What do you think?
Rate this book
We Can Be Heroes: A Survivor's Story
Activist. Journalist. Survivor. One man’s journey from prejudice to Pride. Paul Burston wasn’t always the iconic voice of LGBTQ+ London that he is today. Paul came out in the mid-1980s, when ‘gay’ still felt like a dirty word, especially in the small Welsh town where he grew up. He moved to London hoping for a happier life, only to watch in horror as his new-found community was decimated by AIDS. But even in the depths of his grief, Paul vowed never to stop fighting back on behalf of his young friends whose lives were cut tragically short. It’s a promise he’s kept to this day. As an activist he stormed the House of Commons during the debate over the age of consent. As a journalist he spoke up for the rights of the community at a time of tabloid homophobia and legal inequality. As a novelist he founded the groundbreaking Polari Prize. But his lifestyle hid a dark secret, and Paul’s demons—shame, trauma, grief—stalked him on every corner. In an attempt to silence them, he began to self-medicate. From almost drowning at eighteen to a near-fatal overdose at thirty-eight, this is Paul’s story of what happened in the twenty years between, and how he carved out a life that his teenage self could scarcely have imagined. Emotional but often witty, We Can Be Heroes is an illuminating memoir of the eighties, nineties and noughties from a gay man who only just survived them.
316 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 1, 2023
142 people are currently reading
1827 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 65 reviews
May 31, 2023
Massive 5 stars from me for this absolutely outstanding memoir ⭐
I purchased this purely based on the cover.. Going into the book blind and WOW what a memoir!
A kindle read and flew through it in 2 days but purchasing the physical tomorrow to annotate.
This memoir is Paul's journey through life so far and honestly was such an eye opener.. I would recommend everyone to read this regardless of background and interests. Admittedly I have no experience with anything Paul has went through but honestly think this made me love this memoir more.
Such a brutally honest and thought provoking read and just adored it on so many levels.
Routing for Paul throughout and so happy to know he has overcome his battles and is loved by so many today.
Highly recommend 💕
I purchased this purely based on the cover.. Going into the book blind and WOW what a memoir!
A kindle read and flew through it in 2 days but purchasing the physical tomorrow to annotate.
This memoir is Paul's journey through life so far and honestly was such an eye opener.. I would recommend everyone to read this regardless of background and interests. Admittedly I have no experience with anything Paul has went through but honestly think this made me love this memoir more.
Such a brutally honest and thought provoking read and just adored it on so many levels.
Routing for Paul throughout and so happy to know he has overcome his battles and is loved by so many today.
Highly recommend 💕
December 8, 2022
I loved this memoir and a lot of it resonated with me and my own journey too, even though our stories are very different. Whilst I'm not gay or an AIDS activist like the author, I identified so much with squashing down my hurt and disappointment for years also with drugs and alcohol and the healing power of the songs of David Bowie. I think both of us were trying to forget our darker moments and filling a void that we didn't want to fall into.
I loved following his journey from gay shame to gay pride and I was cheering him on and felt such admiration for that young bullied, shamed and silenced boy who has emerged into an authentic man that refuses to be quiet!
I loved following his journey from gay shame to gay pride and I was cheering him on and felt such admiration for that young bullied, shamed and silenced boy who has emerged into an authentic man that refuses to be quiet!
October 25, 2023
I felt this was just a list of famous people he’d met, name dropping and a list of achievements. I didn’t feel any depth in the writing at all and felt he was just showing off the whole time.
June 4, 2023
In this stark and raw memoir, Paul Burston recalls his challenging childhood and adulthood.
He describes with honesty how hard it was to grow up as a gay person in a small town in South Wales. At that time there were no positive gay role models in his life – until he saw David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust.
Bowie’s music followed Paul wherever he went: when he moved to London aged nineteen, when he attended his first Pride, when the AIDS pandemic was raging and homophobia was on the rise.
Paul became an AIDS activist for ACT UP, then he was a journalist and a writer. When his friends started dying of AIDS, the survivor’s guilt kicked in and he started to self-medicate with booze and drugs. Something that he carried on doing throughout his adult life.
He isn’t ashamed to admit how he nearly died of an overdose. Thanks to his husband and much later on, thanks to therapy, he overcame most of his demons.
I found this an emotive read with some shocking descriptions of the AIDS deaths and Paul’s hedonistic lifestyle. I really liked all the musical references in the chapter titles and in the text. Paul’s love of music shone on each page.
He describes with honesty how hard it was to grow up as a gay person in a small town in South Wales. At that time there were no positive gay role models in his life – until he saw David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust.
Bowie’s music followed Paul wherever he went: when he moved to London aged nineteen, when he attended his first Pride, when the AIDS pandemic was raging and homophobia was on the rise.
Paul became an AIDS activist for ACT UP, then he was a journalist and a writer. When his friends started dying of AIDS, the survivor’s guilt kicked in and he started to self-medicate with booze and drugs. Something that he carried on doing throughout his adult life.
He isn’t ashamed to admit how he nearly died of an overdose. Thanks to his husband and much later on, thanks to therapy, he overcame most of his demons.
I found this an emotive read with some shocking descriptions of the AIDS deaths and Paul’s hedonistic lifestyle. I really liked all the musical references in the chapter titles and in the text. Paul’s love of music shone on each page.
December 2, 2022
Well, where should I start? Each chapter of this extremely moving book is almost a memoir in itself. So many thoughts came to me as I read this, so many lines I wanted to use to describe my feelings; it should be easy but instead I'm finding it incredibly hard. Uplifting yet sad; poignant yet full of moments of humour; bittersweet but definitely not afraid to be quite brutal when Paul turns the mirror round. I'd wanted to read Paul's memoir from early on, as soon as he'd said he was writing it, as we're the same age, similar childhood backgrounds and tore ourselves away as soon as we were pretty much allowed to. But where I contented myself with random weekends visiting friends and going out in London a few times a year in the late 80s, never quite brave enough to completely immerse myself in the culture that was suddenly available to me, Paul embraced it and, here, remembers months and years of his life - the ups, the downs, the constant quest for acceptance in a world where perfection seems just out of reach. Never afraid to make waves, either, something for which I have so much admiration as I read about his constant challenges to the establishment as well as his pursuits to fulfil personal dreams. Life wasn't always so mainstream, as this not so gentle reminder so eloquently tells us, and this is definitely required reading for anyone remotely interested in the subject matter and the era. And apart from that, it's an absolutely marvellous book. I confess to sharing some 'moments' while reading....
October 21, 2023
Amazing
A sad and stark reminder of how appallingly homophobic the UK can be. Although the author might not consider his actions bravery, I felt the isolation, the fear and the despair reaching off the page. Reminders of how dreadfully gay men were treated and the AIDS hysteria from the straight community took me back to the 1990's. A triumph of an autobiography
A sad and stark reminder of how appallingly homophobic the UK can be. Although the author might not consider his actions bravery, I felt the isolation, the fear and the despair reaching off the page. Reminders of how dreadfully gay men were treated and the AIDS hysteria from the straight community took me back to the 1990's. A triumph of an autobiography
November 14, 2022
I began slowly with this, wanting to savour, and then I dropped everything I was doing because I couldn't let it go. I was utterly invested. Paul's story is one of trauma, danger, excess and pain, but also one of compassion, strength, fight and bravery. This is a hell of a life lived, but one worthwhile. The changes Paul has made, not only in his own life but beyond, are tremendous. I defy anyone not be moved by this powerful memoir.
March 12, 2024
Pros:
Burston has clearly led a very interesting life which was well articulated in his memoir and I enjoyed learning about his activism in the 80s & 90s and about the Polari salon
Cons:
Name dropping to the point at which its detrimental
I think there could have been more depth & journey to his frame of mind - this gave vibes of "and then this happened - oh and that happened too"
Burston has clearly led a very interesting life which was well articulated in his memoir and I enjoyed learning about his activism in the 80s & 90s and about the Polari salon
Cons:
Name dropping to the point at which its detrimental
I think there could have been more depth & journey to his frame of mind - this gave vibes of "and then this happened - oh and that happened too"
April 10, 2023
My first taste of Paul Burston's work was when I came across The Black Path, his first crime fiction title. No pun intended there - it literally was just one of those titles I happened upon. I knew the setting having spent a lot time visiting Bridgend for work, and I love books like that so I went straight in. I loved it. I knew nothing of the man behind the book, or the story behind the man, just knew I loved the writing and the story. Then he released a book with one of my favourite publishers - The Closer I Get - a story which was completely compelling and gave perhaps more of an insight into the person behind the stories.
It's only through that, and the power of social media that I've become more aware of just who Paul Burston really is, and of the kind of things he has achieved in his life, a far cry from the young boy who grew up on an estate in a small Welsh town. And achieved is probably underselling his story in all honesty as it was more of a fight in all senses of the word than a simple right of passage. Reading We Can Be Heroes has been a real eye opener, not just because of all of the things that Paul Burston has experienced, but also as a testament to the history of gay rights, and the fight for equality, within the UK. It's not a part of history that I know much about, it has no direct relevance to me or my life as such, but this is still a story which has moved me, enraged me and made me very glad that I chose to read it. I'd advocate for others to do so too, irrespective of sexual orientation or personal history.
It's fair to say that Paul Burston is a bit of a warrior. Like all warriors before him, he hasn't emerged from the many battles unscathed, and the book, like the author, bears the scars with a mixture of pride and acceptance. From a young man just trying to find his place on the gay scene of London, to AIDS and Gay Rights activist, the 'enfant terrible' of Gay journalism developed a style which was direct, confrontational and challenging - putting it mildly - but all of it at a high personal cost. Taking readers on a journey through all of the many stages of his life, the progression of his career, the many friends he lost to AIDS at far too young an age, and the incessant prejudice that was levied against the Gay community, this is an brutally honest story of a life lived to excess, often to hide from the stark and harrowing realities of all that was going on around him.
Paul Burston is not the only person to hide from their problems behind a veil of drugs and alcohol, and to that respect many people will be able to identify with his story no matter how different their own background. It is an all too recognisable scenario - a person seeking acceptance, not just from those around them, but on a personal level too. And there are some stark revelations, which come late in life, that go some way to explaining just what was behind that constant inner battle, and the demons that had haunted him for so long. That's an element of the author's story which comes late to us as readers too, not seeking our pity, but dealt with in an almost matter of fact way that can only come from someone who has finally begun to learn to come to terms with who they are.
Beyond all of this, and as moving and funny as some of Paul Burston's revelations are, this is a real guidebook through a cultural history, taking us through the many decades over which he has carved out a truly amazing path. From telemarketeer, to activist and journalist, to the creator or Polari Salon and the Polari Prize for Fiction, Paul Burston has played a significant role in the fight for gay rights and it is only in reading this book I have realised the extent of it. Some of his stories, his interactions with names that are so familiar to me, made me laugh, and his giddy enthusiasm, and occasional faux pas, in the presence of his idols really did bring a smile to my face. For every moment of laughter, there is a balancing moment of darkness, such is the contrast of his past brought vividly to life on these pages. And the book stands as a reminder of the inequality that has faced the community for far too long, the political, legal and personal injustice and prejudice that is still being fought against today.
I have loved Paul Burston's work as a writer, but I now have a deeper appreciation of the person behind the books and the wonderfully positive and proud instagram posts too. There is an air of vulnerability about much of what I read that is often hidden behind that social media smile, but also an acceptance of his past and a determination to make the most of a future denied to so many. If you only read one memoir this year, make it this one. This is not a story I will forget in a hurry for so many different reasons. Definitely recommended.
It's only through that, and the power of social media that I've become more aware of just who Paul Burston really is, and of the kind of things he has achieved in his life, a far cry from the young boy who grew up on an estate in a small Welsh town. And achieved is probably underselling his story in all honesty as it was more of a fight in all senses of the word than a simple right of passage. Reading We Can Be Heroes has been a real eye opener, not just because of all of the things that Paul Burston has experienced, but also as a testament to the history of gay rights, and the fight for equality, within the UK. It's not a part of history that I know much about, it has no direct relevance to me or my life as such, but this is still a story which has moved me, enraged me and made me very glad that I chose to read it. I'd advocate for others to do so too, irrespective of sexual orientation or personal history.
It's fair to say that Paul Burston is a bit of a warrior. Like all warriors before him, he hasn't emerged from the many battles unscathed, and the book, like the author, bears the scars with a mixture of pride and acceptance. From a young man just trying to find his place on the gay scene of London, to AIDS and Gay Rights activist, the 'enfant terrible' of Gay journalism developed a style which was direct, confrontational and challenging - putting it mildly - but all of it at a high personal cost. Taking readers on a journey through all of the many stages of his life, the progression of his career, the many friends he lost to AIDS at far too young an age, and the incessant prejudice that was levied against the Gay community, this is an brutally honest story of a life lived to excess, often to hide from the stark and harrowing realities of all that was going on around him.
Paul Burston is not the only person to hide from their problems behind a veil of drugs and alcohol, and to that respect many people will be able to identify with his story no matter how different their own background. It is an all too recognisable scenario - a person seeking acceptance, not just from those around them, but on a personal level too. And there are some stark revelations, which come late in life, that go some way to explaining just what was behind that constant inner battle, and the demons that had haunted him for so long. That's an element of the author's story which comes late to us as readers too, not seeking our pity, but dealt with in an almost matter of fact way that can only come from someone who has finally begun to learn to come to terms with who they are.
Beyond all of this, and as moving and funny as some of Paul Burston's revelations are, this is a real guidebook through a cultural history, taking us through the many decades over which he has carved out a truly amazing path. From telemarketeer, to activist and journalist, to the creator or Polari Salon and the Polari Prize for Fiction, Paul Burston has played a significant role in the fight for gay rights and it is only in reading this book I have realised the extent of it. Some of his stories, his interactions with names that are so familiar to me, made me laugh, and his giddy enthusiasm, and occasional faux pas, in the presence of his idols really did bring a smile to my face. For every moment of laughter, there is a balancing moment of darkness, such is the contrast of his past brought vividly to life on these pages. And the book stands as a reminder of the inequality that has faced the community for far too long, the political, legal and personal injustice and prejudice that is still being fought against today.
I have loved Paul Burston's work as a writer, but I now have a deeper appreciation of the person behind the books and the wonderfully positive and proud instagram posts too. There is an air of vulnerability about much of what I read that is often hidden behind that social media smile, but also an acceptance of his past and a determination to make the most of a future denied to so many. If you only read one memoir this year, make it this one. This is not a story I will forget in a hurry for so many different reasons. Definitely recommended.
November 16, 2022
At turns deeply moving, at turns hilarious, this is a poignant memoir of the man I know better for creating the Polari Prize and Salon, but whose life has had far more twists and turns than I had known.
We learn of Paul's childhood and reckoning with who he was, and on to his adult years- where he is caught between many interconnected and competing worlds: the thrills and pitfalls of the gay scene; the passion and frustrations of activism; the terror and spectre of HIV/AIDS; and the fast-paced life of working in journalism.
Indeed, the fast pace and observational eye of a journalist appear throughout the book, with a razor-sharp focus on details of a period of time that was so pivotal for queer lives.
Paul's role in both living and shaping these periods is fascinating- from the small disagreements between activists to the huge campaigns which came at the expense of so many.
Above all else, there is a beautiful candour to this book- Paul does not shy away from showing the pains that came with the joys.
I received an advanced copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
We learn of Paul's childhood and reckoning with who he was, and on to his adult years- where he is caught between many interconnected and competing worlds: the thrills and pitfalls of the gay scene; the passion and frustrations of activism; the terror and spectre of HIV/AIDS; and the fast-paced life of working in journalism.
Indeed, the fast pace and observational eye of a journalist appear throughout the book, with a razor-sharp focus on details of a period of time that was so pivotal for queer lives.
Paul's role in both living and shaping these periods is fascinating- from the small disagreements between activists to the huge campaigns which came at the expense of so many.
Above all else, there is a beautiful candour to this book- Paul does not shy away from showing the pains that came with the joys.
I received an advanced copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
November 15, 2023
As a gay man who is on;y 4 years older than Paul Burston, I bought this with the hope that it would be an evocative trip down memory lane, as indeed promised on the back. For someone who has indeed lead an interesting life, this book is completely lifeless. This is a memoir that I could call surface only and whilst Burston may think he is sharing a lot of himself, that is not the case. Written chronologically, it is mostly one reasonably shallow tale after another. He is at pains to include all the postive reviews of his novels, which is completely unnecessary.
As for the writing itself, this is very much the memoir of a magazine journalist, and I certainly won't be looking to explore any of his novels.
It's a shame, as his life is interesting.
As for the writing itself, this is very much the memoir of a magazine journalist, and I certainly won't be looking to explore any of his novels.
It's a shame, as his life is interesting.
June 16, 2023
Activist. Journalist. Survivor. One man’s journey from prejudice to Pride.
I first discovered Paul Burston about fifteen years ago, when I read his novel “Lovers & Losers”. I wasn’t aware of him before that, or his incredible story, but we connected on Facebook and I followed his activities with Polari from that point on. Reading his memoir was a real eye-opener, especially his vivid recollections of the 80s (he’s a bit older than me) and he tells the story well, brutally honest at all times (especially with himself). Frank, surprising, joyous, poignant, it’s a full life spent well and his campaigning for LGBTQ+ rights has been constant and (at times) a danger to himself. Wonderfully written, occasionally amusing, occasionally sad, this is a must read and I would very much recommend it.
I first discovered Paul Burston about fifteen years ago, when I read his novel “Lovers & Losers”. I wasn’t aware of him before that, or his incredible story, but we connected on Facebook and I followed his activities with Polari from that point on. Reading his memoir was a real eye-opener, especially his vivid recollections of the 80s (he’s a bit older than me) and he tells the story well, brutally honest at all times (especially with himself). Frank, surprising, joyous, poignant, it’s a full life spent well and his campaigning for LGBTQ+ rights has been constant and (at times) a danger to himself. Wonderfully written, occasionally amusing, occasionally sad, this is a must read and I would very much recommend it.
March 16, 2025
Somewhere between a three and a four but I'm rounding up because I really do value experiencing the stories of queer people who lived through this time. An honest and raw autobiography. I found his discussion of his activism and founding Polari the most interesting aspects of this for sure, and I appreciate the candor with which he shared some vulnerable aspects of his life, from the emotional toll of the AIDs crisis to his addictions and trauma. As other reviewers have pointed out, there is a lot of name dropping throughout in a way that does not always feel very authentic and I could have done without the extensive quotations from all the reviews of his literary works.
July 30, 2023
Loved this memoir. A must-read. Paul tells his history with both humour and sadness, allowing the reader to go on the journey with him through one of the most terrible decades. A true hero and activist, he really doesn't pull any punches, revealing the bad times along with the good.
An important recollection of that time in History.
An important recollection of that time in History.
June 13, 2024
It pains to me give a low rating to a book written by a gay man who experienced the effects of AID’s and homophobia on his community first hand because I found those parts very informative and engaging to read. Sadly, the rest of the book lacked depth and felt like it was written to name all celebrities he’s met, or praise himself for his achievements.
March 26, 2025
A heartbreaking yet lovely memoir!
April 17, 2023
“As an activist he stormed the House of Commons during the debate over the age of consent. As a journalist he spoke up for the rights of the community at a time of tabloid homophobia and legal inequality." As an authour he wrote books such as The Gay Divorcee, Shameless and founded the groundbreaking Polari Prize. Burston, 'l'enfant terrible', has also been pivotal in many markers of our LGBTQ+ History. He is also a “Producer. Survivor”.
Burston's writing style is honest and engaging, and his storytelling is both entertaining and informative. We can be heroes is a memoir filled with anecdotes and personal experiences that paint a vivid picture of what it was and it is like to be queer in the UK. From CND marches, to Stop The Clause campaign, ACT UP, and a lot more.
As someone who also lived through that era, I found myself nodding along and laughing at the many shared experiences. Like his audience for Polari in Hastings “Most are old enough to remember the 80s and the horrors we lived through”. I cherished revisiting the scene: all the clubs, the music, the bars/pubs and the cinemas, the Bell and Scala being favourites. As Burston puts it, when talking about Riot Act: “We’re all heroes - Michael, Vin, me, and everyone in the audience who identifies with our struggle, whatever their sexuality”.
"We can be heroes" is an essential read, even for those who didn't experience that time period. It's a testament to the power of activism, community, and resilience, and a reminder of how far we've come in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights.
Burston's memoir is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand the struggles and triumphs of the queer community.
Thanks #netgalley @amazonpublishing for this ARC
#wecanbeheroes #netgalleymember
#pudseyrecommends #lgbtbooks #lgbtq #aueerbooks
Burston's writing style is honest and engaging, and his storytelling is both entertaining and informative. We can be heroes is a memoir filled with anecdotes and personal experiences that paint a vivid picture of what it was and it is like to be queer in the UK. From CND marches, to Stop The Clause campaign, ACT UP, and a lot more.
As someone who also lived through that era, I found myself nodding along and laughing at the many shared experiences. Like his audience for Polari in Hastings “Most are old enough to remember the 80s and the horrors we lived through”. I cherished revisiting the scene: all the clubs, the music, the bars/pubs and the cinemas, the Bell and Scala being favourites. As Burston puts it, when talking about Riot Act: “We’re all heroes - Michael, Vin, me, and everyone in the audience who identifies with our struggle, whatever their sexuality”.
"We can be heroes" is an essential read, even for those who didn't experience that time period. It's a testament to the power of activism, community, and resilience, and a reminder of how far we've come in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights.
Burston's memoir is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand the struggles and triumphs of the queer community.
Thanks #netgalley @amazonpublishing for this ARC
#wecanbeheroes #netgalleymember
#pudseyrecommends #lgbtbooks #lgbtq #aueerbooks
May 8, 2023
Paul's story is one of trauma, excess and yet one of compassion, humour and bravery. His life and the way he forged its blossoming, over and over, is inspiring. It evokes the fear, the excitement and sheer guts it took to be gay in the 80s/90s. I thought I knew him well, yet this memoir has revealed so much about his life, I couldn't help feeling much closer to the true Paul Burston as the story unfolded. It is a generous act to let us, the reader, whether we know him or not, into his life in this way.
The memoir presents Paul's journey as he seeks to become himself while the shadow of his difficult childhood follows him closely behind. It is in London and amongst the landscape of gay activism, Paul demonstrates his vulnerabilities, guts, intelligence and his mistakes (as well as the sexual delights.) It is during the agonising sadness and injustices of the AIDS years that I truly got a sense the way our world was upended, and the loneliness and negative space of all those lost to Paul and his generation.
Above all, the story is told through Paul's confident, at times hilarious, sharp journalistic eye. As a successful novelist he infuses each page with delicate layering and tension. David Bowie permeates the pages of Paul's memoir as both muse and mirror. I learnt alot from the way Paul presented his story so intelligently against key references of literature, film and music.
I defy anyone not be moved and gripped by this powerful, multi-faceted memoir.
The memoir presents Paul's journey as he seeks to become himself while the shadow of his difficult childhood follows him closely behind. It is in London and amongst the landscape of gay activism, Paul demonstrates his vulnerabilities, guts, intelligence and his mistakes (as well as the sexual delights.) It is during the agonising sadness and injustices of the AIDS years that I truly got a sense the way our world was upended, and the loneliness and negative space of all those lost to Paul and his generation.
Above all, the story is told through Paul's confident, at times hilarious, sharp journalistic eye. As a successful novelist he infuses each page with delicate layering and tension. David Bowie permeates the pages of Paul's memoir as both muse and mirror. I learnt alot from the way Paul presented his story so intelligently against key references of literature, film and music.
I defy anyone not be moved and gripped by this powerful, multi-faceted memoir.
July 21, 2023
WE CAN BE HEROES
Having known Paul Burston and his writing for many years I knew this memoir would be well–written, insightful, sometimes very sad but also entertaining. It has all of those qualities and more. There is a real sense of Paul the vulnerable child, constantly being knocked back and yet pressing forwards into the wind. There are anecdotes aplenty: some extraordinary, some tragic, others illustrating an element of endearing uncertainty. Throughout, underpinning the successes, the two near-death experiences, the mistakes made, there is his difficult childhood. He doesn’t go into this too deeply but the implication is clear, that while his journey through life has been to all appearances a huge success – it has often been traumatic.
This is an honest book: yes Paul has met many famous people and revelled in the meetings – who wouldn’t? But what comes through clearly, is the balancing act the writer has achieved: when he falls, he will get up, dust himself down and keep going and on occasion his courage and persistence enables him to fly. I think many readers will find 'Heroes' offers hope and inspiration.
Having known Paul Burston and his writing for many years I knew this memoir would be well–written, insightful, sometimes very sad but also entertaining. It has all of those qualities and more. There is a real sense of Paul the vulnerable child, constantly being knocked back and yet pressing forwards into the wind. There are anecdotes aplenty: some extraordinary, some tragic, others illustrating an element of endearing uncertainty. Throughout, underpinning the successes, the two near-death experiences, the mistakes made, there is his difficult childhood. He doesn’t go into this too deeply but the implication is clear, that while his journey through life has been to all appearances a huge success – it has often been traumatic.
This is an honest book: yes Paul has met many famous people and revelled in the meetings – who wouldn’t? But what comes through clearly, is the balancing act the writer has achieved: when he falls, he will get up, dust himself down and keep going and on occasion his courage and persistence enables him to fly. I think many readers will find 'Heroes' offers hope and inspiration.
October 22, 2023
I need to begin this review with a content warning. This review mentions the AIDS crisis, violence against LGBTQ+ folx, discrimination, PTSD, drug abuse, and sexual assault. I try to approach these issues with tact, but you may want to avoid this review if these topics are just too raw for you.
Going through my extensive Kindle notes and highlights for this book, I’m struck by several things about We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, is that although this is a deeply personal book, detailing Burston’s life and personal evolution, it is also a political call to action, a recounting of the AIDS crisis from the perspective of someone who watched far too many of their peers fall ill and die to it, and a takedown of hypocritical behaviors from writers, journalists, Piers Morgan, Tony Blair, the British government as a whole, Men’s Health magazine, and more I’m probably missing.
Burston makes it quite clear from the beginning that he’s no angel. He knows he’s made mistakes. He writes openly about his drug use and promiscuity, and how he ended up with what might today be diagnosed as C-PTSD (in the form of survivor’s guilt) because despite all that, he survived while so many of his beloved friends and idols died.
There’s a small note I feel I must mention before I begin. Throughout the memoir, Burston expresses his idolatry of David Bowie. Personally, I wasn’t really exposed much to David Bowie as a child, which is funny, because my mom loved him, complex sexuality and all. I’d say I was too young and so I missed the boat, but even before the internet, that wasn’t a valid excuse (MTV and VH1, anyone?). With all this talk of Bowie, and with Burston being the activist he is, as upfront, forthcoming, and sensitive to the plights of others as he is, there’s something about Bowie that I feel was missing: a mention, even just a sentence, of the sexual assault victims who have come forward since his death, exposing his actions as a statutory rapist. It is okay to both idolize someone for the things they have done for you personally and to hold them accountable for the awful things they have done to others. Those two things need not be at odds, despite what many Bowie “fanboys and girls” may claim. People are complex. Just as Bowie was both things, we can hold both emotions, the knowledge of both sides of him, and hold him accountable for all his actions, genius and evil, both.
An excellent article that succinctly summarizes what I’m trying to say can be found here https://www.mic.com/articles/132399/t.... As a survivor of statutory rape myself, the article especially affected me where it quoted a piece on Medium (https://medium.com/@britnidlc/david-b...) and finished with, “Despite all of these great achievements, his past is not spotless, and for the sake of every victim of sexual violence, it doesn’t deserve to be remembered as such.”
We Can Be Heroes was profound. Yes, I’m a member of the community but I truly hope that most heterosexual and/or cisgender people can take away even half of what I did from We Can Be Heroes. Paul Burston writes eloquently with his journalistic talent, though there are certainly points at which you can feel the heat of his anger coming up off the page, as he seethes righteously.
I’m grateful that he wrote the memoir while sober and well after the events he describes, because I don’t think he could have described them as thoroughly, carefully, delicately, and with as much of his own flourish as he does here if he had instead just pieced together journals written at the times of the events. His writing is impeccable, and he manages to combine journalistic style with a personal tone that is reminiscent of a long-form essay, but better.
Paul Burston is a gay writer and activist who lived through the height of the AIDS crisis during his formative years, a time that Queer folx of this current generation might spend partying and celebrating their ‘outness’, their freedom (despite whatever DeSantis and the other mouthpieces of lesser devils have to say about sexuality and gender, we are freer than ever before, and things will get better). In addition to his journalism and activism, Paul Burston also worked in philanthropy, by starting a nonprofit (Polari) for diverse LGBTQ+ writers to submit their works for recognition. Despite its humble beginnings in a night club, it has become so successful that it was picked up by the British Library and is now internationally acclaimed.
It is painful, to say the least, to read these pages and see the similarities between his time and mine wrought so plainly. To see tragedies in history repeating themselves. Why? Hatred. Why? Misunderstanding and fear and years of indoctrination in hate-filled, fearful, and intentionally misled communities selectively closed off from the world at large until they’re not. Culture shock. Reality coming crashing down on some young bumpkin’s buzzed head. It does, and when it does, it leaves a mark. Some people grow, get better, learn, and eventually preach acceptance in their lives and those around them, but others get worse, colder, more hate-filled, angrier, looking for a scapegoat for emotions or feelings they can’t explain, or just looking for a place to put all the anger they’ve been taught is the only way men are allowed to express themselves. When that happens, the culture clash of diverse reality coming down to bear on a young, single, previously culturally isolated man, we have seen many acts of violence. Some of those acts involve firearms, legal or otherwise (does it even matter at this point? NRA-nuts must realize that a goddamn knife can’t kill as many people in as short a time as an AR-15 in a dark nightclub during the length of one song, as people try to figure out what’s happening, scattering, not fully understanding, not hearing the gunshots clearly, not expecting to be targeted in their safe spaces. There were more than 100 casualties in the mass shooting at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, 49 dead and 53 wounded, but DeSantis thinks the far greater danger to public safety is drag queens strutting their stuff – even in age-restricted performances. Even DeSantis’s excuse for harassing the drag venue – claiming that it violated a public nuisance law – sounds suspiciously similar to the type of legislation that Burston and so many others fought against for so long; the “gross indecency” classification of crime.
When self-expression and love are crimes, repression and hate reign supreme. And that, my friends, is something we must fight “tooth and nail”, as wild beasts if we must. When children are encouraged to kill themselves by a world that not only doesn’t accept who they are, but has actively legislated that their identities are perverse, somehow wrong, that is a fight worth fighting. That is a “save the children” moment worthy of Jesus.
When men, women, nonbinary folx, and children are harassed and belittled, not just by the odd passerby, as has been deemed “acceptable” throughout most of the ‘00s, but by the very government of which we are supposedly a crucial part; when the so-called democratic republic no longer represents its constituents, that is a fight worth fighting.
Many of us are productive members of society. Those of us who can, work. We pay taxes (and we very rarely make the ridiculous claim that “taxation is equivalent to theft” or some other such nonsense, when the only similar statement that makes sense in both a historical and political context is “taxation without representation is theft”). We are statistically more likely to be law-abiding citizens who are targets of crime than criminals ourselves. And yet, we receive terrible treatment from our neighbors, our elected officials, our policymakers, our law enforcement, especially when we are most in need.
And Queer kids? They’re the best of us, even though they are not of us. They are smart and wise. They are kind and nonjudgmental. They are supportive of their found families, wherever they may be. They are resilient. And when they are given the opportunity, they blossom. They can be happy, healthy, well-adjusted kids. Not in DeSantis’s America, mind you, the one where teachers cannot help their students who come out to them as gay (see: “Don’t Say Gay” legislation link). Not in the world in which they are prevented from taking part in team activities because their gender doesn’t fit nicely into a cookie cutter world in which we do not live. Not in the world where they are scapegoated and called perverse and told that their parents or supportive adults in their lives are “groomers” because they love and respect them for who they are regardless of gender or sexuality.
DeSantis, and those like him, are building a hell on Earth for gay/Queer folx. They have the gall to say they’re “taking America back”. Back from and to whom, I wonder. Many Native American tribes, the ones to whom America would go “back” if anyone, had gender and sexuality variants that are not strictly heterosexual cisgender male and female. Today, many of their spiritual descendants choose to identify as Two Spirit, which can mean many things to many different people, but is usually folded into and under the trans umbrella, according to the Two Spirit website. It sounds settled, but it’s not.
Everyone feels differently about their identities, and that’s okay, too. A prime example would be how my interpretation of pansexuality is that it relies on a rejection of the gender binary; that to be pansexual, one must first view gender as a spectrum and not a tidy pink or blue categorization. I know not everyone feels that way. I still want to take people under my wing and talk to them about the conferences I’ve learned from when I hear them describe it otherwise, but I let them ID as they’d like, without attempting to invalidate them.
Now that I’ve gone completely into essay territory and away from the review zone, let me attempt to circle back. We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston is a memoir from which everyone can learn something, whether that is facts about the LGBTQ+ movement’s legacy or perhaps just a little bit of empathy.
I learned quite a bit about our shared Queer history from We Can Be Heroes, more than I knew I didn’t know. Burston has spent most of his adult life in the UK, and that is certainly a history I had not been exposed to. There was the 1999 terrorist attack on the Admiral Duncan, the worst act of anti-gay violence ever recorded in the UK, in which 79 people were injured and three were killed. (The media at the time focused on the fact that two of those killed and injured were heterosexual. While it’s important to stress the fact that this fight affects us all, suggesting that some lives were “more worthy” than others based on their sexuality and “just being in the wrong place at the wrong time” is simply wrong. No victim “deserved it” and to insinuate otherwise is to side with terrorism. This terrible act of violence is what reminded me of the Pulse nightclub shooting.
We Can Be Heroes is an important book, but, more than that, it’s a good book. While it’s not always enjoyable (due to the subject matter), it is always eye-opening and well-written. Paul Burston’s talents shine in this memoir and I’m so glad that I took the time to read it.
Hopefully, this review helped you decide to give We Can Be Heroes a chance, too, regardless of your sexuality or knowledge of Queer history.
I highly recommend We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5
Thank you NetGalley and Little A Publishing for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.
Going through my extensive Kindle notes and highlights for this book, I’m struck by several things about We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, is that although this is a deeply personal book, detailing Burston’s life and personal evolution, it is also a political call to action, a recounting of the AIDS crisis from the perspective of someone who watched far too many of their peers fall ill and die to it, and a takedown of hypocritical behaviors from writers, journalists, Piers Morgan, Tony Blair, the British government as a whole, Men’s Health magazine, and more I’m probably missing.
Burston makes it quite clear from the beginning that he’s no angel. He knows he’s made mistakes. He writes openly about his drug use and promiscuity, and how he ended up with what might today be diagnosed as C-PTSD (in the form of survivor’s guilt) because despite all that, he survived while so many of his beloved friends and idols died.
There’s a small note I feel I must mention before I begin. Throughout the memoir, Burston expresses his idolatry of David Bowie. Personally, I wasn’t really exposed much to David Bowie as a child, which is funny, because my mom loved him, complex sexuality and all. I’d say I was too young and so I missed the boat, but even before the internet, that wasn’t a valid excuse (MTV and VH1, anyone?). With all this talk of Bowie, and with Burston being the activist he is, as upfront, forthcoming, and sensitive to the plights of others as he is, there’s something about Bowie that I feel was missing: a mention, even just a sentence, of the sexual assault victims who have come forward since his death, exposing his actions as a statutory rapist. It is okay to both idolize someone for the things they have done for you personally and to hold them accountable for the awful things they have done to others. Those two things need not be at odds, despite what many Bowie “fanboys and girls” may claim. People are complex. Just as Bowie was both things, we can hold both emotions, the knowledge of both sides of him, and hold him accountable for all his actions, genius and evil, both.
An excellent article that succinctly summarizes what I’m trying to say can be found here https://www.mic.com/articles/132399/t.... As a survivor of statutory rape myself, the article especially affected me where it quoted a piece on Medium (https://medium.com/@britnidlc/david-b...) and finished with, “Despite all of these great achievements, his past is not spotless, and for the sake of every victim of sexual violence, it doesn’t deserve to be remembered as such.”
We Can Be Heroes was profound. Yes, I’m a member of the community but I truly hope that most heterosexual and/or cisgender people can take away even half of what I did from We Can Be Heroes. Paul Burston writes eloquently with his journalistic talent, though there are certainly points at which you can feel the heat of his anger coming up off the page, as he seethes righteously.
I’m grateful that he wrote the memoir while sober and well after the events he describes, because I don’t think he could have described them as thoroughly, carefully, delicately, and with as much of his own flourish as he does here if he had instead just pieced together journals written at the times of the events. His writing is impeccable, and he manages to combine journalistic style with a personal tone that is reminiscent of a long-form essay, but better.
Paul Burston is a gay writer and activist who lived through the height of the AIDS crisis during his formative years, a time that Queer folx of this current generation might spend partying and celebrating their ‘outness’, their freedom (despite whatever DeSantis and the other mouthpieces of lesser devils have to say about sexuality and gender, we are freer than ever before, and things will get better). In addition to his journalism and activism, Paul Burston also worked in philanthropy, by starting a nonprofit (Polari) for diverse LGBTQ+ writers to submit their works for recognition. Despite its humble beginnings in a night club, it has become so successful that it was picked up by the British Library and is now internationally acclaimed.
It is painful, to say the least, to read these pages and see the similarities between his time and mine wrought so plainly. To see tragedies in history repeating themselves. Why? Hatred. Why? Misunderstanding and fear and years of indoctrination in hate-filled, fearful, and intentionally misled communities selectively closed off from the world at large until they’re not. Culture shock. Reality coming crashing down on some young bumpkin’s buzzed head. It does, and when it does, it leaves a mark. Some people grow, get better, learn, and eventually preach acceptance in their lives and those around them, but others get worse, colder, more hate-filled, angrier, looking for a scapegoat for emotions or feelings they can’t explain, or just looking for a place to put all the anger they’ve been taught is the only way men are allowed to express themselves. When that happens, the culture clash of diverse reality coming down to bear on a young, single, previously culturally isolated man, we have seen many acts of violence. Some of those acts involve firearms, legal or otherwise (does it even matter at this point? NRA-nuts must realize that a goddamn knife can’t kill as many people in as short a time as an AR-15 in a dark nightclub during the length of one song, as people try to figure out what’s happening, scattering, not fully understanding, not hearing the gunshots clearly, not expecting to be targeted in their safe spaces. There were more than 100 casualties in the mass shooting at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, 49 dead and 53 wounded, but DeSantis thinks the far greater danger to public safety is drag queens strutting their stuff – even in age-restricted performances. Even DeSantis’s excuse for harassing the drag venue – claiming that it violated a public nuisance law – sounds suspiciously similar to the type of legislation that Burston and so many others fought against for so long; the “gross indecency” classification of crime.
When self-expression and love are crimes, repression and hate reign supreme. And that, my friends, is something we must fight “tooth and nail”, as wild beasts if we must. When children are encouraged to kill themselves by a world that not only doesn’t accept who they are, but has actively legislated that their identities are perverse, somehow wrong, that is a fight worth fighting. That is a “save the children” moment worthy of Jesus.
When men, women, nonbinary folx, and children are harassed and belittled, not just by the odd passerby, as has been deemed “acceptable” throughout most of the ‘00s, but by the very government of which we are supposedly a crucial part; when the so-called democratic republic no longer represents its constituents, that is a fight worth fighting.
Many of us are productive members of society. Those of us who can, work. We pay taxes (and we very rarely make the ridiculous claim that “taxation is equivalent to theft” or some other such nonsense, when the only similar statement that makes sense in both a historical and political context is “taxation without representation is theft”). We are statistically more likely to be law-abiding citizens who are targets of crime than criminals ourselves. And yet, we receive terrible treatment from our neighbors, our elected officials, our policymakers, our law enforcement, especially when we are most in need.
And Queer kids? They’re the best of us, even though they are not of us. They are smart and wise. They are kind and nonjudgmental. They are supportive of their found families, wherever they may be. They are resilient. And when they are given the opportunity, they blossom. They can be happy, healthy, well-adjusted kids. Not in DeSantis’s America, mind you, the one where teachers cannot help their students who come out to them as gay (see: “Don’t Say Gay” legislation link). Not in the world in which they are prevented from taking part in team activities because their gender doesn’t fit nicely into a cookie cutter world in which we do not live. Not in the world where they are scapegoated and called perverse and told that their parents or supportive adults in their lives are “groomers” because they love and respect them for who they are regardless of gender or sexuality.
DeSantis, and those like him, are building a hell on Earth for gay/Queer folx. They have the gall to say they’re “taking America back”. Back from and to whom, I wonder. Many Native American tribes, the ones to whom America would go “back” if anyone, had gender and sexuality variants that are not strictly heterosexual cisgender male and female. Today, many of their spiritual descendants choose to identify as Two Spirit, which can mean many things to many different people, but is usually folded into and under the trans umbrella, according to the Two Spirit website. It sounds settled, but it’s not.
Everyone feels differently about their identities, and that’s okay, too. A prime example would be how my interpretation of pansexuality is that it relies on a rejection of the gender binary; that to be pansexual, one must first view gender as a spectrum and not a tidy pink or blue categorization. I know not everyone feels that way. I still want to take people under my wing and talk to them about the conferences I’ve learned from when I hear them describe it otherwise, but I let them ID as they’d like, without attempting to invalidate them.
Now that I’ve gone completely into essay territory and away from the review zone, let me attempt to circle back. We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston is a memoir from which everyone can learn something, whether that is facts about the LGBTQ+ movement’s legacy or perhaps just a little bit of empathy.
I learned quite a bit about our shared Queer history from We Can Be Heroes, more than I knew I didn’t know. Burston has spent most of his adult life in the UK, and that is certainly a history I had not been exposed to. There was the 1999 terrorist attack on the Admiral Duncan, the worst act of anti-gay violence ever recorded in the UK, in which 79 people were injured and three were killed. (The media at the time focused on the fact that two of those killed and injured were heterosexual. While it’s important to stress the fact that this fight affects us all, suggesting that some lives were “more worthy” than others based on their sexuality and “just being in the wrong place at the wrong time” is simply wrong. No victim “deserved it” and to insinuate otherwise is to side with terrorism. This terrible act of violence is what reminded me of the Pulse nightclub shooting.
We Can Be Heroes is an important book, but, more than that, it’s a good book. While it’s not always enjoyable (due to the subject matter), it is always eye-opening and well-written. Paul Burston’s talents shine in this memoir and I’m so glad that I took the time to read it.
Hopefully, this review helped you decide to give We Can Be Heroes a chance, too, regardless of your sexuality or knowledge of Queer history.
I highly recommend We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5
Thank you NetGalley and Little A Publishing for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.
March 8, 2023
Review We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston
• From Act Up to Riot Act
• From Bridgend to Hastings
• From acting to living
• From shame to understanding
• From covering to sharing
• From hedonism to balance
• From anger to humility
• But always personality and always purpose.
I’m reminded of Lencioni’s leadership model, that true leadership requires as much courage as it does insights. The first step is always about “trust”. Knowing oneself, being comfortable in one’s own skin, looking in the mirror and understanding and liking the person looking right back. The fear of being or showing vulnerability prevents so much happiness and forward momentum, most importantly it leads to darkness and the absence of trust.
We Can Be Heroes, this personal journey is that literary manifestation; the opening up, the second coming out, the peeling of the proverbial onion – to understand and see what is at the core. Trust is built from four components; honesty, sharing, admitting imperfections and fairness. Paul deals with each of these four components robustly.
Paul builds trust with the reader from the very start; through childhood, a loving mum, the seeds of the life to come were sown, his love of drama, music, then the identification with a different life in London.
I have found this an emotional journey, reflecting on my own life story, being gay and a similar age, coming from a small northern town and loving the theatre and arts rather than sports. Our lives interlocked at pivotal moments for us both. We have laughed and cried, partied and traveled for 30 years. Having first met on the Gatwick Express, by accident, sitting next to each other on the 0540 from Victoria, but both heading to Mykonos, my first “special interest” holiday.
Without a doubt Paul has been such a good friend to me; different career routes and now living on different continents, yet he has provided sage advice, opened my eyes to new experiences and thankfully saved me from myself numerous times.
Having featured as some of the cameos in Paul’s earlier novels, I chuckle now as I read one or two of those stories recreated in his autobiography 25 or 30 years later, I’m grateful that a few aren’t attributed to save my blushes, but it has flooded my mind with stories from the past.
We Can Be Heroes is on one level a very personal insight into a man whom I’m honoured to call a dear friend. However, on another level it is an educational piece, it is the story which should have been shared during those less enlightened Section 28 days, it should be read by all those younger people who are still coming to terms with their sexuality or feeling the loneliness and shame of abuse or bullying. We Can Be Heroes is the story of hope, hard work and salvation.
We Can Be Heroes is the literary reminder to my generation and the wake-up call to those younger; just as "It’s a Sin" was for its TV audience. Paul you have paved the way for many to follow. Keep bothering, keep speaking truth to power and most importantly keep being the true you.
Our dreams and pathways change, what we wanted at 20 may well be different at 30 and change again by the time we reach 40, our dreams evolve. It is our failure to become that perceived dream which ultimately defines us all. In fact, it is our mistakes and or challenges and our personal acceptance of them which allows the real person to emerge. Paul’s struggles, his successes, his highs and lows and ultimately his understanding of them and his acceptance of them which make this the most compelling and personal story.
William Gibbon
6th March 2023.
• From Act Up to Riot Act
• From Bridgend to Hastings
• From acting to living
• From shame to understanding
• From covering to sharing
• From hedonism to balance
• From anger to humility
• But always personality and always purpose.
I’m reminded of Lencioni’s leadership model, that true leadership requires as much courage as it does insights. The first step is always about “trust”. Knowing oneself, being comfortable in one’s own skin, looking in the mirror and understanding and liking the person looking right back. The fear of being or showing vulnerability prevents so much happiness and forward momentum, most importantly it leads to darkness and the absence of trust.
We Can Be Heroes, this personal journey is that literary manifestation; the opening up, the second coming out, the peeling of the proverbial onion – to understand and see what is at the core. Trust is built from four components; honesty, sharing, admitting imperfections and fairness. Paul deals with each of these four components robustly.
Paul builds trust with the reader from the very start; through childhood, a loving mum, the seeds of the life to come were sown, his love of drama, music, then the identification with a different life in London.
I have found this an emotional journey, reflecting on my own life story, being gay and a similar age, coming from a small northern town and loving the theatre and arts rather than sports. Our lives interlocked at pivotal moments for us both. We have laughed and cried, partied and traveled for 30 years. Having first met on the Gatwick Express, by accident, sitting next to each other on the 0540 from Victoria, but both heading to Mykonos, my first “special interest” holiday.
Without a doubt Paul has been such a good friend to me; different career routes and now living on different continents, yet he has provided sage advice, opened my eyes to new experiences and thankfully saved me from myself numerous times.
Having featured as some of the cameos in Paul’s earlier novels, I chuckle now as I read one or two of those stories recreated in his autobiography 25 or 30 years later, I’m grateful that a few aren’t attributed to save my blushes, but it has flooded my mind with stories from the past.
We Can Be Heroes is on one level a very personal insight into a man whom I’m honoured to call a dear friend. However, on another level it is an educational piece, it is the story which should have been shared during those less enlightened Section 28 days, it should be read by all those younger people who are still coming to terms with their sexuality or feeling the loneliness and shame of abuse or bullying. We Can Be Heroes is the story of hope, hard work and salvation.
We Can Be Heroes is the literary reminder to my generation and the wake-up call to those younger; just as "It’s a Sin" was for its TV audience. Paul you have paved the way for many to follow. Keep bothering, keep speaking truth to power and most importantly keep being the true you.
Our dreams and pathways change, what we wanted at 20 may well be different at 30 and change again by the time we reach 40, our dreams evolve. It is our failure to become that perceived dream which ultimately defines us all. In fact, it is our mistakes and or challenges and our personal acceptance of them which allows the real person to emerge. Paul’s struggles, his successes, his highs and lows and ultimately his understanding of them and his acceptance of them which make this the most compelling and personal story.
William Gibbon
6th March 2023.
April 1, 2023
Well - We Can Be Heroes – what can I say other than, what a thought provoking, no holds barred book.
I often wonder about how much truth goes into people’s memoirs and I think it’s safe to say that Paul Burston, in We Can Be Heroes, doesn’t shy away from the truth as he sees it. This is an honest, sometimes hard to read, always compelling memoir written to the soundtrack of Bowie and other gay icons of the 80s. It filled me with nostalgia and rage and joy and hope because We Can Be Heroes stakes a claim for us to find heroes even when we least expect it and more importantly – to be heroes.
After finishing the memoir, I had to take some time to take stock of all the emotions it evoked in me and I think that is the mark of a good book. We Can Be Heroes got under my skin in the same way as It’s A Sin did when I first watched it. It’s a book of my time (Paul and I are similar ages) and I was at university in Stirling in the 80s. The backdrop of a large part of the book echoed the experiences shared by my gay friends and my own observations. The authenticity of reading lived experiences is just as important now as it should have been in the 80s. With two gay children myself, I often reflect (as Burston himself does) on their understanding of the sacrifice, loneliness, fear etc that was persistently always there – just there.
Every time I read a book written by a member of the LGBTQ+ community or a gay ally, who lived through the horror of the AIDS epidemic with all its loss, fear and stigmatisation and the subsequent rage against Clause 28, I am struck by their journey – a journey that demonstrates such resilience despite the hurdles placed in their way.
Can Be Heroes is a journey of self-discovery, but more than that, it documents the harsh reality of an era that, I believe, many people are unaware of. The more of these lived experiences that are published by the main stream publishers the better.
However, We Can Be Heroes is more than rage against prejudicial laws and opinions. It is also filled with hope and love and friendship and progression and emotion. It pays homage to those who provided comfort, those who died, those who survived and it documents the progress forty years has seen. Burston’s story is an important one because it shows reality rather than some sanitised version of the truth. He is sometimes harsh towards himself and the choices he made and often references the benefits of hindsight when he identifies key moments that sent him spiralling out of control. Ultimately, though there is an acceptance that the path he travelled is what it is and that he’d still moving forward and being a hero in the best way he can.
I often wonder about how much truth goes into people’s memoirs and I think it’s safe to say that Paul Burston, in We Can Be Heroes, doesn’t shy away from the truth as he sees it. This is an honest, sometimes hard to read, always compelling memoir written to the soundtrack of Bowie and other gay icons of the 80s. It filled me with nostalgia and rage and joy and hope because We Can Be Heroes stakes a claim for us to find heroes even when we least expect it and more importantly – to be heroes.
After finishing the memoir, I had to take some time to take stock of all the emotions it evoked in me and I think that is the mark of a good book. We Can Be Heroes got under my skin in the same way as It’s A Sin did when I first watched it. It’s a book of my time (Paul and I are similar ages) and I was at university in Stirling in the 80s. The backdrop of a large part of the book echoed the experiences shared by my gay friends and my own observations. The authenticity of reading lived experiences is just as important now as it should have been in the 80s. With two gay children myself, I often reflect (as Burston himself does) on their understanding of the sacrifice, loneliness, fear etc that was persistently always there – just there.
Every time I read a book written by a member of the LGBTQ+ community or a gay ally, who lived through the horror of the AIDS epidemic with all its loss, fear and stigmatisation and the subsequent rage against Clause 28, I am struck by their journey – a journey that demonstrates such resilience despite the hurdles placed in their way.
Can Be Heroes is a journey of self-discovery, but more than that, it documents the harsh reality of an era that, I believe, many people are unaware of. The more of these lived experiences that are published by the main stream publishers the better.
However, We Can Be Heroes is more than rage against prejudicial laws and opinions. It is also filled with hope and love and friendship and progression and emotion. It pays homage to those who provided comfort, those who died, those who survived and it documents the progress forty years has seen. Burston’s story is an important one because it shows reality rather than some sanitised version of the truth. He is sometimes harsh towards himself and the choices he made and often references the benefits of hindsight when he identifies key moments that sent him spiralling out of control. Ultimately, though there is an acceptance that the path he travelled is what it is and that he’d still moving forward and being a hero in the best way he can.
May 12, 2023
I have to be honest here. Prior to reading this book I had never heard of Paul Burston. Speaks more to my upbringing than anything else and not really being in the same world... In fact my only experience (I think that's the word) into that "side of life" was via the wonderful musician that is Tom Robinson and his song Glad to be Gay. But the book was recommended to me by the owner of a FB Book group I am in and, as my life has changed, and my experiences are much more open these days, I took a punt. And I am so very glad I did.
Wow, what a life this guy has had thus far! Ups and downs. All laid bare and truth exposed in this book. And also what an eclectic and impressive bunch of shoulders he has touched along the way. And I don't mean in a name dropping way. There is no one-upmanship to be found herein. Just included as a means to an end - to illustrate, explain.
We go through his life, the downs are harrowing and often hard to read. But then he details some juicy shenanigans - including dating stories, drug/alcohol fuelled antics, or political, some of which had me roaring with laughter. There were also things that were funny at the time but looking back... you get the picture. It includes a lot of things he has had to overcome. Equal rights being front and centre. The world is a better place inclusion wise now, not perfect, but a heck of a lot better than it was. And that is down to people like him. At least nowadays there isn't the feeling of being alone that the author experienced and there are better tools available to cope with things rather than turning to alcohol/drugs to either fit on or suppress feelings. But no judgement, it is what it was at the time... Life experience and all that...
It's also incredibly well written - obviously given his profession - and even though there are some rather awful things included, I never felt unsafe, it never got too dark. Which it easily could have given the inclusion of AIDS and the devastation that caused to the Gay community.
All in all a book that I feel privileged to have read and one that I will definitely be recommending. Thank you to the author for opening my eyes...
Wow, what a life this guy has had thus far! Ups and downs. All laid bare and truth exposed in this book. And also what an eclectic and impressive bunch of shoulders he has touched along the way. And I don't mean in a name dropping way. There is no one-upmanship to be found herein. Just included as a means to an end - to illustrate, explain.
We go through his life, the downs are harrowing and often hard to read. But then he details some juicy shenanigans - including dating stories, drug/alcohol fuelled antics, or political, some of which had me roaring with laughter. There were also things that were funny at the time but looking back... you get the picture. It includes a lot of things he has had to overcome. Equal rights being front and centre. The world is a better place inclusion wise now, not perfect, but a heck of a lot better than it was. And that is down to people like him. At least nowadays there isn't the feeling of being alone that the author experienced and there are better tools available to cope with things rather than turning to alcohol/drugs to either fit on or suppress feelings. But no judgement, it is what it was at the time... Life experience and all that...
It's also incredibly well written - obviously given his profession - and even though there are some rather awful things included, I never felt unsafe, it never got too dark. Which it easily could have given the inclusion of AIDS and the devastation that caused to the Gay community.
All in all a book that I feel privileged to have read and one that I will definitely be recommending. Thank you to the author for opening my eyes...
November 17, 2025
I couldn’t finish this book, which is such a shame.
I went into We Can Be Heroes with high expectations, especially given the subject matter and the strong early reviews. For the first 150–200 pages, I genuinely thought I’d found a memoir that would stand out among the many books written about the HIV/AIDS epidemic.
Those early chapters had energy and emotional weight, and they hinted at a story that would offer both personal insight and historical context.
Unfortunately, after that point, the narrative began to feel increasingly repetitive. Instead of deepening the themes or building toward something new, it seemed to circle the same territory without offering much more than what had already been said.
I’ve read a number of memoirs and histories about the HIV/AIDS crisis, and compared to those, this one just didn’t bring the depth or perspective I was hoping for.
The blurb suggested a broader, more reflective exploration of the era, but the book didn’t quite deliver on that promise. It often felt more like a sequence of name-drops and anecdotes than a fully developed account of the time or its significance.
While personal stories are at the heart of any memoir, I was expecting more engagement with the wider historical landscape—and more insight into the community, activism, and cultural shifts that defined that period.
In the end, I stopped reading because it felt like the book simply wasn’t going anywhere new.
I really wanted to enjoy this, and I think there’s an important story here, but for me, the execution fell flat.
I went into We Can Be Heroes with high expectations, especially given the subject matter and the strong early reviews. For the first 150–200 pages, I genuinely thought I’d found a memoir that would stand out among the many books written about the HIV/AIDS epidemic.
Those early chapters had energy and emotional weight, and they hinted at a story that would offer both personal insight and historical context.
Unfortunately, after that point, the narrative began to feel increasingly repetitive. Instead of deepening the themes or building toward something new, it seemed to circle the same territory without offering much more than what had already been said.
I’ve read a number of memoirs and histories about the HIV/AIDS crisis, and compared to those, this one just didn’t bring the depth or perspective I was hoping for.
The blurb suggested a broader, more reflective exploration of the era, but the book didn’t quite deliver on that promise. It often felt more like a sequence of name-drops and anecdotes than a fully developed account of the time or its significance.
While personal stories are at the heart of any memoir, I was expecting more engagement with the wider historical landscape—and more insight into the community, activism, and cultural shifts that defined that period.
In the end, I stopped reading because it felt like the book simply wasn’t going anywhere new.
I really wanted to enjoy this, and I think there’s an important story here, but for me, the execution fell flat.
June 15, 2023
Paul Burston has written a gutsy, gritty memoir overflowing with drama and heartbreak. Managing to survive a traumatic childhood, he moved from his small Welsh town to London, finally as an out gay man. We Can Be Heroes is a fascinating insight into what it was like to be gay in the 1980s in Britain, and the gay scene in London. For me it was also a trip down a musical memory lane. While I hardly recognised any of the celebrities, shows or magazines, he mentions, I do know and love the music.
The book, of course, is also about the Aids plague, and its devastating effects. Not only did it cause illness and death, but led to homophobia becoming rife in Britain. It became a very unsafe place for visibly gay men, like Burston.
The author threw himself into gay activism, only turning away when he’d lost one too many fellow AIDS activists to the disease. Not dealing with his own trauma, he turns increasingly to alcohol and drugs to escape. Despite this, he has a successful career trajectory, moving from freelance journalism to authoring novels to setting up a literary salon to provide a platform for LGBTQ+ authors, poets and performers. “Here we could be the stars of our own stories. We could be heroes.”
I had never heard of Burston before. He comes across as hugely courageous and unafraid to stand up for his convictions. He’s also totally out there, and has the confidence to be himself. And yet he writes with humility, and is happy to detail his failings, his demons, his shame, and his survival.
I won’t forget this read in a hurry!
The book, of course, is also about the Aids plague, and its devastating effects. Not only did it cause illness and death, but led to homophobia becoming rife in Britain. It became a very unsafe place for visibly gay men, like Burston.
The author threw himself into gay activism, only turning away when he’d lost one too many fellow AIDS activists to the disease. Not dealing with his own trauma, he turns increasingly to alcohol and drugs to escape. Despite this, he has a successful career trajectory, moving from freelance journalism to authoring novels to setting up a literary salon to provide a platform for LGBTQ+ authors, poets and performers. “Here we could be the stars of our own stories. We could be heroes.”
I had never heard of Burston before. He comes across as hugely courageous and unafraid to stand up for his convictions. He’s also totally out there, and has the confidence to be himself. And yet he writes with humility, and is happy to detail his failings, his demons, his shame, and his survival.
I won’t forget this read in a hurry!
May 22, 2023
What a fantastic memoir and a wonderful trip back to a time in the U.K. where gay life was exciting and subversive. As Burston suggests in his memoir, just being gay was seen as something disruptive under Thatcher's reign of terror. I was fascinated by how Burston manoeuvred through this world with absolute conviction, and how he will not be told how he should behave as a gay man and a writer. He refused to be defeated by Thatcher's homophobic policies--Burston also calls out Tony Blair for being indifferent to the repeal of Section 28.
In the book, Burston reinforces the notion that gay journalists have a responsibility to use their writing as activism. They should use their position (as well as their angry at injustices) to speak out against the government as well as the homophobic media that liked/likes to minimise and attack gay men.
I didn't want this memoir to end, and it made me want to read his articles as well as his other books.
In the book, Burston reinforces the notion that gay journalists have a responsibility to use their writing as activism. They should use their position (as well as their angry at injustices) to speak out against the government as well as the homophobic media that liked/likes to minimise and attack gay men.
I didn't want this memoir to end, and it made me want to read his articles as well as his other books.
April 11, 2024
A brilliant read - Paul’s story is impactful and truly drives home what it was like to grow up in the UK as a gay man in the 80s, 90s and 00s. He details the AIDS epidemic, homophobia and the brutal murders and attacks that took place, and struggles with substance misuse, addiction and body image. There are many references to gay disco culture throughout, which lightens the read, and to David Bowie who was (and is) a guiding light for Paul.
Growing up in 2000s, this taught me a lot about recent LGBT history in the UK and the struggles that were faced on a daily basis - that in my opinion, we as a community don’t speak about enough or encourage others to learn about, when ultimately we wouldn’t be where we are today without these events taking place.
It also struck me that actually, we as gay men all have common struggles to some extent. Navigating gay culture and finding love, and how this ultimately (can and does) affect many
June 27, 2024
Heroic
At nineteen, Paul left small-town Wales for the bright lights of London. After studying English and Drama, he became a journalist and joined ACT UP, an international political group founded in 1987 to bring attention to the AIDS crisis. Despite rampant homophobia and open hostility, Paul fought tirelessly for the rights of gay people.
Paul’s hedonistic lifestyle is familiar to many gay men of our generation, as books like “The Velvet Rage” and “Straight Jacket” have articulated. What makes his memoir stand out is its ability to offer counsel through the lens of personal experience. Paul’s story carried me back to a time I prefer to forget, but his brutally honest, self-effacing and humorous tone made it irresistibly readable. With musical references and evocative text that triggers nostalgia, it helps to explain why so many gay men, like myself, are damaged. It’s an emotive must-read for anyone seeking to understand the complexities of growing up gay and surviving in a world that often feels hostile.
At nineteen, Paul left small-town Wales for the bright lights of London. After studying English and Drama, he became a journalist and joined ACT UP, an international political group founded in 1987 to bring attention to the AIDS crisis. Despite rampant homophobia and open hostility, Paul fought tirelessly for the rights of gay people.
Paul’s hedonistic lifestyle is familiar to many gay men of our generation, as books like “The Velvet Rage” and “Straight Jacket” have articulated. What makes his memoir stand out is its ability to offer counsel through the lens of personal experience. Paul’s story carried me back to a time I prefer to forget, but his brutally honest, self-effacing and humorous tone made it irresistibly readable. With musical references and evocative text that triggers nostalgia, it helps to explain why so many gay men, like myself, are damaged. It’s an emotive must-read for anyone seeking to understand the complexities of growing up gay and surviving in a world that often feels hostile.
July 24, 2023
I simply couldn't put this book down, and read it from start to finish in less than 24 hours.
There are many similarities between Paul's life story and my own, we're both gay men originally from less "diverse" parts of the UK, and we're both of a similar age and grew up in the 80s and 90s facing very similar challenges, which I guess is why it struck so many chords with me. But this is a "must read" for anybody, regardless of their background, sexuality, or which decades they grew up in. Many people can learn a lot from this memoir, about themselves as well as others.
Eloquently written, and frequently hilarious to read, it's a brutally honest recount of love, loss, addiction, and recovery. Most of all (for me at least) it was about righting wrongs and challenging inequalities.
I loved every chapter, and will be seeking out more of Paul's work to read.
There are many similarities between Paul's life story and my own, we're both gay men originally from less "diverse" parts of the UK, and we're both of a similar age and grew up in the 80s and 90s facing very similar challenges, which I guess is why it struck so many chords with me. But this is a "must read" for anybody, regardless of their background, sexuality, or which decades they grew up in. Many people can learn a lot from this memoir, about themselves as well as others.
Eloquently written, and frequently hilarious to read, it's a brutally honest recount of love, loss, addiction, and recovery. Most of all (for me at least) it was about righting wrongs and challenging inequalities.
I loved every chapter, and will be seeking out more of Paul's work to read.
September 17, 2023
Feels slightly strange rating someone’s life but what a life and yet what a normal path to be documented.
We Can be Heroes is a raw, honest account of Paul Burston’s life from growing up in Wales, moving to the bright lights of London and making his mark whilst fighting battles both personal and on the world’s stage.
Yes he’s gay, yes he embraces his sexuality unapologetically as he should and yes growing up through the AIDS crisis gives this biography a foundation but we also follow his career as a journalist and author which is equally fascinating. We follow the culture and trends of the eighties and nineties and the undeniable brilliance of David Bowie… the way Burston intertwines all these events within his life is a testament to his talent.
At times heartbreaking, at times joyous.. a true life lived thank you for sharing.
We Can be Heroes is a raw, honest account of Paul Burston’s life from growing up in Wales, moving to the bright lights of London and making his mark whilst fighting battles both personal and on the world’s stage.
Yes he’s gay, yes he embraces his sexuality unapologetically as he should and yes growing up through the AIDS crisis gives this biography a foundation but we also follow his career as a journalist and author which is equally fascinating. We follow the culture and trends of the eighties and nineties and the undeniable brilliance of David Bowie… the way Burston intertwines all these events within his life is a testament to his talent.
At times heartbreaking, at times joyous.. a true life lived thank you for sharing.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 65 reviews