Review by Booklist Review
In the foreword to her idiosyncratic and poignant memoir, O'Connor admits that what she doesn't recall "would fill ten thousand libraries," and the reasons she has no memories of her early life is the underlying theme. She divides her life in two stages, from the 1987 release of her debut album, The Lion and the Cobra, to her controversial tearing up of a photograph of Pope John Paul II on Saturday Night Live in 1992 and after. She writes about smoking too much weed and stints in mental health institutions but also about singing in your own voice (how glorious hers is) and learning how to be yourself. "Onstage, I can always be who I really am. Offstage, not so much," she writes. Undoubtedly, Connor has had a tumultuous life: stealing, getting thrown out of school, running away, parental abuse. Writing in a shambolic, conversational style, she describes how devastated she felt after the deaths of her mother and Elvis, the first time she heard Bob Dylan perform, a disturbing encounter with Prince, her struggles with sexism and loneliness, and so much more.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
The idiosyncratic singer-songwriter takes readers on an emotional roller coaster in this unapologetic, soul-baring debut. Born in Glenageary, Ireland, in 1966, O'Connor endured traumatic physical abuse by her mother and began shoplifting as a child. Through the tumult, she sought respite in her older brother's Bob Dylan records, which led her to start playing guitar. She traces her rise as a singer in London in the 1980s and condemns the misogyny she witnessed in the music industry: "I made a lot of money for a lot of men who couldn't actually have cared less what the songs were about." After soaring to fame with a cover of Prince's "Nothing Compares 2 U," O'Connor sparked controversy by ripping up a photo of Pope John Paul II in 1992 on Saturday Night Live, a move that she says many still believe "derailed my career." On the contrary, she argues, "it set me on a path that fit me better." While that path comprised years in and out of mental-health institutions, she's refreshingly frank about how it helped her "re-rail" her life as a mother of four and eventually return to live performance, where she "scream into mikes now and then." This page-turner will enthrall the singer's fans. (June)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
The Grammy-winning Irish singer/songwriter looks back on her eventful life. Promising candor and clarity, O'Connor (b. 1966) opens with a caveat that her story only details lucid periods of her life when she was psychologically "present." Omitting hazy years in which she drifted off "somewhere else inside myself"--material some readers may wish she included--the author shares pivotal milestones (raising four children) and entertaining anecdotes. O'Connor vividly recalls an abusive Catholic childhood in Dublin with a cruel, unstable mother. As a rebellious teenager, she was sent to a reform asylum, where her love for music became the ultimate refuge, leading to band gigs and eventually a record deal in London in 1985. The Lion and the Cobra achieved gold status, and O'Connor describes the development of her persona: shaved head, baggy clothing, and stormy, antagonistic, always forthright demeanor. The author addresses her mental health challenges and experimentation with sex and drugs ("In the locked ward where they put you if you're suicidal, there's more class A drugs than in Shane MacGowan's dressing room") as well as two iconic moments in her career: her smash-hit cover of the Prince-penned "Nothing Compares 2 U" and her notorious performance on Saturday Night Live in 1992, when she ripped up a photo of Pope John Paul II. "A lot of people say or think that tearing up the pope's photo derailed my career. That's not how I feel about it," she writes. Rather, it allowed her to return to her roots as a live performer instead of remaining on the pop-star trajectory ("you have to be a good girl for that"). In cathartic sections, O'Connor considers the era leading up to that appearance as a personal death, with the years following a kind of "rebirth." Though she touches on her agoraphobia and later psychological issues, with which many of her fans will be familiar, the final third of the memoir sputters somewhat, growing less revelatory than earlier passages. A self-aware confessional from a successful and controversial musician. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
