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A review by yetilibrary
'Scuse Me While I Kiss the Sky: Jimi Hendrix: Voodoo Child by David Henderson
2.0
I finally gave up. If I didn't have to request this through ILL, and if I were able to renew it, I might have kept trying, but I decided to just let it go. I never wanted to pick it up and I'd hit a part of the book that was a real slog.
They say not to fall in love with your subject--whether you're a biographer or the creator of a fictional character--and I wish someone had said that to every dude who wrote about Jimi Hendrix, because they need to stop. David Henderson, at least, has clearly done a lot of very thorough research, but no one told him that a biography does not need to involve telling us about every single conversation Hendrix had in 1968 because YE GODS JUST GET ON WITH IT, MAN. A biography of Hendrix does not also need to involve the complete history of rock and roll, and while I am grateful for that knowledge, that's not the book I was looking for, and decidedly not what it says on the tin. If you want to write a history of rock, do that, but don't shove that 80 pages (plus) into a totally different book. The reader notices. YOU ARE NOT THAT SLICK.
Augh.
Maybe someday, in a distant future, when I feel like a deep dive into every street Jimi Hendrix trod from 1966 until his untimely death, I will pick up this book again. Until that day, I've given up.
tl;dr: WHITHER THE EDITOR?
They say not to fall in love with your subject--whether you're a biographer or the creator of a fictional character--and I wish someone had said that to every dude who wrote about Jimi Hendrix, because they need to stop. David Henderson, at least, has clearly done a lot of very thorough research, but no one told him that a biography does not need to involve telling us about every single conversation Hendrix had in 1968 because YE GODS JUST GET ON WITH IT, MAN. A biography of Hendrix does not also need to involve the complete history of rock and roll, and while I am grateful for that knowledge, that's not the book I was looking for, and decidedly not what it says on the tin. If you want to write a history of rock, do that, but don't shove that 80 pages (plus) into a totally different book. The reader notices. YOU ARE NOT THAT SLICK.
Augh.
Maybe someday, in a distant future, when I feel like a deep dive into every street Jimi Hendrix trod from 1966 until his untimely death, I will pick up this book again. Until that day, I've given up.
tl;dr: WHITHER THE EDITOR?