Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A wonderful read, 13 Oct 2006
I thoroughly enjoyed this first offering from Michael Smith. From his beginnings in Hartlepool's Headland (think Britain's closest knit area) through to Brighton and London, there is never a dull moment.
Having grown up on the Headland myself, I was delighted to see the warts `n' all description of the area and it's many colourful characters. No punches pulled here, the picture is painted beautifully. The whole story follows the same formula.
This has all the ingredients of a great read. Gritty in some parts, dreamlike in others. It brought back many memories of great days gone by. Read it, you'll love it. I certainly did. Can't wait for the next offering
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
I LOVED this book. Just LOVED it., 31 Mar 2007
I bought this ages ago, and nearly kept reading it, but then was scared of diving in, incase it didn't live up to the lovliness of its cover. Daft I know, but I held off, and then started reading it last week. Then I met the guy who wrote it, and babbled on about how much i loved it.
In the morning, still drunk, I cringed at how much I'd raved about the book, and carried on reading.
I was right to rave like.
The tale of a drifting doley, who lives in Brighton and London and is from the North, it's the kind of book that makes you want to write notes in the margins and big circles around paragraphs, with the words 'ME TOO!' tattooed onto the page.
He writes about places I've been, characters I recognise, situations that most of us have been through at some point in our twenties, especially if you're a creative type, but it's not just that.
I laughed out loud at points and felt sick and sad at descriptions of lonely people messing themselves up royally.
The best thing about this book though, no matter who you are or what you've done to yourself, you can empathise with this story mainly due to the sheer lovliness of his writing, which is natural and clever and real, and his knack of describing things that are so bad you can almost taste them.
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9 of 15 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Beat It, 20 Mar 2006
I just can't fathom the rabid enthusiasm for this book in those reviewers below. It's OK, but it's not great. To be honest, a year or two ago, I would have looked at this book - blurbed by publishers Faber & Faber as a "21st century beat classic" and shuddered, and put it down again. Not just because a formerly respectable (until they published GP Taylor) literary publisher has joined Disney Home Video in stretching beyond endurance the meaning of 'classic,' but because back then I thought of beat literature as a contradiction in terms: pointless, formless blah with an extra helping of chips on the shoulder. Now, of course, with the benefit of a couple of Bukowskis and Fantes under my belt, I know better. Beat can be beautiful.
But ironically, as far as The Giro Playboy is concerned, my decision back then would have been the right one. It's a charming - and charmingly produced - little thing, a ramble through a few months or possibly years (they all, like, run together) in the life of Michael Smith, in his late 20s. He goes to London. He returns to his home town. He goes away again. And then comes back. And all the while he witnesses and records the various eccentrics and low-lifes he encounters, and takes lots of drugs, and drinks, and bums around. And presumably the drugs and drink have taken their toll on his memory and/or his structural senses, because for all its whimsical charm, and some lovely scenes, The Giro Playboy is a mess.
Perhaps Faber were under the influence when they took it on, or intended it to be read like that. Or they were seduced by its 'underground' 'countercultural' qualities - Smith performs the book as a live piece and originally published it himself, in pizza-box format, if my memory is sufficiently unaddled - and forgot to check whether it was actually very good. Or indeed if there was enough of it: the book clocks in at 220 pages, but given that very many of these are faux-naive illustrations by Smith, and almost all the text pages are just half-filled, the actual page-count is more like 80.
So if it's beat lit you're after, stick with the big guys: there's more poetry in a page of Bukowski and better writing in a paragraph of Fante than in all of The Giro Playboy. If you're not sure whether to trust a reviewer, click "See All My Reviews" and you can find out more about their tastes generally, and make up your own mind from there.
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