The gentle voice of Fergal Keane has been a backdrop to my life - pronouncing the unpronounceable place-names, explaining the unexplainable, refusing to excuse the inexcusable and remaining human in the face of inhumanity. In writing this autobiography he brings the same bravery, the same ruthless search for the truth, as served him in his journalism. Whether in his work or private life, it is all deeply personal, and it is all in the open.
Central to the story is Keane's struggle to reconcile himself to his alcoholic father, mirrored by his own battles with drink. Along the way there is acknowledgment for all the support from family, teachers and colleagues, but in the end Keane seems to be standing alone, fighting the demons.
There are the stories which established Keane: the end to apartheid in South Africa and genocide in Rwanda - no less vivid for their retelling. In the background the story of Ireland also unfolds; as that country slowly comes of age and lets go of its past, Keane is one who has dared to question the glorification of brutality and murder. I can't help feeling the peace and maturity owes a debt to the likes of Keane and their "Have a good look at yourself" attitude.
Keane is a true son of south-west Ireland - the intelligence, wit and warmth shine through.