“We tell ourselves stories based on evidence we glean form the world. We arrange that information in what appears to be a logical order & it becomes a narrative we believe in. It becomes The Truth. These truths can endure for years & years. Often for a whole lifetime. But, every now & then, something happens to makes us reconsider them.”
Well if Murakami can get away with a book about his T-Shirts I suppose Jarvis thought he could chance his arm on one about the crap found in his old attic, in a house that he hasn’t lived in for many years too.
The first thing to notice about the copy of this book I read, is how lovely it was packaged. A good, solid, weighty hardback, really nicely bound with some high quality, colourful images shown throughout. So kudos to Julian House, who I believe was largely responsible for how it turned out.
Cocker is one of these types, who seems to give off an almost perennially positive vibe. I’m not sure if it’s down to his unthreatening appearance and demeanour, but you just get the impression that he’s really decent, and this is reinforced all throughout this memoir.
To be fair the rubbish and er treasure he hauls out of his attic are obviously used as jumping off points, and I admit I was a little sceptical at first, but I was soon won over, not least by the chapter on Cussons Imperial Leather, which was near flawless. (I had no idea that they had changed the logo).
So this was a bit of a treat really, Cocker has produced a fun, unassuming yet charming, light-hearted meditation of sorts about many areas of his life and career and you come away with quite a good-hearted feel too.