Bibliofemme Bookclub An Irish Bookclub

Months after putting this book down, I still find myself wound up and generally disgusted by the amount one person can massage his ego between two covers. In stark contrast, James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces brought readers into the terrifying and helpless world of drug addiction with an unparalleled honesty that made Anthony Kiedis’ experience seem nothing more than a temper tantrum thrown by yet another over-indulgent rock star.

Kiedis could have been onto a winner here, as there is no shortage of interesting people, famous and infamous, that he has met along the way. This was the only thing that kept me wandering through his 465 pages of debauched sex, drugs and rock and roll. Instead, Kiedis chose to use his autobiography as nothing more than explanations and justifications for all of his egocentric, womanising failings along the way. With all of his imaginary remorse, he never once gives a sincere apology for his actions. For someone with so many amazing stories, I would have expected to be more entertained, yet his method of giving deep accounts of trivial events and then glossing over the truly dark things that every human experiences, leaves you feeling like nothing more is being shared than a sexed up version of himself.

Glutton for punishment, I kept reading on. I have to admit, growing up in California I was once a Red Hot Chili Peppers fan. Before Blood Sugar Sex Magic hit the charts, I had cassettes of Uplift Mofo Party Plan and Freaky Styley doing the regular rounds on my metallic pink boom box. They helped to introduce me to George Clinton and jump around my bedroom like a maniac, so not all my experiences with them have been bad. A few less interested years later, I saw the Peppers headline at Lollapalooza, and true, they can put on a show.

There is no doubt that Kiedis also has a way with words – even as my musical taste has shifted dramatically from what the Peppers have been doing to date – his poetic style surfaces now and again with in the pages of this autoshiteography. All the more reason to become yet again irritated with the book. Instead of putting his writing skills to task, I get the eerie feeling that Kiedis simply recorded himself talking, had someone type it up and then passed it back him for the final thumbs up. An editor might’ve thrown his eyes over it…Even that is debatable.

The two tastiest morsels I can leave you with are the story of him falling for Sinead O’Connor and her giving him the brush off – go girl. I also loved hearing that all the bands on the Lollapalooza tour were jamming together except Jesus and Mary Chain, who would be drunk by 2pm and insult everyone. This went too far with Ice Cube and his band and they ended up giving the bitter band a beating. Hilarious.

All in all: Apart from those few giggles along the way, don’t bother.