The story of the man, the music, the art, the attitude. Chris Not Given Lightly tells the story of one extraordinarily creative man's journey from the obscurity of punk rock to the heart of New Zealand culture.
During his 20-year career with a Scottish Sunday newspaper, Craig Robertson has interviewed three recent Prime Ministers; attended major stories including 9/11, Dunblane, the Omagh bombing and the disappearance of Madeleine McCann; been pilloried on breakfast television, beaten Oprah Winfrey to a major scoop, been among the first to interview Susan Boyle, spent time on Death Row in the USA and dispensed polio drops in the backstreets of India.
Finished this last evening. Wow. An outstanding biography. The truly singular life of this major NZ cultural figure is covered in exemplary manner by Craig Robertson (an NZer, not the Scottish writer Good Reads has linked to). The writing is high quality through-out, which details, explains and analyses Knox's life superbly. It clearly articulates Knox's personality, achievements and influence vividly and indepth, but has no qualms about displaying less appealing aspects of his personality, either. Every chapter is also blessed with an abundance of photos, posters, cartoons and other ephemera which further bring to life Knox's story. While Knox is primarily known as a musician, the book does an impressive job of outlining his considerable work as a cartoonist, video maker, columnist, television presenter and artist, too. You owe it to yourself to read this.
An extraordinary book about an extraordinary man. Robertson rightly does not write a hagiography, and the book grapples with a lot of the complexities that make Knox the maddening figure he is (it’s telling that he loves Lennon so much, aka the autistic Beatles’ fan nightmare because of his contradictory and awkward persona). In fact it goes head on with this several times, and even allows for a rejoinder to the obviously deeply hurt Matthew Bannister’s memories of Knox in Positively George Street with Knox finally grappling pre-stroke with the idea that he might just be a bit of an annoying twat sometimes. I can’t imagine Knox allowing for anything else though, so I’m glad it’s a book that’s celebratory as it is sometimes wary of Knox at his most Knoxy
It also took me a surprising amount of time to read and I think that’s because even all these years into his post stroke life we’re talking about a man who cannot and will not be creatively still. This is something that I’ve grappled with at length post accident, and honestly I’ve sort of let it defeat me a little, so it’s enormously empowering and incredibly funny to read of post stroke Knox trying (and failing) to sell his paintings to Pavement as the book ends. When he was well the man was unstoppable, just a ceaseless example of the art life. It’s a wonderful book beyond the music for grasping a sense of the arts in New Zealand, especially comics (it probably helps that an enormous amount of NZ musicians are highly talented graphic artists as well - Knox, Robert Scott, Stefan Neville, David Mitchell - so there’s a huge crossover here)
If you want a serious exploration of Knox’s life post stroke you’re probably better off served by the passages in Shayne Carter’s book, but this isn’t what Robertson wants to talk about. He’s wanting to address an incredibly important, pivotal figure in New Zealand art and music and in alternative music worldwide (it delights me no end that John Fernandes of Olivia Tremor Control, another hero of mine, is as much of a joy here as he is everywhere) and do it in a way that demonstrates what a key figure he still is
A faltering first few pages then it hits stride. I’m invested in the story of Knox trying to find his way, his art, and Toy Love. Friend and writer Martin Patrick tell me, “Some people are saying there’s just way too much detail.’ “Is there?” I reply. “I’m enjoying it.” And I am, but not as much as I was. After the Toy Love years that I was too young to live through, come the Tall Dwarf years that I remember. Maybe there is too much detail, and not enough dynamics. Perhaps somethings could be dispensed with so that more detail and insight could be added to selected moments. Two thirds of the way through, misgivings have cemented. The book seems to give the same weight to everything rather than finding a way to talk about various milestones, changes, artistic projects of particular note. I’m still interested, but for anyone not already invested in Knox’s output and legacy, this might draaaaaaaag. Robertson convincingly wraps up Knox’s motivations, aesthetic and legacy in the closing pages before the post stroke epilogue. We needed a book about the provocative and indefatigable Chris Knox. This is not quite the book I wanted but it’s what we’ve got.