Viv is about 60 but she retains the spirit of her 20-something Slits guitarist days. She wrote about that eloquently in Clothes. Clothes, Clothes, Music, Music, Music, Boys, Boys Boys, Boys.
The title of that autobiography was drawn from her mother’s criticism that that was all she thought about as a late teenager.
It’s an absolute belter.
But now we’re considering her SECOND autobiography and it raises the bar even further.
What a thing this is.
It’s not a laugh, I have to say, but there are humorous moments.
Essentially, it takes the form of a description of the day her 95 year old mother died, told in short snippets interspersed with Albertine’s memoire of her family, and love, life.
It’s grim, abusive stuff.
Midway into the book she finds her estranged father’s diaries and later her mother’s. Both forensically detail a period in the young Albertine’s life where they are preparing to divorce and it ain’t ‘Little House on the Prairie’ that’s for sure.
But what Albertine does most in this history of her life is reveal her inner thinkings in a way that is uncommon on autobiographies. She was a punk, a rebel, a man-hater – that loved sex with men – OK, maybe not a man-hater, quite, but a fierce feminist for sure – and with reason. And underpinning that personality trait is self doubt, insecurity, self loathing at times. All explained, all considered, all consuming.
It’s gripping, utterly compelling stuff and as the death of her mother plays out we are treated to, shall we say, an unusual farewell.
It’s also beautifully crafted. Viv Albertine can wield a pen even more successfully than she wielded guitar in her Slits days.
Highly recommended and only £3 at Fopp.