Dear Morrissey . . .

i suggest we all unite and shoplift some copies of this book

omg, an emo Tarantula.

Sorry, Tarantula not nearly so long and has found its audience in recent years.

from someone on the moz forum

"Now read 3/4 of it , the whole smiths story is tainted by how it ended , and there is a lot of vitriol for almost everyone ... its an interesting read from the point of view of showing the raging ego of a man who has never had to grow up and be responsible for his own actions ... the early family stuff is sweet but once the music business stuff starts its just bitching and moaning ..... dissapointing !!"

i love music business bitching and moaning. its the best kind next to hollywood bitching and moaning.

Hahah yes.

opening line reads

"My childhood is streets upon streets upon streets upon streets. Streets to define you and streets to confine you...".

In fact that's key here -- WHO WILL MAKE THE BIOPIC.

Suggest cast, director and screenwriter.

To package as a classic a book that no one except Morrissey and a handful of his fawning acolytes has read is instantly to reduce the worth of all classics. Plato, Julian of Norwich, Darwin – they must all be spinning in their graves right now. In essence, Penguin is sneering at the public. A classic is a book that is judged by posterity to be an outstanding work. How does that happen? Through people reading the book, discussing it, embracing it, recognising its artistic beauty and universal import. There is a democratic element to the idea of the classic; certainly the elevation of a work to classic status involves intellectual, public engagement, the subjection of the work to readers and audiences over a long period of time. For a couple of men in suits at Penguin's head office to decree, behind closed doors, that Morrissey's autobiography is a classic is an act of both extreme haughtiness and dumbed-down relativism – it is arrogant to believe a classic can be christened before being devoured and discussed by humanity, and it is ignorant, too, a relativistic denigration of those classics whose worth we as a species have already agreed upon.

http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/brendanoneill2/100241061/in-publishing-morrisseys-autobiography-as-a-classic-penguin-has-destroyed-its-own-reputation/

"Signed, Luke Haines"

While that may have a point, it's written by one of the most profound cunts in the British journalistic canon, so if we're using his argument that a classic must be established on reputation, I say that he has already established his own right to shut the fuck up and never sully my mind with his noxious Tory filth again so help me God

Also I genuinely cannot be fucked how this was published, under what guise it is presented. 'Classic' is subjective marketing bullshit anyway. Who cares, other than those for whom subjective marketing bullshit is everything - the gatekeeping Tory shitheads?

While that may have a point, it's written by one of the most profound cunts in the British journalistic canon, so if we're using his argument that a classic must be established on reputation, I say that he has already established his own right to shut the fuck up and never sully my mind with his noxious Tory filth again so help me God

dunno would i call morrissey a fully-fledged journalist now tbf

haaaaa

In fact that's key here -- WHO WILL MAKE THE BIOPIC.

Suggest cast, director and screenwriter.

All I know is Daniel Day Lewis should play Moz. Maybe Stephen Daldry to direct?

Perfect.

managed to read 40 pages of it on my commute to work this morning

most amazing relevation so far is a childhood fondness for "Skippy The Bush Kangaroo"

ben affleck as morrissey vinnie jones to direct

Book's pretty good. Skimmed it in three hours for some news stories.

oh wasn't endorsing that excerpt by any means, i just thought it was hilariously splenetic. never read anything by that dude before but the phrase "a relativistic denigration of those classics whose worth we as a species have already agreed upon" just made me assume he was your typical quasi-racist right-wing asshole.

oh *dear*

http://www.ijamming.net/autobiography-by-morrissey-a-review/

A rare gem of surprise arrives as if from nowhere to round out the story, in the form of a letter from Marr’s music journalist pal Nick Kent, to Morrissey, begging to play the part of Marr in an ongoing Smiths. “I am not a good self-salesman but I can confidently boast an encyclopaedic knowledge of the chord structures, dynamics etc. of Johnny’s contributions to date.”

0____O

http://www.theguardian.com/music/musicblog/2013/oct/16/morrissey-autobiography-smiths

If it is Morrissey's tragedy – as it is the tragedy of pop music as youth culture – that he appears stuck in his youthful persona, then that should be balanced against his youthful courage and his considerable achievements. But an autobiography is a book of a life. In Morrissey's case, which life are you going to get: the joyous, barbed but humorous spirit of the Smiths' years, or the inward-looking, self-obsessed curmudgeon of his middle age? The jury's out, but I know which one I would like to read.

... and?

I know, bad form to repost other comment sections, but:

PresumingOgs (17 October 2013 7:04am)

Michael, I know you're desperate to get the juicy titbits out there, but enough already. Give the book a proper read and then give us a considered review. Or, better still, get someone else to do it for you. Your mining of the index is akin to children looking up dirty words in a dictionary.

Guardian staff CasparPresumingOgs (17 October 2013 7:53am)
Relax! The considered review is coming from John Harris in due course

There isn't an index, so I heard, PresumingOgs.

The jury's out

lol courtroom metaphors

Then it turns out it's nothing but obsessive journalling about his breakfasts.

― Ned Raggett

well why not

sofia coppola is the only person i want to see direct a moz biopic

Got this at lunchtime to read on a plane tomorrow. It had a whole table to itself in Waterstones that had six copies left when I got there. During the time I spent queuing, two other people bought it. No index. Slightly disappointed at the size of the text - bigger than the usual Penguin Classics font, about the same as most modern popular biographies - which means that the 457 pages isn't as much as it sounds.

started on this at lunch, first pages were some ponderous overwritten reflections on Manchester (almost like Laura Barton were ghosting), but warmed up a bit as it went on. Did want to shout 'stop remembering tv' when he was just listing things he watched in the 60s.

EK, I got the third-but-last one on the table at University Place Waterstone's.

Randomly opened to some surprisingly cogent stuff about 9/11.

He's doing a signing at Reading Waterstones, the same week Amber's doing her work experience...

OK, that's a complete lie there.

Still, ....

meanwhile...

http://scontent-a-lhr.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc3/s403x403/1385824_10153328667805117_1497073546_n.jpg

Our past comes back to haunt us.

momus to play moz

I was at the only place in the UK open at midnight to sell it (I had to for work). There were 18 people there at midnight for the 192 copies. Very jovial, though. And we got a free poster.

Wonder what the economics are of opening your bookstore at midnight to sell 18 copies of a paperback retailing at £8.99?

Two-man operation, so perhpas worth it. And there was a BBC camera crew there, so maybe some publicity.

And, of course, maybe some more people turned up after I went (I left as soon as I got my copy) …

I'm browsing it just now. It's a decent read i think. He doesn't seem to prioritise much - every incident is dealt with in around two pages - so the effect is like having his life's contents all set up in a line, and then viewing them from a moving train.

He also appears to have dampened his very worst and most cruellest affectations, while leaving the quintessential Morrissey character traits (including middling affectations and fairly cruel character judgements). It's actually not unlike reading a particularly long classic-era l0u15 j4g9er post, and that's a compliment of sorts btw.

okay i'm sold now

That's one for the back of the second printing, reviews..

the bit where he discusses his relationship with Jake Walters is pretty cute, which is not an adjective I foresaw myself using about this book.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49lPGmnYDw4

sort of disappointed that this appears to contain forthright discussions of his romantic/sex life...? was hoping for more clever elisions and evasions tbh

It's not really any more forthright than any of his lyrics.

Did want to shout 'stop remembering tv' when he was just listing things he watched in the 60s.

Four and a half bloody pages worth. Morrissey veering dangerously close to Stuart MacConie territory.

Then again, that's only 4.5 pages. Stuart Mac writes whole books.

uh, just suffered through another three pages worth of childhood telly.