Bunnyman the first part, (we assume), of Will Sergeant's memoirs, is a down to earth, no frills affair but no less readable. It's clear he feels he has a tale worth telling and there's plenty worth commenting on before talking of the band he made his name with. Ian McCulloch doesn't get a mention until page 199.
In the meantime, Sergeant paints a vivid but slightly disturbing story of an impovertished childhood in Melling. It's bleak, but as the young Will knows no better, he makes the most of it. His writing from the off is as you'd imagine. Droll self-depreciating, deadpan Liverpudlian wit. Never getting ahead of yourself and staying in your place to ensure nobody else has to put you there for you.
Music features only peripherally in the first fifty pages but it is there. Almost inevitable The Beatles. at four, are Sergeant's first musical memory, as his sister sings along on her transistor radio.
No comments:
Post a Comment