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Rememberings
From the acclaimed, controversial singer-songwriter Sinéad O’Connor comes a revelatory memoir of her fraught childhood, musical triumphs, fearless activism, and of the enduring power of song.
Blessed with a singular voice and a fiery temperament, Sinéad O’Connor rose to massive fame in the late 1980s and 1990s with a string of gold records. By the time she was twenty, she was world famous—living a rock star life out loud. From her trademark shaved head to her 1992 appearance on Saturday Night Live when she tore up Pope John Paul II’s photograph, Sinéad has fascinated and outraged millions.
In Rememberings, O’Connor recounts her painful tale of growing up in Dublin in a dysfunctional, abusive household. Inspired by a brother’s Bob Dylan records, she escaped into music. She relates her early forays with local Irish bands; we see Sinéad completing her first album while eight months pregnant, hanging with Rastas in the East Village, and soaring to unimaginable popularity with her cover of Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2U.”
Intimate, replete with candid anecdotes and told in a singular form true to her unconventional career, Sinéad’s memoir is a remarkable chronicle of an enduring and influential artist.
Blessed with a singular voice and a fiery temperament, Sinéad O’Connor rose to massive fame in the late 1980s and 1990s with a string of gold records. By the time she was twenty, she was world famous—living a rock star life out loud. From her trademark shaved head to her 1992 appearance on Saturday Night Live when she tore up Pope John Paul II’s photograph, Sinéad has fascinated and outraged millions.
In Rememberings, O’Connor recounts her painful tale of growing up in Dublin in a dysfunctional, abusive household. Inspired by a brother’s Bob Dylan records, she escaped into music. She relates her early forays with local Irish bands; we see Sinéad completing her first album while eight months pregnant, hanging with Rastas in the East Village, and soaring to unimaginable popularity with her cover of Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2U.”
Intimate, replete with candid anecdotes and told in a singular form true to her unconventional career, Sinéad’s memoir is a remarkable chronicle of an enduring and influential artist.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published June 1, 2021
1213 people are currently reading
15479 people want to read
About the author
Sinéad O'Connor
11 books174 followersShuhada' Sadaqat, known professionally as Sinéad O'Connor (Sinéad Marie Bernadette O'Connor) was an Irish singer-songwriter who rose to fame in the late 1980s with her debut album The Lion and the Cobra. O'Connor achieved worldwide success in 1990 with a new arrangement of Prince's song "Nothing Compares 2 U." - Wikipedia
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,900 reviews
June 3, 2021
I literally kissed the book when I finished it. If that gives you an idea of how much I loved reading it.
Thank you Sinead for writing it.
Thank you Sinead for writing it.
April 11, 2021
This is a roller coaster of a read. It’s emotional, sometimes funny, angry, confused, strong but also vulnerable, the full range of her personality that comes across in her singing. I bought her first album when it came out and Troy is still one of my favourite songs. I followed her career and knew bits and pieces about her life so I was interested to read this. It doesn’t shy away from the controversies or her health issues.
December 6, 2021
I caught the music video for Sinéad O’Connor’s cover of Prince’s Nothing Compares 2 U on TV as a young child, and I never forgot it: That iconic close-up of a beautiful woman with a shaved head and powerful voice, intensely staring at the viewer with two solitary tears of longing rolling down her cheeks. Over twenty years later, I decided that this memoir presented the perfect opportunity to finally dig deeper into her discography, and learn more about an intriguing artist who, time and time again, has been at best misunderstood, and at worst vilified by the media because of her mental health issues, and controversial actions to call out hypocrisy.
I knew virtually nothing about Sinéad’s life and music going in, yet Rememberings was pretty much exactly what I expected it to be, based entirely on what the mostly unkindly media has taught me about her over the years: Authentic, rambling, and unusual. Which aren’t necessarily bad things—but coupled with her mix of self-confidence and self-deprecation, the result is an incredibly conversational, somewhat repetitive, and very scattered memoir. She writes about her past life in the present tense, which was a peculiar choice, and poetic passages alternate with ones where she uses words such as “ain’t”, “dunno”, and fourteen instances of the slang word “square” throughout the book, which sounds nothing short of archaic, but endearing in an odd sort of way. To be fair, she does warn that she’s written it as if she were having a conversation with the reader right up front—and that due to her mental health issues, a good chunk of her life won’t be covered, because she can’t (or doesn’t want to?) remember (or share).
From a narrative standpoint, the beginning is the strongest and most linear: She covers her childhood, upbringing, emotionally and physically abusive mother, and how she came to music, more or less up to the immediate aftermath of her tearing up a picture of Pope John Paul II on SNL. What follows does the book title justice: It becomes more of a collection of scattered anecdotes, in turn funny, insightful, mystical, or just plain eccentric. There’s a chapter about a bizarre evening at Prince’s house, she gives context to each album in her back-catalogue, reflecting back to those times in her life, and she touches on her mental breakdown from a few years back, as well as the horrendous Dr. Phil interview—not in much depth, but offering her perspective with candor. She writes from a place of honesty and has remained true to herself despite many changes throughout the years, but even so, she’s a bundle of contradictions: for instance, she refers to herself as asexual, but she talks about being sexually attracted to all sorts of people throughout the book.
Along with music, motherhood and spirituality are the most important aspects of her life. Her ongoing, life-long spiritual quest (she may have waged war against the Catholic Church, but she’s an ordained priest in a breakaway sect, deeply interested in Rastafarianism, and has most recently converted to Islam…) is something I cannot relate to at all, which is probably why I didn’t enjoy the memoir quite enough to say “I liked it”. The book seems almost to be written for her own benefit rather than for a wider audience—it’s full of what are essentially short tributes to her collaborators, lovers, husbands, children, and their fathers, and it reads like an attempt to put misunderstandings aside.
Someone who is already a fan of her work will probably get something out of this; anyone who dislikes her won’t be swayed; and someone interested and open-minded, but with a more or less blank slate, like me, will likely fall somewhere in the middle. Rememberings probably won’t be remembered, but I am writing this as a newly converted (albeit casual) fan of her musical oeuvre, and I appreciate it for opening that door for me. I think she's an intense and interesting soul, but she conveys it best in her music.
—————
Note: I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
I knew virtually nothing about Sinéad’s life and music going in, yet Rememberings was pretty much exactly what I expected it to be, based entirely on what the mostly unkindly media has taught me about her over the years: Authentic, rambling, and unusual. Which aren’t necessarily bad things—but coupled with her mix of self-confidence and self-deprecation, the result is an incredibly conversational, somewhat repetitive, and very scattered memoir. She writes about her past life in the present tense, which was a peculiar choice, and poetic passages alternate with ones where she uses words such as “ain’t”, “dunno”, and fourteen instances of the slang word “square” throughout the book, which sounds nothing short of archaic, but endearing in an odd sort of way. To be fair, she does warn that she’s written it as if she were having a conversation with the reader right up front—and that due to her mental health issues, a good chunk of her life won’t be covered, because she can’t (or doesn’t want to?) remember (or share).
“My intention was to put all the pieces of the jigsaw that was me out on the floor and see if I could put it together. To be understood was my desire. Along with that was my desire not to have the ignorant tell my story when I’m gone. Which was what would have happened had I not told it myself.”
From a narrative standpoint, the beginning is the strongest and most linear: She covers her childhood, upbringing, emotionally and physically abusive mother, and how she came to music, more or less up to the immediate aftermath of her tearing up a picture of Pope John Paul II on SNL. What follows does the book title justice: It becomes more of a collection of scattered anecdotes, in turn funny, insightful, mystical, or just plain eccentric. There’s a chapter about a bizarre evening at Prince’s house, she gives context to each album in her back-catalogue, reflecting back to those times in her life, and she touches on her mental breakdown from a few years back, as well as the horrendous Dr. Phil interview—not in much depth, but offering her perspective with candor. She writes from a place of honesty and has remained true to herself despite many changes throughout the years, but even so, she’s a bundle of contradictions: for instance, she refers to herself as asexual, but she talks about being sexually attracted to all sorts of people throughout the book.
Along with music, motherhood and spirituality are the most important aspects of her life. Her ongoing, life-long spiritual quest (she may have waged war against the Catholic Church, but she’s an ordained priest in a breakaway sect, deeply interested in Rastafarianism, and has most recently converted to Islam…) is something I cannot relate to at all, which is probably why I didn’t enjoy the memoir quite enough to say “I liked it”. The book seems almost to be written for her own benefit rather than for a wider audience—it’s full of what are essentially short tributes to her collaborators, lovers, husbands, children, and their fathers, and it reads like an attempt to put misunderstandings aside.
Someone who is already a fan of her work will probably get something out of this; anyone who dislikes her won’t be swayed; and someone interested and open-minded, but with a more or less blank slate, like me, will likely fall somewhere in the middle. Rememberings probably won’t be remembered, but I am writing this as a newly converted (albeit casual) fan of her musical oeuvre, and I appreciate it for opening that door for me. I think she's an intense and interesting soul, but she conveys it best in her music.
—————
Note: I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.
March 26, 2021
The Prince chapter though.
July 28, 2023
Review originally posted in September 2021
In the spring of 1990, Irish singer Sinead O'Connor cannon-balled into the pop culture pool and bitch-slapped us out of the neon hair-sprayed fog of the 1980s. Like a supernova, her star burned brightly but briefly, the flame doused by controversy.
Most people remember her first as that beautiful, bald disembodied head that shed real tears while singing the ghosts out of an obscure Prince song. Shortly after that song made her famous, she angrily ripped up a photo of Pope John Paul II on live television. That moment, that precise moment, O'Connor describes as the turning point not just of her career, but of her life, in her new memoir Rememberings.
But this isn't just a rock-star retrospective. It's about being Irish, being Catholic, being poor, being a woman, and how all those elements swirled around in her head while momentarily being one of the most famous people in the world.
O'Connor admits early on in the book to not being a great writer, but she is a songwriter, and the book is written with a staccato bluntness that is as emotionally jagged as it is darkly humorous. One vignette describes the time she met Prince, whose faux-royal creepiness made her feel unsafe. In her writing of the event, she facetiously capitalizes his pronouns, drawing attention to his ridiculous self-importance, referring to him as Himself and how he pronounced her name "Shine-Ade."
If you're not interested in the music, this book is a raw taste of life in the too-often forgotten recent past of Ireland, including its war and violence. It also is a story of one woman's lifelong struggle with the simultaneous beauty and brutality of her Catholic faith, her inherent Irish-ness, and the trappings of fame, feminism, and motherhood.
If you like the music, watch the video of "Nothing Compares 2U" again. It remains haunting 30 years later. And in a bit of subtext from the book, O'Connor's most famous song isn't as prevalent as expected. Likely because it's not a song she wrote.
For a better sense of the artist's work, check out her woefully underappreciated catalog, starting with "Troy" from The Lion and the Cobra, and "The Last Day of our Acquaintance" from I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got.
-KO’D
Find this book and other titles within our catalog.
In the spring of 1990, Irish singer Sinead O'Connor cannon-balled into the pop culture pool and bitch-slapped us out of the neon hair-sprayed fog of the 1980s. Like a supernova, her star burned brightly but briefly, the flame doused by controversy.
Most people remember her first as that beautiful, bald disembodied head that shed real tears while singing the ghosts out of an obscure Prince song. Shortly after that song made her famous, she angrily ripped up a photo of Pope John Paul II on live television. That moment, that precise moment, O'Connor describes as the turning point not just of her career, but of her life, in her new memoir Rememberings.
But this isn't just a rock-star retrospective. It's about being Irish, being Catholic, being poor, being a woman, and how all those elements swirled around in her head while momentarily being one of the most famous people in the world.
O'Connor admits early on in the book to not being a great writer, but she is a songwriter, and the book is written with a staccato bluntness that is as emotionally jagged as it is darkly humorous. One vignette describes the time she met Prince, whose faux-royal creepiness made her feel unsafe. In her writing of the event, she facetiously capitalizes his pronouns, drawing attention to his ridiculous self-importance, referring to him as Himself and how he pronounced her name "Shine-Ade."
If you're not interested in the music, this book is a raw taste of life in the too-often forgotten recent past of Ireland, including its war and violence. It also is a story of one woman's lifelong struggle with the simultaneous beauty and brutality of her Catholic faith, her inherent Irish-ness, and the trappings of fame, feminism, and motherhood.
If you like the music, watch the video of "Nothing Compares 2U" again. It remains haunting 30 years later. And in a bit of subtext from the book, O'Connor's most famous song isn't as prevalent as expected. Likely because it's not a song she wrote.
For a better sense of the artist's work, check out her woefully underappreciated catalog, starting with "Troy" from The Lion and the Cobra, and "The Last Day of our Acquaintance" from I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got.
-KO’D
Find this book and other titles within our catalog.
June 27, 2021
I always admired and loved Sinead O’Connor’s artistry. Her punk attitude and convictions in my opinion making her stand out for all the right reasons. The public turning on he after her controversial stint on SNL leaving an indelible mark on her future in the public eye. She basically burnt her own bridges . I love that she stands by her actions and never apologised or backed down, it might have ruined her career but she made her statement in the most effective way possible. Screw the haters! There’s no doubt after reading this book that Sinead is deeply troubled but after reading this I also feel comfortable that she’s ok with it. She is making peace with herself. Her explanation of her upbringing giving you a better understanding of what might have caused her deep psychological distress and trauma. Despite gaps in her memory and some dubious recollections (the Prince story in particular was just straight out whack). I find Sinead sincere she proudly and openly discusses her many mental health challenges, she uses her pain and translates it into her music, her voice cuts through with a force and magic that is stunningly haunting, that is her power.
August 4, 2023
If you are a Sinead fan, this is an interesting account of her life, challenges, musical inspirations, and views. I listened on audio, hearing her read her own words, which was a bittersweet experience given her recent passing. I also watched Nothing Compares, the documentary about her. Between the two, you get a good sense of who she was and what life was like for her.
A brilliant poet and musician, a passionate advocate, a lost soul....she defies easy capture. But what she does capture, sadly, is the difficulty of living in the public eye, with all the tendrils of unmeetable expectations and the vitriol poised in the shadows, waiting to be unleashed when you displease the masses. Recent quotes suggest she was "before her time". My own view is she was exactly where she belonged, but it is the person yelling at a deaf man who can look foolish....and there's a lot of deafness in our world until we have our ears boxed enough times to unclog them.
I have always loved her music. I have always felt empathy for how she was vilified and how she might have struggled with things beyond her control. I will cherish this inside look at her through her own rememberings and words. And I will miss the ever-changing musical journey she was on which produced some of my favorite cuts.
Thank you, Sinead, for your gifts to an often undeserving world. And thank you for the giggle at how there can be "no solids" on a tour bus. (You'll just have to read it....or let your imagination go wild.)
A brilliant poet and musician, a passionate advocate, a lost soul....she defies easy capture. But what she does capture, sadly, is the difficulty of living in the public eye, with all the tendrils of unmeetable expectations and the vitriol poised in the shadows, waiting to be unleashed when you displease the masses. Recent quotes suggest she was "before her time". My own view is she was exactly where she belonged, but it is the person yelling at a deaf man who can look foolish....and there's a lot of deafness in our world until we have our ears boxed enough times to unclog them.
I have always loved her music. I have always felt empathy for how she was vilified and how she might have struggled with things beyond her control. I will cherish this inside look at her through her own rememberings and words. And I will miss the ever-changing musical journey she was on which produced some of my favorite cuts.
Thank you, Sinead, for your gifts to an often undeserving world. And thank you for the giggle at how there can be "no solids" on a tour bus. (You'll just have to read it....or let your imagination go wild.)
Read
June 8, 2025#the Irish readathon
In real life you aren’t allowed to say you’re angry but in music you can say anything.
Ao contrário do cantor David Fonseca, seria incapaz de gritar “Sinéad, I love you!” no concerto que a cantora deu em 1995 no Coliseu de Lisboa, mas senti o meu coração a transbordar de carinho por ela, sobretudo quando se enganou na letra de uma das canções e se riu, mostrando a artista modesta que era, a mulher franca que eu ainda hoje acredito que foi.
I make plain as I’m refusing awards and award shows that I am doing so in order to draw attention to the issue of child abuse. And that I’m a punk, not a pop star. And that awards make some people feel more than and some people feel less than. And that music shouldn’t be such a competition.
“Rememberings” é o livro de memórias que Sinéad O’Connor escreveu dois anos antes de morrer, um olhar cândido, intimista, revelador e revoltante de uma cantora que conheceu o êxito muito nova, antes de poder, como ela mesmo diz, conhecer-se a si própria e que narra com duas vozes, a do “fantasma” que era ainda quatro anos após o episódio da foto e a da “mulher viva” que é a do presente. Emocionei-me logo no prólogo, quando diz que sente compaixão por ambos os progenitores que fizeram o melhor que podiam dadas as circunstâncias, quando sempre se soube que a mãe a maltratava e a traumatizou para a vida.
That’s because I’m the kid crying in fear on the last day of term before the summer holidays. I have to pretend I lost my field hockey stick, because I know my mother will hit me with it all summer if I bring it home.
Conta a cantora que quando os pais se separaram, a mãe perdeu a custódia dos quatro filhos, mas que ela e o irmão mais novo quiseram voltar para casa porque sentiam falta dela. Ao contrário de outras autobiografias, não há aqui um ajuste de contas, mas os episódios narrados permitem perceber por que razão ela chegou a dizer, no pico do seu sofrimento, que estava grata por a mãe ter morrido.
Once he’d gone, we started crying. She said if we loved him so much, we could go live in the hut. I knelt on the ground in front of the gable wall and wailed up to the landing window to get her to let us into the house when it got dark. She never responded and off went the light in her bedroom and everything went black. That is when I officially lost my mind.
Uma das coisas que mais me doeu nesta obra foi Sinéad ter chegado aos 54 anos, já mãe de quatro filhos, depois de muitos anos de terapia, ainda em negação em relação ao mal que a mãe lhe causou, encontrando todos os pretextos para a desculpar…
Nothing in Sinéad’s childhood environment or experience caused her mental illnesses. The evidence of this being fact is the rock-solid sanity of your and Marie’s other three children.
…apesar de alguns lampejos de lucidez.
I have been angry at my mother all my life. But I displaced it. I couldn’t admit it was her I was angry at, so I took it out on the world. And burned nearly every bridge I ever crossed.
Não obstante toda esta carga negativa, o melhor de ter ouvido o audiobook narrado pela própria autora foi ouvi-la a rir-se das coisas que escreveu e viveu, pois Sinéad possuía um sentido de humor assassino e um sarcasmo avassalador, como por exemplo, quando foi numa excursão a Lourdes e procurou ajuda dos padres para internar a mãe.
“There’s nothing I can do for her,” he says and tells me I’m to pray until I’m eighteen and can leave home, unless I’m able to leave any sooner. I’m thinking, Oh, great. A hopeless priest. How the fuck did he get stationed here?
Ou quando se refere aos irmãos.
It is hard for children of abuse to be around each other. Joe plays guitar. He says he doesn’t play well, but he does. My sister plays harp and my younger brother plays drums. I always thought it would be brilliant to make one album together and call it Fuck the Corrs. But the fights would have made Liam and Noel Gallagher seem like pussycats.
Ou até mesmo à sua saúde mental e aos seus amigos.
In the nuthouse, believe it or not, in Dublin (I get to call it a nuthouse because I’m a nut. No one else gets to call it that). In the locked ward where they put you if you’re suicidal, there’s more class A drugs than in Shane MacGowan’s dressing room.
Em “Rememberings” a cantora revela também os primeiros passos no mundo da música, quando ainda vivia num internato de freiras para jovens problemáticas, e todo o seu percurso meteórico até ao fatídico dia em que rasgou uma fotografia do papa em directo, no programa “Saturday Night Live”.
So, far from the pope episode destroying my career, it set me on a path that fit me better. I’m not a pop star. I’m just a troubled soul who needs to scream into mikes now and then. I don’t need to be number one. I don’t need to be liked. I don’t need to be welcome at the AMAs. I just need to pay my yearly overheads, get shit off my chest, and not compromise or prostitute myself spiritually. So no. It wasn’t derailed. It was re-railed. And I feel I’ve been extremely successful as a single mother providing for her children.
Estava-se em 1992, quando Sinéad, bastante à frente do seu tempo, pretendia chamar a atenção para os abusos sexuais perpetrados pela Igreja contra as crianças, escândalo esse que só viria realmente a estourar muitos anos depois.
I tell him about what’s been happening in the church in Ireland, that kids have been raped and the church is covering it up. I ask if he and [Bob] Dylan will help expose it. He thinks I’m crazy. (…) I’m on my own. (I wonder if they still think I’m crazy now.)
Sinéad O’Connor foi uma guerreira e uma activista durante toda a sua vida, insurgindo-se constantemente contra a misoginia e o racismo, não seguindo as convenções da sociedade, nem em matéria de visual nem no tipo de família que constituiu.
One night years ago my own father came to visit me and told me that he was almost jealous of the way I lived my life with regard to having children, not feeling like I had to get married and live the way a man might like to live. In short, while it’s okay in society for men to have children with different women, sometimes women get looked down upon for having four children with four different men or, really, any amount of children with different men.
Apesar da sua língua afiada, fala de todos os famosos com quem se cruzou de forma respeitosa e afável, fora os seus ódios de estimação: o produtor Nigel Grainge, que a encaminhou para um médico para resolver uma gravidez incómoda para a editora…
The doctor, said in the following words: “Your record company has spent a hundred thousand pounds recording your album. You owe it to them not to have this baby.” Furthermore, he informed me that if I flew while pregnant, my baby would be damaged. And anyway, if I was going to be a musician I ought not have babies because a woman shouldn’t leave her baby to go on tour and at the same time a child can’t be taken on tour.
…e o cantor Prince, numa das cenas mais hilariantes de todo o livro.
Accordingly, when he shouts at me, “I don’t like the language you’re using in your print interviews,” I say, “You mean English? Oh. I’m sorry about that, the Irish was beaten out of us.” “No,” he says. “I don’t like you swearing.” “I don’t work for you,” I tell him. “If you don’t like it, you can fuck yourself.”
Embora perceba que Sinéad O’Connor foi uma alma torturada, a sua busca de respostas e de consolo na religião sempre me constrangeu, mas mesmo sendo a descrente que sou, não posso deixar de registar duas passagens relacionadas com a sua devoção, diferentes no tom mas indicadoras da sua personalidade.
I have worn it [the hijab] since October 2018 (not the same one, and, yes, I’ve washed it so my head doesn’t smell like a foot) when I reverted. We say revert because Islam feels like home.
**********************************
And I hope if there’s a heaven, I qualify (if there’s such a situation as not qualifying). I have a hard time believing God would be cruel. But just in case I deserve otherwise, I hope the fact I’ve sung will make little of my sins, which are ugly and legion.
In real life you aren’t allowed to say you’re angry but in music you can say anything.
Ao contrário do cantor David Fonseca, seria incapaz de gritar “Sinéad, I love you!” no concerto que a cantora deu em 1995 no Coliseu de Lisboa, mas senti o meu coração a transbordar de carinho por ela, sobretudo quando se enganou na letra de uma das canções e se riu, mostrando a artista modesta que era, a mulher franca que eu ainda hoje acredito que foi.
I make plain as I’m refusing awards and award shows that I am doing so in order to draw attention to the issue of child abuse. And that I’m a punk, not a pop star. And that awards make some people feel more than and some people feel less than. And that music shouldn’t be such a competition.
“Rememberings” é o livro de memórias que Sinéad O’Connor escreveu dois anos antes de morrer, um olhar cândido, intimista, revelador e revoltante de uma cantora que conheceu o êxito muito nova, antes de poder, como ela mesmo diz, conhecer-se a si própria e que narra com duas vozes, a do “fantasma” que era ainda quatro anos após o episódio da foto e a da “mulher viva” que é a do presente. Emocionei-me logo no prólogo, quando diz que sente compaixão por ambos os progenitores que fizeram o melhor que podiam dadas as circunstâncias, quando sempre se soube que a mãe a maltratava e a traumatizou para a vida.
That’s because I’m the kid crying in fear on the last day of term before the summer holidays. I have to pretend I lost my field hockey stick, because I know my mother will hit me with it all summer if I bring it home.
Conta a cantora que quando os pais se separaram, a mãe perdeu a custódia dos quatro filhos, mas que ela e o irmão mais novo quiseram voltar para casa porque sentiam falta dela. Ao contrário de outras autobiografias, não há aqui um ajuste de contas, mas os episódios narrados permitem perceber por que razão ela chegou a dizer, no pico do seu sofrimento, que estava grata por a mãe ter morrido.
Once he’d gone, we started crying. She said if we loved him so much, we could go live in the hut. I knelt on the ground in front of the gable wall and wailed up to the landing window to get her to let us into the house when it got dark. She never responded and off went the light in her bedroom and everything went black. That is when I officially lost my mind.
Uma das coisas que mais me doeu nesta obra foi Sinéad ter chegado aos 54 anos, já mãe de quatro filhos, depois de muitos anos de terapia, ainda em negação em relação ao mal que a mãe lhe causou, encontrando todos os pretextos para a desculpar…
Nothing in Sinéad’s childhood environment or experience caused her mental illnesses. The evidence of this being fact is the rock-solid sanity of your and Marie’s other three children.
…apesar de alguns lampejos de lucidez.
I have been angry at my mother all my life. But I displaced it. I couldn’t admit it was her I was angry at, so I took it out on the world. And burned nearly every bridge I ever crossed.
Não obstante toda esta carga negativa, o melhor de ter ouvido o audiobook narrado pela própria autora foi ouvi-la a rir-se das coisas que escreveu e viveu, pois Sinéad possuía um sentido de humor assassino e um sarcasmo avassalador, como por exemplo, quando foi numa excursão a Lourdes e procurou ajuda dos padres para internar a mãe.
“There’s nothing I can do for her,” he says and tells me I’m to pray until I’m eighteen and can leave home, unless I’m able to leave any sooner. I’m thinking, Oh, great. A hopeless priest. How the fuck did he get stationed here?
Ou quando se refere aos irmãos.
It is hard for children of abuse to be around each other. Joe plays guitar. He says he doesn’t play well, but he does. My sister plays harp and my younger brother plays drums. I always thought it would be brilliant to make one album together and call it Fuck the Corrs. But the fights would have made Liam and Noel Gallagher seem like pussycats.
Ou até mesmo à sua saúde mental e aos seus amigos.
In the nuthouse, believe it or not, in Dublin (I get to call it a nuthouse because I’m a nut. No one else gets to call it that). In the locked ward where they put you if you’re suicidal, there’s more class A drugs than in Shane MacGowan’s dressing room.
Em “Rememberings” a cantora revela também os primeiros passos no mundo da música, quando ainda vivia num internato de freiras para jovens problemáticas, e todo o seu percurso meteórico até ao fatídico dia em que rasgou uma fotografia do papa em directo, no programa “Saturday Night Live”.
So, far from the pope episode destroying my career, it set me on a path that fit me better. I’m not a pop star. I’m just a troubled soul who needs to scream into mikes now and then. I don’t need to be number one. I don’t need to be liked. I don’t need to be welcome at the AMAs. I just need to pay my yearly overheads, get shit off my chest, and not compromise or prostitute myself spiritually. So no. It wasn’t derailed. It was re-railed. And I feel I’ve been extremely successful as a single mother providing for her children.
Estava-se em 1992, quando Sinéad, bastante à frente do seu tempo, pretendia chamar a atenção para os abusos sexuais perpetrados pela Igreja contra as crianças, escândalo esse que só viria realmente a estourar muitos anos depois.
I tell him about what’s been happening in the church in Ireland, that kids have been raped and the church is covering it up. I ask if he and [Bob] Dylan will help expose it. He thinks I’m crazy. (…) I’m on my own. (I wonder if they still think I’m crazy now.)
Sinéad O’Connor foi uma guerreira e uma activista durante toda a sua vida, insurgindo-se constantemente contra a misoginia e o racismo, não seguindo as convenções da sociedade, nem em matéria de visual nem no tipo de família que constituiu.
One night years ago my own father came to visit me and told me that he was almost jealous of the way I lived my life with regard to having children, not feeling like I had to get married and live the way a man might like to live. In short, while it’s okay in society for men to have children with different women, sometimes women get looked down upon for having four children with four different men or, really, any amount of children with different men.
Apesar da sua língua afiada, fala de todos os famosos com quem se cruzou de forma respeitosa e afável, fora os seus ódios de estimação: o produtor Nigel Grainge, que a encaminhou para um médico para resolver uma gravidez incómoda para a editora…
The doctor, said in the following words: “Your record company has spent a hundred thousand pounds recording your album. You owe it to them not to have this baby.” Furthermore, he informed me that if I flew while pregnant, my baby would be damaged. And anyway, if I was going to be a musician I ought not have babies because a woman shouldn’t leave her baby to go on tour and at the same time a child can’t be taken on tour.
…e o cantor Prince, numa das cenas mais hilariantes de todo o livro.
Accordingly, when he shouts at me, “I don’t like the language you’re using in your print interviews,” I say, “You mean English? Oh. I’m sorry about that, the Irish was beaten out of us.” “No,” he says. “I don’t like you swearing.” “I don’t work for you,” I tell him. “If you don’t like it, you can fuck yourself.”
Embora perceba que Sinéad O’Connor foi uma alma torturada, a sua busca de respostas e de consolo na religião sempre me constrangeu, mas mesmo sendo a descrente que sou, não posso deixar de registar duas passagens relacionadas com a sua devoção, diferentes no tom mas indicadoras da sua personalidade.
I have worn it [the hijab] since October 2018 (not the same one, and, yes, I’ve washed it so my head doesn’t smell like a foot) when I reverted. We say revert because Islam feels like home.
**********************************
And I hope if there’s a heaven, I qualify (if there’s such a situation as not qualifying). I have a hard time believing God would be cruel. But just in case I deserve otherwise, I hope the fact I’ve sung will make little of my sins, which are ugly and legion.
July 26, 2023
edit: sinéad, the world will remember you now through your music ♥️ rest in peace, love you forever.
over the past few months, i've become more and more entranced by sinéad o'connor. her strength, her integrity, her bewitching voice, her wicked sense of humor. my friend gave me the arc for this, and i was so honored i could have cried.
it's a difficult memoir, sometimes brilliant and sometimes sharp, sometimes clear and sometimes muddled, but it's completely sinéad. it'll never happen but i'd just love so much to meet her someday and ask her questions.
over the past few months, i've become more and more entranced by sinéad o'connor. her strength, her integrity, her bewitching voice, her wicked sense of humor. my friend gave me the arc for this, and i was so honored i could have cried.
it's a difficult memoir, sometimes brilliant and sometimes sharp, sometimes clear and sometimes muddled, but it's completely sinéad. it'll never happen but i'd just love so much to meet her someday and ask her questions.
Read
June 22, 2021Sinéad O’Connor was massive when we were kids. Anyone my age will remember the first time they heard Mandinka or Nothing Compares 2U. Her voice was so unique, really sensational. I still love to play her music really loud.
This is her memoir, published a few weeks ago. I listened to the audiobook. The laughs, the anger and the moments where the emotion catches in her throat - you get it all, it’s immersive, and I found it sad.
I thought the first half of the book was compelling. Sinéad tells us about her upbringing, the early days of her music career and the birth of her first child. She had a tough upbringing and the abuse she endured at the hands of her mother would break your heart.
She goes into great detail on the making of her records and her inspirations which I enjoyed. There is a fascinating and truly bizarre story in the book about her encounter with Prince. It is pure gold. In fact, I’d nearly have read the whole book just to read that story.
I respect Sinéad and the stance she took in speaking out about the cover up of child sexual abuse by the Catholic Church at a time in Ireland when it was completely taboo. She was vilified by sections of society and the media, and treated as a pariah when really she was the only one telling it like it was.
The second half of the book drifted though. The second half (actually, scratch that - quite a lot of the book) is taken up with her own personal faith in god, and her dabbling in Rastafarianism before ultimately converting to Islam. Each to their own but it was too much for me. It felt almost voyeuristic at times listening to some of it, her vulnerability is palpable, despite her tough exterior.
I wish Sinéad well, I hope she has a network of really supportive people around her. I could not rate this book. I thought it was brilliant in parts, inconsistent and rambling in others. Sinéad is a unique talent and a unique person, and I’m glad I read it. The book is authentically Sinéad.
This is her memoir, published a few weeks ago. I listened to the audiobook. The laughs, the anger and the moments where the emotion catches in her throat - you get it all, it’s immersive, and I found it sad.
I thought the first half of the book was compelling. Sinéad tells us about her upbringing, the early days of her music career and the birth of her first child. She had a tough upbringing and the abuse she endured at the hands of her mother would break your heart.
She goes into great detail on the making of her records and her inspirations which I enjoyed. There is a fascinating and truly bizarre story in the book about her encounter with Prince. It is pure gold. In fact, I’d nearly have read the whole book just to read that story.
I respect Sinéad and the stance she took in speaking out about the cover up of child sexual abuse by the Catholic Church at a time in Ireland when it was completely taboo. She was vilified by sections of society and the media, and treated as a pariah when really she was the only one telling it like it was.
The second half of the book drifted though. The second half (actually, scratch that - quite a lot of the book) is taken up with her own personal faith in god, and her dabbling in Rastafarianism before ultimately converting to Islam. Each to their own but it was too much for me. It felt almost voyeuristic at times listening to some of it, her vulnerability is palpable, despite her tough exterior.
I wish Sinéad well, I hope she has a network of really supportive people around her. I could not rate this book. I thought it was brilliant in parts, inconsistent and rambling in others. Sinéad is a unique talent and a unique person, and I’m glad I read it. The book is authentically Sinéad.
July 26, 2023
It’s fragmented, and also gratingly colloquial at times (ain’t, gonna, wanna), but nonetheless this is a powerful memoir from O’Connor that I was glad I read. And the fragmentation is understandable, given her breakdown and her Dickensianly grim childhood experiences, oof. She really is a force of nature, or of herself, who has carved her own path in life, repeatedly running away from school to busk on the streets, shaving her head when a record exec misguidedly encouraged her to adopt a more feminine look, getting pregnant and keeping her son at 20 just as her first album was coming out, facing ostracization after tearing the pope’s photo in half on Saturday Night Live, and pursuing an endless fascination with spirituality (mediums, Judaism, Rastafarianism, and now Islam). The world probably needs more people with that kind of purity and intensity of spirit, however frustrating or hard to understand they may be to the rest of those whom she charmingly calls ‘squares.’ A thought-provoking read.
March 4, 2025
oh, sinead. this memoir, published two years before her unexpected death, is a hugely depressing reading experience. nevertheless, i loved it and i enjoyed the precious time spent getting to know her.
⊹ sinead is deeply wise, contradictory, humble, unreliable, yet vulnerable - her introduction mentions that she intended this to be the first memoir of many, she intended to live a long life, she intended to keep journals and remember better in the future. she talks about gaps in her memory due to not being present for much of her life. and she talks about writing by allowing her inner child (perpetually 17 years old) to speak.
⊹ her audiobook narration is excellent, once you get a hang of her speaking voice. her accent is lovely, and her stories are punctuated with occasional chuckles at the little ironies in life. i loved these chuckles, and seeing that she has a grounded perspective, despite the many traumas she recounts.
⊹ damn, this woman went through an abundance of grief, trauma, and psychological distress. i appreciate her acknowledgement that her mental illness is intrinsic - perhaps triggered by a childhood head injury, but regardless it is ingrained, something to be lived with. i feel like she was really making peace with herself here.
⊹ similarly, there is acknowledgement that she would always live with the deep well of grief caused by being raised by and eventually losing her abusive mother.
⊹ remarkable respect for her rejection of the music industry and all its corruption. she never wavered from her determination to be a protest singer, not a cog in the capitalist pop music machine.
⊹ she is also a fantastic storyteller. the chapter about the first time she shaved her head is a gem - she went alone into a greek barbershop, and laboriously convinced the barber that no father or boyfriend or other keeper could come to punish him for destroying their woman by removing her hair. such an amusing story, and such a legendary thing to do in that era.
⊹ sinead occasionally repeats herself from chapter to chapter - and i found it terribly endearing.
⊹ the structure of the memoir is very uneven. we're treated to many stories from sinead's childhood up to 1992. after that, there's very little until 2015, as she says she has an enormous memory gap due to surgically induced menopause and resulting mental health crises. the final section of the book is rather muddled. it contains an overview of her albums, an overview of her kiddos (who are otherwise seldom mentioned), and stories of her spirituality, her mental health crises, and her exploitation by dr. phil.
⊹ then, the book finishes with a covid era epilogue. it's surreal and so bleak. sinead had plans for her future, her next album and tour, studying and future work in healthcare. she was finally on the right track, after years of being unwell. it's heartbreaking that her dreams were disrupted between the publication of the book and her death.
⊹ sinead is deeply wise, contradictory, humble, unreliable, yet vulnerable - her introduction mentions that she intended this to be the first memoir of many, she intended to live a long life, she intended to keep journals and remember better in the future. she talks about gaps in her memory due to not being present for much of her life. and she talks about writing by allowing her inner child (perpetually 17 years old) to speak.
⊹ her audiobook narration is excellent, once you get a hang of her speaking voice. her accent is lovely, and her stories are punctuated with occasional chuckles at the little ironies in life. i loved these chuckles, and seeing that she has a grounded perspective, despite the many traumas she recounts.
⊹ damn, this woman went through an abundance of grief, trauma, and psychological distress. i appreciate her acknowledgement that her mental illness is intrinsic - perhaps triggered by a childhood head injury, but regardless it is ingrained, something to be lived with. i feel like she was really making peace with herself here.
⊹ similarly, there is acknowledgement that she would always live with the deep well of grief caused by being raised by and eventually losing her abusive mother.
⊹ remarkable respect for her rejection of the music industry and all its corruption. she never wavered from her determination to be a protest singer, not a cog in the capitalist pop music machine.
⊹ she is also a fantastic storyteller. the chapter about the first time she shaved her head is a gem - she went alone into a greek barbershop, and laboriously convinced the barber that no father or boyfriend or other keeper could come to punish him for destroying their woman by removing her hair. such an amusing story, and such a legendary thing to do in that era.
⊹ sinead occasionally repeats herself from chapter to chapter - and i found it terribly endearing.
⊹ the structure of the memoir is very uneven. we're treated to many stories from sinead's childhood up to 1992. after that, there's very little until 2015, as she says she has an enormous memory gap due to surgically induced menopause and resulting mental health crises. the final section of the book is rather muddled. it contains an overview of her albums, an overview of her kiddos (who are otherwise seldom mentioned), and stories of her spirituality, her mental health crises, and her exploitation by dr. phil.
⊹ then, the book finishes with a covid era epilogue. it's surreal and so bleak. sinead had plans for her future, her next album and tour, studying and future work in healthcare. she was finally on the right track, after years of being unwell. it's heartbreaking that her dreams were disrupted between the publication of the book and her death.
November 30, 2021
Although her musical output spans genres, Sinead is a true punk rocker at heart, in the best possible sense, and this is a perfect punk rock autobiography - absolutely wouldn’t change a thing. Very sad to not see this on more books of the year lists. It’d be a crime not to listen to the audio and hear Sinead lilting in her own voice, especially as there is a real oral history / storytelling / “reminiscing while smoking a cigarette on the loading dock” feel to it. She’s lived a fascinating life - coming up as a musician just wouldn’t happen like this anymore - and this needs to be added to the pile of essential reads about women in music. It’s also an excellent corrective/primary source addition to the recent revisitations of our penchant for treating women musicians (e.g. Britney) and celebrities super shittily. I guarantee you’ll be hitting up Spotify for a nostalgic listen after. She is supremely talented and was the real deal, standing her ground and recognizing/speaking up for the oppressed and vulnerable way before it was cool to do so - and paying a dear price in mental health both beforehand and thereafter. Also - this women really, really, really loves music; rarely has this appreciation for the art form been so well conveyed in musicians’ memoirs that I’ve read. An absolute Gen X-er’s essential read.
June 26, 2025
I can remember when "Mandinka" hit the airwaves. I can recall how we all loved Sinead's shaved head and her Docs along with her powerful voice. I saw her live when she toured for her second album "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got." It's in my top five best concerts I've ever attended. Her voice is just so amazing. I even wrote about it for a college paper. I can remember when "Universal Mother" was released. I visited my friend at Record Bar (record store) and I listened to it at the listening station beginning to end. I fell in love. I can recall my stunned silence at the end of her SNL performance when she ripped up the picture of the Pope.
I'm telling you all of this so you understand that I am a fan of O'Connor. I've stuck with her through all of her ups and downs. This book is divided into three sections. I have to say that I liked the first third the best. She chronicles her erratic childhood and adolescence. It seems living with her mom was a toxic situation that caused a lot of pain that, perhaps, O'Connor hasn't fully resolved. Interestingly, she spends the least amount of time chronicling her music. She discusses each album with minimal insight. This is what I would have liked to spend more time delving into - her writing process.
The final bits feel extraneous. What feels like a natural end is not where the book stops. Instead, we get her musings on each of her children, how she visits centers for senior citizens that don't have family that visit, her love of smoking marijuana and her dubious interview with Dr. Phil.
I'm telling you all of this so you understand that I am a fan of O'Connor. I've stuck with her through all of her ups and downs. This book is divided into three sections. I have to say that I liked the first third the best. She chronicles her erratic childhood and adolescence. It seems living with her mom was a toxic situation that caused a lot of pain that, perhaps, O'Connor hasn't fully resolved. Interestingly, she spends the least amount of time chronicling her music. She discusses each album with minimal insight. This is what I would have liked to spend more time delving into - her writing process.
The final bits feel extraneous. What feels like a natural end is not where the book stops. Instead, we get her musings on each of her children, how she visits centers for senior citizens that don't have family that visit, her love of smoking marijuana and her dubious interview with Dr. Phil.
August 13, 2021
Published June 1, 2021
This is not your typical memoir, which is perfect because Sinead is very unique.
The first part of the memoir she reveals stories of her childhood which I was really interested in learning about. Also shocked by how difficult she had it.
Her mother made her take off all her clothes and lie on the floor and open her legs and arms and let her hit her with the sweeping brush in her private parts.
at the end of the school year Sinead had to pretend to lose her field hockey stick because she knew that if she brought it home her mother would hit her with it all summer.
When frightened, Sinead would find bits of paper and write out her feelings because she wasn’t allowed to say she was angry at her mother. She would write and then tear the pages into tiny pieces and eat them so her mother wouldn’t be able to find them.
This is so powerful: talk about stuffing your feelings, or eating your words.
Her mother was also addicted to stealing and Sinead also did a lot of stealing. Her mother and her even using charity cans to collect money for themselves.
Reading this book made me go back and listen to her earlier albums which I haven’t listened to in quite some time, not since back when they first came out in the late 80s and early 90s. Her albums I most enjoy now are: Sean-Nos Nua, Am I Not Your Girl, and Throw Down Your Arms.
In the middle part of the book, she shares some of her experiences. One being about Prince who she refers to as “Fluffy Cuffs” which I thought a funny reference.
another story about Doctor Phil and how he treated her—which comes as no surprise to me. I have never been a fan of Doctor Phil’s. My impression of him has always been one of he’s an asshole.
Sinead is and has always been a spiritual seeker, and states that she’s not a pop star but a protest singer. Her anger at her mother was often misplaced and her intention had always been to do destroy her mother’s photo of the Pope.
In the third part of the book, she lists each album and talks about why she wrote certain songs and why she recorded certain albums.
This is a great memoir by a great singer!
This is not your typical memoir, which is perfect because Sinead is very unique.
The first part of the memoir she reveals stories of her childhood which I was really interested in learning about. Also shocked by how difficult she had it.
Her mother made her take off all her clothes and lie on the floor and open her legs and arms and let her hit her with the sweeping brush in her private parts.
at the end of the school year Sinead had to pretend to lose her field hockey stick because she knew that if she brought it home her mother would hit her with it all summer.
When frightened, Sinead would find bits of paper and write out her feelings because she wasn’t allowed to say she was angry at her mother. She would write and then tear the pages into tiny pieces and eat them so her mother wouldn’t be able to find them.
This is so powerful: talk about stuffing your feelings, or eating your words.
Her mother was also addicted to stealing and Sinead also did a lot of stealing. Her mother and her even using charity cans to collect money for themselves.
Reading this book made me go back and listen to her earlier albums which I haven’t listened to in quite some time, not since back when they first came out in the late 80s and early 90s. Her albums I most enjoy now are: Sean-Nos Nua, Am I Not Your Girl, and Throw Down Your Arms.
In the middle part of the book, she shares some of her experiences. One being about Prince who she refers to as “Fluffy Cuffs” which I thought a funny reference.
another story about Doctor Phil and how he treated her—which comes as no surprise to me. I have never been a fan of Doctor Phil’s. My impression of him has always been one of he’s an asshole.
Sinead is and has always been a spiritual seeker, and states that she’s not a pop star but a protest singer. Her anger at her mother was often misplaced and her intention had always been to do destroy her mother’s photo of the Pope.
In the third part of the book, she lists each album and talks about why she wrote certain songs and why she recorded certain albums.
This is a great memoir by a great singer!
June 14, 2022
..lai gan no Šineidas O'Konoras reāli klausījies esmu tikai dziesmu "Nothing Compares 2U", viņas autobiogrāfija ir viena no labākajām, ko esmu lasījis/klausījies. izpildījums vienkārši teicams. arī pastāstītais – vairāk kā saistošs un interesants. laikam jau būs jāpaklausās kaut ko vairāk no dziedātājas repertuāra.
April 28, 2024
A surprisingly interesting book. I began the book with an internal caution that it was going to be an anti-everything polemic.
Pleasantly surprised that it is very nice book about the struggles of young woman who had had some incredibly difficult formative years.
Pleasantly surprised that it is very nice book about the struggles of young woman who had had some incredibly difficult formative years.
May 2, 2021
An incredibly raw, painful, angry, beautiful and honest memoir. I loved her writing style which is changeable for the different eras, and as she explains, she wrote different parts at different times. I much preferred this to some of the polished (possibly ghost written) memoirs that are around as I could really imagine her telling these stories to a friend. Yes there are bits missing and it's somewhat disjointed at times but I felt this style reflected her true self.
The childhood abuse she had suffered is horrendous. Some of the music industry stories are shocking (the Prince chapter!) and the experiences of being an outspoken woman in the music industry. Some bits I had to read out loud laughing such as the divas not allowed to poo on a tour bus, skinheads in phonebox and turning up to a protest against herself.
Thank you to Netgalley, the publisher and author for a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
The childhood abuse she had suffered is horrendous. Some of the music industry stories are shocking (the Prince chapter!) and the experiences of being an outspoken woman in the music industry. Some bits I had to read out loud laughing such as the divas not allowed to poo on a tour bus, skinheads in phonebox and turning up to a protest against herself.
Thank you to Netgalley, the publisher and author for a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
November 27, 2021
I have become obsessed with Sinead O’Connor, I really wasn’t familiar with her music before reading this book but I have since made up for that. I have an appreciation for her lyricism and her voice, the journey that she went on, from her childhood, to the music industry, and subsequently her realisation that fame isn’t all that it has cracked up to be, and that she is, at heart a punk. I really enjoyed this book, it was told with heart, with anger and humour. It was hopeful. She is an amazing musician and I think the world owes her an apology.
‘But I think you’ll see in this book a girl who does find herself, not by success in the music industry but by taking the opportunity to sensibly and truly lose her marbles. The thing being that after losing them, one finds them and plays the game better.’
‘But I think you’ll see in this book a girl who does find herself, not by success in the music industry but by taking the opportunity to sensibly and truly lose her marbles. The thing being that after losing them, one finds them and plays the game better.’
Read
October 10, 2022I will admit, for the sake of anyone thinking about reading this, that it is not the most perfectly crafted memoir. kind of choppy and a little repetitive. but sinead talks like someone I want to listen to (she’s a sagittarius) and I am predisposed to adore her. she has a very good (very irish) sense of humor and I like the way she describes the boys she falls in love with
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hello faithful goodreads followers i am revisiting this review because this morning i read an article that made me cry my eyes out. love is a lonely business!
https://astra-mag.com/articles/the-lo...
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hello faithful goodreads followers i am revisiting this review because this morning i read an article that made me cry my eyes out. love is a lonely business!
https://astra-mag.com/articles/the-lo...
January 27, 2025
I picture heaven as a garden, definitely. One that is perfect in climate and though you wander around so many souls, you don't have to be seen if you don't want to.
I do want to, though. Be seen. I've never been seen. Not even by me.
Since her death, I've been in a bit of a Sinéad O'Connor rabbit hole. It's akin to the time I only wanted to watch Heath Ledger movies, when I realized he really was as great an actor as everyone says... He really was one of those people that disappears into their art. Sinéad O'Connor was such one of those people, in a sense, although it can also be argued that she never disappeared into her art but was, rather, consumed by it. I've been listening only to her music on repeat. Everything else seems so trivial and underwhelming in comparison now.
I always knew her for her most famous song, "Nothing Compares 2 U," except it's not exactly her song, not really. What I didn't always know is that it's a cover of a song originally written and performed by Prince. And it's possible that because of Prince's association with it, Sinéad's version of the song took off more than her other music. I, like most people, only knew Sinéad through this song, and of course, through her rebellious act of tearing up a picture of the pope—an act that would establish her reputation as a social pariah for the rest of her life. While I never thought she was deserving of any of the hate she received in her lifetime, and while I always supported her act of speaking out against corruption in the Catholic church, I never paid her much mind and, like most people, I never put in any effort to search for her other songs. I pretty much accepted her status as a "one-hit-wonder."
Upon her untimely and tragic death, I realized how ignorant I had been. Her other music is incredible. It is so much more than that one sad breakup song she became synonymous with. In fact, it's shameful that her other songs never saw the light of day. And she wrote them herself!!!! She wrote almost all of them herself!!! With such brevity and poetry!!!! I was blind. I can't listen to "Nothing Compares 2 U" anymore without getting angry at myself.
Her songs vary in subject matter, but they all have one thing in common: they are pure emotion. Some of them are pure rage, and you have no choice but to close your eyes and let them wash over you ("Drink Before the War," "Troy"). The chills don't go away, no matter how many times you replay them. She sings about motherhood and womanhood ("Three Babies," "My Special Child"), about hypocrisy ("Black Boys on Mopeds," "The Emperor’s New Clothes"), about Ireland ("The Foggy Dew," "Famine"). She sings folk ballads and riot songs and ghost stories and Biblical verses. Her music is edgy, it's haunting. She sings about moments from her past, she sings to her dead mother, she sings about history. Sometimes her voice is so fragile and vulnerable you can hear her holding back tears. Sometimes her voice is so powerful it sounds like a battle cry. It is always clear and beautiful and full of feeling.
(I challenge you to get through listening to "Scarlet Ribbons" from her album Am I Not Your Girl? without crying. Her dad used to sing it to her when she was a child, and so she has such fond memories of him and the song that she can't sing it straight through without crying. The final take used on her album is as vulnerable as it gets. You can hear her remembering her father and her childhood in Ireland. If you can get through it with a dry eye, congratulations, you have a heart of stone.)
She had a hard life!! And as she relays the details of that life in her memoir, she is conversational and matter-of-fact—she never shows self-pity, nor does she ask for pity from the reader. She is expunging herself of these memories, she is setting the record straight for her own fulfillment and peace of mind. She is a natural story-teller, and I was glued to the page. There were so many absorbing aspects of this: the childhood anecdotes she remembered, the descriptions of her family, the inspirations behind some of her songs, the context behind some of the most public events in her life. It's at times crushing, but also strong and hopeful.
I'm too late to appreciate her when she was alive, but I appreciate her now and I'd rather be late than never have known what she was all about. For she was certainly here with a purpose. She never minced words, and she stood for what she thought was right. She was deeply affected by injustice and poverty, so much so that she couldn't see the world the same way others did. She suffered from mental health issues all her life, she struggled to find a helping hand, and yet still never stopped criticizing privilege and corruption whenever the opportunity presented itself. (She rejected a Grammy award and denounced Hollywood for its obsession with material success at the cost of all else). She was the type of person who could not be bought. She was not an enigma: she saw things for what they were and simply brought them to everyone's attention, perhaps delivered in a package not made for easy public consumption. And for that, she was crucified to no end in the media.
I'm not trying to say she was perfect. But I am trying to say that she spoke about fundamentally important things. And that perhaps more artists should sing about similar things today. And that we should embrace them when they do. She was dismissed as a radical, and yet her only message was to end abuse and injustice. If that is considered radical, then no one should ever want to be moderate. And Sinéad certainly didn't want to be.
This book was published in 2021, and I'm angry not only because I never heard about it, but also because I never thought to seek it out before now, to learn more about her while she was alive. That's on me.
What else can I say about this memoir? It's all over the place. It reads like a conversation. Sinéad falls a little in love with every kindhearted person she meets throughout her life. And in spite of her punk attitude and her uncompromising beliefs, it becomes abundantly clear through her writing that, really, she's gentle. She's innocent. And she's always been very lonely. I hugged this book to my heart so many times while reading it.
I loved this memoir but it made me very sad. Sinéad wrote with such haunting words, similar to her music. In the first chapter alone, she wrote about being drawn to her grandmother's piano because it was full of voices and ghosts from history, voices that could only be released in song. I knew immediately that she would express herself in this book the same way she has from the very beginning, even when the media blasted her, when people tried to put words in her mouth, when she was forced again and again to defend her actions: with simplicity, with artistic talent, with intention. And with a voice that speaks with years beyond her age. A voice that speaks of history and war and motherhood and love.
Rest in peace, Sinéad/Shuhada.
I do want to, though. Be seen. I've never been seen. Not even by me.
Since her death, I've been in a bit of a Sinéad O'Connor rabbit hole. It's akin to the time I only wanted to watch Heath Ledger movies, when I realized he really was as great an actor as everyone says... He really was one of those people that disappears into their art. Sinéad O'Connor was such one of those people, in a sense, although it can also be argued that she never disappeared into her art but was, rather, consumed by it. I've been listening only to her music on repeat. Everything else seems so trivial and underwhelming in comparison now.
I always knew her for her most famous song, "Nothing Compares 2 U," except it's not exactly her song, not really. What I didn't always know is that it's a cover of a song originally written and performed by Prince. And it's possible that because of Prince's association with it, Sinéad's version of the song took off more than her other music. I, like most people, only knew Sinéad through this song, and of course, through her rebellious act of tearing up a picture of the pope—an act that would establish her reputation as a social pariah for the rest of her life. While I never thought she was deserving of any of the hate she received in her lifetime, and while I always supported her act of speaking out against corruption in the Catholic church, I never paid her much mind and, like most people, I never put in any effort to search for her other songs. I pretty much accepted her status as a "one-hit-wonder."
Upon her untimely and tragic death, I realized how ignorant I had been. Her other music is incredible. It is so much more than that one sad breakup song she became synonymous with. In fact, it's shameful that her other songs never saw the light of day. And she wrote them herself!!!! She wrote almost all of them herself!!! With such brevity and poetry!!!! I was blind. I can't listen to "Nothing Compares 2 U" anymore without getting angry at myself.
Her songs vary in subject matter, but they all have one thing in common: they are pure emotion. Some of them are pure rage, and you have no choice but to close your eyes and let them wash over you ("Drink Before the War," "Troy"). The chills don't go away, no matter how many times you replay them. She sings about motherhood and womanhood ("Three Babies," "My Special Child"), about hypocrisy ("Black Boys on Mopeds," "The Emperor’s New Clothes"), about Ireland ("The Foggy Dew," "Famine"). She sings folk ballads and riot songs and ghost stories and Biblical verses. Her music is edgy, it's haunting. She sings about moments from her past, she sings to her dead mother, she sings about history. Sometimes her voice is so fragile and vulnerable you can hear her holding back tears. Sometimes her voice is so powerful it sounds like a battle cry. It is always clear and beautiful and full of feeling.
(I challenge you to get through listening to "Scarlet Ribbons" from her album Am I Not Your Girl? without crying. Her dad used to sing it to her when she was a child, and so she has such fond memories of him and the song that she can't sing it straight through without crying. The final take used on her album is as vulnerable as it gets. You can hear her remembering her father and her childhood in Ireland. If you can get through it with a dry eye, congratulations, you have a heart of stone.)
She had a hard life!! And as she relays the details of that life in her memoir, she is conversational and matter-of-fact—she never shows self-pity, nor does she ask for pity from the reader. She is expunging herself of these memories, she is setting the record straight for her own fulfillment and peace of mind. She is a natural story-teller, and I was glued to the page. There were so many absorbing aspects of this: the childhood anecdotes she remembered, the descriptions of her family, the inspirations behind some of her songs, the context behind some of the most public events in her life. It's at times crushing, but also strong and hopeful.
I'm too late to appreciate her when she was alive, but I appreciate her now and I'd rather be late than never have known what she was all about. For she was certainly here with a purpose. She never minced words, and she stood for what she thought was right. She was deeply affected by injustice and poverty, so much so that she couldn't see the world the same way others did. She suffered from mental health issues all her life, she struggled to find a helping hand, and yet still never stopped criticizing privilege and corruption whenever the opportunity presented itself. (She rejected a Grammy award and denounced Hollywood for its obsession with material success at the cost of all else). She was the type of person who could not be bought. She was not an enigma: she saw things for what they were and simply brought them to everyone's attention, perhaps delivered in a package not made for easy public consumption. And for that, she was crucified to no end in the media.
I'm not trying to say she was perfect. But I am trying to say that she spoke about fundamentally important things. And that perhaps more artists should sing about similar things today. And that we should embrace them when they do. She was dismissed as a radical, and yet her only message was to end abuse and injustice. If that is considered radical, then no one should ever want to be moderate. And Sinéad certainly didn't want to be.
This book was published in 2021, and I'm angry not only because I never heard about it, but also because I never thought to seek it out before now, to learn more about her while she was alive. That's on me.
What else can I say about this memoir? It's all over the place. It reads like a conversation. Sinéad falls a little in love with every kindhearted person she meets throughout her life. And in spite of her punk attitude and her uncompromising beliefs, it becomes abundantly clear through her writing that, really, she's gentle. She's innocent. And she's always been very lonely. I hugged this book to my heart so many times while reading it.
I loved this memoir but it made me very sad. Sinéad wrote with such haunting words, similar to her music. In the first chapter alone, she wrote about being drawn to her grandmother's piano because it was full of voices and ghosts from history, voices that could only be released in song. I knew immediately that she would express herself in this book the same way she has from the very beginning, even when the media blasted her, when people tried to put words in her mouth, when she was forced again and again to defend her actions: with simplicity, with artistic talent, with intention. And with a voice that speaks with years beyond her age. A voice that speaks of history and war and motherhood and love.
Rest in peace, Sinéad/Shuhada.
October 25, 2021
Does anyone listen to the podcast "You're Wrong About"? It debunks public vitriol from media history about, for example, people such as Anna Nicole Smith and Tanya Harding, shining a light of humanity and dignity on them. Sinead O'Connor would make for a beautiful episode of this too. She deserved better from the world during her fame, but I think she'd agree that everything happened for a reason.
Sinead writes in a straightforward style as if she's talking to you and reliving her memories at once. That said, she's a bit of a mystic. Right from jump, the chapter titled The Piano was a masterpiece personifying the weird feelings music can awaken in a gifted child. It's two pages of beautiful magical realism that make the troubles Sinead describes later that much more gut-wrenching.
This is a memoir, not as much from a music industry insider as from an activist and advocate. Sinead says, "I always say that if one could discuss music, one wouldn't need music, since music is for the things that cannot be discussed." Amen. Music was a sacred way for Sinead to process events from her life, and a way for her to connect.
I learned long ago not to take musicians for husbands of their own songs; that music lives in a space our human fallibleness can't taint. That said, after I took in her story about Prince, I put the book down and just sat, breathing hard. Is Sinead right that when God breathes musical genius into a person, that the fire of that necessarily claims some of their sanity as well? Perhaps. I won't spoil what the story was about exactly, but it was Halloween spooky.
Although Sinead's soul expresses via music, she hasn't quit seeking spiritual wholeness. Her fascination with the Rastafari movement, her Kabbala lessons, her "reversion" to Islam, even her regrettable brush with Dr. Phil... She humbly and bravely uses her platform and her passion to lift up others. Her solidarity with rappers at the Grammys was way ahead of the mainstream. Her infamous SNL performance in which she rips up the photo of the Pope--that was incendiary, and once you get the background about the photo coming from her mother's wall, and how long she carried it around... WHEW! She was a child who suffered, and she grew up to take on the whole entire mainstream paradigm. She says, "I don't define success as having a good name or being wealthy. I define success by whether I keep the contract I made with the Holy Spirit before I made one with the music business." That's power.
Regarding her horrible childhood, regarding her struggles, she describes screaming to God: "His answers are always silent. It took me a while to come to grips with that. I got annoyed in the early days. I thought the silence meant He didn't care. So I'd scream more until I was all screamed out and could only be silent myself. I thought you were supposed to hear His voice like in all the stories. I found out the fact is that He can't speak because He's crying so much Himself. Who can speak when they're weeping?" Like I said, she's a mystic. This passage made my hair stand up.
I believe that prayer changes things and that time is a circle. I send, now and always, my most fervent and tender protection to baby Sinead. I lift up that precious little girl. She's suffered enough and done her work. She's saved people. She shouldn't have to be strong any more. She should be able to be carefree and joyous.
Sinead writes in a straightforward style as if she's talking to you and reliving her memories at once. That said, she's a bit of a mystic. Right from jump, the chapter titled The Piano was a masterpiece personifying the weird feelings music can awaken in a gifted child. It's two pages of beautiful magical realism that make the troubles Sinead describes later that much more gut-wrenching.
This is a memoir, not as much from a music industry insider as from an activist and advocate. Sinead says, "I always say that if one could discuss music, one wouldn't need music, since music is for the things that cannot be discussed." Amen. Music was a sacred way for Sinead to process events from her life, and a way for her to connect.
I learned long ago not to take musicians for husbands of their own songs; that music lives in a space our human fallibleness can't taint. That said, after I took in her story about Prince, I put the book down and just sat, breathing hard. Is Sinead right that when God breathes musical genius into a person, that the fire of that necessarily claims some of their sanity as well? Perhaps. I won't spoil what the story was about exactly, but it was Halloween spooky.
Although Sinead's soul expresses via music, she hasn't quit seeking spiritual wholeness. Her fascination with the Rastafari movement, her Kabbala lessons, her "reversion" to Islam, even her regrettable brush with Dr. Phil... She humbly and bravely uses her platform and her passion to lift up others. Her solidarity with rappers at the Grammys was way ahead of the mainstream. Her infamous SNL performance in which she rips up the photo of the Pope--that was incendiary, and once you get the background about the photo coming from her mother's wall, and how long she carried it around... WHEW! She was a child who suffered, and she grew up to take on the whole entire mainstream paradigm. She says, "I don't define success as having a good name or being wealthy. I define success by whether I keep the contract I made with the Holy Spirit before I made one with the music business." That's power.
Regarding her horrible childhood, regarding her struggles, she describes screaming to God: "His answers are always silent. It took me a while to come to grips with that. I got annoyed in the early days. I thought the silence meant He didn't care. So I'd scream more until I was all screamed out and could only be silent myself. I thought you were supposed to hear His voice like in all the stories. I found out the fact is that He can't speak because He's crying so much Himself. Who can speak when they're weeping?" Like I said, she's a mystic. This passage made my hair stand up.
I believe that prayer changes things and that time is a circle. I send, now and always, my most fervent and tender protection to baby Sinead. I lift up that precious little girl. She's suffered enough and done her work. She's saved people. She shouldn't have to be strong any more. She should be able to be carefree and joyous.
June 8, 2021
YIKES!!! Most of the press and coverage of Sinead O’Connor ( esp. since the Pope picture ripping incident on SNL in 1992) paints her as bizarre and controversial. Though interviews around the release of this autobiography speak to her “being healthy” finally, after reading this book I am not convinced she is anywhere near “healthy”. Like many autobiographies by non authors, the writing is more in her spoken language (Irish slang and all) and the tense used is confusing (mostly present tense which makes you unsure as to whether this is how she perceived events in her life at that time or as she sees them now). It is likely both- as she was and as she is- since while she speaks of undergoing much treatment and consideration of her mental health, Sinead is unapologetic of her life. She takes shots at many people in the music industry and in her life ( including Prince and Dr Phil) and embraces/ holds-up favorably an odd assortment of characters. It is very strange to read of her having four children by four different fathers - only one whom she married- and how she perceived herself as a mother ( seems like she regards herself as a good one) and “relationships “ with these fathers. She give details of each child’s conception and seems to label herself as a slut with pride. Very strange. Along with her spoken style of writing comes a choppy and non- linear organization of material. Skip the section where she recounts each of her albums as who knew she had put out this many. Plenty of assorted “nuggets” that give you pause: her mom driving into oncoming traffic with her in passenger seat in an attempt to harm her; her rebellious behaviors like stealing ( with seemingly no regrets); a discussion about going number 2 on tour busses; a very odd encounter with Prince that includes a pillow fight with him and a “loaded” pillow (Prince might have been as bonkers as Sinead); some very odd stories of her reverence for Muhammad Ali and guardian angel encounters.; and her love of weed and need to smoke cigarettes constantly. The book ends with her story of seeking mental health treatment in the US including some intervention by Dr Phil but that whole tale just makes you wonder how she isn’t still a resident in a psych ward. I am by no means lacking compassion for those with mental health issues. It’s just the bravado or naivety that O’ Connor approaches her mental illness that leaves you saying- YIKES. I wish her well and hope she does not return to recording or touring as I suspect she would be better off staying away from the public pressures.
June 3, 2021
I love you Sinead! Thanks for the songs, & now your rememberings, full of laughter, pain, horniness, rebellion, love and music.
August 4, 2023
Sometimes someone passes and we feel a need to learn more about them. Sinead O’Connor is a nostalgic figure for me as the holds the distinction of being the artist who produced the first CD I ever bought, “I Do Not Want What I Have Not Got.”
Sinead has led a life of struggle and pain, as well as quite a bit of joy and love. She wasn’t a hero, but she was eminently human. Her childhood recounts abuse and neglect, her story covers her time as a pop icon, her time as a music industry rebel, and her time of recovery. This book is funny in places, offers insights to the artist’s tumultuous life. It doesn’t cover every part of Sinead’s life, but it does cover many highlights.
My life was made a bit better by Sinead having been in the world.
Note: I borrowed this audiobook from my local library and it was read by the author
Sinead has led a life of struggle and pain, as well as quite a bit of joy and love. She wasn’t a hero, but she was eminently human. Her childhood recounts abuse and neglect, her story covers her time as a pop icon, her time as a music industry rebel, and her time of recovery. This book is funny in places, offers insights to the artist’s tumultuous life. It doesn’t cover every part of Sinead’s life, but it does cover many highlights.
My life was made a bit better by Sinead having been in the world.
Note: I borrowed this audiobook from my local library and it was read by the author
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January 7, 2024God, I’m just heartbroken over her
July 26, 2023
incredibly scattered. the strongest and most compelling part of this memoir is the beginning, where o'connor covers her childhood. the rest falls apart. large chunks are missing, because she cannot remember or chooses not to share. this is a very self centered novel with little insight to anybody else at all. it reads as if she's been alone her entire life.
i know that she is mentally ill, and hey, i am too, but childhood trauma and abuse is sometimes the cause of mental illness. anyone with any knowledge of psychology would know that, and i, for one, studied psychology in undergrad.
there are strong undertones of racism from her appropriating of rastafarian beliefs and culture to the way she just speaks about people of color. she does not feel like the feminist icon i expected her to be. to be clear — i read this memoir today, in one sitting, after finding out that she had passed away. when i saw her image, i was struck by her. my mother, a teenager in the 80's and fresh in america, told me "я люблю ту песню!" (translation: "i love that song!") and i felt the need to learn more about her.
the more i learned, the less i liked her. she changes her stance on multiple topics and ideologies frequently. there is a whole section of the memoir where she just writes about what inspired her to write specific songs, but no explanation is longer than a few short sentences. with no context, i do wonder why this is important. when she briefly mentioned three marriages, it felt like a gut punch. i audibly said "что??" (translation: "what??") in complete shock. how do you just gloss over that information?
i didn't feel close to her as i read this, i felt polarized and confused. who is sinaéd o'connor? we will never know.
i know that she is mentally ill, and hey, i am too, but childhood trauma and abuse is sometimes the cause of mental illness. anyone with any knowledge of psychology would know that, and i, for one, studied psychology in undergrad.
there are strong undertones of racism from her appropriating of rastafarian beliefs and culture to the way she just speaks about people of color. she does not feel like the feminist icon i expected her to be. to be clear — i read this memoir today, in one sitting, after finding out that she had passed away. when i saw her image, i was struck by her. my mother, a teenager in the 80's and fresh in america, told me "я люблю ту песню!" (translation: "i love that song!") and i felt the need to learn more about her.
the more i learned, the less i liked her. she changes her stance on multiple topics and ideologies frequently. there is a whole section of the memoir where she just writes about what inspired her to write specific songs, but no explanation is longer than a few short sentences. with no context, i do wonder why this is important. when she briefly mentioned three marriages, it felt like a gut punch. i audibly said "что??" (translation: "what??") in complete shock. how do you just gloss over that information?
i didn't feel close to her as i read this, i felt polarized and confused. who is sinaéd o'connor? we will never know.
March 22, 2021
Rememberings by Sinead O'Connor is one of the most heartfelt memoirs I have read. I don't simply mean that she opens up, I think most memoirists do to some extent, but that she "talks" to us as if it really matters that she conveys what she was thinking and what she thinks now. This memoir is truly for her own happiness and for our understanding. I'm not sure she cares, nor that she should, whether every reader agrees with her perspectives, but she tries very hard to make sure we can understand her actions as well as she does.
This is very conversational, both in tone and structure. In the same way a very long discussion with a friend can meander back and forth this book does so as well. Not to a distracting or detrimental extent though it does take a few chapters to catch on to her authorial voice. After that, it is almost like sitting in the room listening to her.
All of the moments in her life that are famous, or infamous, are covered, as well as some extraordinary lesser known moments. Knowing how she grew up will offer the reader some insight into why she has approached some of these moments as she did.
I would recommend this to both fans of hers (I consider myself part of that group) as well as readers who just like memoirs. This will read a little different from most but your effort will be rewarded.
Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley.
This is very conversational, both in tone and structure. In the same way a very long discussion with a friend can meander back and forth this book does so as well. Not to a distracting or detrimental extent though it does take a few chapters to catch on to her authorial voice. After that, it is almost like sitting in the room listening to her.
All of the moments in her life that are famous, or infamous, are covered, as well as some extraordinary lesser known moments. Knowing how she grew up will offer the reader some insight into why she has approached some of these moments as she did.
I would recommend this to both fans of hers (I consider myself part of that group) as well as readers who just like memoirs. This will read a little different from most but your effort will be rewarded.
Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley.
August 16, 2023
I listened to this as an audiobook read by Sinead herself, which may be the best way to experience it. Very moving and sad to hear the parts about Shane, who passed away this week. I liked it a lot, but knew what I was in for, having loved and followed her for so long. The only thing that really surprised me was that her label made her pay $50k out of pocket to license the Funky Drummer break for "I Am Stretched on Your Grave". It was great to hear about the early days, especially, and especially to hear them in her own voice. I'm something of a superfan, and your mileage may vary--but this is exactly what you would want a Sinead O'Connor autobiography to be like.
And, lord Jesus her take on Prince is spicy. "Ol’ Fluffy Cuffs. Done up like the dog’s dinner."
EDIT: Sinead's passing has changed my opinion a little. We are so fortunate to have hours and hours of her telling her own story in her own voice. Her personality is preserved here in all its frustrating arrogance, earnestness, honesty, and unapologetic power. One chapter begins with her reading of Psalm 91, and I listen to it in grief, for both Sinead and other loved ones I've lost who also loved the psalms.
And, lord Jesus her take on Prince is spicy. "Ol’ Fluffy Cuffs. Done up like the dog’s dinner."
EDIT: Sinead's passing has changed my opinion a little. We are so fortunate to have hours and hours of her telling her own story in her own voice. Her personality is preserved here in all its frustrating arrogance, earnestness, honesty, and unapologetic power. One chapter begins with her reading of Psalm 91, and I listen to it in grief, for both Sinead and other loved ones I've lost who also loved the psalms.
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February 15, 2025wow just WOW
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