Review by Booklist Review
Neko Case survived an impoverished, lonely, and unsafe childhood to become a remarkably accomplished and beloved singer, songwriter, producer, and writer. In her memoir, she candidly excavates her fraught family background while lovingly lingering on moments of redemption and grace, the kindness of neighbors, her abiding love of horses, and, perhaps above all, songs, music, and the community of musicians, which serve as the lifeline of a lifetime. Case bravely attempts to describe the ineffable process of writing songs, which "starts in the middle of a world you haven't invented yet. It's like trying to decide exactly what a city is like based on one postcard with no writing on the back." She also deftly shatters clichés with vividly detailed descriptions of what life is really like on the road for middle-class indie musicians; it's not about limos and hot tubs but, instead, heavy amps and smelly microphones. Case shares a raw and inspiring heroine's journey.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
In her first book, singer-songwriter Case takes a gut-wrenching look at her difficult childhood and her path toward a music career. Case's parents, she writes, were "the typical cautionary tale of two teens who have sex for the first time ever... and get pregnant by accident." That made Case, who grew up in rural Virginia, "a child of children" who weren't especially interested in raising her. In second grade, her father told her that her mother had died of cancer; a short time later, her mother suddenly reappeared, and Case eventually learned that she was never even sick. Following their reunion, Case and her mother bounced between small towns across the country, eventually settling in Tacoma, Wash., where Case was legally emancipated from her parents at age 15. Afterward, she roamed Tacoma and began playing in bands. She discusses moving to and from British Columbia, linking up with Carl Newman to start the New Pornographers, and launching her solo career in prose that's unfussy but often beautiful (Case preferred walking Tacoma at night because "there was less consciousness to contend with.... I wasn't so on edge and my cyclonic churning could ebb a little"). With equal doses of grit and self-compassion, Case delivers a riveting autobiography that will fascinate even those who've never heard her music. Agent: Jennifer Gates, Aevitas Creative Management. (Jan.)
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Case, who entered the Pacific Northwest music scene in the 1990s, traces her life as the daughter of teenage parents. Her parents divorced early on and jointly raised her--which she asserts they were ill-suited for--primarily in Tacoma, WA. She writes about experiencing trauma, for example, when her mother inexplicably faked her own death. Family members close to Case, including her father, were in on this ruse; a mock funeral party was even staged for Case's benefit. But her mother eventually resurfaced. A stint living with her mother on the Colville Reservation inspired Case's love for nature, which she later incorporated into her music. Case depicts her childhood as lonely and impoverished until she discovered a passion for music, which created space for friendship, community, and expression. Her music grew and evolved, and the singer/songwriter engaged in frequent and successful collaborations. Three of her albums garnered Grammy nominations. Her success enabled her to purchase a home in Vermont, as well as horses, a lifelong passion. VERDICT A sure bet for Case's many fans: a memoir that is as intriguing and mysterious as the artist herself.--Barrie Olmstead
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
The alt-rock and country singer recalls childhood abuse, misogyny, and a wayward path to success. Case's memoir is informed by injustice, betrayal, and the serial mistreatment of women. Growing up in Washington state, her family was a study in dysfunction; when she was in second grade, she was told that cancer had killed her mother, who returned home a year-and-a-half later, apparently cured. (She wouldn't get the full story till years later.) Date-raped at 14, Case spent her teens and 20s in a drug-addled world, then all but stumbled onto a music career. Though her experiences are despondent, the tone of this well-turned book is lively and often funny. That's partly because Case has a songwriter's gift for potent imagery. Her parents started out "poor as empty acorns" and drove a car that "looked like a nauseous basking shark"; during winters in Chicago, where her career took off, she felt the "wind hammering in like a bouquet of cold fists"; at a soundcheck, her voice "sounds like it's being piped through a thrift-store whale's carcass into a pirate's wet diaper." That imagination and wit speak to the other prevailing theme in the memoir, the element that gives it a lift: Case's observations of her hard-won resilience. By turns, that has meant processing the psychic damage of her rape and her family's betrayals, a disastrous fit of heatstroke at the Grand Ole Opry, an even-worse encounter with country legend (and overt bigot) Charlie Louvin, and more. Case chronicles her various career achievements as a singer-songwriter (including three Grammy nominations), but those feel almost secondary to her study of her emotional growth, which she discusses with a rare candor. "There are moments so lonely they become like personal national parks," she writes, but the life of a touring musician is irresistible: "It's both harder than the myth and also contains a more terrible, crunchy joy." A sweet-and-sour study of a songwriter's coming-of-age. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
