Russell Brand learned early on to make a joke of fear and failure. From a troubled childhood in industrial Essex, England, to his descent into addictions to alcohol, drugs, and sex in the seamy underbelly of London, Brand has seen his share of both and miraculously lived to tell the tale. In My Booky Wook he leads readers on a rollicking journey through his disastrous school career, his infamous antics on MTV, and his multifarious sexual adventures. But this irreverent memoir is a story not simply of struggle but also of redemption, a testament to the difficulty of discovering what you want from life and the remarkable power of a bloody-minded determination to get it. My Booky Wook is a giddy trip through the brilliant mind of one of Britain's most valuable exports.
Russell Brand's stage show is singularly his own, and so it would follow that his prose would be similarly unconventional. I just didn't expect that it would be as good as it is.
How many working comedians have the time to write a 400+ page memoir at the outset of their careers? For that matter, who has this much to talk about happening in their lives BEFORE stardom? Russell Brand, that's who.
The writing is pretty dense with English colloquialisms, so I'm not sure how those will translate for American readers. Regardless, it's hilarious as hell, proving that Brand is a worthy successor to the outlaw comic crown previously worn by Richard Pryor and Bill Hicks.
The book's US subtitle is "Sex, Drugs, and Stand-Up". There's a fair amount of sex, but not as many drugs as you might expect (and very little stand-up, for that matter). The book starts and ends with Brand's stay in a sex addiction clinic, but judging from his recent troubles with the BBC, he hasn't quite banished all of his sexual demons. Can't wait for the sequel!
I had a great time with this book, but considering I'm a big Brand fan and was eagerly waiting for its release I'm not surprised. You would think the story of tortured star would be old, but Brand brings it back to life with his humor. I've read other humorous memoirs and memoir fiction hybrids(The Imperfect Enjoyment by Dewan Gibson, Women by Charles Bukowski)and in its own way My Booky Wooky was just as entertaining.
I found *My Booky Wook* laugh-out-loud funny, but not for the faint of heart. Brand's honesty is almost child-like at times, except that he's dealing with very adult topics like depression, sex addiction, and drug use.
That honesty was precisely what made the read so compelling for me. Brand has a unique gift for non-pompous self-reflection, and refuses to bowdlerize his life just because it might offend some. His description of what it's like to take heroin deserves a place right up there with The Velvet Underground's song. It's loving and funny and unapologetic, while still acknowledging the horrific damage that addiction brings.
Brand's prose, like his personality, is deliberately flamboyant. I found myself feeling that, by all logical reasoning, I should be put off by his deliberately Dickensian flourishes. But self-knowledge saves all, and Brand combines his rococo prose with colloquial diction, self-mockery, and traces of his real, non-elite accent. In this regard, I kept thinking that Brand's style was akin to that of a very dirty P.G. Wodehouse.
The result was (dare I say it) addictive. I couldn't put the damned book down, and after finishing it I had to immediately lend it out so I wouldn't re-read it a million times.
Like all great comedians, Russell Brand turns his personal pain into comedy. Given the variety of individual senses of humor, it's impossible to guarantee that you'll find this book funny. But if you're not easily offended, you'll probably be laughing. Even if you are easily offended, you can treat this as a very honest memoir of sex and drug addiction, and be shocked that Brand tells it as a funny story.
