live as a home. Something happened with his friend's older brother. He wanted something. Morrissey had a nannie who was used up and she had had this final wish. It didn't come true. I loved this when it was still happening. The history wrote itself of music biz stuff didn't send me much anywhere. I don't feel much of anything about if anyone ever had a number one record. Some time ago it became a bit of a tradition when listening to his song "I Like You" (from You are the Quarry) for my sister and I to belt out "Magistraaaaaaaates who spend their liiiiiiives hiding their mistakes! They look at you and I....and envy makes them crrrrrrrrrrry" with a "What the hell does that have to do with anything?" of our own (and, of course, the earlier "lonely high court judges" lyric). I didn't mind it too much because I was expecting there to be a lot of bitching about the court cases brought to Morrissey by former The Smiths band mates. If you love Morrissey too then this won't come off as a backhanded compliment (I hope) to say that Autobiography is every bit the book I was expecting it to be. The hilarious bitchy Morrissey from interviews is Mozzer as much as the voice turned inside your heart and his. Eyes shut and open. If you could live this way by always asking and its falling down every day. All of the kings of hearts put it back together again. Something like that. I can be so happy listening to "Sister I'm a Poet".

Others sang your life
But now is a chance to shine
And have the pleasure of
Saying what you mean
Have the pleasure of
Meaning what you sing
Oh, make no mistake my friend
All of this will end
So sing it now (sing your life)
All the things you loathe
Oh, sing your life
The things that you love
And the things you loathe (sing your life)
Oh, sing oh...
Oh, sing oh...

Who am I kidding? Morrissey could sing on The Smiths tune "Wonderful Woman" that "I do not walk I run" (any pairing of words meant will do) and I know that he could make me believe anything. This means the world to me this voice that means it. I have had in the back of my mind from other Morrissey books that he was making connections. Some thing about the big scary magistrates who he holds responsible for the end of Oscar Wilde. One time I had this feeling that he didn't hold on to his friends as a wish fulfillment of the cold circle around Wilde. I am not all that curious about his life, really, but in the moment of happening forever. The voice in front of your eyes is the details. My feeling was that he doesn't really have one. (I'm not too sure how I feel about that. Sad, I guess, that he sits in front of windows just like I do.) I related to the connections he made in fear of what happens next. When you float home on the musical purchase (I remember everything about days of buying some of those old Cure albums) and there follows a magic of staying up at three in the morning to hear the same song that you just know you will never get enough of. I can be so happy playing "Hairdresser on Fire" and driving on deserted streets of night. Nothing has to come after that because there is held within you someone else. They are happening too. I don't know how to describe that feeling, really. But I love it. I had that feeling of Morrissey that he had that and that was my favorite part of Autobiography. I hoped and hoped for that and the dream came true. (I also loved his youthful trips to the USA to stay with relative Mary. The swampy walkway of frogs. It could have been a moat you had to cross to get to a princess castle only it was a frog covered walkway to murder and horror. Still, seemed a fairy tale even as I'm sure it rather horrible.) (Was Morrissey born a vegetarian? Of course he makes it appear this way.) I loved this book even though a lot of it was boring. Yeah, a lot of it was damned boring. That hardly matters. Even when he was annoying he made me laugh. He probably lied a lot or talked about stuff that didn't matter but does that matter if the voice speaks to you? I wish he wrote novels. I would read his book if he wrote about Manchester. I'd listen to him forever.
...more

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Dec 03, 2013 Daniel rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: 2013

"Whatever is sung is the case."

The first hundred or so pages of Autobiography are poetry of a kind and Morrissey is at his captivating best when setting the scenes of his youth, or when pouring over the beauty in the art of others; they read as the greatest of (once) unpublished reviews. Particularly affecting is his recounting of loss and death. Those who own part of his heart falling to time and chance, and his expressed pain moved me in a way unexpected of so few words (but, like a poet, isn "Whatever is sung is the case."

The first hundred or so pages of Autobiography are poetry of a kind and Morrissey is at his captivating best when setting the scenes of his youth, or when pouring over the beauty in the art of others; they read as the greatest of (once) unpublished reviews. Particularly affecting is his recounting of loss and death. Those who own part of his heart falling to time and chance, and his expressed pain moved me in a way unexpected of so few words (but, like a poet, isn't that his art-form?).

The High Court garners fifty pages of written attention. For a moment in time which saw him on the fuzzy end of judicial verbal castigation (and in the public domain no less), and to have his future income slashed and the achievements of both he and Marr shared equally among session-like contributors must have proved particularly difficult. It's somewhat surprising he can stop at fifty pages. You wanted him to talk about The Smiths? This is what he thinks of The Smiths. Achievements now tainted. Achievements withered down into the sludge of a court case.

I liked the vitriol he employed when describing other participants in his life. Those participants who stomped upon his wrong side. It's funny. It's also cruel, true. Almost vile. But funny. I've read very few experiences of laughter by those who have read this book. I can't have been the only one. Morrissey doesn't debase himself at any time, but humility is touched upon, flirted with, if only briefly. To be more precise: if anything, there's a lack of ego, especially as pertains to his work. At best he'll note his favourite tracks and bemoan their eventual chart position, but that's about it. Why Suffer Little Children 's We will haunt you when you laugh | Yes, you could say we're a team doesn't receive mention as the greatest and most haunting of written lyrics is beyond me.

While the book's structure is that of a chapterless beast - almost paragraphless - it does lose some pace in the final stretch. That's not to say its quality falters, but the banality of touring is only defeated by a wonderfully articulated appreciation of his position and experiences (there's a particularly beautiful moment where he describes a blind Brazlian girl being "place[d] gently" upon his stage by a Sao Paulo crowd and she passes him a note that reads: "I cannot see you, but I love you"). To end, there's a Morrissey book - or sections of a book - that I wanted. I wanted a thesis on the creation of melody. Dear reader, I am only human; I wanted the tale of his first wank. His first everything. I wanted the future. His family. His children. His health. His death. What I got, however, was everything he felt important. This suffices. I can only judge what he has presented us with. Its "Classic" status is all posture and theatre, but it is a sensational read nonetheless.

If like me you want more of his soul to fawn over then there's always the music: "This microphone is my headstone." ...more

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Dec 11, 2013 Arhondi rated it 2 of 5 stars

I would never think that I would rate a book written by my teenage idol, Morrissey, with just 2 stars, but it's true. He clearly does know how to write a sentence and his vocabulary is more than fancy and surely enough, can put a lot of English people digging up their dictionaries. He does know his British culture. However, his self absorbed side gets the best of him. That being said, I take it only as an aspect of his well crafted persona, that he has struggled to create since he was a young bo ...more

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Apr 07, 2014 Michaela rated it 3 of 5 stars

STOP PRESS: MORRISSEY IS A CANTANKEROUS OLD GRUMP SHOCKER!
This is not news to anyone. Neither is the fact that he is hilarious, likes (liked?) poetry, or holds a grudge longer than anyone on earth. Yet, from reviews I've read of Autobiography, this appears to be a revelation. Let's face it. You know what you're getting with Morrissey. Of course it's narcissistic (plus it's a flippin' autobiography - who's it going to be about???). The surprise is that the book isn't cohesive. It's a book of two ...more

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Nov 01, 2013 Tosh rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

A great memoir needs a strong character who writes, and Morrissey takes that role to the maximum. Overall each page has a quotable sentence or two, and the way he constructs his sentences is a beauty in form. The narrative is not important but its the way he tells the tale, and that he does very well.

A long-time fan or student of Morrissey will not learn anything new. He does get personal in his own way regarding his love life, which is vague, but one is allowed to connect the dots. There are p A great memoir needs a strong character who writes, and Morrissey takes that role to the maximum. Overall each page has a quotable sentence or two, and the way he constructs his sentences is a beauty in form. The narrative is not important but its the way he tells the tale, and that he does very well.

A long-time fan or student of Morrissey will not learn anything new. He does get personal in his own way regarding his love life, which is vague, but one is allowed to connect the dots. There are people through out his life that is very important to him. In fact he has two sets of individuals that he cares for. The people he knows, and the people he admires, which are mostly film and music icons of sorts. Some are more famous than others, but they're interesting because his admiration for these artists are sort of a clue to what makes Morrissey tick.

Sadly there is no index of names in the book, because his reading and listening taste is very interesting. He's very much a curator of taste, his taste mind you, but I consider that one of highest talents is to both expose these artists, as well as trying to figure how they influenced him. His great admiration for New York Dolls and Sparks makes perfect sense when you hear his music. I think Morrissey learned a lot from those two bands with respect to lyric writing, and also the same for various British poets. Besides his appreciation for French pop music artists, it seems he doesn't make any comments on foreign literature - meaning non-English language books. Except perhaps Pasolini, but I am not sure if that is an appreciation for his films more than his writing.

The only drag in this book is him writing about the trial between him and the drummer of The Smiths. He goes on many pages in detail about this case, which was a major event for him. But I suspect for most readers it is just a case of money disagreement. But even that, he writes with incredible passion, almost over-the-top and its kind of amazing piece of the book in its way. I am going to have to presume that his editor at Penguin probably wanted him to cut this section out ,but I am glad that he stuck to his principal to keep it in. It tells more about his passion, and this book is about passion.

The first part of the book is Charles Dickens circa Manchester 1970's. His description of the sadistic gym teachers are right on the button - because i too suffered from these goons in the 70's (Morrissey and I are roughly around the same age), so I found it fascinating that even in America, had weird sex perverted gym teachers as well. It was an international problem! The way he paints his school years and the early Manchester punk scene is heartfelt and picturesque. You can smell the grayness of the landscape off the pages. Also his commentary on various people are hysterical and sometimes mean - but it is like having Noel Coward tearing into someone. Morrissey has a sharp tongue that brings out even sharper words to the page.

Overall the book could have used a tighter editor, but in the end of the day (or night) this is a fantastic book that i think will please the Morrissey fans, as well as anyone wanting to read about the music scene of the era of The Smiths and solo Morrissey. ...more

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Jan 24, 2015 MJ Nicholls rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: bifographies , sassysassenachs , tortured-artists , non-fiction

A late-bloomer Smiths fan, more obsessed with heirs Belle & Sebastian, still teenage enough for the songs to resonate, mature enough for them not to mean the whole world. And then a later-blooming solo-Moz fan, immature enough for the songs to resonate, mature enough to recognise a fading in artistry. The autobio is another stellar achievement in which scores are settled, scabs are picked and re-swabbed, revenge and forgiveness are dispensed where appropriate, the Smiths court case is depict ...more

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Jan 05, 2014 Paul Gleason rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Dear reader, I hated it. I hated with Morrissey's Autobiography with a passion. It exists in inverse proportion to the way I feel about The Smiths' music, with I love with all my heart, body, and soul.

Indeed, Morrissey is nothing without Marr. As I read Autobiography, I kept waiting for the chords of "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" to bring the words to life. Alas, I waited in vain, just like Mick Jones' train.

First off, any Morrissey and/or Smiths fan knows of the singer's admiration for Dear reader, I hated it. I hated with Morrissey's Autobiography with a passion. It exists in inverse proportion to the way I feel about The Smiths' music, with I love with all my heart, body, and soul.

Indeed, Morrissey is nothing without Marr. As I read Autobiography, I kept waiting for the chords of "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" to bring the words to life. Alas, I waited in vain, just like Mick Jones' train.

First off, any Morrissey and/or Smiths fan knows of the singer's admiration for Oscar Wilde. It's too bad that his prose reads like a watered-down version of The Picture of Dorian Gray. This prose isn't purple; it's pastel. Morrissey doesn't seem to realize that solid sentences don't survive on alliteration and unexpected adjectives and nouns. The sentences read like the index cards that flew out of Nabokov's window when he was on his famous American road trip, collecting butterflies and writing one of the world's greatest novels, as his wife Vera steered their car of literary greatness.

A warrant: the opening pages are stunners. The prose poems on Morrissey's youth in Manchester (and, especially, the way he translates popular culture into Proustian nuggets of memories of things past) are a treasure.

What follows is not treasure but words that should never have achieved the actuation of keystrokes. Moz spends an inordinate amount of time and number of pages on the Mike Joyce case - more pages that he spends discussing The Smiths' career or the composition of his lyrics!

Why doesn't he provide insight into his working methods with Johnny Marr (well, we know why)? Why doesn't he say anything important or fresh about the Manchester music scene in the 1980s and 1990s?

It's as if Morrissey's above it all. Autobiography makes him come off as a second-rate hack of a novelist, a self-important and self-indulgent prig whose self-obsession is only matched by the brilliant lyrics he wrote for The Smiths.

Here's hoping that we receive a Johnny Marr autobiography. I, for one, want to know how all those terrific songs got written.

Word is Morrissey is working on a novel. Maybe some lights (such as a false light that makes one think that one can write prose) should go out. ...more

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Nov 18, 2013 Michael rated it 2 of 5 stars · review of another edition

It has been some considerable time since I have hated a book as much as this one, as is evidenced by the amount of time it took me to finish it.

It starts off promisingly enough, with a colourful description of the Manchester of Morrissey's childhood, and some accounts of the television programmes, music and poets that inspired him. That first 20% of the book was actually pretty good - it clearly was the section of the book that he spent the most time on, and it was interesting to read his influe ...more

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Feb 11, 2014 Matt rated it 4 of 5 stars

PENGUIN BOOKS: So Moz, can you give us an idea of what your proposed autobiography will be like?

MORRISSEY: A Manchester childhood of misery upon melancholy upon misfortune, devoid of glamor, absent any hint of human kindness or scrap of salvation save the New York Dolls and Ziggy Stardust unfit for occupations of any sort with death at every door in a society where molesting children is fit for barristers and barons but animals are abused without mercy so I stood up and left Nancy Sinatra at the ...more

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Jan 18, 2014 Anna Matsuyama rated it 5 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: british-irish , favourite , memoir-autobiography , read-in-2014 , humour

I'm fan of Morrissey and The Smiths however I'm not much into celebrity personal life and so I knew next to nothing about him or the band before reading this book.

But, of course, I'd heard of Morrissey being self-centred and arrogant prick but while reading and googling a lot, I come to conclusion that's bullshit. And now, I how to say that after reading his autobiography, I've found him likeable and all kind of awesome human being. And he can write

I expected it to be bleak read and while some I'm fan of Morrissey and The Smiths however I'm not much into celebrity personal life and so I knew next to nothing about him or the band before reading this book.

But, of course, I'd heard of Morrissey being self-centred and arrogant prick but while reading and googling a lot, I come to conclusion that's bullshit. And now, I how to say that after reading his autobiography, I've found him likeable and all kind of awesome human being. And he can write

I expected it to be bleak read and while sometimes it was, it was because he was writing about sad or hard times in his life (his years in school, deaths of loved ones...) but what I didn't expect was that Morrissey has such a great sense of humour and warmth.

And while some might be disappointed that he doesn't reveal much personal stuff and secrets in his autobiography, however if you're to look closer, than his sharings with his thoughts, opinions and musings of that and that, are more revealing than let's say Roald Dahl's autobiography.

BTW, I've never believed accusations that Morrissey is a racist (hello, listen to his songs.) One accuser of Morrissey being a racist says "Morrissey didn't help his case with an uneasy flirtation with gangster imagery: he took up boxing and was accompanied everywhere by a skinhead, named Jake..." Let, me LOL because in his autobiography Morrissey leads us to understand that Jake was his partner.

...more

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Oct 22, 2013 James rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: autobiography , non-fiction , music , tpb

A good chunk of this is great. Well-written, insightful, throws up some interesting historical/personal context for Morrissey's creative work, and accurately reflects his presumed personality. The fact that he continues a despairing attitude from the description of his younger years right through the lifetime of The Smiths is understandable, and the in-depth analysis of the music important to him growing up points to why he would so obsessively note down every chart position of his career.

Howeve A good chunk of this is great. Well-written, insightful, throws up some interesting historical/personal context for Morrissey's creative work, and accurately reflects his presumed personality. The fact that he continues a despairing attitude from the description of his younger years right through the lifetime of The Smiths is understandable, and the in-depth analysis of the music important to him growing up points to why he would so obsessively note down every chart position of his career.

However, the book and I part ways when it reaches the point of the infamous court case in 1996, where Morrissey and Marr are sued for Smiths royalties. I am convinced it is a legal travesty, but devoting such a large chunk of the book to it seems entirely disproportionate. It also demonstrates Morrissey's self-justification, childish pettiness, and inability to see that it is his entirely alterable attitudes that cost him much in his life (being a vegetarian - fine, healthy, laudable. Stropping off in silence if someone else is eating meat - juvenile.) It does, however, provide a useful shorthand reference for why there will never be a reunion.

Plus, this shift in emphasis completely overwhelms the personal insight in the latter half of the book, surely more interesting than settling scores. It does seem like a lack of editing, particularly when the tenses begin to muddle and the account of his latter-day touring is aimless and makes the same points repetitively. The book ends at the end of 2011, which is a shame, since accounts of his 2013 illness and tour cancellations would have been valuable. And while it is hard to provide a conclusion to a life you are still living, a better ending is required.

I can recommend the first half of the book readily. However, if you leave the book when Marr leaves The Smiths, you can't be blamed, since from then on it is probably only fit for the fans and the masochists. ...more

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Nov 08, 2013 martha rated it 4 of 5 stars

Like a great number of people who have read this book, I am a long-time and ardent Smiths/Morrissey fan. I had been waiting for this book to be published even before I knew there would actually ever be one. With that said, there were a lot of things I liked about it, but also some which I didn't care for.

I once read an interview with Morrissey where he said that everything people needed to know about him was already in his songs, after reading "Autobiography" I truly believe it now.They are defi Like a great number of people who have read this book, I am a long-time and ardent Smiths/Morrissey fan. I had been waiting for this book to be published even before I knew there would actually ever be one. With that said, there were a lot of things I liked about it, but also some which I didn't care for.

I once read an interview with Morrissey where he said that everything people needed to know about him was already in his songs, after reading "Autobiography" I truly believe it now.They are definitely autobiographical in nature, all of them.I often found myself reading and realizing that particular moments he wrote about in the book, were possibly the inspiration for certain songs. The book opens with him talking about the Manchester of his childhood and the first 160 pages or so are simply wonderful.I often felt like I was getting a peek into Morrissey's private childhood diaries.

The detail in which he describes Manchester,his family,childhood and adolescence, made me feel as though I was reading a novel because the manner in which he describes everything truly pulls you in, just like any great novel does. I enjoyed reading about his upbringing because it gave such a great insight into why he is the person that he is today. So many of his obsessions and passions stem from his childhood, such as his fascination with James Dean (his uncle, whom he was close to, was a fan of his and like Dean, he too died young and when Morrissey was still a child). Though a lot of people have criticized his long sentences and few paragraph breaks, those were the things I enjoyed the most. It was complete stream of consciousness writing and it often reminded me of James Joyce's writing style. As I read it, I truly felt the authenticity in his words. It’s written in his voice.

The manner in which he writes about the angst he felt at feeling trapped in a life he knew wasn't meant for him, truly resonated with the adolescent in me from long ago. Yet, the thing that stood out the most and perhaps the one thing many fail to see in his music as well, is his humor. He is very funny and sometimes, as he describes something in the book, either serious or sad, he manages to poke fun at himself and a particular situation. I found myself laughing out loud many times as I read. I also enjoyed learning about his deep loyalty towards those whom he loves and cares about, and it’s obvious that when he loves people he is very loyal and kind. It made me understand why when he feels betrayed or hurt he goes after people with a vengeance!

While he definitely used this book to settle some old scores, I didn’t enjoy reading so much of that. However, I will say that I appreciated his honesty in conveying exactly what he feels and thinks about people, men and women alike, whom he deems worthy of his animosity. He doesn't hold back and his words are daggers. When he writes about those whom he loves, his words are equally as intense but incredibly tender and loving. I would’ve simply have preferred less of the angry words. I also didn't always like the detail in which he wrote about certain films or television programs. I felt those things dragged the book down, and it would've been preferable for him to write in that much detail about experiences or feelings that inspired some of his songs. It would’ve also had been great to learn more about him and Johnny Marr as a songwriting team. He has mostly praise for Johnny when he mentions him, which is why the letter Johnny wrote to him after The Smiths split, was one of the saddest things for me to read in the book.

Towards the end, the book feels rushed and as though it was a different book from the first half. It seemed like there hadn’t been as much thought put into it and the prose wasn’t as eloquent as it had been in the first part of it, that was disappointing. I wish his life as an adult had been written with as much detail as his life as a child and teen, but perhaps the reason he chose not to was because “Whatever is sung is the case” (this is written in the acknowledgements page).

Although, it’s fair to say that he didn’t shy away from revealing the good and the bad as well as his shortcomings and the insecurities he feels. I wonder how many of us, if given the opportunity to publish our autobiography, would reveal a greater amount of the good versus the not so good. "Autobiography" is definitely worth reading but if you don’t have the time nor the inclination to read nearly 500 pages, simply listen to his music. It’s all there.
...more

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Oct 03, 2015 Antonomasia rated it 4 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: music , biography-and-memoir , ebooks-kindle , lgbtq , decade-2010s , 2015-tsundoku-read

The beginning of Autobiography made me notice how much I'd changed in the 15 or so months between the book's release and getting round to reading the thing. In late 2013 I was still entrenched in ideas from psychology that I'd read 3-5 years earlier and was judgemental with it (albeit less so out loud). Though becoming less judgemental was also related to one branch of that, as the person-centred process gradually worked its magic. I had found Morrissey's writing at the beginning of the book elo ...more

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Antonomasia Oh, I am sorry. And I misread there - where it was a question of how different people live with experiences: resolved / unresolved to use the terminol ...more
10 hours, 39 min ago

Simon Hollway LOL oh no, no misreading. Suppression on my part. However, the 'haunted living' must apply to most writers and most applied readers. Viva literature!
10 hours, 29 min ago

Feb 03, 2014 Linda rated it 3 of 5 stars

Shelves: 2013 , biographical , music , non-fiction

"The arts translate life into film and literature and music and repeat a deadly poison: the monotonous in life must be protected at all costs. But protected from what? From you and I."

It's hard to write objectively, or even think objectively about Morrissey. In Rubber Ring, he instructed his listeners not to forget the songs that saved their lives, and I haven't. However disappointed I've been with him as a person or as a musician, I've never forgotten the way in which he changed - illuminated r "The arts translate life into film and literature and music and repeat a deadly poison: the monotonous in life must be protected at all costs. But protected from what? From you and I."

It's hard to write objectively, or even think objectively about Morrissey. In Rubber Ring, he instructed his listeners not to forget the songs that saved their lives, and I haven't. However disappointed I've been with him as a person or as a musician, I've never forgotten the way in which he changed - illuminated really - my grade 12 existence in a way that no amount of time spent reading Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Pessoa, Camus etc had managed. I'll never forget the large blocks in time wherein obsessive listening to his songs made everyday conversation conjure up echoes of his lyrics as if the english language was just an inventory for his lyrics. That said, I've always found the distinction that some make between Morrissey the songwriter and Morrissey the person ridiculous. Surely Morrissey's whole appeal is in his honesty - in his refusal to be anyone other than himself ('I am mine.')

For me, there is no difference between the Morrissey who said that it takes strength to be gentle and kind and the Morrissey who said that 'the Chinese are a subspecies'. For awhile, I tried to maintain a distinction between old Morrissey and young Morrissey and though it's true, in the days when he was hopelessly poor, I just liked him more, it's no more tenable a division. The threads of misogyny and racism that people now harp upon have always been there but they seem to stem from ignorance and a refusal to see the world in a nuanced way rather than a place of hate. Does the distinction matter? For me, ultimately yes. I'm still fiercely defensive about Morrissey - if they dare touch a hair on your head... Is all forgiven? Honestly, no. I was actually slightly gratified to find out in this book that Morrissey is unhappy with his figure - not that I rejoice in the self-hate of others (I am not naturally evil) but his constant conflation of skinniness and virtue and five hundred (admittedly more or less innocuous) disparaging mentions to cultureless, fat girls in his lyrics and in this book was more than slightly obnoxious. Gaping honeypots, tch.

As to the rest of the book - it's what you'd expect. There is preaching about animals and television shows that no one remembers. There is also a lot on the tyranny of schools, on how record companies are failing and have always failed Morrissey and on the court trial (which is surprisingly, extremely clarifying and seems to validate Morrissey's persecution complex). There are also a surprising number of sudden deaths - family members and friends as well as stray cats and orphaned and injured birds that Morrissey apparently goes around saving from roadways. And the prose is just as tortured with unnecessary adjectives and adverbs as you'd imagine.

What's disappointing about this book is how little it captures of Morrissey's charm and the magic of his music (both solo and The Smiths). There are moments that make you chuckle a little -asides and retellings of conversations so Morriseyesque that you can't help but smile (special mention to Moz's hilarious conversation with Bowie over breakfast and his obvious obsession with glamorous, 'vampiric' Bowie from what he chooses to include in the book) - and a few paragraphs wherein you see flashes of Morrissey's private life (Jake tells Morrissey to shut up when he's carrying on about the suffering in the world and Morrissey shuts up? good god) but the real autobiography is his music. This is just a supplementary volume to validate and clarify what we already know. 'All of the rumours keeping me grounded, I never said, I never said that they were completely unfounded...' ...more

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Jan 11, 2014 Amar Pai rated it 1 of 5 stars

Shelves: gave-up-on

zzzzzzzzz. skimming thru this with alacrity. it's not like I was expecting "Life" by Keith Richards but come on moz, you're gonna spend half the book moaning about how much school sucked ? I could take it in song ( "Beligerent ghouls / run Manchester schools" ) but the saving grace of the smiths was morrissey's sense of humor , which is nowhere to be found in this autobio. just page after page of dour pseudo literary posturing about Manchester, Oscar Wilde, etc. so. boring. now I know how Joan o ...more

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Mar 19, 2015 Laurie rated it 5 of 5 stars

Shelves: biography-memoir , pop-culture , favorites , everyday-is-like-sunday , bobby-and-jimmy-and-moz

I was going to write a grand, illuminating review of Mozzer's book, but alas I just cannot gather my thoughts cohesively enough to do justice. Therefore, these are my disjointed thoughts and quotes that spoke to me:

~This book is a treasure trove of music and film references. I found myself making playlists from the get-go. It's fun to hear and see what has inspired and continues to inspire Morrissey.

~From the very first page this was one of the most brilliantly written books I've ever read. It s I was going to write a grand, illuminating review of Mozzer's book, but alas I just cannot gather my thoughts cohesively enough to do justice. Therefore, these are my disjointed thoughts and quotes that spoke to me:

~This book is a treasure trove of music and film references. I found myself making playlists from the get-go. It's fun to hear and see what has inspired and continues to inspire Morrissey.

~From the very first page this was one of the most brilliantly written books I've ever read. It sounds kind of dumb, but this is the only memoir he could have written; it just seems so completely from his core. By turns he's insightful, poetic, horrified, witty, baffled, sincere, hurt, enraged and weary. I could hear him in my head with every written word.

~pg. 96: I ask myself if there is an irresponsible aspect in relaying thoughts of pain as inspiration, and I wonder whether Housman actually infected the sensitives further, and pulled them back into additional darkness.

~I love how he referred to his lyrics throughout the book.

~p.g 412 Nowhere are there more natural smiles than those of a welcoming audience.

~I'm proud of his remaining Morrissey, which is an absolute absurd thing to say, but he's always stayed true to himself. To know yourself, to be yourself at all times, no matter the expense, what an incredibly difficult and brave thing to do in the world we live in.

~pg. 439 Finally aware of ourselves as forever being in opposition, the solution to all predicaments is the goodness of privacy in a warm room with books.

~Haters don't even bother, this autobiography is perfection.

~pg. 140 I am singing the truth by myself, which might also be the truth of others...and give me a whole life...let the voice speak up for once and for all... ...more

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Nov 01, 2013 Tim rated it 5 of 5 stars

As a long time Smiths/Morrissey fan I was excited to get my hands on this book, and largely it doesn’t disappoint. I would go so far as to say that this is one of the most incredible books I have ever read. It’s not your typical autobiography, so much so that for the first page or so it completely threw me. The account of his early years and the rise of The Smiths are full of sadness, wit, tenderness and betrayal. His description of his school days, and the vile bullying teachers of St Mary’s, i As a long time Smiths/Morrissey fan I was excited to get my hands on this book, and largely it doesn’t disappoint. I would go so far as to say that this is one of the most incredible books I have ever read. It’s not your typical autobiography, so much so that for the first page or so it completely threw me. The account of his early years and the rise of The Smiths are full of sadness, wit, tenderness and betrayal. His description of his school days, and the vile bullying teachers of St Mary’s, is particularly effecting; almost like something written by Mervyn Peake. He obviously had some scores to settle and you get the impression that years of silence have finally found an outlet. There are some targets you wouldn’t expect, whilst others who have since done him wrong are discussed with tenderness. It does occasionally descend into bitchiness, and there are a few roll your eyes moments as Morrissey storms out of restaurants because someone at his table has had the audacity to order meat. Yet he seems fully aware of his own shortcomings. What really comes through in this book, especially the first third, is his compassion for those around him; and his hurt and bewilderment at the various betrayals (either real or perceived it is difficult to say). There’s a lot of humour too, some of it tongue in cheek, which I think a lot of people will miss. There’s even a mini ghost story which takes place on Saddleworth Moor which is so well described that it could keep you awake at night like it did me.

Unlike other reviewers I actually found the section dedicated to the court case fascinating as Morrissey builds a very strong case for his own persecution at the hands of the establishment. I felt that this was an important point, and I don’t blame Morrissey for dwelling on it. He basically laughs at the idea of free speech existing in England. This is a man who’d previously taken pot shots at royalty and Margaret Thatcher, so it’s easy to believe that they wanted to bring him down. And why did the case focus on Morrissey rather than the Morrissey & Marr partnership?

I got the impression Morrissey wrote this over many years as the front and end sections feel almost as if they were written by different people. For me the end section felt flat, and slightly smug, where Morrissey details his comeback starting with You Are the Quarry. This was where the book started to lose its grip on me. You can see how he wanted to bring the story full circle and show how all his trials paid off in the end. At one point he describes how, on stage in Manchester, he can see the building where he once worked in the basement as an Inland Revenue clerk which rounds off his story quite well. The endless details of shows and cities and hotels, though, felt a little empty as if it were only required to fill up the word count.

Ultimately, though this is the story of Morrissey, it is so packed with wisdom and insight that it is lifted above mere autobiography and becomes something akin to The Bell Jar. Anyone merely looking for revelations will miss what makes this a great book. It is the story of a misfit boy who wanted to sing, went through various trials along the way, fought and fought and fought and fought to follow his dream, did it all his way, and came out a winner in the end.
...more

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Jan 20, 2014 Lara marked it as abandoned

Shelves: 2014

Oh, Morrissey. I loved you, deeply, in high school and college. I still dig your music, but cannot force myself to plod through your book. Sorry, dude.

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May 16, 2015 Arthur Graham marked it as to-read

I think I'll hold off on reading Moz's bitter, self-indulgent, precious little memoir a bit longer, and I'll keep listening to all of his bitter, self-indulgent, precious little songs instead:

There's A Place In Hell For Me And My Friends
You're Gonna Need Someone on Your Side
Let the Right One Slip In
We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful
Nobody Loves Us
Boy Racer
Interesting Drug
Boxers
First of the Gang to Die
I'm Not Sorry
All You Need is Me
Sing Your Life
We'll Let You Know
Last of the Famous Int ...more

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Jan 25, 2014 Brian rated it 3 of 5 stars

Morrissey's long-ish autobiography is at its best when he is writing about the things he is most enthusiastic about (his teenage love of the New York Dolls, David Bowie, T. Rex, Jobraith, the Sex Pistols, and the Ramones; his best friendships; his fans; the musical output of The Smiths). When he is a critic (his bleak upbringing in Manchester; the litigious entanglements of The [Post-] Smiths; NME), he becomes insufferable (mostly because he is long-winded in these sections), though his criticis ...more

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Nov 29, 2013 Stefan Garcia rated it 5 of 5 stars

I have just read this book in a day, after a London friend sent it to me here in South America. Having listened to the naysayers on the BBC beforehand, I was not expecting much in terms of style and substance, but I knew that regardless I would enjoy this book because snippets of his voice interviews have me in ecstatic paroxysms. A whole book! I cried myself into nirvana so often. That's what his words do to me.

To love is the fact that he writes like a dream, an exhilarating nightmare really, f ...more

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Dec 09, 2013 Mike Clarke rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

It's time the tale were told....of how a panicking publishing giant, once great but now laid low by multimedia, the interweb, and other curses of there modern age it didn't fully understand, sold its soul (or at least the heritage of a once-proud imprint) to a devious, truculent and unreliable pop star. Ah yes, Autobiography. The decision to publish its first edition in Penguin Classics of course generating the acres of overwrought newsprint the co-conspirators hoped for. What's it like? you ask It's time the tale were told....of how a panicking publishing giant, once great but now laid low by multimedia, the interweb, and other curses of there modern age it didn't fully understand, sold its soul (or at least the heritage of a once-proud imprint) to a devious, truculent and unreliable pop star. Ah yes, Autobiography. The decision to publish its first edition in Penguin Classics of course generating the acres of overwrought newsprint the co-conspirators hoped for. What's it like? you ask. Surprisingly good, I answer. That's to say it steers mercifully clear of rock star cliche and as you would expect, is witty, sharp and observant. Reel around the fountain indeed.

But, suffer little children: it really only gets going when Morrissey starts dabbling in showbiz and fame, fatal fame. The first hundred pages or so, which deal with his childhood and younger self are thematic - that's to say a confusing, non-chronological mishmash of memories, score-settling and sentimentality. Oh, Manchester, so much to answer for.

And how can it be that so many key aspects of Morrissey's life - his vegetarianism, politics, literary interests and songwriting influences merit little or no exploration? From the evidence the reader might come away thinking the only substantive influence is the New York Dolls. Such a miserable lie.

But you're the one for me, fatty: on form, Steven Patrick Morrissey is acute, gossipy, bitchy and hilarious. And he's never gay-identified...although he's most probably still ill. Autobiography puts me in mind of Kenneth Williams's diaries, as edited by Russell Davies: Williams could write a page of hagiography about some minor legend of stage or screen - Dora Bryan, let's say, lulling the reader into thinking he thought of them as a Judy Garland style talent or Demi-god, then end the section: "Silly old cow." Morrissey is more transparent from the beginning but he doesn't half let rip - not just the obvious targets such as Mike Joyce or 'Manchester luvvie Tony Wilson' - '"Why don't you call your next album 'Steven'...and I stare back at him, wondering if he ever actually had a good idea in his life.'
but also the less obvious targets, with Siouxie Sioux and label boss Geoff Travis ('knitting for the troops') gaining a special splattering of bile. His description of Rough Trade - generally revered as one of the he doyens of indie music in the 80s, but with a 'vinegary spinster face' according to our hero, is a welcome cold bath. To be precise: 'The Smiths would pull Rough Trade out of the water - significant future signings were of groups who mostly wanted to be on Rough Trade because The Smiths once had been, and not because of the hysterical intellectual spinster image the label has considered so confrontational, until Hand In Glove had shattered their afternoons of wok rotas, poetry workshops and Woman's Hour.'

Big mouth indeed strikes again.

I don't owe you anything of course and this is no autobiography - it's a loose set of reminiscences camouflaging the real issue: Morrissey's desire to avenge himself not of the he belligerent ghouls who run Manchester schools - they are dispatched early enough - but of Judge John Weeks, who ruled in favour of Mike Joyce and, worse, far worse, against Morrissey. There is a light that never goes out - and this one burns across a good 50 or more pages that form the centrepiece of this book. Morrissey the latter day Lady Deadlock will have his case heard. You've got everything now. ...more

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Dec 26, 2013 Davidg rated it 2 of 5 stars

Imagine the story of The Smiths written as a bad novel narrated by a whining teenager - a sub sub sub 'Catcher in the Rye'. And here it is.

It takes several pages for the idea of paragraphs to take hold but even then they can start talking of one thing and end up being about something else. No wonder he has no idea of splitting the books into chapters.

Everyone who doesn't fall into raptures at the sight of our whinging hero is immediately branded as some hopeless loser. So, every teacher, EVERY s Imagine the story of The Smiths written as a bad novel narrated by a whining teenager - a sub sub sub 'Catcher in the Rye'. And here it is.

It takes several pages for the idea of paragraphs to take hold but even then they can start talking of one thing and end up being about something else. No wonder he has no idea of splitting the books into chapters.

Everyone who doesn't fall into raptures at the sight of our whinging hero is immediately branded as some hopeless loser. So, every teacher, EVERY single teacher is a lonely miserable frustrated old bag or bachelor. Really? I grew up just a few miles away and we had young teachers, trendy teachers, single teachers, married teachers, but that wouldn't fit our heroes view of the world. When an interviewer ends an interview at the set time, as dictated by TV, his ' clothe look better without him in them'.

Of course, the rules that should apply to the rest of the world don't apply to our hero. The dreadful Music Business put contracts in front of him, written just to confuse him. They rip him off left, right and centre. But when his band mates sign the same piece of paper, he insists that because they signed it, they should be held to it. It is ok for him to rip others off, even though they are his friends. All my Smiths albums list the FOUR members of the band and performing fees are always split between band members. But that seems unfair to our hero, so he takes 60% of his colleagues earnings and thinks they should be grateful to receive their 10% whilst he takes 40%. And then he'll take the songwriting income on top of that. Not surprisingly he loses the court case. But that's because the establishment hates northern working class geniuses. And all judges apparently own huge mansions and go hunting all the time - really?

There is no insight, no reflection, no change. Our hero is fully formed from the moment of birth. Apparently there was no moment when he became a vegetarian, no time when he learned something. That might mean he wasn't always perfect. And don't expect to be told about writing songs or what they might reveal. There will be no self revelation. Just another long extended moan. Just like this book. ...more

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Dec 30, 2013 Abra rated it 3 of 5 stars · review of another edition

Shelves: 2013 , first-time-read , memoir

This memoir starts off in a sort of wonderful freeform Joycean evocation of an alienated youth in Manchester, and Morissey's inventive twists of language are fascinating: almost enough to justify the glowing review by marxist literary critic Terry Eagleton, in The Guardian . But then, after the break up of The Smiths, a few factors more or less ruin this book. 1) Morrissey spends way, way, way too long detailing the tragic travesty of a civil suit against him by two of his former bandmates who on ...more

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Nov 18, 2013 Deirdre Clancy rated it 5 of 5 stars

Look, I find it hard not to give a book by Morrissey five stars. Aside from the fact that listening to Morrissey tends to bring out my nurturing instincts, and I tend to have the constant vague feeling that I should be making him a hot drink when I have his music on, I am constitutionally incapable of objective criticism once an artist (of the music-producing kind) has gained my affection. If someone's music has touched my life or got me through a tough period, then the artist becomes pretty muc Look, I find it hard not to give a book by Morrissey five stars. Aside from the fact that listening to Morrissey tends to bring out my nurturing instincts, and I tend to have the constant vague feeling that I should be making him a hot drink when I have his music on, I am constitutionally incapable of objective criticism once an artist (of the music-producing kind) has gained my affection. If someone's music has touched my life or got me through a tough period, then the artist becomes pretty much immune from criticism unless they do something to seriously alienate me, like become a serial killer. This is especially the case if there are vampires in the world who make a career out of criticizing them (because they can't find any other way to make a career, presumably), which certainly appears to be the case with Morrissey and the some of the journos within the NME (having had a brief stint as a music journalist, the knives coming out didn't overly surprise me and I take what I read in the music press with several pinches of salt). The world doesn't need more vampires or vultures, or people who go through the rubbish bins of the famous looking for scoops, while also claiming to like them.

I would give Tarantula by Bob Dylan five stars, even though I haven't a clue what he is going on about for large portions of the book. I purchased a translation of Tarantula to Swedish once (with English on the opposite page), despite not having that much Swedish beyond 'Hej' and 'Hej Da', and not really comprehending the text in English in the first place. This is just who I am in relation to Bob Dylan. I am not remotely as bad when it comes to Moz, but Meat is Murder got me through a period in the early '80s when, as a child, I had just become a vegetarian after seeing a documentary on slaughterhouses, and there were no vegetarians in my immediate surroundings. I had an understanding mother who adapted graciously, but school was a different story. Then I discovered Bob Dylan and fell in love, and remained in that state monogamously for years. Then in later life I grieved for the same mother by listening to Years of Refusal incessantly, specifically the refrain to 'Mama Lay Softly on the Riverbed', which I shed cathartic tears to many times, though my mother's life did not in any way resemble that of the woman described in the song. For some reason, it was the only record that would do, and I had something of a Morrissey renaissance, so to speak, following him to some weird, small venues in the middle of nowhere on the Irish branch of the Years of Refusal tour.

Despite my lack of ability to be entirely objective about certain artists, I cannot put my years of copy-editing training and practice totally to one side, and I do think Morrissey can write really great prose when he wants to. The first half of the book is way more interesting and engaging than the second; Morrissey's descriptions of the Manchester of his childhood really echo those of Jeanette Winterson in her memoir 'Why be Happy When You Could be Normal?'. Due to post-grad work I did years ago that required me to look into the background to the life of Eva Gore-Booth and Esther Roper, I knew that life had been incredibly grim for the Manchester working class up until the middle of the twentieth century. I'd just had no idea that this state of affairs had continued unabated well into contemporary times. The two narratives combined (Winterson's and Morrissey's), both from artists of more or less the same vintage, conjure up images of a place littered with religious fanatics and twisted, monstrous, child-hating, embittered teachers and authority figures. No wonder Manchester has been a breeding ground for radical thought since the start of the Industrial Revolution.

There are parts of the second half of the book that consist of pages and pages of rant, but I don't begrudge this to Morrissey (I've already stated my lack of objectivity). The scores of pages on the court case taken by Mike Joyce against Morrissey and Marr are hard to get through if you don't understand the legal context fully. However, to a large degree it does seem as if his anger at the judge and at Mike Joyce has justification, and it does sound as if there was something of a resentful witch hunt behind the entire charade. Any questions about whether Joyce might have some of the moral high ground are somewhat thrown into doubt when you find out that his solicitor went sniffing around the house of Morrissey's mother with a view to gaining possession of it. Court cases of any nature are stressful (I know this myself), but if you're Morrissey and dealing with a hostile judge, this must be multiplied by a zillion. I found myself wondering why he didn't get a decent, sympathetic legal team, which clearly was something he didn't have, and feeling frustrated that he didn't (knowing personally how this can make all the difference in the world).

The final part of the book is devoted to the joys of performing live and interacting with fans. Having been to a few Morrissey gigs, I can't say I understand the tattoo-getting, quiff-wearing expression of adoration that seems to accompany Morrissey fandom. It totally mystifies me why these trappings are important to anyone beyond the age of about 15 (which is when I last attempted to look like an artist I liked, and in that case it was Stevie Nicks, whose look has a certain appeal to teenage girls anyway). As adults, we are supposed to develop our own sense of style that reflects who we are as individuals, and which evolves as we evolve, or so I thought. However, the descriptions are interesting and, at times, hilariously funny. I don't get all the references to popular culture in the book (only about 50% of them), and there are individuals I'd like to have read more about (David Bowie) and ones I felt got too many pages (Siouxie, or however she spells it). It's well worth a read, though, for the hilarious turns of phrase and acute sense of the ridiculous elements of human nature.

I am not overly interested in the personal life of artists beyond the point where it might shed light on their work. However, one interesting aspect of Morrissey that does emerge in the book is his strong business instincts. He monitors his position in the charts (and the factors influencing it) like a stockbroker looking at the market. Much of his criticism of the music industry (apart from the hypocrisies and greed) is related to how it handles his publicity/marketing. Having seen endless documentaries about how bands and artists have been mercilessly fleeced by their management, one can only assume that this is one of several reasons Morrissey has survived and thrived. A fact for which many of us are eternally grateful. ...more

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