[usr 5]

When I write book reviews, I’m of the opinion that a review is ultimately a recommendation, and therefore I try to be as objective as possible in a subjective exercise.  This proved to be impossible for IT’S A SHAME ABOUT RAY by Jonathon Seidler.

I cannot honestly say that many others will love it the way I have, especially when Seidler goes on long factual tangents about Linkin Park, or his very dark humour in which he expounds on the Fast and the Furious franchise as a religious experience in the aftermath of his father’s suicide.  All I know is this book was an eerie experience for me.

At times it felt like it was written for me, other times it felt like it was written by me. Rarely has non-fiction captured my own teen experience, not just in broad strokes, but in the niche opinions. Only weeks ago I wrote in another book review about the emptiness of indie band Interpol’s lyrics without music.  Interpol is not a band I’ve thought of in close to a decade, nor have I met another person who has listened to them, and yet the exact same sentiment was expressed in this book – “say those words and they mean nothing; sing them and they are everything”.  Perhaps my opinions are not as unique or niche as I thought, but either way Interpol is not a band that’s featured much in my life this past decade, passing mention or otherwise.

I suppose this dredging up of my past feels particularly uncanny in the context of what this book is about.  Seidler’s memoir is about his father Ray’s suicide to a lifetime of bipolar disorder, with reflections on his fears and struggles with his own bipolar disorder. Seidler paints so vivid a picture of his father that it feels like his stern yet kindly ghost was in my home as I read, and he brought the ghosts of my teenage experience along to play. From finding solace in Linkin Park – he singles out Papercut which happens to be my own favourite – to “psychiatric disorders were approached very differently in 2008”, a statement I had lived through but hadn’t thought of for years, my life that I hadn’t thought of in over a decade all came alive in the present.  Plus the voice that Seidler writes in and the dark humour which he hides behind, is almost exactly my own.

Reading this book was an experience tinged with bittersweet nostalgia, at times uncomfortable, other times delightful, and all supremely affecting. Seidler himself notes – “… the thing about tragedy: it’s much more poetic when it happens to someone else.”.  It is poetic for me, spectating what feels like the tragic alternative ending to my dark teen years from a very safe distance.  The eerie personal familiarity makes this book incredible to me. Ultimately, it is Seidler’s skill which transforms a deeply personal and unique experience into something I could relate so heavily to, and that is a triumph.

Featured image : Sydney author Jonathon Seidler