Deborah Conway in her own write:

“My profession is obsessed with youth. Rock n roll is primal, it’s sexual, it’s not just romance or courtship, it’s procreation; it’s lewd, crude, hot, horny, irresponsible, irrepressible, dirty, occasionally depraved and, crucially, it is acted out by young people for young people.

The central quandary of plying a young person’s trade in an old person’s body, exacerbated by being female, is never far from the surface.

I am grateful that I have managed to stay a child in the sandpit all my working life and still love building sandcastles.”

You get to play in that sandpit, vicariously, in Deborah Conway’s irrepressible, dirty, occasionally depraved autobiography, BOOK OF LIFE.

Obstreperous and outspoken, Conway’s way is on glowing show here, a ranging sixty years of the good, the bad and the ugly, the divine, sublime and the beauty.

We all know Deborah Conway is a great lyricist, but in BOOK OF LIFE she shows she’s no slouch at prose. And to reiterate her prowess as a lyricist, the pages are peppered with lyrics from her songwriting career. Indeed, in the case of one her biggest hits, It’s Only The Beginning from the String of Pearls album, you get the original earworm lyrics with the unadulterated happiness, and a rewritten version, giving the song a more sinister slant.

There’s a formidable forthrightness, a fearless honesty pulsing through this book, a palpable energy that gives exultant truth to the cliché: page turner.

Her fractious relationship with her father, her many and sometimes messy romantic entanglements, the slings and arrows, the fortunes and misfortunes of the music business, her enduring marriage and musical partnership with Willy Zygier, and motherhood are all presented in Conway’s fluent style.

At 400 pages, BOOK OF LIFE is a riotous, rapturous read, complete with fabulous photos and song lines. Like her voice and musical instincts, it’s a gift.

BOOK OF LIFE by Deborah Conway is published by Allen & Unwin