I'm not usually a fan of autobiographies. It takes skill to write
something as personal as that without producing either self-aggrandising tripe
or sensationalist misery memoirs. But once in a while one comes along that
stops you dead in your tracks. And this is one of them.
I plowed through it in less than a day; I was hooked from page 1.
I plowed through it in less than a day; I was hooked from page 1.
Obviously I would be somewhat biased.
Some of you may remember Simon as a bookseller in our shop in the second half
of 2012. A fine bookseller indeed he was, but the talent doesn't end there.
He's been a writer and actor since childhood, always thinking up tales, plays,
always performing - and doing it well. As long as I have known him - which is
nigh 9 years now - he has been frantically, feverishly producing, creating,
making things, a productivity that I envied much, compared to my own sluggish
endeavours, but took equal inspiration from. Last year he took his Donald Trump
satire show Trumpageddon to the Edinburgh
Fringe Festival where it sold out continuously through its month-long run, with
reviews featured in the Scotsman and Guardian. Not too shabby, eh?
What I only gradually became aware of over
the years (and only fully so after reading his book) was that his frenzied
productivity served a bigger purpose than just being a creative outlet. Many
creative people will tell you that it's a way of exorcising their demons - for
Simon it literally became a lifesaver.
Considering that Simon Jay has lived through
incredibly dark and painful moments and struggled with serious mental distress,
this book could have easily become self-indulgent – a “Not with the scissors,
Daddy” type of book, as he describes it.
Instead, it is a candid, intelligent, self-deprecating (in a good way) and at the same time darkly hilarious account of his struggle with depression, anxiety and Borderline Personality Disorder symptoms, exacerbated by realising early on that he is gay while growing up in an entirely homophobic, bullying environment. It makes a harrowing read more often than not, but then he’ll throw in a bizarrely funny or wry comment or description that will reduce you to mad (and not entirely guilt-free) cackles, which reminded me much of the writing of Caitlin Moran, Jeanette Winterson and Augusten Burroughs.
"Bastardography" is not just a heartbreaking meditation on the experience of mental illness but also an acerbic commentary on society’s prevailing homophobic attitudes, dished out mindlessly without a thought for the psychological damage it causes. At the same time it is liberating and downright inspiring to see how Simon relentlessly fought his illness by channelling it creatively – into writing, acting, theatre and any tool possible – and finally found, and continues to find redemption through it.
It reads as if Quentin Crisp had written “Girl, Interrupted”, roughed up by Shane Meadows’ grit, and pitch black surreal humour massaged into the scrapes.
Instead, it is a candid, intelligent, self-deprecating (in a good way) and at the same time darkly hilarious account of his struggle with depression, anxiety and Borderline Personality Disorder symptoms, exacerbated by realising early on that he is gay while growing up in an entirely homophobic, bullying environment. It makes a harrowing read more often than not, but then he’ll throw in a bizarrely funny or wry comment or description that will reduce you to mad (and not entirely guilt-free) cackles, which reminded me much of the writing of Caitlin Moran, Jeanette Winterson and Augusten Burroughs.
"Bastardography" is not just a heartbreaking meditation on the experience of mental illness but also an acerbic commentary on society’s prevailing homophobic attitudes, dished out mindlessly without a thought for the psychological damage it causes. At the same time it is liberating and downright inspiring to see how Simon relentlessly fought his illness by channelling it creatively – into writing, acting, theatre and any tool possible – and finally found, and continues to find redemption through it.
It reads as if Quentin Crisp had written “Girl, Interrupted”, roughed up by Shane Meadows’ grit, and pitch black surreal humour massaged into the scrapes.
I've known Simon for years, but his book opened up
a whole new level of him. I knew of things that happened, but not the extent of
it, and reading it left me shaken, devastated, but with a new level of
admiration for him. You don't need to know him personally to adore this book -
his wit, his quirky and at times even surreal charm, his strength and warmth
and honesty will win you over. "Bastardography" has, to me, been
a balm, an acknowledgement and encouragement, and helped me to accept and
continue to deal with my own mental illness, rather than being consumed by it,
in a constructive way.
With bookish love,
Patty
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| Simon in 2012 at a book event in our store. |
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| Simon as Donald Trump at the Edinburgh Fringe 2016 |
