rojaed's review against another edition
4.0
I was surprised how much I enjoyed this book, despite having no appreciation for Jimmy Barnes music. He and his family certainly had a hardscrabble life, with alcohol playing the part of a wrecking ball. It ends with his leaving home with Cold Chisel at about 17 years old. He reads the book himself
knrt_17's review against another edition
5.0
I listened to the audiobook. I have a sign copy as well, that has going straight to the pool room. Cold Chisel was my favourite band. I know all the words to their songs, owned all the albums and stalked them as much as possible, back in the days. Jimmy narrates his own story and brings the words to life. Off to find the next book Working Class Man.
archytas's review
4.0
This is an immensely emotional, and one suspects, cathartic book as Barnes looks unflinchingly at the violence, alcoholism and poverty that obliterated most of his childhood. I haven't seen reviews from others who grew up around Adelaide's northern suburbs, but I found reading this a deeply upsetting experience, as the ferocity of Barnes' anger and disgust often feels lodged in the suburb of Elizabeth itself. As a memoir, it is courageous and impactful, but I can't help feeling a twinge at the knowledge that for thousands of people, this will be all they ever know of Adelaide's northern rustbelt.
Before I get into that though, while it is rare for me to recommend audiobook - I don't love the format - in this case I definitely would recommend picking it up this way. The narrative style, very much like an extended interview response almost, can start to feel like a barrage of anecdotes and I found it difficult to get into the rhythm of the humour, I think these would be resolved by the audiobook version.
So it was after the one-hour walk listening to Cold Chisel and arguing with an imaginary Jimmy Barnes in my head that I realised my own reaction to this book had to be as much about my own hang ups as his. I spent the first decade of my life in Gawler, north of Elizabeth. My beloved 'grandma' lived in Elizabeth, and my parents taught in high schools of the region through the 70s and 80s. Most of our early babysitters were kids from those schools. And yep, it was a rough area. I always understood that there was violence there, after dark. But the coffee shop that Barnes describes as a hang-out of gangs at night was the same shop we bought double scoop icecreams at. The Elizabeth Library was one of the most magical places in the world for me as a kid. And most importantly, the people I knew may have been poor, but their values weren't. I knew no-one in Elizabeth or the area with a drinking problem, or who seemed violent. I remember the kids from the high schools lecturing me about basic values like being polite, working hard and trying your best. The relatives I knew who lived in the area were passionate about equality, involved in the community and their double-brick home - identical in build to the Barnes' - were meticulously maintained. My parents knew kids who endured enormous amounts just to get a basic education. Kids who responded to being respected with intense affection and commitment. There were many Elizabeths, and while all were plagued by poorly paid and often dangerous industry, and poor social services, they weren't all dysfunctional. There is strength in working class communities, capacity and pride as well as the bad stuff.
None of that, of course, belies any of the content here. Barnes' intent is not a social history of a suburb, it is a look at how he ended up who he is, and it is unquestioningly honest, and painfully raw. I guess it was just a bit of shock for me, given the hero status Barnsey has among my generation in the Northern suburbs, living proof that the rustbelt could produce something worthwhile, to realise he believes he succeeded despite, rather than because of, his experiences there. I probably shouldn't have read this around the annual anniversaries of my father's death and birthday, given the pride my father had his whole life in what he achieved in the region, and the lives he touched. Hindmarsh, viewed by Barnes as a haven, is where my parents moved when I was 10, and was a much more difficult environment for me, adding to the disjuncture (although all my memories of living in Semaphore and around the Port, like his, are pretty wonderful). So there's all my own emotional baggage here in this review, not just his (you don't have to tell me that in the comments, people, I know). I guess I just really wanted Barnesy to be as proud of Elizabeth as it is of him.
Before I get into that though, while it is rare for me to recommend audiobook - I don't love the format - in this case I definitely would recommend picking it up this way. The narrative style, very much like an extended interview response almost, can start to feel like a barrage of anecdotes and I found it difficult to get into the rhythm of the humour, I think these would be resolved by the audiobook version.
So it was after the one-hour walk listening to Cold Chisel and arguing with an imaginary Jimmy Barnes in my head that I realised my own reaction to this book had to be as much about my own hang ups as his. I spent the first decade of my life in Gawler, north of Elizabeth. My beloved 'grandma' lived in Elizabeth, and my parents taught in high schools of the region through the 70s and 80s. Most of our early babysitters were kids from those schools. And yep, it was a rough area. I always understood that there was violence there, after dark. But the coffee shop that Barnes describes as a hang-out of gangs at night was the same shop we bought double scoop icecreams at. The Elizabeth Library was one of the most magical places in the world for me as a kid. And most importantly, the people I knew may have been poor, but their values weren't. I knew no-one in Elizabeth or the area with a drinking problem, or who seemed violent. I remember the kids from the high schools lecturing me about basic values like being polite, working hard and trying your best. The relatives I knew who lived in the area were passionate about equality, involved in the community and their double-brick home - identical in build to the Barnes' - were meticulously maintained. My parents knew kids who endured enormous amounts just to get a basic education. Kids who responded to being respected with intense affection and commitment. There were many Elizabeths, and while all were plagued by poorly paid and often dangerous industry, and poor social services, they weren't all dysfunctional. There is strength in working class communities, capacity and pride as well as the bad stuff.
None of that, of course, belies any of the content here. Barnes' intent is not a social history of a suburb, it is a look at how he ended up who he is, and it is unquestioningly honest, and painfully raw. I guess it was just a bit of shock for me, given the hero status Barnsey has among my generation in the Northern suburbs, living proof that the rustbelt could produce something worthwhile, to realise he believes he succeeded despite, rather than because of, his experiences there. I probably shouldn't have read this around the annual anniversaries of my father's death and birthday, given the pride my father had his whole life in what he achieved in the region, and the lives he touched. Hindmarsh, viewed by Barnes as a haven, is where my parents moved when I was 10, and was a much more difficult environment for me, adding to the disjuncture (although all my memories of living in Semaphore and around the Port, like his, are pretty wonderful). So there's all my own emotional baggage here in this review, not just his (you don't have to tell me that in the comments, people, I know). I guess I just really wanted Barnesy to be as proud of Elizabeth as it is of him.
thisisroseayres's review
2.0
Good insight into his life but I didn't really enjoy his writing style.
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