First and foremost, how perfect is the title for this autobiography? So clever! Although that being said, for many critics who wage war against the English musician (and there are plenty), Lily’s thoughts exactly won’t be high on their Christmas wishlist this year. However, if you are one of those antagonists who fight for the opposition, then do not fear! For I have even more good news for you! These 340+ pages of Lily’s reflections dart forward at an alarmingly fast pace thanks to the generously large font and well-categorised chapters, everything so quick to inhale that you could easily get it done in a single seating, no excuses.
Unfortunately, this speedy ride wasn’t as thrilling as I’d imagined it would be, especially considering the rockstar reputation that the tabloids have painted Lily with (or “cartoon Lily” as the star has so affectionately coined it). Shamefully, the sadistic emptiness of my soul craved further entertainment in the form of celebrity sexual conquests and life-threatening drug misadventures—of which, there were faint scents yet no marinated laundry to perversely salivate over. Rather, Lily spends most of her book focusing inward and complaining about her issues instead of valuing the good fortune outside of her head. She sounds so desperate for us to understand how difficult her life was when there isn’t all that much to understand really. What I found particularly bothersome was how traumatic she considers her childhood to have been when I personally know a large collection of individuals with far worse backstories than hers (including my own). This becomes even more annoying when she fails to recognise how little she had to work for her accolades in comparison to so many other straining artists, with her big break falling effortlessly onto her lap from those very same parental skies. Of course, as a long time Lily Allen fan, I would never disregard her talents, for she is undeniably deserving of her success and could never have maintained this position for so long without such a unique creative flair. Certainly, our world is a better place with her contributions in it. But when this pestering negative aura of ingratitude followed through these pages while distinctly lacking any of the humour for which her songs are praised for, then I don’t think it’s too insensitive to express some level of disappointment (even if only for my own misjudgment). Although, it must be noted that this very sour attitude is what makes many of her songs so great in the first place, so perhaps it all does make sense in context.
And it’s not all bad either. If we stop measuring the publication in terms of artistic guidelines and/or the debautury of your standard fame tale, then the benefits of this book can perhaps rise as more of a mental health exploration and female equality argument, instead of some shallow celebrity entertainment piece. One highly admirable trait of Lily's personality is that she harnesses an exceptional honesty at immense heights, far above many of her contemporaries. She is happy to expose every detail of her life without trying to sound cool, often spreading her regrettable choices out before us as a cautionary display, highlighting those exact moments where she learned more of who she was and how to deal with the complexities of the world around her. And, truth be told, the world around her did become substantially more complex as it went on. If you’ve ever followed the aggressive treatment of Lily in the media, then you’ll probably agree that the incessant attack on her character has been shamefully unfair and nobody deserves such scathing levels of malicious slandering. When viewing the scene from this angle, we can then appreciate My Thoughts Exactly as an anti-popstar autobiography from an anti-popstar herself, an artist whose craft fell second to the mental pressures that she became trapped within, drowning inside the realms of fame which were never designed to accommodate her type of person anyway. And perhaps it is here where the true gold lies. It’s not that this is a book which will inspire you in any artistic direction or tickle the corners of your smile, but rather, one which may help you if you’re currently struggling beneath a pile of external stress and internal turmoil yourself. Lily could very well be the tough role model you are seeking in your present circumstances. She may be the figure to encourage you to tighten those fists and fight your way out.
Nevertheless, as I closed the cover after the final page, I felt like if I let go of this book, it would float away from my hands. In the end, its very existence baffled me. There was something disproportionately pointless about it all with very few revelations or shocking moments to justify its use of paper. The storytelling was a little too thin and the aftertaste was a bitter flavor of self-infatuation, only mildly interesting due to her celebrity status. However, it is because of this celebrity status that we are all gathered here today and I have no qualms about pledging my allegiance to her life, her career and whatever else she wants, Lily Allen forever. Her latest album is brilliant. My copy of this book has been signed by Lily's own fingers, so I don’t regret reading a damn thing. I’m just pissed off she didn’t mention me, to be honest.