"These are my memories of the ghosts of myself. Be they real or not, they have made me, put me here, kept me alive and continue to do so." --Sean H Doyle
This author has traversed some rocky topography, and his book speaks directly to the reader without a hint of condescension. Self destructive, heartbroken, yet with endorphins still kicking and screaming, we are right there with him in the fishbowl, determinedly making the rounds. More please, Mr. Doyle.
The vignettes in This Must be the Place tell the story of one who is often lost and self-destructive. But there is an undercurrent of grit and courage. Sean Doyle bears it all without question. The love and the damage both run strong. This is what it really means to be human. I was pulled in strongly by this book and could have easily stayed around for many more of the short pieces. I will be waiting for the next book from this author.
Sean H. Doyle's got these stories, little vignettes of insanity, moments where the the worst train wreck ever goes south into something much darker than a major catastrophe - hell it's a world war of emotions, only he tells them like this kind of shit happens to everyone, like they're everyday occurrences and it's normal when "the bees happen" and your dad says, "burn anything that ever hurts you." Words to live by right? Only that's the proverbial tip of the iceberg, there's more, another story, another passage from Hicksville, or Phoenix, or points unknown, and it just gets darker because This Must Be the Place is Doyle letting you into the memories most folks would rather you didn't know about.
Reading This Must Be The Place is like getting mugged, and then once the mugger takes your wallet, they push you on the ground. And then once you’re on the ground, they kick you in the stomach, over and over and over again. And then when you think they’ve finally decided to leave you alone, they kick you once more in the teeth. The only difference is that when Sean H. Doyle is mugging you, the experience is cleansing, invigorating, something that tests your heart but also makes it glow, an experience you don’t want to ever stop. Otherwise, they’re basically identical.
Sean's writing is a rusty serrated blade. This book is sad and funny and Sean isn't afraid to tell us the truth, even when the truth is the last thing we want to hear. I stayed up past my bedtime to read this all at once and even when I finally turned off the light, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about Sean and his stories and these little paragraphs and these words and these things and this life and this book. I love him, I love it.
"This Must Be the Place is the book of an orphan in the wake of his delirium struggling to make sense of the loss that caused it. Sean H. Doyle is a walker of fire and slayer of ghouls whose numberless prolonged trials have stripped him of human dross and discrimination alike. Absence is a mentor, in his world, anguish a mold, compassion the reward. If after reading Doyle’s story you don’t fancy him caressing the brow of Despair itself, it won’t be because he’s failed to tell it well. It broke me, this book, then it took my hand and kissed me. I am changed, now, and so much the better, too."
I'm not proud to admit that when I first looked at this book I felt kind of ripped off because it is rather short, but once I started reading I realized this book is deep, and each word matters and resonates. Sean H. Doyle packed a shit-ton of emotion into this little book. Now I know that I got a bargain--reading this book was a fucking privilege.
"Sean H. Doyle is a punk rock sailor shaman with a message from way down below decks where the guys with horns and hooves go jet skiing on a lake of fire. This Must Be the Place is a ferocious testament to love and loss written with razor blades and backed with blood. An unputdownable debut.”
Hard-hitting memoir, brutally honest, with not one superfluous word. The chapters fly by so fast the friction of finger turning page nearly reaches flashpoint. The chapters are non-chronological, and bounce from locale to locale, which effectively ratchets up the tension and mirrors the chaos of a difficult life. Highly recommended.
I am so proud to be Sean H. Doyle's friend. This is a great book and it feels like spending hours talking to someone and listening to them bare their soul to you, and the whole time you're thinking, this is what life is about, this genuine kind of spirit. Way to go Sean!
Sort of like a less intense form of a part of Happy Baby but without a crushing conceptual thrust. He did do a lot of dumb dangerous fun social shit, though, and maybe that might inspire me to soberly try something of the sort again one day—live a little.
P.S.: If you see this in your readers-also-liked, you'll likely see Black Cloud there, too. Read that, be not dissuaged—become the twilight-elongated nuclear-blast-shadow-on-the-pavement you've always wanted to be, and that the blurb implies for this thing, and pretty much any other of a comparable sort.
Unlike most memoirists, Sean Doyle recounts his shocking past without once ever seeming to say "look at me." He's looking at himself, and we're invited along. Usually the story of a frightening and painful life ends with redemption, but this arresting collection of moments omits any in which Sean climbs out of the pile of hurt and saves himself before its too late, none when the person he was turns him into the person he is now. That's because, to Doyle, there is no person he was nor any person he will become; there's only who he is. Doyle has a confident and rare understanding of himself, and This Must be the Place communicates that understanding as silently and obviously as a planet.
A short read with a huge emotional gut-punch. Cataloging random autobiographical jumps in time, we are given the portrait of a modern man; not good, not bad, but a human with the same flaws and fears we all have fighting his way through life. Every scar and mark leaves a story, and it is Sean Doyle's turn to be the Illustrated Man.
Sean is a dear friend, and I find myself too emotionally invested to view his work objectively -- lacking sufficient distance to judge either his stories themselves or his use of language (distinctly Sean: clever, skillful, self-aware, sometimes sardonic, understatedly prosaic, never contrived) -- I'm unable to provide a fair review, and will not embarrass myself trying. However, you deserve to know that Sean H. Doyle is a magnificent human being with incredible integrity and a tremendous heart. He is wildly and impressively open to the world yet firm and unyielding in his sense of personal responsibility; he is fiercely loyal, absolutely one of a kind, and has somehow managed to keep his wits about him even having traversed the route to hell and back. If you have the chance to hear from him (such as by reading This Must Be the Place), under no circumstances should you forego that opportunity, because his sharing will fill a place in your heart you hadn't realized was empty. Perhaps I've written a review after all.
This book is harrowing, a punk rock paean to our limiting human experience. The vital, raw, harsh tenderness of what it means to be alive. What it means to be a man. Survival. Over and over while devouring these words, I had to remind myself to breathe. I was holding my breath because of its brilliance, because of its beautifully, raw impact.