Chinaberry Sidewalks

by Rodney Crowell

From the acclaimed musician comes a tender, surprising, and often uproarious memoir about his dirt-poor southeast Texas boyhood.

The only child of a hard-drinking father and a Holy Roller mother, Rodney Crowell was no stranger to bombast from an early age, whether knock-down-drag-outs at a local dive bar or fire-and-brimstone sermons at Pentecostal tent revivals. He was an expert at reading his father’s mercurial moods and gauging exactly when his mother was likely to erupt, and even before he learned to ride a bike, he was often forced to take matters into his own hands. He broke up his parents’ raucous New Year’s Eve party with gunfire and ended their slugfest at the local drive-in (actual restaurants weren’t on the Crowells’ menu) by smashing a glass pop bottle over his own head.

Despite the violent undercurrents always threatening to burst to the surface, he fiercely loved his epilepsy-racked mother, who scorned boring preachers and improvised wildly when the bills went unpaid. And he idolized his blustering father, a honky-tonk man who took his boy to see Hank Williams, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, and Johnny Cash perform live, and bought him a drum set so he could join his band at age eleven.

Shot through with raggedy friends and their neighborhood capers, hilariously awkward adolescent angst, and an indelible depiction of the bloodlines Crowell came from, Chinaberry Sidewalks also vividly re-creates Houston in the a rough frontier town where icehouses sold beer by the gallon on paydays; teeming with musical venues from standard roadhouses to the Magnolia Gardens, where name-brand stars brought glamour to a place starved for it; filling up with cheap subdivisions where blue-collar day laborers could finally afford a house of their own; a place where apocalyptic hurricanes and pest infestations were nearly routine.

But at its heart this is Crowell’s tribute to his parents and an exploration of their troubled yet ultimately redeeming romance. Wry, clear-eyed, and generous, it is, like the very best memoirs, firmly rooted in time and place and station, never dismissive, and truly fulfilling.

Genres: Music, Memoir, Nonfiction, Biography, Biography Memoir, Autobiography, Coming Of Age

272 pages, Hardcover

First published December 23, 2010

About the author

Rodney Crowell is an American musician, known primarily for his work as a singer and songwriter in country music. Crowell has had five number one singles on Hot Country Songs, all from his 1988 album Diamonds & Dirt. From that album he one a Grammy Award for Best Country Song for the song "After All This Time".

He was married to Rosanne Cash (daughter of Johnny Cash), from 1979 to 1992 with Crowell producing most of her albums during that period. Crowell and Cash have three daughters.

Reviews

[Ed · Rating 4 out of 5]

Memoirs are not my usual cup of tea. I might read a sports figure every now and then. This one came recommended to me, so I gave it a shot. The results were good for me. Rodney Crowell, a talented Nashville musician and songwriter who was married for many years to Rosanne Cash, has a compelling life story to tell of his growing up in hardscrabble Texas during the 1950s and 1960s. His folks were salt-of- the-earth types with their flaws and virtues. There's lots of flinty wisdom, wry humor, and tough fatalism on these pages. The prose is muscular and vivid. Mr. Crowell's start in music came from his playing and singing in bar bands, many of their cover songs familiar to me. Entertaining read.

[Michael Jandrok · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mental note to self as I begin this review: don't get too bogged down in exposition. Chances are pretty high that if you don't know who Rodney Crowell is, you're most likely not reading this book or review. For the mildly curious who might want some level of background before making a purchase decision, I'll offer that Crowell is a songwriter and performer of top-notch caliber. He began his career in the early seventies, and found a good deal of success on the pop and country charts before settling into a late-model career shift that has found him peddling his considerable storytelling wares in the Americana and alt-country regions of the modern Pop-Mart. He's a truly gifted guy, and he often writes from an autobiographical perspective, which makes this book offering from him resonate like a long-form version of one of his more recent albums, wistful and heartfelt, filled with the life-lessons that can only be seen when one takes the long road of memory back to make sense of it all.

If you're looking for the full-on autobiographical treatment here, you're looking in the wrong place. Crowell doesn't touch upon his professional life until the end of the book, and then only briefly in the context of the stories being recounted. He instead focuses on the memories of his childhood in East Houston, out near the Ship Channel and its toxic stew of industrial sludge that seemed to permeate every aspect of life in the region. I'll admit that I have always had a fascination with Crowell the performer simply because he hails from a region of Houston that I am personally familiar with, myself having lived at the intersection of Telephone Road and South Wayside for a number of years when I was younger. His vivid tales of childhood in 1950s and 1960s-era southeast Houston ring true to these ears for the simple reason that I personally know other people who can speak to similar stories.

The real core of the book revolves around the complex relationship between Crowell and his parents, J.W. and Cauzette. Both were prone to hard drink and hard violence, and it's obvious from the outset that we're in for a tough ride as we wind down a memory lane filled with alcohol-fueled outbursts of beatings and baitings, guns, and the ever-present lack of money. Through it all, it's obvious that Crowell loves his parents with a fierce devotion, and the payoff comes in the final chapters, reading like an extended love letter to his mother and father. To his credit, Crowell avoids the syrupy sweetness that often accompanies such reminiscences and goes straight to the heart of the matter.

Like Rodney Crowell the songwriter, Rodney Crowell the author brings to life a snippet of time for us to examine in detail. His prose is deft and to the point, his command of language fluid and descriptive. It's a short book at just over 250 pages, but well worth the read.

Coda: This is an old review that I plucked out of the mists of time to revamp a bit after I pulled “Chinaberry Sidewalks” off of the shelf to leaf through it a bit. A bit of autobiographical exposition is needed. When we moved from Houston to central Texas back in 1996 it was a sea change for my whole family. It was a bit of culture shock even though Houston and Austin are only separated by 160 miles or so. As far as my musical tastes go, I was lucky enough to find that Austin radio was WAY better than Houston radio. At that time, the old KGSR was still in business, playing a variety of sounds with an emphasis on what would come to be called Americana music as well as a focus on local talent. I…..we as a family….found ourselves getting interested in a whole new musical palette that stands firm in our collection.

In 2003, Rodney Crowell released an album called “Fate’s Right Hand.” It was one of his first forays away from mainstream country and into the Americana world, and it contained a single called “Earthbound.” My daughter, who was 7 going on 8 years old, latched onto that song and it became her anthem, a record she often listens to to this day. It’s a sweet song about the turning of life’s wheel and the simple joy of being alive and having one’s feet firmly planted on the solid ground. Good lessons for us all. Carry on, Rodney, and thanks for the music.

[Caitlin · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have long admired Rodney Crowell. A country traditionalist (country shouldn't sound like pop music), he was heavily influenced by Townes Van Zandt (much like Steve Earle was). His sound has roots in Hank Williams, Johnny Cash (whose daughter he was married to for awhile), Jerry Lee Lewis, and Carl Perkins - all people I grew up listening to along with a lot of blues, rock and roll, and jazz. My family has always had eclectic musical tastes.

Crowell's memoir, Chinaberry Sidewalks reads as if you're sitting out on the porch with him on a Texas summer night, swatting mosquitoes and drinking beer. Crowell is a great storyteller and I found the tale of his parents and their stormy relationship, and his childhood growing up hardscrabble in Houston both familiar and fascinating. I'm ten years younger than he is, but well I remember the mosquito trucks, the encephalitis scares, the holy roller preachers, and running around the neighborhood getting into trouble. This book is worth a read for that alone.

There is a deeper message throughout this book (which is never preachy). That forgiveness is possible and that even the most complicated relationships can be redeemed. I learned some things from Mr. Crowell that I won't soon forget.

[Carol Johnson · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of my favorite memoirs. Rodney Crowell writes about himself and his parents as they are--as we all are: flawed human beings. There were places I laughed out loud, and places I cringed. His childhood in the Houston area was grim, but not without love and warmth, and reading about it gave me a whole new appreciation for the music of a man I only knew as "Johnny Cash's son-in-law."

Crowell knows something that some of us will never learn: holding a grudge against people who have done the best they can with what they had to work with doesn't hurt anybody but you.

[Mary Lou · Rating 3 out of 5]

Chinaberry Sidewalks is Rodney Crowell’s tribute to his parents, who despite their violence and abuse during his childhood elicited his love and appreciation. While the book is fairly well-written with frequent cultural allusions and lyrical wording, Crowell does overwrite, i.e. "facing an eternity of roasting like a marshmallow in the bonfires of hell," congregation members "stew in the juices of our own demise" and hope the preacher will "hurl a Hail Mary" that "saves our bacon."
Initially, as he describes J.W. and Cauzette Crowell, his matter-of-factness seems unrealistic, but he’s clearly making a choice that accepts how his family contributed to the man he became. In an interview about the book, he says, “I decided early on that I could tell the truth and really reveal in the first seven pages that my father was capable of being an out-and-out bastard.” “But I knew if I were just to tell you, the reader, that, it would be self-serving on my part and designed to make you feel sorry for me” (http://www.myssnews.com/mysslife/revi...).
He also says, “I don't think my childhood was (bad)," he said. "I think it was perfect." http://www.oregonlive.com/books/index...
J.W. Crowell and Addie Cauzette Willoughby met in 1941 at a Roy Acuff concert in Western Kentucky. He came from "white trash," Cauzette explained. His grandfather had sex with "daughters, sisters, granddaughters, neighbors' wives, and the odd farm animal." “The lack of a formal education and a degree was a source of constant shame that my father was never able to overcome,” Crowell writes, even though his father eventually earned the rank of superintendent at the Mid-Gulf Construction Company in Houston and “his level of expertise in the construction business made him equal to any civil engineer coming out of Texas A&M or Rice.”
Cauzette suffered a stroke while still in the womb, so “from before birth, a pattern was set by which polio, acute dyslexia, epilepsy, the sudden death of an infant son, and a subsequent case of whacked-out nerves would join the lengthy list of maladies assaulting the young Cauzette well before her 20th birthday ... my mother rarely drew a heathy breath.”
Revival meetings and Holy Roller preachers help her stay sane despite J.W.’ s beatings, and when she finally stands up to him, Rodney is elated.

The title comes from the three young Chinaberry trees he and his mother plant along the sidewalk edge in front of their four-bedroom bungalow on Norvic Street in Jacinto City, TX. They name the trees for them selves and only his thrives.

Crowell cares for both of his parents in their final days and equates his feelings for his four daughters with his love for his grandmother and Guy Clark. Of his book, he says, "If I was looking for your sympathy vote, my book was going to fail," Crowell said. "I didn't want you to feel sorry for me. I wanted you to love them."

http://articles.latimes.com/2011/jan/...
“Rodney Crowell has conducted a respectable if unspectacular career as a progressive country jack-of-all-trades, writing, performing and producing commercial hits and critically respected works for himself and such collaborators as Emmylou Harris and Rosanne Cash.
That "Chinaberry Sidewalks" all but ignores his professional career might be a letdown for its most natural audience — Crowell fans looking for insights into his craft, accounts of life on the road and in the studio, his take on his 13-year marriage to Cash.
Music still figures prominently. His parents met at a Roy Acuff concert, and when Rodney was a toddler, his father, J.W., took him to a Hank Williams show — the doomed star's penultimate performance. There was an outing to see Jerry Lee Lewis and his future father-in-law Johnny Cash, and Rodney later played the drums in his father's bar band.”

[Josh · Rating 4 out of 5]

"When we arrived unscathed, my father's overly careful about lining up the tires on the concrete driveway strips, barely visible under a half foot of water, and this seems peculiar given what our expedition's been like so far. With a hurricane blowing full-tilt all around us, sliding to a sideways halt would seem a more fitting conclusion to this wild ride. But then I'm not the one driving.
My mother gets out of the car, wades into the house, picks up a broom, and starts sweeping floodwater out the back door. Then she pops the refrigerator door open with a screwdriver-my father's solution to its broken handle—and grabs a can of lukewarm Jax, drains half of it in one glug, wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, burps loudly and, pointing the can at my father, says, “J. W. Crowell, next time you lay a hand on me, you better make sure you kill me, 'cause if you don't I'll kill you. I don't care if I have to wait till you fall asleep to do it. How quickly my mother switches from Pentecostal purist to beer-guzzling shrew is one of life's deepest mysteries."

---

"My mother was born in June, the seventh of Solomon Taylor and Katie Lee Willoughby's eight children. Addie Cauzette arrived with the right side of her body partially paralyzed, the result-according to an old country doctor who didn't examine her until she was three of a stroke suffered in her mother's womb. So from before birth, a pattern was set by which polio, acute dyslexia, epilepsy, the sudden death of an infant son, and a subsequent case of whacked-out nerves would join the lengthy list of maladies assaulting young Cauzette well before her twentieth birth day. In the seventy-four years and nearly four months marking her time on what she called "this crooked old Earth," my mother rarely drew a healthy breath. Still, to say that life wasn't fair for this awkwardly glib yet deeply religious woman would fail to take into account her towering instinct for survival. Thanks to this primal urge to thrive, she would leave this world at peace with the knowledge that physical existence was something for which she was born ill equipped. And I honor my mother by saying that it wasn't for lack of effort that an accommodation between her sensitive soul and the poorly fitting body she wore was so very hard to come by."

---

"The previous fall and winter, my mother had experienced two failed pregnancies.
"I couldn't seem to carry a baby no more than fifteen minutes," she told me. "And your daddy swore up and down I was losin' 'em on purpose." But she did finally manage to complete a full-term pregnancy, and Tex Edward was born on January 27, 1944. He died thirty-seven hours later.
Staring into some vacant yet familiar dreamscape, where the sharp pain of thirteen miscarriages is softened by visions of a heavenly playground for lost children, my mother, sifting through fractured images that documented her baby's all too brief passage through this world, introduced me to my brother time and again. "Oh, he was beautiful, Rodney. He had a full head of curly black hair and the bluest eyes you ever seen. While I only got to hold him for a minute or two, I can still feel him to this day. They had me knocked out most of the time, but I could hear him cryin' off in the next room. They said I almost died, too, and for a long time I wished I had. They never brought him back and nobody told me nothin'"

---

Admiring our work, I remarked innocently to my mother, when she walked up to have a look, that I thought my row was prettier than Dabbo's.
"Is not," he said. Simultaneously, the hoe in his hand came down on the top of my head, splitting my scalp open.
All the sounds of a normal spring afternoon-chirpy chatter and the lazy traffic-silenced themselves, and Norvic Street suddenly seemed like a scene from that science-fiction movie The Day the Earth Stood Still.
My mother's eyes commanded me to remain upright and conscious until she got to me. I cast a glance in Dabbo's direction-an inquiry of sorts, to confirm if he'd actually just smashed me over the head with the sharp end of a garden hoe. And if so, why?
But his eyes were two television test patterns advertising the end of another broadcasting day; "The Star-Spangled Banner" had been played and the sign-off prayer delivered. No clues were forthcoming from my unpredictable little friend.
When my brain completed cross-referencing my reaction with Dabbo's and my mother's, it finally registered that the warm red sticky stuff on my left hand was my very own blood, and my scream could be heard in Beaumont. "He killed me with a brain concus sion! He killed me with a brain concussion! Dabbo killed me with a brain concussion!"

---

"Donnie Schott, whom we affectionately nicknamed "Shotzie" or, depending on the situation, "Shotz-Mo-Dilly-Ack," suffered from a violent strain of cerebral palsy. In the parlance of the times, he was a total spastic, Flailing arms, spidery legs, misshapen speech-Shotzie didn't so much talk as bray loudly—and the grandfather of all protruding chests drew attention away from his soulful blue eyes. Together with these afflictions, his close resemblance to a blond Elvis Presley, circa 1954, seemed a cruel joke. Life wasn't remotely fair for this sensitive soul.
His parents, whom I saw but once, and then from a distance, constructed small living quarters in the back of their garage, where their son, it seemed to his gridiron-crazed cohorts, lived in exile. Cot, sink, commode, desk, chair, and transistor radio gave it the feel of a jail cell. But for his inclusion in our continuing run of fun and games, it seemed that Donnie Schott lived a life void of human interaction."

---

"My parents were drained of their color for months. My mother lost twenty pounds she didn't have to spare, and my father went through cartons of Pall Malls like gumdrops. I could practically hear eggshells crunching whenever they walked into a room with me in it. The funny thing is, I felt calm inside, even oddly restored. Overdosing on barbiturates caused a shift in my perception. The pain of losing Annie was no less prevalent, but I knew it would pass. And, that it probably wouldn't be anytime soon, no longer seemed impossible to bear."

[Rick · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent memoir by Grammy Award winning singer/songwriter Rodney Crowell. The focus of this book is not really him; it's his parents and his growing up with them in Houston in the late 50's and early 60's. In many ways it was what we might call a "dysfunctional family" today. There was wife-beating, drinking, and other kinds of things that should have made for a pretty miserable childhood for Rodney. He doesn't see it that way though. While very candid about his parents' shortcomings (ad his own!), as a man his love and respect for both his mother and father shine through in his writing.

...and his writing......this is not the incoherent ramblings of some celebrity bemoaning his childhood. This is written as literature---filled with metaphor and written in a style that is actually beautiful to read. If Rodney ever gets tired of writing hit songs, he can always write prose.

I can;t say enough about how wonderfully written and what a beautiful story it is of his early life and the lives of two very imperfect people who he loved until they died.

[Julia · Rating 4 out of 5]

An honest, humorous, and sometimes heartbreaking memoir of a rough childhood and adolescence. The author is a gifted storyteller, which he has put to use as a notable country song writer. I sometimes detected a tendency to overwrite, but never strongly enough to pull me away from the story.

[Toni · Rating 4 out of 5]

I saw this book when browsing the newly added ebooks to my libraries electronic book collection, and since it was available I checked it out. I never really cared for him as a singer, but his song writing was what I thought made him noteworthy. It didn't hurt that he had been married to Roseann Cash. The first half of the book is written rhythmically like his songs. Then all of the sudden it seems like someone else started writing his story. This was very disappointing to me. Every once in awhile you would see his rhythm come out in a sentence or two.

Hopefully it is okay to quote two excerpts from the book that made me take a few extra moments to absorb.

"Remembering the intensity with which my father could tear through ten straight fast songs evokes images of seeing Jerry Lee Lewis perform at the Magnolia Gardens Bandstand, the three-acre open-air dance hall and beer garden owned by the mayor of Channelview, Texas."


"Johnny Cash spoke the language of common people with uncommon eloquence."

This book is worth reading.

[Melissa Sharp · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book begins like a Hunter S. Thompson novel: "The four beer-blitzed couples dancing in the cramped living room of my parents' shotgun duplex were wearing on my nerves. In particular, I didn't like the sound of their singing along with my prized Hank Williams 78s."
Just like a Hank Williams song, we are treated to a confessional memoir filled with heartache, poverty, careless decisions, infidelity, substance abuse and pathos. In southeast Texas, Rodney survives torrential rain and violence.
He grows into a young man intent on getting out, distancing himself from his past until he finally stops running and reclaims the wisdom and power of the little boy who escaped from his family's tar-paper shack. Once Rodney stops running, he reclaims a lifetime of love and beauty hidden in the darkness.

[Lora · Rating 1 out of 5]

I wanted to like this book. I normally enjoy non fiction books and memoirs. I tried to like this book all the way through it until I finally just gave up and didn't finish it. There were parts of it that were easy to read but for the most part it was so difficult to get through his writing. It was way too lengthy in descriptions using all of one's attention sometimes to get through long run on sentences that could have been better said in a simple 10 word or less sentence. I found it was not in chronological order and I didn't know sometimes what age he was at certain parts of the book because the author was bouncing all over the place. But when he wrote in easier, more flowing style, it was more enjoyable but for the most part I got nothing out of this book.

[Nan · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've only heard of Crowell's name, and know that he's been a critically acclaimed songwriter and performer for many years. He can tell rollicking stories on the page, though he meanders in spots. Crowell grew up impoverished and was raised by hardened parents who loved him like crazy... really, really crazy at times. Some might call what he endured child abuse, but I'm not sure if he would. This autobiography is mostly a look back at his upbringing and coming of age in Texas, with glimpses of his early career.

[Mary couch · Rating 2 out of 5]

I love Rodney Crowell so this was an interesting read for me, but I was disappointed in it. I really felt this book was written as therapy for himself concerning the way his childhood was and especially the relationship between his parents, and his relationship with them. No doubt he came up rough and has done well for himself. I would have enjoyed information in the book concerning his rising to fame, and his adult life, but obviously that wasn't why this book was written. Still all in all I'm not sorry I took the time to read it.

[Julia · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a surprise this memoir was for me. Too many memoirs out there of little import from people who have barely lived or experienced anything of interest. But Crowell's book is rare in that there isn't a trace of feeling sorry for himself and his introspection is in no way self-aggrandizing or preachy. Also, in large part he deals with his adolescence and his relationshp with his parents. This is not a glossy country music tell-all. Hard to read at times because of the abuse that went on in his household; and delightful to read with its humor and honesty.

[Eric · Rating 4 out of 5]

There are quite a number of emotionally raw vignettes scattered throughout the work, and some are accompanied by off-color language; however, for the most part Crowell keeps everything very close to "in bounds" in telling his story. My initial reaction was to "just get it over with" but that would, I think, have been a mistake. I am not familiar with Crowell, generally, but having listened to this memoir I am fairly sure I would appreciate a face-to-face exchange.

[Grace · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can't really overstate how much I loved this book. Rodney Crowell pretty much wrote the perfect memoir with this one. It's sad, it's horrifying, it's hilariously funny, and I was almost unable to turn it off (I listened the audiobook, which he narrates himself). This is one I'll be buying for people/recommending to people for years. Absolutely loved it.

[Patty · Rating 3 out of 5]

Such a great storyteller! I expected more on Crowell's music history so was somewhat disappointed that was pretty much missing. On the bright side, perhaps there is another book on the way!: A good read!

[Mark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rodney Crowell's memoir, Chinaberry Sidewalks, is a fascinating, lyrically written coming-of-age tale about this legendary musician's upbringing "on the wrong side of the tracks" in Houston, Texas. Rodney, a protege of fellow Texan Guy Clark, got his start in Emmylou Harris's band. He was formerly married to Rosanne Cash, and his 1988 album, Diamonds & Rust, was the first country album to produce five number one singles. Subsequently, Crowell split from Cash and receded from the public view for much of the '90s, reinventing himself on the comeback 2001 Americana album The Houston Kid. He has since become one of the standard bearers for Americana music, and one of the most respected songwriters in the genre.

If you're familiar with Rodney's music, then you know that he has an ability to adopt a non-judgmental stance and to write from the perspective of marginalized characters. Chinaberry Sidewalks provides some insight into this as it depicts Rodney's relationship with his parents. As he reveals in the book, both his mother and father were unusually gifted people who could not realize their potential because of circumstances. They were also, he is quite honest, highly flawed individuals. His father is abusive, and both (his mother, perhaps, to a lesser extent) are alcoholics. His father, J.W., cheats on his mother, and his mother, Cauzette, an epileptic, uses guilt and psychological games.

While Crowell criticizes his parents and chronicles his reactions how often viscerally negative reactions to their behavior, he is also clear about how much he loves them. This shows how people with serious flaws, flaws that would be easy to demonize, can also have great strengths and be capable of admirable acts. In the book's most entertaining scene, Crowell's parents are called to the school and it is suggested to them that he needs professional help for his singing in class. In a hilarious scene, his father devises an alternative punishment that cures Rodney of his singing bug. After multiple paddlings by the vice-principal, I was left marveling at his creativity.

Mot memoirs by musicians tell you the story of their careers. This book captures an ordinary American childhood that lead to an extraordinary. Beautifully written, with all of Crowell's lyrical skill on display, this book will capture the interest even of those who are not fans of Crowell's music. This book also serves as a chronicle of Houston in the '50s and '60s. Maybe, if we're lucky, Rodney will write another volume of memoirs, detailing his career. But for now, we have Chinaberry Sidewalks, and it's fantastic.

[Randy Horton · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you are thinking of reading this book, you are probably already a fan of Rodney Crowell's songwriting, so you know he can tell a story, and boy can he tell a story. He brings all the colourful dialect of east Houston along with all the colourful characters you might encounter there, but he also brings a level of literary merit that takes this book far above what most musicians ever achieve. And if you've never heard a single song by Rodney Crowell, these stories are amusing and heartbreaking enough to hold your attention, unless you are just completely bored of life.

Crowell grew up in Jacinto City, where I was born, so his stories are littered with landmarks burned into the memories of my childhood, so I may have a stronger emotional connection to some of the stories than a disinterested reader, but I still don't think you'll be disappointed. There are a few places where my memory of places doesn't exactly match his, and I suspect he may have embellished a little bit. He even mentions that the reader should be willing to grant a little poetic license to an old guy talking about things that happened a long time ago, but everything falls into place in the end.

Also, the dialect of his characters is the dialect of my family, so I know the voice. If you are unfamiliar with this way of talking, I can confirm that his rendering of it is no exaggeration. So read the book, and then go listen to his albums again.

[Cat Rayne · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Chinaberry Sidewalks”, a memoir by Rodney
Crowell found me in an unstructured day full of rain. A pot of coffee and a cozy corner reading the book became my sole purpose.

Having loosely followed Crowell’s career over the years, his Diamonds and Dirt CD is still a frequent play. Knew he’d grown up near Houston,Texas but never would have believed it was the hardscrabble life described in this book.

Crowell is a clever storyteller and consummate writer. The book is centered more on his parents and while they have a volatile relationship, their love is evident. The book is an honest reflection of one who lived it.

Credit to Crowell to write of painful dysfunction, and though occasionally express hatred in the moment, the love and adoration for his parents is clear. That they loved him also shines through the pages. A homage to his grandmother had me near tears in its raw tenderness and his exploits as a wild child brought laughter, and reminded of a time when children had a lot of freedom.

“Chinaberry Sidewalks” felt like having a long conversation with Mr.Crowell on a front porch in Texas with a pitcher of sweet tea that may or may not be spiked. A near perfect day.

[Brentin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rodney Crowell could have easily written a boilerplate autobiography: a little bit of childhood and teenage stories, detailing his time as an upcoming singer-songwriter, maybe some dark and gritty tales of drug use and sobriety, ending on a hopeful note. But the Houston Kid has never been a traditional person. instead he has written a thoroughly detailed ode to his parents and his childhood, with the good, the bad, and the ugly all included.
For most of the book, his tales of his Texas childhood don't go past the age of 12, plus a chapter each dedicated to the upbringing of his mother and father. There's shenanigans, domestic disputes, and a head injury or two, all narrated with Crowell's easy Texas drawl which makes you feel like you are sitting on porch with him, drinking a sweet tea while he regales you.

[Esteban Stipnieks · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well Bless your gringo heart Rodney you do not know much about the Mexican side of the Texas revolution and peonage decades after..... as a Latino I took offense to this ignorant white wokeness.
Then again you did not sit through Texas History class in College and mexican history class in college and probably were not neighors of DF ers who moke about their medio nortenio neighor. Love his music his sense of humor his depcition of his life makes me understand his work better. Heartbreaking funny warm at times aside from showing his ignorance ...... about history.

[Donna D'Angelo Struck · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars

Very enjoyable memoir by this talented musician. My hubby introduced me to Crowell's music several years ago and we listened to this memoir during a car trip. He has had a colorful upbringing, to put it mildly, and the fact that he has overcome what seemed to me to be wholly dysfunctional parenting to actually still love and respect his parents later in life is saying something. I enjoyed getting to know him a bit more and will now listen to his music with a deeper level of understanding and appreciation.

[Don Gorman · Rating 4 out of 5]

(3 1/2) With hardly a hint of his musical celebrity, Rodney Crowell has written a really fine memoir detailing an incredible upbringing and an amazing family life. As we all know by now, every family is dysfunctional, and Crowell’s is somewhere near the top end of the list. Both his Mother and Father have a myriad of issues and young Rodney somehow manages to survive them and the ones he brings upon himself. I don’t know how you remember everything that happens to you as a little kid, but we certainly get the full dose here, and it is as wild and wooly as it get. Really fun stuff.

[Brian · Rating 2 out of 5]

I'm not necessarily a huge Rodney Crowell fan, but I have a pretty good collection of musician memoirs and found a signed copy of this at an Austin bookstore. It is mostly tales from his childhood, growing up poor with a colorful but alcoholic father and a loving but unhealthy mother. Not "problematic", but certainly from another time - the stories and characters he recalls and tells are certainly "cringy" at times, some more entertaining than others, some more believable than others, and really only the last few chapters deal with music.

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Memoir. Crowell, a singer / songwriter grew up in Houston and mostly this is a memoir of his childhood and tells the story of his parents, JW and Cauzette. Crowell is a great story-teller, a very good writer, and this book has a completely honest feel. If you enjoy Rick Bragg’s books, you’re likely to enjoy this. Especially the audio version – Crowell does a great job (which one would expect from a performer).

[Michael · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’m glad I read this. Mr. Crowell’s memoir starts with his young life and ends with his parent’s death. HIs parents and their lives are the basis of this book. He had entertaining stories that wove a story of hard living people and communities. It made me think about my own life, and the people I know and have known through my life. He writes with a generosity of spirit about the lives of others and is very self-deprecating. I did feel like that it could have used more of an edit.

[Don · Rating 5 out of 5]

At moments tender, heart breaking, and just plain hilarious. Reading this book made me remember how we used to plan touch football and balance out the teams to make it competitive and interesting. My wife would always refer to cheaply made houses as ticky tacky and I never understood her commentary until I saw some pictures of the ticky tacky housing she lived in while in elementary school. The story is a bit disjoint at times but always moving. Just read it.

[Herzog · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is primarily the story of Rodney's youth in Houston which I found interesting, having lived there myself for a long while. There are lots of funny stories about growing up in east Houston in poverty. His parents sound like rather typical rednecks. The book is well written, just like his songs. I've long been a fan of his music and admire him all the more given the obstacles he's overcome. I hope that he does another book devoted to his musical career.

[Sutter Lee · Rating 2 out of 5]

Crowell a good writer, but he over writes. I was hoping to hear more about his music, leaving home, becoming a singer/songwriter, his career. A little bit of childhood would have been ok, but realized wouldn't be any more than that.
I was horrified by his parents, his relatives. Really disgusting white trash.
I had to shelf this.