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Maggie & Me
BBC Radio 4 Book of the Week, Winner of the Stonewall Award and The Sunday Times Memoir of the Year.
"Damian Barr sifts through the wreckage of a horrific childhood and manages to extract humour, generosity of spirit and ultimately joy. To say I loved it doesn't begin to convey the mixture of emotions - tears, laughter, anger - I felt while reading it." — Jojo Moyes.
"This amazing book tells the story of an appalling childhood with truth and clarity unsmudged by self-pity. It grips from beginning to end." — Diana Athill.
Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes meets Billy Elliot, Maggie & Me is a unique, tender, and witty memoir of surviving the tough streets of small town Scotland during the Thatcher years.
October 12, 1984. An IRA bomb blows apart the Grand Hotel in Brighton. Miraculously, Maggie Thatcher survives. In small-town Scotland, eight-year-old Damian Barr watches in horror as his mum rips her wedding ring off and packs their bags. He knows he, too, must survive.
Damian, his sister, and his Catholic mum move in with her violent new boyfriend while his Protestant dad shacks up with the glamorous Mary the Canary. Divided by sectarian suspicion, the community is held together by the sprawling Ravenscraig Steelworks. But darkness threatens as Maggie takes hold: she snatches school milk, smashes the unions, and makes greed good. Following Maggie's advice, Damian works hard and plans his escape. He discovers that stories can save your life and — in spite of violence, strikes, AIDS, and Clause 28 — manages to fall in love dancing to Madonna in Glasgow's only gay club.
Maggie & Me is a touching and darkly witty memoir about surviving Thatcher's Britain; a story of growing up gay in a straight world and coming out the other side in spite of, and maybe because of, the Iron Lady.
"Damian Barr sifts through the wreckage of a horrific childhood and manages to extract humour, generosity of spirit and ultimately joy. To say I loved it doesn't begin to convey the mixture of emotions - tears, laughter, anger - I felt while reading it." — Jojo Moyes.
"This amazing book tells the story of an appalling childhood with truth and clarity unsmudged by self-pity. It grips from beginning to end." — Diana Athill.
Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes meets Billy Elliot, Maggie & Me is a unique, tender, and witty memoir of surviving the tough streets of small town Scotland during the Thatcher years.
October 12, 1984. An IRA bomb blows apart the Grand Hotel in Brighton. Miraculously, Maggie Thatcher survives. In small-town Scotland, eight-year-old Damian Barr watches in horror as his mum rips her wedding ring off and packs their bags. He knows he, too, must survive.
Damian, his sister, and his Catholic mum move in with her violent new boyfriend while his Protestant dad shacks up with the glamorous Mary the Canary. Divided by sectarian suspicion, the community is held together by the sprawling Ravenscraig Steelworks. But darkness threatens as Maggie takes hold: she snatches school milk, smashes the unions, and makes greed good. Following Maggie's advice, Damian works hard and plans his escape. He discovers that stories can save your life and — in spite of violence, strikes, AIDS, and Clause 28 — manages to fall in love dancing to Madonna in Glasgow's only gay club.
Maggie & Me is a touching and darkly witty memoir about surviving Thatcher's Britain; a story of growing up gay in a straight world and coming out the other side in spite of, and maybe because of, the Iron Lady.
256 pages, Paperback
First published April 11, 2013
43 people are currently reading
2610 people want to read
About the author
Damian Barr
11 books330 followersI'm a writer and broadcaster. My books are 'The Two Roberts', 'You Will Be Safe Here' and 'Maggie & Me'.
'The Two Roberts' is my second novel. Meet Robert MacBryde and Robert Colquhoun: artists, lovers, outsiders. From 1930s Glasgow to wartime London and the Fifties, this is the fictional story of two truly wild lives.
They were charismatic art celebrities - collected by major institutions, photographed by Vogue, filmed by Ken Russell for the BBC. But they lived as hard as they worked, dying young and penniless yet on the verge of a comeback.
Tender, bold and deeply personal, 'The Two Roberts' is a timely love-letter to these queer Scottish pioneers, exploring what it means to discover your voice as an artist, to find love when it’s forbidden and to change the way the world sees. Prepare to fall in love with Bobby and Robert…
'The Two Roberts' will be published by Canongate in September 2025.
'You Will Be Safe Here' is my first novel. It's set in South Africa in 1901 and now. It explores legacies of abuse, redemption and the strength of the human spirit - there is always, light even in our very darkest moments. I didn't imagine it would feel so urgent when it was published.
'South Africa, 1901, the height of the second Boer War. Sarah van der Watt and her son are taken from their farm by force to Bloemfontein Concentration Camp where, the English promise: they will be safe.
Johannesburg, 2010. Sixteen-year-old outsider Willem just wants to be left alone with his books and his dog. Worried he's not turning out right, his ma and her boyfriend send him to New Dawn Safari Training Camp. Here they 'make men out of boys'. Guaranteed.'
Inspired by real events, You Will Be Safe Here uncovers a hidden colonial history and present-day darkness while exploring our capacity for cruelty and kindness. Here's what two writers I admire say:
'Devastating and formally ingenious, it traces the paths by which historical grief engenders present violence . A vitally brave and luminously compassionate book.'
Garth Greenwell.
'Damian Barr has written a novel concerned with single strain of human history, of how a people are made and unmade and how they go on to make and unmake others, of the stories they tell themselves to allow such things to pass.' Aminatta Forna.
'Maggie & Me' is my memoir of surviving small-town Scotland in the Thatcher years. It won Sunday Times Memoir of the Year: "Full to the brim with poignancy, humour, brutality and energetic and sometimes shimmering prose, the book confounds one's assumptions about those years and drenches the whole era in an emotionally charged comic grandeur. It is hugely affecting."
BBC Radio 4 made it a Book of the Week. Stonewall named me Writer of the Year 2013. In 2024 I helped turn in into a play for the National Theatre of Scotland.
I've also co-written two plays for Radio 4 and written a short after play for their Fact to Fiction slot.
From 2008-2023, I ran my own Literary Salon - interviewing fellow writers, profiling indie bookshops and share all kinds of bookish content. Guests included: Jojo Moyes, John Waters, Mary Beard, Yaa Gyasi, David Nicholls, Colm Tóibín, Taiye Selasi, David Mitchell and Rose McGowan. www.theliterarysalon.co.uk
My life is books - writing them, talking about them on tv and radio and interviewing other writers about their literary loves. I present my own books tv show on BBC - check out The Big Scottish Book Club on BBC iPlayer. You can follow me on twitter @damian_barr and insta @mrdamianbarr.
I live by the sea in Brighton with my husband.
'The Two Roberts' is my second novel. Meet Robert MacBryde and Robert Colquhoun: artists, lovers, outsiders. From 1930s Glasgow to wartime London and the Fifties, this is the fictional story of two truly wild lives.
They were charismatic art celebrities - collected by major institutions, photographed by Vogue, filmed by Ken Russell for the BBC. But they lived as hard as they worked, dying young and penniless yet on the verge of a comeback.
Tender, bold and deeply personal, 'The Two Roberts' is a timely love-letter to these queer Scottish pioneers, exploring what it means to discover your voice as an artist, to find love when it’s forbidden and to change the way the world sees. Prepare to fall in love with Bobby and Robert…
'The Two Roberts' will be published by Canongate in September 2025.
'You Will Be Safe Here' is my first novel. It's set in South Africa in 1901 and now. It explores legacies of abuse, redemption and the strength of the human spirit - there is always, light even in our very darkest moments. I didn't imagine it would feel so urgent when it was published.
'South Africa, 1901, the height of the second Boer War. Sarah van der Watt and her son are taken from their farm by force to Bloemfontein Concentration Camp where, the English promise: they will be safe.
Johannesburg, 2010. Sixteen-year-old outsider Willem just wants to be left alone with his books and his dog. Worried he's not turning out right, his ma and her boyfriend send him to New Dawn Safari Training Camp. Here they 'make men out of boys'. Guaranteed.'
Inspired by real events, You Will Be Safe Here uncovers a hidden colonial history and present-day darkness while exploring our capacity for cruelty and kindness. Here's what two writers I admire say:
'Devastating and formally ingenious, it traces the paths by which historical grief engenders present violence . A vitally brave and luminously compassionate book.'
Garth Greenwell.
'Damian Barr has written a novel concerned with single strain of human history, of how a people are made and unmade and how they go on to make and unmake others, of the stories they tell themselves to allow such things to pass.' Aminatta Forna.
'Maggie & Me' is my memoir of surviving small-town Scotland in the Thatcher years. It won Sunday Times Memoir of the Year: "Full to the brim with poignancy, humour, brutality and energetic and sometimes shimmering prose, the book confounds one's assumptions about those years and drenches the whole era in an emotionally charged comic grandeur. It is hugely affecting."
BBC Radio 4 made it a Book of the Week. Stonewall named me Writer of the Year 2013. In 2024 I helped turn in into a play for the National Theatre of Scotland.
I've also co-written two plays for Radio 4 and written a short after play for their Fact to Fiction slot.
From 2008-2023, I ran my own Literary Salon - interviewing fellow writers, profiling indie bookshops and share all kinds of bookish content. Guests included: Jojo Moyes, John Waters, Mary Beard, Yaa Gyasi, David Nicholls, Colm Tóibín, Taiye Selasi, David Mitchell and Rose McGowan. www.theliterarysalon.co.uk
My life is books - writing them, talking about them on tv and radio and interviewing other writers about their literary loves. I present my own books tv show on BBC - check out The Big Scottish Book Club on BBC iPlayer. You can follow me on twitter @damian_barr and insta @mrdamianbarr.
I live by the sea in Brighton with my husband.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 242 reviews
April 20, 2019
Like a cross between Angela’s Ashes and Toast, this recreates a fairly horrific upbringing from the child’s perspective. Barr was an intelligent, creative young man who early on knew that he was gay and, not just for that reason, often felt that there was no place for him: neither in working-class Scotland, where his father was a steelworker and his brain-damaged mother flitted from one violent boyfriend to another; nor in Maggie Thatcher’s 1980s Britain at large, in which money was the reward for achievement and the individual was responsible for his own moral standing and worldly advancement (even if his high school team did make it to the finals of the BT-sponsored Young Consumer of the Year quiz, held that year in Brighton, where he would one day live with his boyfriend). “I don’t need to stand out any more,” he recalls, being “six foot tall, scarecrow skinny and speccy with join-the-dots spots, bottle-opener buck teeth and a thing for waistcoats. Plus I get free school dinners and I’m gay.”
There are a lot of vivid scenes in this memoir, some of them distressing ones of abuse, and the present tense, dialect, and childish grammar and slang give it authenticity. Chapters 7 and 8 are particularly finely crafted: the former recounts escaping from his mum’s boyfriend, Logan, and is a perfect full circle of a narrative; the latter is about his Auntie Cat’s mental breakdown. However, I never quite bought in to the Thatcher connection as an overarching structure. Three pages at the start, five at the end, and a Thatcher quote as an epigraph for each chapter somehow weren’t enough to convince me that the framing device was necessary or apt. Still, I enjoyed this well enough as memoirs go, and I would certainly recommend it if you loved Nigel Slater’s memoir mentioned above and/or Boy Erased. I also have Barr’s recent debut novel, You Will Be Safe Here, on my Kindle.
(Barr thanks Diana Athill, who told him “There is no point in describing experience unless you try to get it as near to being what it really was as you can make it. Get it right.)
There are a lot of vivid scenes in this memoir, some of them distressing ones of abuse, and the present tense, dialect, and childish grammar and slang give it authenticity. Chapters 7 and 8 are particularly finely crafted: the former recounts escaping from his mum’s boyfriend, Logan, and is a perfect full circle of a narrative; the latter is about his Auntie Cat’s mental breakdown. However, I never quite bought in to the Thatcher connection as an overarching structure. Three pages at the start, five at the end, and a Thatcher quote as an epigraph for each chapter somehow weren’t enough to convince me that the framing device was necessary or apt. Still, I enjoyed this well enough as memoirs go, and I would certainly recommend it if you loved Nigel Slater’s memoir mentioned above and/or Boy Erased. I also have Barr’s recent debut novel, You Will Be Safe Here, on my Kindle.
(Barr thanks Diana Athill, who told him “There is no point in describing experience unless you try to get it as near to being what it really was as you can make it. Get it right.)
February 5, 2014
This memoir is very real – it’s frank, and matter-of-fact. A childhood that, in this case, was very difficult. As the title suggests it touches on the way Margaret Thatcher, and the life she imposed on Britain, touched a life. But it doesn’t focus on that. Don’t imagine it is a book about her. Rather, it is about a life of someone who has made that life worthwhile, and successful, in the present day, but who had to travel a rough road to get there.
Because of its nature I found it difficult to admit to liking it as much as I did. It feels wrong, somehow, admitting to pleasure from knowing about another’s hardships. But Damian Barr writes in the perfect way: presenting his story without bitterness or sentimentality, and speaking with a forgiving voice. Because of this, the reader can have no trouble indulging in this lovely piece of writing, supporting its hero all the way, taking the extreme brutality of those early days with a grave nod, and subsequently grinning wildly at the knowledge that Barr is writing it from the life he always wanted. So, somehow, he rose above what tried to bring him down.
A wonderful, flowing prose with a sparkling intelligence; this is a talented writer. His world is brought to life as his message is conveyed. Where they’re unnecessary, the details aren’t dwelt upon. The story of a life moves with an interesting pace, every moment is of great importance, stimulating sympathy and reflection, and often shining with a warm sense of humour.
It is particularly interesting, too, when speaking of Maggie. Whether you support her or not, it manages to make you think a little. If life was difficult, you came through, and if you know you shouldn’t agree with her, but feel just something in the way of sympathy, that’s okay. Something about her reassured you, and you don’t mind admitting it.
It’s a beautiful memoir, and a book that is so worth a read.
Because of its nature I found it difficult to admit to liking it as much as I did. It feels wrong, somehow, admitting to pleasure from knowing about another’s hardships. But Damian Barr writes in the perfect way: presenting his story without bitterness or sentimentality, and speaking with a forgiving voice. Because of this, the reader can have no trouble indulging in this lovely piece of writing, supporting its hero all the way, taking the extreme brutality of those early days with a grave nod, and subsequently grinning wildly at the knowledge that Barr is writing it from the life he always wanted. So, somehow, he rose above what tried to bring him down.
A wonderful, flowing prose with a sparkling intelligence; this is a talented writer. His world is brought to life as his message is conveyed. Where they’re unnecessary, the details aren’t dwelt upon. The story of a life moves with an interesting pace, every moment is of great importance, stimulating sympathy and reflection, and often shining with a warm sense of humour.
It is particularly interesting, too, when speaking of Maggie. Whether you support her or not, it manages to make you think a little. If life was difficult, you came through, and if you know you shouldn’t agree with her, but feel just something in the way of sympathy, that’s okay. Something about her reassured you, and you don’t mind admitting it.
It’s a beautiful memoir, and a book that is so worth a read.
July 3, 2024
Coming of age book of the author growing up in western Scotland funny in parts. Discusses his sexuality as he gets older
June 17, 2013
I am a huge fan of Damian Barr's The Literary Salon podcast (link below) and have been looking forward to this book for ages. Excerpts from Maggie & Me featured on a recent episode and I laughed out loud and shed a tear from sadness whilst on a Melbourne train, all in the span of a few minutes. Barr nails the voice; of course he does, it's a memoir, but not for a moment did I feel I was being told a story. I was living it, alongside a young Damian.
I am not a fan of the misery memoir, mostly because I get slightly annoyed with the 'triumph of the human spirit' cliche, but this book changed my mind. Because it's not all misery, and it's not all overcoming obstacles. See, Damian was a fighter from the beginning. He was ambitious, he knew he could be more than the usual product of such harrowing surroundings.
Barr does not paint a young Damian as an angel, but as a kid struggling through the chaos of childhood and teenagerdom. Everyone can relate to bullying, fear of not fitting in, lies that we spin to seem cool. Maggie & Me took me back to my childhood, which was light years from Barr's geographically and emotionally. That's where Barr nails this misery memoir: he makes it relevant, no matter what the reader's background. He makes it uncomfortable, hurtful, awkward, shocked, delighted, hilarious, maddening. He somehow connected my middle-class childhood in Wichita to a council house upbringing in western Scotland. That's genius.
Barr cleverly frames the book with quotations by Margaret Thatcher, who constantly hums in the background of this book, interjecting a sense of time and place throughout. Maggie's influence on Barr and those who share his background is a story I've heard before, after many years in Scotland, but one that hasn't been fully explored by someone of my generation who lived it. This is a brave book for tackling the story of thousands of people in Scotland during Thatcher, because this is their story too.
The Literary Salon by Damian Barr: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/t...
I am not a fan of the misery memoir, mostly because I get slightly annoyed with the 'triumph of the human spirit' cliche, but this book changed my mind. Because it's not all misery, and it's not all overcoming obstacles. See, Damian was a fighter from the beginning. He was ambitious, he knew he could be more than the usual product of such harrowing surroundings.
Barr does not paint a young Damian as an angel, but as a kid struggling through the chaos of childhood and teenagerdom. Everyone can relate to bullying, fear of not fitting in, lies that we spin to seem cool. Maggie & Me took me back to my childhood, which was light years from Barr's geographically and emotionally. That's where Barr nails this misery memoir: he makes it relevant, no matter what the reader's background. He makes it uncomfortable, hurtful, awkward, shocked, delighted, hilarious, maddening. He somehow connected my middle-class childhood in Wichita to a council house upbringing in western Scotland. That's genius.
Barr cleverly frames the book with quotations by Margaret Thatcher, who constantly hums in the background of this book, interjecting a sense of time and place throughout. Maggie's influence on Barr and those who share his background is a story I've heard before, after many years in Scotland, but one that hasn't been fully explored by someone of my generation who lived it. This is a brave book for tackling the story of thousands of people in Scotland during Thatcher, because this is their story too.
The Literary Salon by Damian Barr: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/t...
January 4, 2020
I devoured this memoir on a flight (and then, in a happy haze, left my iPad in the seat-pocket, argh). I wasn't previously familiar with Barr, a British journalist. His tale of growing up poor and gay in 1980s Scotland was fantastic. Funny and poignant. He might perhaps have done a slightly better job weaving in the bits about Thatcher, but what was there was thought-provoking.
December 7, 2024
I love a good Glasgow memoir and this was no exception. I don’t know a lot about Damian Barr except he’s a massive book nerd like me, he hosts a TV program here called The Big Scottish Book Club that I love. Authors talking about books? You bet! Growing up and becoming the man he is is a miracle when you read all that he went through.
February 6, 2017
I felt this book was brilliant. The author was brought up in the next village to me. I actually went to the opposite high school from him taylor high mentioned. I feel this book was very well written and depicted a very clear account of what it was like growing up in Lanarkshire in the Thatcher era and council estate and of the poverty and lifestyle choices of a lot of people in the area.
This book had me hooked and felt it wAs sad to finish it although bit of a feel good book to see how well The author has done for himself considering such a difficult upbringing.
Very clever use of humor too and accurate use of the banter of small Scottish villages . This book had my emotions all over the place in a good way due to being so well written and having me hooked. At times I burst out laughing then a paragraph later have a lump in my throat. I
This book had me hooked and felt it wAs sad to finish it although bit of a feel good book to see how well The author has done for himself considering such a difficult upbringing.
Very clever use of humor too and accurate use of the banter of small Scottish villages . This book had my emotions all over the place in a good way due to being so well written and having me hooked. At times I burst out laughing then a paragraph later have a lump in my throat. I
September 10, 2019
A memoir about growing up in working class Scotland in the 1980s, this book reminded me of Kerry Hudson's work, but is of course its own story too. Damian was born into a fairly unremarkable family but by middle childhood his parents were divorced and his mother (his primary carer) had experienced a stroke which had long-lasting effects. She (and Damian) go on to live with a succession of unpleasant men, whilst Damian seeks solace in books and friendships (though the latter also prove difficult at times as he struggles to fit into the heteronormic, violent culture around him). Damian's childhood and teenage years are set against a Scotland having its industry decimated by Thatcher, and this, plus the depictions of conflict between Protestants and Catholics, provide an interesting and valuable piece of social history.
April 18, 2018
This book is a true gem! Funny and sad and clever and well written and I enjoyed every minute of it. The author grew up in Glasgow in the 1980s and certainly had plenty of obstacles to overcome. But with a few good friends and some supportive adults he was able to do well at school and build a successful life, and be confident to just be himself. In spite of all the hardships, this is a positive and uplifting book.
June 7, 2013
From BBC Radio 4 - Book of the Week:
Damian Barr's reads his entertaining memoir of growing up in a Scottish steelworking town.
Damian Barr's reads his entertaining memoir of growing up in a Scottish steelworking town.
January 24, 2023
This is brilliant. Think Shuggie Bain, but real life, funny and hopeful!
January 12, 2020
Such pure, honest writing. An amazing read.
October 24, 2021
“It’s the blue of the Tories who just won the election. Like everybody she says she hates Maggie but I think they would get on, they’re both used to getting what they want. You don’t say no to Granny Mac. I imagine Maggie helping to pick out my crisp white school shirts. Maybe she’d show me how to knot my tie?”
Maggie & Me is a powerful, heartbreaking and yet inspiring memoir by the lovely Damian Barr, presenter of BBCs The Big Scottish Book Club. This memoir takes us through his life growing up in a Scottish housing scheme in the midst of Thatcherism, in a broken home and trying to be everything but himself.
Damian writes from a place with unapologetic honesty which is both brave and inspiring and unlike many memoirs I’ve read in recent years, he doesn’t come across as self inflated and egotistical. He gives you absolutely everything, warts and all.
Being from a mining village myself (albeit 10 years later) I did resonate with much of what Damian mentions in this story. Despite this though it was still truly individual and insightful. I found it sometimes very uncomfortable to read with many acts of domestic violence, child abuse, bullying, homophobia and just sheer heartache. But these things made the book what it was.
As for including Maggie herself, Damian has done this in a very unique and effective way. I see this book as a balanced look at what Maggie did for (and took away) from the people of Britain. Destroying the livelihood of the people surrounding Damian, reducing benefits of the poor and blaming them for being poor, clause 28 etc and on the other side inspiring a young boy to work hard and become successful.
She’s still the devil to me though!
Maggie & Me is a powerful, heartbreaking and yet inspiring memoir by the lovely Damian Barr, presenter of BBCs The Big Scottish Book Club. This memoir takes us through his life growing up in a Scottish housing scheme in the midst of Thatcherism, in a broken home and trying to be everything but himself.
Damian writes from a place with unapologetic honesty which is both brave and inspiring and unlike many memoirs I’ve read in recent years, he doesn’t come across as self inflated and egotistical. He gives you absolutely everything, warts and all.
Being from a mining village myself (albeit 10 years later) I did resonate with much of what Damian mentions in this story. Despite this though it was still truly individual and insightful. I found it sometimes very uncomfortable to read with many acts of domestic violence, child abuse, bullying, homophobia and just sheer heartache. But these things made the book what it was.
As for including Maggie herself, Damian has done this in a very unique and effective way. I see this book as a balanced look at what Maggie did for (and took away) from the people of Britain. Destroying the livelihood of the people surrounding Damian, reducing benefits of the poor and blaming them for being poor, clause 28 etc and on the other side inspiring a young boy to work hard and become successful.
She’s still the devil to me though!
November 7, 2019
A stark and evocative autobiography. The present tense first person narration puts you right into the scene, helped along massively by the decision to have scenes unclouded by the perspective of age; you really feel like you are watching the child experience all of these horrible moments, without the full language to explain it.
As others have mentioned, I don’t think the Thatcher framing really works, and the quotes at the start of each chapter feel forced.
As others have mentioned, I don’t think the Thatcher framing really works, and the quotes at the start of each chapter feel forced.
October 5, 2016
Without a shred of self pity, Damian Barr tells the story of his appalling childhood in a Housing estate near Glasgow and how it (and Maggie Thatcher) shaped his life. A wonderful read. I couldn't put it down.
June 22, 2022
This book is absolutely amazing and so well written..
December 10, 2018
Sitting on my sofa, tears streaming down my face. I’m crying for the boy in the book, for the man he had to struggle to become. I’m thinking of the boys and girls I’ve worked with over the 17 years I was a youth worker. The ones I’m no longer there for. The ones in the future. The harshest of places to be different, those inner-city London schools where “batty man” remains the worst thing you can be called. The invisible walls put up blocking the young non-binary, the gay, the lesbian, and those feeling like they’re constantly outsiders. They live their childhood years hidden, silenced, fearful of rejection, with acceptance during adolescence as delicate as rice paper and a heavy hand.
And this country “allows” (feel grateful?) gay marriage, adoption, parenthood. Look at what’s happening now in Uganda, Tanzania, Nigeria, Chechnya, Russia to name a few. The recent gains in Malta, India, Cuba dwarfed by the continuing prejudices - and unimaginable violence - people hold against the LGBTQI+ community. Powered by men who need to read the study that those who identify as strictly heterosexual and against gays show the largest reaction with their penises when shown erotic gay images. Those who identify as straight but non-judgemental and gay-friendly seldom had a twitch when their cocks were wired up and the homoeroticism started to play. So why are men (mostly men) so afraid of being gay? of gayness? of the other? While patriarchy and the macho clearly don’t favour these guys, I can’t speak for them. Aside from: chill the fuck out and accept sexuality as an ever shifting pendulum that harms nobody.
Well, I can thank my mother, Mary Knight, massively for shaping our family view on sexuality and gender norms. For retelling me her lectures on Foucault at fourteen. For being so immersed in her academic studies after leaving school at 15. Doing her MA research on the gay scene in the 90s. Watching a woman in her forties go from disgraced Catholic dropout to all black and grey wearing feminist fag hag with three degrees. For the guys calling me Saffy from Ab Fab, when my frizzy head of hair would come home to various men, lying around listening to KD Lang on repeat; men who make you feel safe and loved and like life is one big party once you get through the shit growing up bit.
And thanks, Mum, for taking us to Pride as a family and me finding out which teachers from my church school were gay, seeing one in his favourite dark stonewashed jeans and Doc Martins but up top a leather harness over his pasty white chest. His small gold hoop earring in school was always a giveaway. At Pride, I had an intimate moment with a young guy in his early twenties who was beaming that a whole family were at the festival. Then his face dropped just as fast as he shyly wiped away the tears he hadn’t expected, his chin quivering as he whispered, “I wished I had a mum like yours”. At fourteen, my heart pinching at his pain while looking at my little brother sat on the grass opposite with his prepubescent chubby cheeks. We told my bro constantly it’s okay to be gay, so much so, he had to find a moment to come out as straight: “Mum, I know everyone wants me to be gay but I like girls”. The kind of insideout family we still are today.
And now I’m a mum. I’ve made a partnership with someone who is equally and genuinely as open to our “sons” being gay, non-binary, trans, whoever they want and feel they are. We got their backs.
So that’s my bit. I pass on the baton my mum handed to me. I open my heart and mind. I say, it’s not only okay to be gay, it’s fucking amazing!
And thank you, Damian Barr for writing this important book. I’ve scattered copies around my besties and now I’ve read it, I’ve added a fair few more folk to the list in the next round of making your memoir a journey to cherish. Despite the harshness of your hometown and the misery and inner confusion, the hope and the beauty shines through. I love the book. I want to hug that little Damian and take his struggles away but then we would never have Maggie and Me and we would never have you how you are, with how you see the world and what you give should never be compromised.
And this country “allows” (feel grateful?) gay marriage, adoption, parenthood. Look at what’s happening now in Uganda, Tanzania, Nigeria, Chechnya, Russia to name a few. The recent gains in Malta, India, Cuba dwarfed by the continuing prejudices - and unimaginable violence - people hold against the LGBTQI+ community. Powered by men who need to read the study that those who identify as strictly heterosexual and against gays show the largest reaction with their penises when shown erotic gay images. Those who identify as straight but non-judgemental and gay-friendly seldom had a twitch when their cocks were wired up and the homoeroticism started to play. So why are men (mostly men) so afraid of being gay? of gayness? of the other? While patriarchy and the macho clearly don’t favour these guys, I can’t speak for them. Aside from: chill the fuck out and accept sexuality as an ever shifting pendulum that harms nobody.
Well, I can thank my mother, Mary Knight, massively for shaping our family view on sexuality and gender norms. For retelling me her lectures on Foucault at fourteen. For being so immersed in her academic studies after leaving school at 15. Doing her MA research on the gay scene in the 90s. Watching a woman in her forties go from disgraced Catholic dropout to all black and grey wearing feminist fag hag with three degrees. For the guys calling me Saffy from Ab Fab, when my frizzy head of hair would come home to various men, lying around listening to KD Lang on repeat; men who make you feel safe and loved and like life is one big party once you get through the shit growing up bit.
And thanks, Mum, for taking us to Pride as a family and me finding out which teachers from my church school were gay, seeing one in his favourite dark stonewashed jeans and Doc Martins but up top a leather harness over his pasty white chest. His small gold hoop earring in school was always a giveaway. At Pride, I had an intimate moment with a young guy in his early twenties who was beaming that a whole family were at the festival. Then his face dropped just as fast as he shyly wiped away the tears he hadn’t expected, his chin quivering as he whispered, “I wished I had a mum like yours”. At fourteen, my heart pinching at his pain while looking at my little brother sat on the grass opposite with his prepubescent chubby cheeks. We told my bro constantly it’s okay to be gay, so much so, he had to find a moment to come out as straight: “Mum, I know everyone wants me to be gay but I like girls”. The kind of insideout family we still are today.
And now I’m a mum. I’ve made a partnership with someone who is equally and genuinely as open to our “sons” being gay, non-binary, trans, whoever they want and feel they are. We got their backs.
So that’s my bit. I pass on the baton my mum handed to me. I open my heart and mind. I say, it’s not only okay to be gay, it’s fucking amazing!
And thank you, Damian Barr for writing this important book. I’ve scattered copies around my besties and now I’ve read it, I’ve added a fair few more folk to the list in the next round of making your memoir a journey to cherish. Despite the harshness of your hometown and the misery and inner confusion, the hope and the beauty shines through. I love the book. I want to hug that little Damian and take his struggles away but then we would never have Maggie and Me and we would never have you how you are, with how you see the world and what you give should never be compromised.
February 3, 2021
It’s moving, bleak, hopeful and inspiring. It’s drenched in the TV, news, toys and music of the 80s, which I loved and experienced as a kid.
As a journalist I think Damian Barr might ask more probing questions about how he felt about or reacted to some v traumatising situations. I also couldn’t agree with his more positive takes on Thatcher.
The book also leaps (from age 12-16, then 16-33) which I hope means more memoirs. 😊
I had lots of questions remaining but loved the pace, built tension, occasional humour, cringe inducing situations and bravery that DB shows.
As a parent you do want to reach into the book and keep him and his sister safe.
Aside from minor quibbles it’s a recommend and an easy to read 5/5.
As a journalist I think Damian Barr might ask more probing questions about how he felt about or reacted to some v traumatising situations. I also couldn’t agree with his more positive takes on Thatcher.
The book also leaps (from age 12-16, then 16-33) which I hope means more memoirs. 😊
I had lots of questions remaining but loved the pace, built tension, occasional humour, cringe inducing situations and bravery that DB shows.
As a parent you do want to reach into the book and keep him and his sister safe.
Aside from minor quibbles it’s a recommend and an easy to read 5/5.
September 20, 2019
Damian Barr writes about a time I know very well: Thatchers Britain. It’s funny and sad, very observational. It captures poverty, the era, attitudes and the darkest aspects of Scottish life as the mines closed.
January 23, 2020
I’ve been meaning to read this for a while, a lot of this echoes my own childhood and growing up in what can sometimes be described as the abject misery of the Thatcher years. But it wasn’t all bad, there were smiles and laughs, there were friends who made it easier. Granny Mac jumped off the page at me, typical of a woman of her generation and if anything like my own granny she would have had a rough surface sheltering a heart of gold.
And my two takeaways from this...I got school milk up until primary 7. Reading the description I had the vile stale smell of the wet area in my nose. And the second....Bennetts. I’ll never forget the hard faced bouncers and the sticky carpets, the notoriously disgusting pints of Tennants and the voguing.
And my two takeaways from this...I got school milk up until primary 7. Reading the description I had the vile stale smell of the wet area in my nose. And the second....Bennetts. I’ll never forget the hard faced bouncers and the sticky carpets, the notoriously disgusting pints of Tennants and the voguing.
May 25, 2019
It is so rare for you to find a book which reflects so many of your own life experiences. I was totally unprepared for just how much this book would resonate with me.
Regardless of my personal connections, this is wonderful storytelling. Barr's use of a first person perspective to narrate his childhood was unexpected. This helped it to feel less retrospective and more in-the-moment which added a story-like quality to this autobiographical book. Maggie & Me is equal parts heartbreaking, heartwarming and liberating.
Barr's journey as a gay youth in 1980s Scotland is eye-opening and speaks of a time - not too long ago - when being gay was still such a taboo. It made me more thankful to have grown up on the forefront of so much change in social attitudes. One of the most horrible moments of the book, especially for me as a teacher, was Barr's shocking experience of Article 28 - an item of UK law passed by Thatcher's conservative Government which made it illegal for schools to promote homosexuality. It left him isolated from, and misunderstood by, teachers at a time when he so desperately needed their love and kindness.
In all, Barr is an inspirational LGBT voice in modern literature and I'm very excited to see what future works he has to offer the world.
Regardless of my personal connections, this is wonderful storytelling. Barr's use of a first person perspective to narrate his childhood was unexpected. This helped it to feel less retrospective and more in-the-moment which added a story-like quality to this autobiographical book. Maggie & Me is equal parts heartbreaking, heartwarming and liberating.
Barr's journey as a gay youth in 1980s Scotland is eye-opening and speaks of a time - not too long ago - when being gay was still such a taboo. It made me more thankful to have grown up on the forefront of so much change in social attitudes. One of the most horrible moments of the book, especially for me as a teacher, was Barr's shocking experience of Article 28 - an item of UK law passed by Thatcher's conservative Government which made it illegal for schools to promote homosexuality. It left him isolated from, and misunderstood by, teachers at a time when he so desperately needed their love and kindness.
In all, Barr is an inspirational LGBT voice in modern literature and I'm very excited to see what future works he has to offer the world.
April 5, 2021
Beautifully written.
January 6, 2020
Couldn't put this one down. I was particularly drawn in by his style, which is beautiful without being showy and serves to make the story he's telling so immediate that you feel you could reach through the page and put your hand on him.
January 26, 2021
I laughed out loud while reading this but spent some pages blinking back tears. Seeing the struggles through the eyes of this child really got me emotional and I’d read this again for sure. This book really is a gem.
March 21, 2021
I would have read this in one sitting if not for such things as having to go to work, sleep etc. Obviously, any memoir /autobiography set in the 80s and 90s is going to be compelling for those of us who were also young In those decades. It brings back all the memories, both good and bad; free but warm milk at primary school, big hair, Neighbours, Kylie 'n' Jason, the hell of being a bright student at a mediocre school, Virgin Megastore excitement, chopper bikes, English A levels etc. More immersive than this though is the style of writing. Such vivid and precise descriptions, especially of smell, ensure that the reader is there, in Damian's world, and as he can remember and express his feelings so well, I was completely transported into his world, and am very sad to have left it, even though it certainly was not a happy one.
April 17, 2022
I would highly recommend this memoir by Damian Barr which is meticulously written, and as sharp as you could hope. Growing up as a gay child, in abusive home after abusive home, he manages to convey his emotions and the fear at the time without ever descending into self pity or self obsession. His shrewd observations of the people who inhabited his small world are offset by his young mind’s love of fantasy and far off worlds. It’s a compelling listen which doesn’t pull you down in spite of the serious subject matter.
May 4, 2015
Not til I turned the final page in this book with a smile of satisfaction I realize that I've seen this author in real life. When I realized that the very cool and cheery Damian Barr who runs the impossibly hip Shoreditch Literary Salon in London was my beloved little 'Gaymian' from Maggie and Me, I got a sentimental and embarrassing tear in my eye. Because this is a memoir about surviving a grim childhood. I'd spend days of reading willing him to escape the poverty, bullying, alcoholism, violence, unreliable parenting, and general difficulties of being a gay boy growing up in a poor part of Scotland.That this book exists is of course some testament that he did, but the vision of him as MC at that cool Literary Salon confirms it.
But against all expectations, this book is not actually grim. Maggie and Me has every element that could make it ripe for a harrowing misery memoir. And yet it is almost the opposite. Damian’s experiences skip from the sad to the joyful, the funny, the silly, the universality of being a kid. He addresses his many childhood challenges in a sensitive, generous way, affording sympathy and understanding to the many people who let him down. And throughout, his character is believable, sweet, funny, stoic, and hopeful.
The book has a fantastic sense of time and place, and the sort of Scotland you don’t often read about (a particular treat for me as I grew up there at the same time as him). This is all drawn together through the almost personal relationship the British public, and Damian in particular, experienced with controversial Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, the eponymous “Maggie” of the book. The struggles of the adults in the book to succeed against the often harsh influences of a woman who is supposed to be working to help them reflects Damian’s struggles with his own parent figures, and conversely with insufficient parental authority in his life, he actually flourishes by embracing the authority this hated figure represents, and turning it into inspiration for how to succeed – and succeed he does.
His voice is likable, charming and funny. His stories are tragic and hilarious and ordinary and relatable. And I challenge anyone not to root for his success.
But against all expectations, this book is not actually grim. Maggie and Me has every element that could make it ripe for a harrowing misery memoir. And yet it is almost the opposite. Damian’s experiences skip from the sad to the joyful, the funny, the silly, the universality of being a kid. He addresses his many childhood challenges in a sensitive, generous way, affording sympathy and understanding to the many people who let him down. And throughout, his character is believable, sweet, funny, stoic, and hopeful.
The book has a fantastic sense of time and place, and the sort of Scotland you don’t often read about (a particular treat for me as I grew up there at the same time as him). This is all drawn together through the almost personal relationship the British public, and Damian in particular, experienced with controversial Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, the eponymous “Maggie” of the book. The struggles of the adults in the book to succeed against the often harsh influences of a woman who is supposed to be working to help them reflects Damian’s struggles with his own parent figures, and conversely with insufficient parental authority in his life, he actually flourishes by embracing the authority this hated figure represents, and turning it into inspiration for how to succeed – and succeed he does.
His voice is likable, charming and funny. His stories are tragic and hilarious and ordinary and relatable. And I challenge anyone not to root for his success.
March 9, 2021
A memoir full of life, ambition, hope and love set against a background of poverty, abuse, discrimination and hopelessness - amazing.
January 9, 2021
Started the new year 2021 with Maggie and me ,a heartwarming memoir by Damian Barr which evokes emotion at every juncture. Set in Scotland in the 1980's and early 1990's with a backdrop and with repeated references and quotes from Margaret Thatcher, 'Iron Lady', then the prime minister of The United Kingdom.
Damien's childhood is an amalgamation of abuse, struggle, love, friendship, survival and ultimately triumphant, coming out in a straight world. The irrational guilt which Damien spent his childhood drowning in breaks your heart and the toxic environment surrounding his upbringing. Yet a warm, loving and intelligent child who deeply cares and is protective of his mum and sister Teenie. A loyal friend to Mark and Heather and eventually a successful journalist revisiting his place of upbringing in the end.
Although Margaret Thatchers accomplishments are mostly reflected in negative light, the end comparison which Barr makes is that ' "You also saved my life … You were different, like me, and you had to fight to be yourself." Another startling quote which struck a chord was "Be strong, Maggie told us all. Get educated. Get away "
Barr writes with humour and irony, complimenting each other.
Overall a wonderful book to begin the year with , all of approximately 250 pages so was a relatively quick and engaging read for me.
Damien's childhood is an amalgamation of abuse, struggle, love, friendship, survival and ultimately triumphant, coming out in a straight world. The irrational guilt which Damien spent his childhood drowning in breaks your heart and the toxic environment surrounding his upbringing. Yet a warm, loving and intelligent child who deeply cares and is protective of his mum and sister Teenie. A loyal friend to Mark and Heather and eventually a successful journalist revisiting his place of upbringing in the end.
Although Margaret Thatchers accomplishments are mostly reflected in negative light, the end comparison which Barr makes is that ' "You also saved my life … You were different, like me, and you had to fight to be yourself." Another startling quote which struck a chord was "Be strong, Maggie told us all. Get educated. Get away "
Barr writes with humour and irony, complimenting each other.
Overall a wonderful book to begin the year with , all of approximately 250 pages so was a relatively quick and engaging read for me.
August 11, 2020
An excellent memoir of growing up gay in an abusive home in Motherwell in the time of Maggie Thatcher and yet somehow surviving. The inclusion of Maggie is interesting. On the one hand Damian Barr despises her, her removing of even the smallest things that might help the poor - she earned the name Milk Snatcher for stopping free milk in all schools, for the strikes that hurt so many in her years as PM, including his father, and her attitude towards homosexuals. On the other he has a sneaking admiration for her, for her work ethic, her advice to get out, and her making it in a world where she is also different. There weren't many female politicians in the 1980s and even less woman Prime Ministers. It's also all incredibly familiar to anyone who was in the UK at that time, even if it was south of the border.
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