Sting autobiography

"It's no use, he sees her -
he starts to shake, he starts to cough -
just like the old man
in that famous book by Nabokov..."

So, yes, of course, I was going to read a memoir by the guy who rhymed cough with Nabokov. How could I not?!

But it was more than that. Sting is responsible for quite a few songs (indelible classics like 'Russians', 'Wrapped Around Your Finger', 'Fragile') boasting highly intelligent lyrics; sort of a male Joni Mitchell (someone who also took on the challenges of various musical forms).

Early on, he tells us that he is only going to cover the period up to his success with The Police. For the most part, that's true, though he does manage the occasional sidebar of info that goes beyond that point.

If he spares us some of the messier details of his psyche (and he certainly seems to), he still seems to present himself warts and all. But the 'warts' we get to look at aren't that unsightly. In essence, as a young'un, he looked around at the world, saw it as depressingly drab (which, yes. it can be), and opted for color - lots of it - no matter what that took. He makes no bones about the fact that, from an early age, he wanted to be famous. However, for him, following that goal was closely linked with following the path to his true self:

I know I want to make my living solely as a musician, but I also want to be recognized as someone unique, defined by my voice, by my abilities as a songwriter, to have the world know my songs and my melodies just as they had known the songs of the Beatles. I want to do this on my own terms, and if that means being marginalized, so be it. I will become stronger, and even if no one else knows who I am, I shall know myself.

If that sounds at all vain, it reads (to me, anyway) more like "If you don't believe in yourself, no one else will." But such belief can be a harsh mistress, including - as it does - the seemingly endless, back-breaking work of schlepping yourself, and your band, and your equipment to countless low-level venues in order to become known:

We set up the gear and PA on a tiny stage covered in angry cigarette burns and sticky underfoot with spilled drinks and old sweat. We will play scores of these clubs up and down the country, with dressing rooms no bigger than toilets, covered in the self-aggrandizing graffiti and puerile obscenities of our fellow musicians, resentful that they've been lured into this circus of seedy glamour by the vague promise of the big time just a little farther down the road.

The memoir is not without lulls - though they're more of the variety of "Yes, devoting yourself whole-hog to the creative life can be tedious when it comes to worrying about paying bills." ~ which is what makes his period of being a teacher (roughly, of 8-year-olds) refreshing, as he throws himself into it with a mixture of book-learning, a love of literature, and a love of musical play.

The book also contains a good deal of pain - mainly in the all-too-vivid detailing of being in the crosshairs of parents at war with each other.

I like the fact that, although he had his hand and his heart in while still young, Sting didn't begin to hit his public stride until he was 27. That seems to have grounded him (and esp. his lyrics) in a way that marked him as unique among his contemporaries.

He ends his memoir with an epilogue relating a unique personal story that has nothing to do with his career but everything to do with his mindset. It's gothic and melancholy (yet also triumphant); a perfect reflection of this deep soul.