Debbie Harry singing Heart of Glass with Blondie in 1978 marks a sort of growing up for ten year old me, I felt like this must be what being an adult was like. I so wanted this book to be more rock'n'roll, more punk rock, but beside from the odd bit of name dropping it was all a bit meh. Maybe she waited too long to write the book, but is seemed a bit boring and dull - the opposite of what I wanted from her, I expected her to be the cool, hip funny girl. She has got to travel the world and meet scores of interesting people over the decades, but most of this was barely mentioned.
I think my expectation of a memoir is to learn more about the person, and to hopefully come away knowing more about them and liking them even more than when I started. Neither of which I achieved after reading this book, which just left me feeling sad. 2/5
1 comment:
An interesting review. Certainly not everyone knows how to write a good memoir; being an author is more than just writing a book.
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