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carolineroche's review
5.0
I wasn’t expecting what I read here. However, this is a powerful and raw story of Alan’s life. Alan was abused both sexually and emotionally by his controlling and angry father, and any attempts he made to tell people about it were always ignored and brushed off. A compelling read.
julesreadsallsorts's review against another edition
4.0
Such a raw account of what Alan Davies’s childhood was like and his style of writing takes you on a heartbreaking journey in a vivid and emotive manner that really pulls you in through audiobook narration.
xanthecoote's review
5.0
Like many people, I started this book envisioning a funny, sarcastic recounting of Alan Davies' childhood. Alas, I was met with a heartbreaking and brutally head-on account of his childhood abuse and sexual abuse from his father, his complex grieving for his dead mother and his lack of support throughout. This is such a personal book and is writing about a very important still ignored issue and was beautifully executed in a refreshingly new method.
slim_oysterhiatus's review
A compelling, brave memoir from a comedian and actor I've enjoyed watching for years. It was difficult to read at times, but I appreciate how it jumped around in time and style, providing some release of tension at the most traumatic instances, and pairing the serious and sardonic writing styles.
blackoxford's review against another edition
4.0
Crying Is Something You Do Alone
Ever since (but not before) the establishment of Roman Law, the institution of the family has been considered an exception. First in the Empire, then in the Church and its successor governments, what went on in the family stayed in the family. The paterfamilias was its absolute emperor, its members were his possessions, and he was insulated from external scrutiny and judgment. If anything is, this principle of family is the foundation of Western civilisation.
Although the edges of this tradition have been worn down over the centuries, its residue is still visible in presumptions of male dominance, inhibitions against state interference in domestic life, the widespread exemption of parents from charges of assault against each other and their children, and in the oft quoted ‘sanctity’ of the nuclear family unit among conservative politicians. The family is special.
It’s difficult to disagree with the claim that the family is indeed special. It is the oven in which we all are cooked. But the presumption of privacy we give to the family neglects the fact that it is the de facto locus of almost all evil in the world. What goes on behind the closed doors in modern cities and suburbs is, far more frequently than we’d like to admit, a primary cause of short-term suffering and longer term criminality.
Alan Davies memoir is an example of the hidden misery which we all know exists but can’t bear to admit occurs as a matter of course. It has become obvious in recent years that every other important institution, from the Church to the Boy Scouts, to corporate business, to democratic politics at every level is corrupt. Not corrupt as an exception but as a rule. None has withstood scrutiny. The family is likely no different.
Davies father was a paedophile. His extended family maintained a façade of middle class respectability which prevented even the death of his mother much less the possibility of his father’s perversion to be revealed. Davies was effectively isolated and tortured for years as a consequence. Even into middle age it wasn’t possible to discuss his father’s ‘eccentricities’ with his siblings or other relatives. His family was a hothouse of malignant secrets. Who’s to say most aren’t?
To survive such familial horror is not a victory. As Davies notes so plaintively about the legacy of families, “This is the true inheritance tax of life. Behaviours and habits, ingrained, your own but not your own, a duty on your existence, a tariff to be levied on those who try to love you.” Everyone continues to pay the price, likely for generations to come. This is the empirical residue of family life: “You are dead but the secrets can continue. As if it is the secrets that sustain these fucking people.” Families are where you do you’re crying alone.
Ever since (but not before) the establishment of Roman Law, the institution of the family has been considered an exception. First in the Empire, then in the Church and its successor governments, what went on in the family stayed in the family. The paterfamilias was its absolute emperor, its members were his possessions, and he was insulated from external scrutiny and judgment. If anything is, this principle of family is the foundation of Western civilisation.
Although the edges of this tradition have been worn down over the centuries, its residue is still visible in presumptions of male dominance, inhibitions against state interference in domestic life, the widespread exemption of parents from charges of assault against each other and their children, and in the oft quoted ‘sanctity’ of the nuclear family unit among conservative politicians. The family is special.
It’s difficult to disagree with the claim that the family is indeed special. It is the oven in which we all are cooked. But the presumption of privacy we give to the family neglects the fact that it is the de facto locus of almost all evil in the world. What goes on behind the closed doors in modern cities and suburbs is, far more frequently than we’d like to admit, a primary cause of short-term suffering and longer term criminality.
Alan Davies memoir is an example of the hidden misery which we all know exists but can’t bear to admit occurs as a matter of course. It has become obvious in recent years that every other important institution, from the Church to the Boy Scouts, to corporate business, to democratic politics at every level is corrupt. Not corrupt as an exception but as a rule. None has withstood scrutiny. The family is likely no different.
Davies father was a paedophile. His extended family maintained a façade of middle class respectability which prevented even the death of his mother much less the possibility of his father’s perversion to be revealed. Davies was effectively isolated and tortured for years as a consequence. Even into middle age it wasn’t possible to discuss his father’s ‘eccentricities’ with his siblings or other relatives. His family was a hothouse of malignant secrets. Who’s to say most aren’t?
To survive such familial horror is not a victory. As Davies notes so plaintively about the legacy of families, “This is the true inheritance tax of life. Behaviours and habits, ingrained, your own but not your own, a duty on your existence, a tariff to be levied on those who try to love you.” Everyone continues to pay the price, likely for generations to come. This is the empirical residue of family life: “You are dead but the secrets can continue. As if it is the secrets that sustain these fucking people.” Families are where you do you’re crying alone.
pinksy's review
3.0
Started this years reading journey with something different. I used to love an autobiography but have steered away from them in recent years.
I like Alan Davies but knew nothing about him, we’d seen the book discussed on Sara Cox’s book club which is why I picked it up.
His story is shocking and utterly heartbreaking and while I came away feeling so sad for him, I also felt that at times he was quite unpleasant. So conflicted though as I can totally see why he was the way he was at times, but the world of celebrity means we already think we know it all and have made our judgement of that person.
Think it’s put me off autobiographies for a while..
I like Alan Davies but knew nothing about him, we’d seen the book discussed on Sara Cox’s book club which is why I picked it up.
His story is shocking and utterly heartbreaking and while I came away feeling so sad for him, I also felt that at times he was quite unpleasant. So conflicted though as I can totally see why he was the way he was at times, but the world of celebrity means we already think we know it all and have made our judgement of that person.
Think it’s put me off autobiographies for a while..
kate66's review
5.0
I'm sure I'm not alone in spending most of my time whilst reading this book trying not to cry. All I could think was you poor man, you poor poor man. You look at the man on the TV and see a confident, successful, grounded individual and having read this book I see all that bravado came at a great cost. I felt so sorry for the little boy who never got to grieve for his mother. I feel sorry for the child who thought so little of himself he craved any kind of attention. I felt sorry for the man he grew into who has managed to show an exterior of normality when his whole life has been tainted by his father's abuse. This book moved me to tears and the only saving graces were that he has made a success of his career, has a family who he loves and who love him and he finally got some form of validation from the authorities. I hope that writing this has given Alan Davies some form of peace because he truly deserves it. A wonderful but harrowing book I'd highly recommend.
elaineruss's review
4.0
Unsure how to review this really. It's brutal but somehow inspiring. You can tell it's been a cathartic process for Alan and I honestly think I, as the reader, feel a bit of that release as well.
bluejadeblue's review
5.0
Started binge-watching QI like CRAZY this summer and Alan made me crack up so much while I was watching so I followed his Twitter and saw he put out a memoir late last year. In a rush to express my admiration for one of my new favorite comedians I bought an e-version his memoir with a Barnes and Noble giftcard I had from my birthday and signed up for a free Audible trial to listen along while I read it.
Honestly? I was not prepared to read this but I was so excited to learn more about Alan and his story. The whole book is a heavy read (of course with good humor tucked into places where it’s appropriate) but I always come back to the chapter Fingers. It’s beautifully written and Alan’s love for his mom seeps through the words he writes. I don’t think I’ve read a book with so much real emotion in it. I loved it. <3
Honestly? I was not prepared to read this but I was so excited to learn more about Alan and his story. The whole book is a heavy read (of course with good humor tucked into places where it’s appropriate) but I always come back to the chapter Fingers. It’s beautifully written and Alan’s love for his mom seeps through the words he writes. I don’t think I’ve read a book with so much real emotion in it. I loved it. <3