Author: Mark Camilleri

Mark Camilleri, born in 1977, is from Malta. He studied to become a teacher, and between lesson plans and marking of home-works, he found time to create the world of Victor Gallo, a police inspector working in contemporary Malta. His first publishing break came in the form of a Gallo short story, published in ‘45’ a compilation that marked 45 years of Merlin Publishers in Malta. After that he wrote Prima Facie (2010), Volens (2013) and Nex (2016). The novels dealt with sexual abuse, serial killers, corruption in soccer and politics. He is currently researching his fourth novel, also featuring Victor Gallo. Camilleri’s style is raw, harsh and realistic, only mellowed down by the rich and sensual use of the Maltese language. In 2018 he published his first non-fiction book for children, L-Istorja tal-Futbol Malti, about the history of football in Malta. He is an avid reader, too.

Laurent Binet – The 7th Function of Language

The first time I read Binet’s debut novel HHhH – part a rendition of Operation Anthropoid, the assassination of Heydrich by two Czechoslovak resistance agents, and part an autobiographical take on his research in preparation – I was left quite speechless by his innovative approach in his writing style, prose and novel presentation (no page numbers, extremely brief chapters), and the way he dealt with the events narrated. It was a gripping novel.

So when I laid my hands on The 7th Function of Language, I felt a sense of anticipation for the subject tackled but yet with a sense of dread too cause sometimes stunning debuts can be quite misleading in the career of authors. So, yes, I am happy that I was proved wrong. It’s a unique read, weird on so many levels and in so many ways. Sometimes I felt that I was literally living a David Lynch, Federico Fellini and Stanley Kubrick movie all rolled into one. It is high-brow and low brow lit, it is mystery (in the Agatha Christie sense), it is philosophical and non-sensical at times (the sex scenes, especially), it is Eco and Dan Brown moving hand-in-hand.

The genesis of the novel is February 1980 and the accidental death of Roland Barthes – a very famous French philosopher, semiotician and literary theorist – who gets knocked down by a laundry van, on his way back from lunch with Francois Mitterand, the Socialist candidate for the 1981 Presidential elections. History states it was an accident. But Binet goes further on this idea and develops this (fictitious) idea that it might have been an assassination after all. Was Barthes on the verge of a huge discovery? The investigation is led by a far-left sympathiser, Police Captain Jacques Bayard, who gets the help of a young leftist University Linguistics Professor named Simon Herzog.

They embark on a dangerous investigation which takes them to Paris, Bologna, Naples, Venice, the USA, to a very secret club and during which they come across a multitude of real-life characters: President Giscard d’Estaing (who wants to get his hands on the ultimate prize), Umberto Eco (who gets pissed on by a hippie), Julia Kristeva (badass!), Michel Foucault (who hates Barthes and found in every gay spot mentioned), Bernard Henri-Levy, Jacques Derrida, Sollers, Chomsky, Bono Vox, et al. Barthes was at the moment of his death purpotedly carrying a fundamental document containing the code for the 7th Function of Language. Secret agents and rival theorist all vie for it. Everything happens in the context of an unstable historical background where Italy was in the midst of la strategia del tensione, Communist dissidents were being poisoned with umbrellas and Europe was moving to the left.

It’s a metaphorical novel about the futility of literary theory and the quasi-comedic philosphical trife about language, semiotics and literature, where Binet uses tennis as a symbolical tool of how we view language. Are we Bjorn Borg? Or John McEnroe? Or Jimmy Connors? Or the new star in 1981, Ivan Lendl?

You need to find out for yourselves.

5 Montalbano gialli

Il Commissario Montalbano, for all intents and purposes, is nowadays a staple name in the crime genre universe. Montalbano is a Police Inspector in the fictional town of Vigata, based on Camilleri’s hometown Porto Empedocle. Someone or other – in my world at least – has read either a novel in Sicilian (or English) or watched one of the immensely popular tv episodes on Rai Uno where the character is played with panache and finesse by Luca Zingaretti. No wonder his creator, Andrea Camilleri (no relation to myself, I swear! I wish), is considered one of the greatest contemporary writers of the Italian peninsula. He is a very fine author who infuses his investigative novels with humor, wit, irony, sarcasm, clear stands against the Mafia and all its connotations. And the plot by itself cannot stand the test of time without an array of strong characters which move it along. His creations of Detective Fazio (Montalbano’s right-hand man), Inspector Augello (his deputy), Catarella (one of the most hilarious inventions with his spelling disasters), Dottor Pasquano (the very moody forensic pathologist with an obsessive love for cannoli).

“Un autentico cretino, difficile a trovarsi in questi tempi in cui i cretini si camuffano da intelligenti.”

Anyways, here goes my favourite 5 Montalbano novels:

5. La Forma dell’Acqua (The Shape of Water)

The first in the series and one of those with a long-lasting impact on my memory, about the murder of a big-shot, found semi-naked in his car in a notorious area known for drugs and prostitution. Soon Salvo Montalbano finds himself swimming amongst the powerful and the corrupt.

4. La Gita a Tindari (Excursion to Tindari)

An elderly couple, the Griffo, take a bus excursion to nearby village Tindari and go missing. One of their neighbours, in their block of flats, a young womaniser with a penchant for pornography is found murdered. How are both cases related? Like in other novels, Camilleri sets up a “play” full of mirrors and red herrings. The fifth in the series sees the introduction of Beba, Augello’s future wife, and the elevation in importance of Catarella, both of which be of fundamental help to Montalbano to crack the case.

3. Il Ladro di Merendine (The Snack Thief)

A beautiful, touching novel amidst a very dark and brutal and bloody novel. It all starts with a shootout between a local fishing vessel and a Tunisian coast guard in international waters which results in the death of a Tunisian fisherman. In the meantime a local businessman is found stabbed in the lift of his home and a beautiful Tunisian cleaner, named Karima, mysteriously disappears. Montalbano gets to know that she had a son, Francois, who even him has gone missing. Lovers, money, children stealing snacks at school, the Secret Service and a shadowy Commander are all intertwined.

2. La Vampa d’Agosto (August Heat)

This is one of those books you must definitely read if you love polizieschi. It is of haunting beauty. It bears the traditional Camilleri trademark of a case which springs from a simple, almost banal episode, and Montalbano ends up deep into the murky waters of a dangerous investigation. The Inspector and his partner Livia are searching for a villa by the sea to rent for a couple from Genoa, friends of theirs. But this holiday starts turning into a nightmare after they are invaded by rats and cockroaches and the child of the couple vanishes. From then onwards, everything turns upside down … its eerie August stifling atmosphere certainly left an impact on my writing of Volens.

1.Il Cane di Terracotta (The Terra-Cotta Dog)

It was my first Camilleri read ever, and since then it has constantly kept top spot (and judging by his latest works, it will stay there for a long while). The second in the series (published in 1996) is a gem, almost a perfect one at that. Montalbano and his squad are investigating an illegal arms trafficking run by the local Mafia which leads them to a mysterious cavern, harbouring a terrible secret half a century old. I won’t say anything more. Just read it.

Other honorouble mentions which had to be left out of the top 5:

L’Odore della Notte / La Pazienza del Ragno / Il Sorriso di Angelica / La Voce del Violino / Le Ali della Sfinge

5 Books about Football

As many of my friends (and family) know, I have quite a huge love for football and anything related to this world. Thus naturally this has to include a healthy passion for books about football too. I have read some great ones, whilst others wait in my TBR pile for this year.

Anyway these are 5 great books about football:

5. Nick Hornby – Fever Pitch

Though it is basically a work of fiction, its setting and historical background is perfectly real. It’s Hornby’s ode to football and more importantly to his childhood club, Arsenal and its old temple Highbury. A beautiful read which many passionate fans will relate with.

4. Jonathan Wilson – Behind the Curtain

Jonathan Wilson is a great football journalist. You can find review here. I will definitely read all his works in the future. I have a couple waiting in my immediate TBR pile (see end of list).

3. Rob Smyth – Danish Dynamite

One of those books you will devour in a few sittings whilst wishing you don’t. It’s a beautifully narrated tale of Denmark’s ascent to football’s upper echelons between Euro 84 in France, Mexico 86 (where they donned the coolest kit ever – as in book cover – and literally played champagne football till Jesper Olsen’s mistake against Spain led to their downfall and a 5-1 defeat) and the unexpected win in Euro 92 in Sweden to become European champions against all odds.

2. Tim Parks – A Season With Verona

Tim Parks’ fascination with the Italian peninsula (a Milan University academic who traslocated there with the whole family) is evident in every word and anecdote while narrating his love and passion and misdemeanors for Hellas Verona, his adoptive favourite team, both at home at the Bentegodi and during his road travels with the infamous Brigate Gialloblu for the away games. It is the season of Malesani, Mutu and Camoranesi. But 2001 is also the year of the election of Berlusconi as Prime Minister.

1.Joe McGinniss – The Miracle of Castel Di Sangro

Take a real crime author, a very famous American one at that, watching USA ’94 qith fervour. As a soccer fanatic he is interested in all the most popular leagues around the world. Suddenly he is enthralled by a fabulous tale of a minnow team, an almost-unknown entity, named Castel di Sangro. They make it to Serie B (Italy’s second tier, basically) for the first time ever in their history. He leaves the States and goes to live for a whole year in nearby Pescara. It’s a fascinating, funny, heartwarming narrative of David vs Goliath from the perspective of a well-versed journalist. If you love football, you have to read McGinniss’ masterpiece.

Other books which haven’t made the final cut but are worth mentioning: Doctor Socrates (Andrew Downie); My Favourite Year (editor Nick Hornby); La Partita di Pallone: Storie di Calcio (editors Laura Grandi/Stefano Tettamanti); Alex Ferguson: My Autobiography (Alex Ferguson).

Books on my TBR: Inverting The Pyramid, The Outsider, Brian Clough: Nobody ever says Thank You, Anatomy of Manchester United, Angels with Dirty Faces (all by Jonathan Wilson); Quiet Genius (Ian Herbert); The Crazy Gang (Dave Bassett and Wally Downes).

“In his life, a man can change wives, political parties or religions but he cannot change his favorite soccer team.”
Eduardo Hughes Galeano

Antoinette Borg – Amina

Amina jekk taqlibha bil-maqlub tiġi “Anima” – ruħ. U dal-ktieb fih ruħ qawwija, ir-ruħ tas-solidarjetà, ir-ruħ tal-kompassjoni, ir-ruħ tal-matematika, ir-ruħ tal-Mellieħa u l-inħawi rurali tiegħu. Borg wara kollox hija Melliħija u kull awtur – b’xi mod jew ieħor, fit-tajjeb u fil-ħażin – jinfilza tbajja’ tal-għeruq tiegħu fl-istorja li joħloq. L-awtriċi tagħmel hekk kemm fil-konfront ta’ raħal twelidha kif ukoll tal-imħabba enormi li għandha lejn il-Matematika. Għall-kuntrarju tiegħi, għax jien u dan is-suġġett dejjem kellna relazzjoni donnha qed nissaportu lil xulxin għax għandna bżonn lil xulxin.

Qrajtu f’jum u nofs tista’ tgħid. Għoġobni iktar minn Fittixni (l-ewwel xogħol ta’ Borg), bla dubju u ħafna aktar minn Ri-ġenerazzjoni (li ma tantx fhimt x’kien l-iskop wara l-istorja u l-allużjoni wara l-metafora tal-ġilda l-ġdida fil-kuntest tal-plott). Forsi minħabba li huwa aktar konċiż, forsi għax stajt nirrelata aktar ma’ Amina l-protagonista, minkejja li l-Matematika u jien maħniex ħbieb wisq. Forsi għax il-karattri dehruli aktar reali, tad-demm u l-laħam. Jew inkella forsi għaliex Borg bdiet taħkem aktar il-lingwa u tħalli x-xinxilli fil-ġenb u tasal dritt fejn għandha f’moħħha: li aħna kollha l-istess, irrispettivament mill-kulur, twemmin u kredu. U kulħadd għandu xi talent, ta’ min fil-beraħ u ta’ min moħbi.

Forsi għax għall-ewwel darba qrajt storja għat-tfal minn lenti differenti. U forsi wkoll ghax m’hemmx il-happy endings tas-soltu. Bħalma jogħġbu lili. Wara kollox il-ħajja mhux kollox ward u żahar, le?

My April reads

April was another very productive month, books-wise. I read some brilliant books and I kept this year’s tempo. I read a variety of genres, including poetry and a biography.

Easter holidays were a blessing as I had much more free time to immerse myself in reading. My favourite three of this month are most definitely (in this order):

The New York Trilogy

Winter

The Yiddish Policemen’s Union

What’s in store next month? My TBR stack is quite voluminous (see above). My aim is to read Binet’s 7th Function of Language (I loved his predecessor HHhH), McIlvanney’s The Papers of Tony Veitch (the second instalment in the Laidlaw trilogy), Tim Parks’ A Literary Tour Of Italy (he is one of my favourite authors), McGregor’s Reservoir 13, Saviano’s La Paranza dei Bambini (I am lagging behind in Italian literature), Antoinette Borg’s Amina, John Bonello’s translation of Żero and Lou Drofenik’s The Confectioner’s Daughter (Winner of the local National Book Prize in 2017). But then again, nothing is set in stone and I can end up reading other works instead. Depends on time and mood and a million other factors. And most of all, timing.
“Most of what makes a book ‘good’ is that we are reading it at the right moment for us.” ― Alain de Botton

Paul Auster – The New York Trilogy

Whoa. I am literally speechless and mindblown by Auster’s detective-cum-existentialist (and philosophical)-cum-psychological novel which literally spins the crime genre on its head.

Where do I start from? The trilogy in the title refers to three short stories: City of Glass, Ghosts and The Locked Room. Each story is seemingly set in a different period though all set in the city that never sleeps, New York. They seem unconnected and unrelated. The three of them are set around writers, private detectives, telephones (and telephone calls that should be made but are not), identities (crisis), Quixotean quests, colours and historical anecdotes. It grips you from your throat right from the beginning:

“It was a wrong number that started it, the telephone ringing three times in the dead of night, and the voice on the other end asking for someone he was not.”

Auster literally plays with words, he is economical (or austere, excuse my pun) in the sense that he uses the “less is more” mantra to perfection. He spins you around and immerse you in equal measure. Sometimes I was overwhelmed by a feeling of such awe at his prose and writing style that I felt hopeless at ever writing again. There is intelligent intertextuality: Don Quixote/ Daniel Quinn or the unnamed narrator in story 3 as Sancho; or the reference to Sherlock Holmes in page 83 (“Quinn knew this because he made it his business to know such things.”)

I won’t go into much detail. But as you go along there is desperation, madness, loss, questions about life, weird happenings, literary theories. What a read!

And an ending which will haunt you for days to come. Same as what happened when I finished Irvine Welsh’s Filth.

Ħames xogħlijiet letterarji Maltin tas-Seklu 21

Opinjoni personali, bħal dejjem, hija suġġettiva u diffiċli ssib qbil bejn il-ftit, aħseb u ara l-ħafna. Il-Letteratura Maltija tas-Seklu 21 evolviet u fil-bidu tal-Millenju l-ġdid għaddiet minn forma ta’ “rinaxximent” wara l-kważi-staġnar tas-Snin Disgħin.

Dawn il-ħames rumanzi/ġabriet ta’ novelli huma, fl-opinjoni tiegħi, xogħlijiet tajbin ħafna, dejjem fil-kuntest lokali li huwa limitat minn diversi fatturi. Kull min għandu għal qalbu l-Letteratura Maltija għandu jsib ftit ħin f’ħajtu u jaqrahom.

Liema qrajtu minnhom?

Jonathan Wilson – Behind the Curtain (Travels in Eastern European Football)

Jonathan Wilson must be one of the very few authors whose major works I bought almost all at once before I had ever read any book of his. I simply trusted his reputation as a very sharp, witty and extremely knowledgeable sports commentator and columnist (for The Guardian and The Independent amongst others).

Without giving any thought to his bibliography, I coincidentally started with his first ever published work (2006). This 300-page book covers his travels (sometimes even perilous and risky) behind the former Iron Curtain and inside all Eastern Bloc countries at the dawn of the new millenium. It takes him to derelict stadiums, others not even fit for oratory football, amateur pitches, cities which still carry the Soviet aura, others which either were modernised or left behind (development-wise); face-to-face with widespread corruption, hooliganism, disorganised competitions, the immense influence of Communism over the development of football, and the consequences of the Fall of the Berlin Wall, the introduction of powerful oligarchs in the ex-countries of the Soviet Republic.

But Wilson doesn’t explore just football on his travels. He goes deep inside the root of the current (early noughties) situation: historical, geopolitical, social or economic as it may be. Thus it is a lesson in the history of Eastern Europe from the perspective of a person with a huge respect for the area. On the other hand being a huge football lover myself it served as a comparative analysis between the state of soccer in these countries in 2004-05 and today. In some of them, luckily, current state is not as bleak anymore.

“This book has largely been a tale of disappointment and decline …” (page 127)

I love books about football which are basically the writers’ own experiences on the road. Jonathan Wilson delivers a great account of his travels inside the Eastern Bloc to discover the state of football (and its historical root) in each country. He starts with Ukraine and Poland and ends in Mother Russia. It’s a book full of beautifully-narrated anecdotes (especially those regarding Eduard Streltsov and the Balkan War), historical events, gossips, political commentary and Wilson’s British quirkiness.

A definite must-read for football aficionados. Next on my football-reading list: his Inverting the Pyramid: The History of Football Tactics and Brian Clough: Nobody Ever Says Thank You.

Noel Tanti – Fil-Kamra ta’ Jonas

Nistqarr li għalkemm għandi ħafna kotba għat-tfal bil-Malti – li jmorru lura għal dawk il-kotba tal-avventura tas-Sebgħinijiet (tal-Għar tax-Xelter, Mastru Gerfex u l-bqija) li kont nehda naqra darba, tnejn, mitt darba – ftit li xejn nispiċċa nsib ħin nara x’joffru. Iktar ngħid nixtriehom biex eventwalment tgawdiehom in-neputija tiegħi la titfarfar naqra oħra. Għax bħal zijuha qisha tiela’ iffissata fuq il-ktieb. Din l-aħħar sena u nofs iżda bdejt nagħmel eċċezzjoni u spiċċajt qrajt tlieta – Il-Vjaġġaturi taż-Żmien, Arloġġ u Tila s-sena li għaddiet (għalkemm ikolli nammetti li propjament qrajthom għaliex kelli eżami marbut mal-krettu dwar il-letteratura għat-tfal bħala parti mid-Diploma fil-Letteratura Maltija) u dis-sena dan: Fil-Kamra ta’ Jonas (b’illustrazzjonijiet ta’ Matt Stroud).

U għalkemm qrajtu f’nifs (36 paġna kollox), inkun qed inqarraq jekk ngħid li ma saħħarnix. Mill-bidu sal-aħħar. Għal diversi raġunijiet li mhux ħa nidħol kollha fihom għaliex inkun qed intellef mill-esperjenza personali tal-qarrej. Iżda ma nistax ma nsemmix l-istorja ċentrali ta’ Jonas, tifel ċkejken imdejjaq u li għadu mhux kapaċi jifhem in-nuqqas ta’ missier li qiegħed jiskonta piena l-ħabs. L-illustrazzjonijiet huma eċċellenti u l-logħba bejn id-dawl u d-dlam jirriflettu wkoll fuq l-istat konfuż ta’ tfajjel beżgħan. Il-metafora tat-taraġ u r-repetizzjoni tagħha (fil-fehma tiegħi) hija kunċett brillanti li turi kemm Noel Tanti għandu għal qalbu dan is-suġġett u mhux biss ħakmu tajjeb iżda jqanqal awtomatikament fina sens qawwi ta’ empatija. Min bħali (u bħall-awtur innifsu) jaħdem fil-qrib mat-tfal jaf kemm b’xorti ħażina din hija realtà attwali ħafna.

Mal-ewwel ċans naqrahulha lin-neputija. U ċert li ħa tibbumbardjani b’ħafna mistoqsijiet jew kummenti.

Michael Chabon – The Yiddish Policemen’s Union

Michael Chabon is another author I am grateful that I have discovered this year. Its premise had been taunting me for quite a while. I wouldn’t say it is an easy read but a beautiful one indeed.

A wonderful, weird noir set in the fictional Jewish homeland of Sitka, Alaska (where a temporary settlement, due to the destruction of the State of Israel in 1948, becomes permanent) amongst a Yiddish community inside a metropolis. The murder of a heroin addict sets off a beautifully-written polar (or alternate historical novel, if you like) and a dangerous investigation led by Meyer Landsman, a hard-boiled Chandleresque detective who only cares for the truth (and alcohol). But slowly – with the help of his cousin and his ex and a Tlingit police chief – he unravels something much bigger. At times it feels like a Marlowe investigation, at others a Philip K. Dick novel, you end up feeling sympathetic to the the trio of gumshoes trying to solve the riddle as if it were a chess game. And chess is fundamental in the context of all the novel’s intricacies.

Chabon is an excellent writer who weaves his plot with an amazing tapestry of politics, Orthodox fundamentalists-cum-gangsters, promises of Messiah (the Tzadik ha-Dor), Judaism, subtle criticisms of the victim-complex of Jews, chess, absent parents, violence and murders.

I added Moonglow (which luckily I found in the latest local book sale spree) to my TBR pile for this year.

Definitely one of my best reads of 2019.

Ali Smith – Winter

Some years ago, while abroad, I came across a copy of Ali Smith’s How To Be Both. I was intrigued both by its cover and premise. Obviously I bought it and a few weeks later started it. I admit that I couldn’t get a hang of it. Time was reminding me: it is not the right moment. Recently I have discovered that I was not alone in this feeling.

Fast forward to 2018. I buy both Autumn and Winter, the first two instalments in Smith’s Seasonal Quartet (Spring was published recently while Summer is yet TBA). Autumn was simply brilliant. Winter is even better. For a multitude of reasons. Second time round, you start to grasp more and more the world Ali Smith had in mind. A bleak world yet where there is still hope even though Winter is the season of Death.

It is a political and almost-Shakesperean novel in tone and setting centred around an
idiosyncratic family full of strife between its family members (metaphorical much of the division inside UK right now, post-Brexit?) where sisters Iris and Sophia do not talk, where Art (the son) has a strenuous relationship with both his mother and his girlfriend and the appearance of a stranger (Lux) turns their lives upside down. There is love lost, love regained, hope and hopelessness.

As usual the Scottish writer deals with a lot of different themes and subjects across the novel: from Brexit (again) to Trump (powerful ending, by the way) to nuclear armaments, to refugees, to the Grenfell Tower disaster, to the usage of social media and even the Russian experiment with Laika, the dog. The list is endless. As usual the novel is filled with puns and sparse of speech marks and drifts naturally between different timelines (this time round much more than its predecessor).

Again this second instalment features trees in its cover; again it features a painting, of the artist mentioned in the novel, at the back (Pauline Boty in Autumn, Barbara Hepworth in Winter). Again I probably missed other clues along the process.

Then there is its opening. Beautiful and hammers inside your mind for days afterwards.

I can’t wait to lay my hands on Spring.

Anthony Horowitz – Magpie Murders

A quick premise: I adore crime novels. Not the cheap ones where you get the author’s scope and intentions or its whodunnit/whydunnit within its first quarter. Those have been far and between, hallelujah. Police procedurals, noir, hard-boiled detective stories, cosy mysteries, legal thrillers and the general suspense ones. There are some very fine crime writers out there, past and present. At home I have hundreds and hundreds of their works.

I had been hearing about Magpie Murders for quite some time but didn’t find the right moment (or more probably, concentration). Last January I couldn’t resist any longer. I had never read any work of Anthony Horowitz before. My bad. To make amends this year I will delve into another Horowitz novel waiting on my bedside table: The Word is Murder.

It is an almost 600-pages book with a unique layout and which made it quite hard for me to constantly update my reading status on Goodreads. You’ll get it when you lay hands on a copy.

The use of magpie in the title has a double entendre: a) magpie in literature is a symbol of deception and trickery, and these are staple ingredients in a crime novel; and b) the famous magpie rhyme – ” One for sorrow; Two for joy; Three for a girl; Four for a boy; Five for silver; Six for gold; Seven for a secret, never to be told; Eight for a wish; Nine for a kiss; Ten for a bird you must not miss.” The cover contains a lot of symbology and clues too. The novel is rich full of such clues and play with words (hint: pay attention to each character’s surname).

It is an absolutely mind-blowing crime novel inside another crime novel. Definitely one of a kind. It pays homage in a superb way to the world of Agatha Christie and Cluedo. I devoured it in a week and a half (considering it’s almost 600 pgs and all the other things I need to juggle) and I found myself immersed into the world of Alan Conway (who is a crime writer), Atticus Pünd (the detective character he created), authors, editors, publishers, greed, satire, irony, homages, clues and above all, murder(s).

Cause as the great Arthur Conan Doyle used to say: “The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.”


Bruce Springsteen – Born to Run

I have followed (musically) Bruce Springsteen since childhood. Born in the USA was one of my 80s anthems. He has always given me the impression of a down-to-earth guy yet determined rock star. Forward to December 2017 during one of my many forays inside Waterstones (in different locations around the UK I must add). The first book which caught my eye. Read this 500+ autobiography in two weeks in January. I found myself totally immersed, and I am not one into autobiographies much. The only other one which had the same effect was Adam Ant’s take on his life with Bipolar disorder.

What a wonderful ride with The Boss. Candid, explicit, raw, human, touching, emotional, inspiring roller-coaster ride with one of the greatest American rockstars. His difficult beginnings in a very poor neighbourhood, his difficult relationship with an alcoholic father, his tumultuous introduction in the rock scene, his brotherly love for Clarence Clemons and Steve van Zandt and the rest of the E-street band, his clear positions against war, racism and police brutality and finally his meeting with Patti Scialfa.

A must-read for all those who love music.