Quarehawk

Dammit I’d been looking forward to this, as an avid fan of his radio show and stand-up gigs. Because Russell Brand is an interesting character. A loquacious and daring man who’s carved himself a unique comedic niche and crafted an original image and persona for himself that won’t be easily imitated.

But this wasn’t the book we wanted him to write. From the jacket …

“Russell Brand’s scandalous reminiscences were always going to have a literary flavour. But nothing you’ve heard him say on stage, radio or tv can prepare you for the impact of this beautifully written memoir”

Oh please! Every assertion in that blurb is incorrect.

Understanding that you are never going to get great literature, there are still certain things you expect from a good showbiz autobiography, which is after all what the Booky Wook boils down to; Outrageous sex stories (preferably involving celebrities), periods of self-destruction mixed with heart-rending passages of introspection, and maybe a satisfying confession about how fame is a hollow illusion or even a delighted gloating about how fame is every bit as good as us ordinary folk imagine. And if there’s an admission to a childhood eating disorder or psychiatric condition thrown in that’s even better. Sorry if that sounds callous, but those extremes of behaviour are what engage us readers, for this kind of book anyway.

And you know what? All of those desired elements are there in this book, in principle. Every one of them. It’s just that Brand’s writing isn’t as engaging as it could be.

People have written more gripping bios with less outrageous material to work with. Tweedy old Stephen Fry managed to hit almost all of the above targets and more with his excellent autobiography, and I don’t even think he was ever a drug-addled sex maniac. So how can an arresting and entertaining character like Russell Brand falter at it? Probably because he’s a terrific stand-up and a terrific personality. But a terrific writer he isn’t.

Ok it’s a bit out-of-order to compare anyone’s writing to Stephen Fry, particularly on a first book.

And Booky Wook book does have its moments. It’s an interesting look at the stage-school struggling actor type of life, which Brand has now left behind. And you might be moved by his obviously heartfelt gratitude for the various people who’ve helped him get to where he is - his agents, his nan, his long-suffering mother, and long time collaborator and friend Matt Morgan. His tale of the making of his little-watched earlier work “Re:Brand” where he is filmed meeting with a BNP leader and jerking off a gay man in a toilet, is probably the most entertaining section of the book (You can find a good bit of Re:Brand on youtube. Where would we be without youtube eh?).

The writing style is certainly not as verbose as you might have expected. The best part of Brand’s breakthrough stint on Big Brother’s Big Mouth was his wildly verbal, often lunatic flights of fancy, but he hasn’t gone down that route here. Instead it’s basically a flat recounting of his adventures. A bit guarded and bland. For him, I mean. Because part of Russell Brand’s in-person appeal is his fearlessness and cringe-making honesty about his emotions. But this hasn’t translated well to the written form. Maybe as a fan, I expected too much.

And there’s very little humour. Although on the other hand, points go to Russell for not writing this book as just an extended stand-up comedy script. He may have been trying to do something different, go in another direction and reach a new audience. More likely he had a deadline to meet.

So it looks like the Shagger Of The Year has finally stretched himself too thin. Because this man has got a finger in every showbiz pie you can think of; Newspaper column, radio show, stand up tours, DVDs, movie roles, television presenting and now this. He’s a raging extrovert who’s never denied being driven by a quest for fame and who’s prepared to work hard to get it, but Russell Brand probably needs to back off a bit now. Everything is in place for him to become a “National Treasure” as they say, but overexposure is the one thing that could kill that. He needs to fade off the scene for a few months then burst back with something clever and interesting. I think he can do it.

For the devoted Russellites, all the required stuff is there in Booky Wook. His story. But it’s a bit short on personality. You get the feeling he’s holding back, merely factually recounting the escapades that have made up his life. He still comes off as a likeable and clever person, and for a devoted Brand fan this is a reasonable read. But it’s short on surprises and insights, and it’s not the kind of gripping memoir you’d want to read twice. I never thought I’d say this where Russell Brand is concerned, but it’s a little bit boring.

That said - My Booky Wook is already topping the bestseller lists, so what do I know?

[PS: My mate thinks it's called "My Wookie Book by Russell Brand". I haven't bothered correcting him. Heh!]