So Brian Warner turned out to be not so completely unlikable after all. This might have been due to his making an occasional reference to the fact that he is something of a reader himself, can't hate on someone who reads. I always have sort of liked him, by the way, I am an MM fan.
It really only took me two days to read--usually I devour biographies really fast, faster if they're raging potboilers, like this one was. I think what I was going through my mind with my last journal post was this kind of weird boredom that overtakes me when I read too much stuff like, "I bleeped this girl, then I took massive quantities of this drug..." which there is definitely a lot of in here.
There is also a thick ribbon of misogyny running through the book, but that is hardly unexpected, given the subject. You do get the idea that he had something of a sad childhood, where there was really nothing to be happy about, perhaps the exception of his friendship with his cousin, but you really get the feeling that some of us have out there of being really unhappy with modern suburban life.
There is also a sense that he really tried to make something out of that unhappiness, to really lead a more creative and redeeming life than the average rock and roll loser. He seems to have achieved that. Let's hope he doesn't turn out too much like Elvis.