To be perfectly honest, I really disliked this book. There was a fleeting moment here and there that I could get into, but for the most part I found it boring and a struggle to read because I just didn’t care. It didn’t take me long into the book to figure out that I didn’t like it, but I continued nonetheless.
I’m not exactly against romanticising feelings towards music and bands in general; I mean, my early teens were dedicated to some form of that (with black eyeliner and postered walls to boot). This just seemed to try to hard to romanticise everything and link everything to music. I don’t dispute that music was probably present, but I just felt she was using an excuse to write an autobiography under the lure of it being about music.
Also, to reinforce the feeling of trying too hard, the initial grasp on language was too much. I know she’s a poet, and I loved Patti Smith for her use of language, but this just seemed off to me. I didn’t enjoy it. I don’t really want to ramble out every reason why, but her musings on punk annoyed me – that stands out when I look back. The whole repetition of how everything she was doing or wearing was done ironically really irked me. I feel the same about her as I do when people say they’re wearing things ironically nowadays, and that’s not good. Let’s leave it at that.
So to end, I really didn’t like it. I just didn’t get into it and, yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever re-read it. I wouldn’t recommend it and I’d be quite interested to hear from someone who did like it, as I’ve yet to come across any.