I review most of the books I read. Some, however, I can’t seem to find the right words for. These are most likely to be autobiographies, particularly those of famous people. I’ve read several of these this year and enjoyed them, so why are they so difficult to review? I think it’s because I’m the kind of reviewer who prefers to separate art from the artist. It’s not possible to do that with an autobiography, because the author and the subject are the same thing. I feel as if I’m reviewing the person as much as the book, as they can’t be separated. Biographies are easier to review, as there is a distance between the reader and the subject, with the author between them. They are also objective (or at least, they should be), which is helpful for a reviewer.
Some famous people’s autobiographies I’ve enjoyed and not reviewed are: Berserker! by Adrian Edmondson, What Are You Doing Here? by Floella Benjamin, This Much Is True by Miriam Margolyes, Just Sayin’ by Malorie Blackman, and Friends, Lovers and the Big Terrible Thing by Matthew Perry (RIP). Some I have reviewed are: Thanks A Lot, Mr Kibblewhite by Roger Daltrey, Beyond the Wand by Tom Felton, Will by Will Smith, Who I Am by Melanie C, Always Look on the Bright Side of Life by Eric Idle and The Storyteller by Dave Grohl.
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