Something to Believe in?

It's taken me six weeks to read 'Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death and Jazz Chickens' by Eddie Izzard.  That's a long time, even for me.  Just as well that I'm as stubborn as it's author!

In 'Believe Me', Eddie Izzard talks about his life and career and the events and personal philosophies that have made him one of the big names in stand up comedy.  He describes the shock of his mother's death when he was was six years old, his time at boarding school and how his determination drove him to develop his skills in street performing and sketch comedy, until he found his feet in film and television acting as well as the surreal stand up that he's best known for.  From football to marathons, coming out as transgender to learning to fly, 'Believe Me' weaves a story of ambition, self-realisation and determination to do something different.

'Believe Me: A Memoir of
Love, Death and Jazz Chickens'
by Eddie Izzard
(Michael Joseph, 2017)

It's rare for me to want to give up on a book, but I really struggled with this one.  I think the main reason for this is actually quite simple.  It's missing a key ingredient: Passion.  In recent years (in fact, in recent days following his appointment as chair of the Labour Party's national executive committee), I've thought of Eddie Izzard more as a political activist than performer, so I thought he would seize an opportunity like this to explain his political views and the experiences they grew from in more depth.  (If Russell Brand can do it...)  Instead, 'Believe Me' felt more stage than soapbox, missing any actual message, despite it being clear from later chapters (and the cover!  Check out the nail varnish.) that Izzard really does have a few things that he wants to say.

Also, I'm not exactly sure who 'Believe' was written for.  It's not funny, so it's not really for his comedy fans.  It's not full of celebrity anecdotes, so it's not for the gossip-hungry.  It does emphasise the need for hard work and determination to succeed in the creative industries, so could be for performing arts hopefuls, but that could've been done in a chapter.  It also over-explains certain cultural references, so I guess it's consciously not aimed at any one country either (This unfortunately back-fired for me as I began to feel like I was being patronised.  On the one hand, it's admirable that a book should be written with consideration for different audiences, but in reality, it would've been better to produce slightly different editions for each territory.  Idealistic but impractical perhaps.)

By the end, I began to wonder if this was a case of the medium is the message.  Izzard comes across as a very determined man, something which I greatly admire and respect.  He often seems to do things simply because he's been told he can't or that they're hard.  I imagine that writing a book must be an extraordinarily difficult thing for a dyslexic to do, which may after all be the point.

Overall, I'm sorry to have to say that I wouldn't recommend reading 'Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death and Jazz Chickens'.  It's an achievement, but I think that there are other things that Izzard has and will do of greater significance.  Plus I don't remember there being any jazz chickens in it.

Now, what next...