Simon Doonan

Transformer: A Story of Glitter, Glam Rock, and Loving Lou Reed by Simon Doonan far exceeded my expectations: as a memoir, as a bit of music history, as a piece of LGBTQ+ history, and as just plain enjoyment.

I have recently read a couple of books on Reed and came to this thinking it was going to be narrowly focused on Transformer (the album). The great thing Doonan does is to focus on it but use a wide lens. We get some memoir to help establish how many fans came to the album and what they show more had faced prior to this moment. We get Velvet Underground, Warhol, and that whole scene. We get Bowie, Bolan, and the making of the album, which includes the environment at the time. And so on. Without realizing it, we have a better understanding and appreciation for this period of Reed's career, glam rock in general, and the ways it empowered many LGBTQ+ young people who had felt at best marginalized and more often actually threatened.

We get all of that in a conversational style that will have you chuckle at points, shed a tear at times, and keep you engrossed throughout. I remember the album very well, I bought it shortly after its release, not one of the first to get it but one of the first in my junior high school. My music tastes have always been all over the place and while I didn't quite fit into the same situation as Doonan I was still one of those who often stood outside the crowd. Sometimes by choice, sometimes not. If you're of a similar age, this book will likely be a bit nostalgic for you.

I also found myself going online and looking up images from the past. I tend to make almost all of the books I read a multimedia project. In addition to the usual searches (Bowie, Reed, Sedgwick, Bolan, etc) I also was intrigued by a comment early in the book, about Brigitte Bardot's lips begetting Mick Jagger's lips. So there I was looking at pictures of Bardot and trying to make the connection. For what it is worth, I think I see what they mean but it doesn't seem quite as obvious to me. But the argument within which that comment lives makes a lot of sense (you'll need to read the book).

Highly recommended for any reader who enjoys any of the things I mention in the first paragraph. And those who just love nostalgic books that are just plain fun.

Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley. show less

Why can't there be a separate genre of "funny memoirs that are not depressing, even if life was not perfect?" That's what this one is. Doonan takes a glimpse of his past, and he could have chosen to cast it in a bleak, Dickensian light. Instead, we have a funny and (on the surface) light memoir.

Aside from the humor, there are strong points in the book when Doonan ties his own very personal stories to larger cultural trends and events. It's a reminder that history is not dry, and it affected show more individuals. Doonan make the point that who you have been is what creates who you are. From his perspective, this leads to a celebration of quirky creativity that arises from seemingly unlikely places. That alone is refreshing: the celebration of truly one-off creativity.

Doonan has always resisted the status quo, and this memoir is, in its way, a handbook of how you, too, can do so-- but only if you don't follow the leader. It's a lesson in forging your own way without having a misery memoir as an end product. show less

I needn’t have worried. My lack of knowledge, not to say interest, in the fashion world didn’t matter one bit in this fast paced, clever, self effacing/aggrandizing collection of stories from the trenches. The very wackiness of fashion makes for a self defining bizarre cast of characters, and Doonan has met, admired, tangled with and/or insulted them all. It’s a riotous trip through a world that sets its own rules. A world where not only do cranks, misfits and manic depressives fit in, show more but which caters to them as no other.

It begins with a delightful comparison: Doonan’s world of fashion, versus his friend’s world of the institutionalized insane. Which one is crazier? Doonan describes some new fashion, and his friend counters that she has patients who say, wear or espouse the same thing. They get locked away for it. Doonan’s people redefine fashion with it. It ends in a clear decision – a tie.

It’s onward and upward from there, as Simon Doonan proves to be a great storyteller. The very gayness of his style helps him get away with sarcasm, shots, stabs and otherwise unforgiveable strings of adjectives and metaphors - that really move the narrative. You never know what’s on the next page, let alone the next story. Fortunately, there are 25 of them, so you can take the medicine in doses as large or as small as your capacity to enjoy will handle.

The characters are all real, which adds to the fright factor. Only in fashion could these outliers, these certifiables, succeed and flourish. Doonan acknowledges it, (hell, he dotes on it) and gives his gratitude for it, in numerous places throughout. It makes for a rich environment that Damon Runyon would approve.

The namedropping is carpetbombing; it’s everything you would expect of fashionista memoirs. There is a story for every larger than life character. And as acid as the stories might seem, they are also hugely affectionate. This is a lifetime love affair with a halfcrazed paramour.

At a few points, Doonan takes himself seriously, scoring points about various people, and what the industry is and is not accomplishing for society. And then he’ll turn around and dismiss himself with “You have to admit, my sweeping generalizations are always so much more exciting than facts.” So you have to just sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. show less

A memoir of growing up in Reading, moving to London, and then to the US in a quest for the Beatiful People featured in magazines.

The first third or so was "Oh God, I can't breathe" laugh out loud funny, the second third was entertaining enough though not as funny (just as well as I was reading it in public), while the final third was more sombre.