Customer Reviews

The Autobiography of Donovan: The Hurdy Gurdy Man

5 star:		(14)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(6)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

I love Donovan and his music and this book as well for the most part, but I find myself a little less enamored with all the self-aggrandizing which permeates much of the book. Interspersed with the gently flowing prose and poetry of his writing and the wonderful anecdotes are pegs of a ladder in which he continuously climbs up high and shouts out his own accolades (he was the first person to feature electric violin, he started 'world music', he influenced Warhol's banana art on the Velvet Underground album via 'Mellow Yellow', he taught Lennon his plucking style, he, he, he.). Which I suppose is the purpose of an autobiography but coming from such a 'mystical soul' I find it a bit perplexing and contradictory and disappointing(This coming from a grown man who opened a Christmas present [which is the book being reviewed] two weeks early.). That said, it doesn't take away anything from what he accomplished or the book itself, it merely shows him being human like the rest of us. It is a quick breezy read that gives much more than it takes and never bogs down in muddy or unnecessary detail.

****3/4

I've been a fan of Donovan for years, and it pains me to say that his autobiography is a massive disappointment. First, it is badly written; I respect the fact that he apparently decided against a ghostwriter, but this book shows why there is a place for ghostwriters in the literary world. The prose is awkward, the chronology is occasionally jumbled, and he comes as rather pretentious--while he did influence pop music, and also reflected the influence of others, he seems to think that he is the reason for the popularity of folk-rock, Celtic rock, psychedelic rock, and heavy metal; he inspired Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Beatles (individually and collectively), the Rolling Stones, and T. Rex, among others; and he thinks he is responsible for the founding of Led Zeppelin (as all the members but Robert Plant played on the "Hurdy Gurdy Man" sessions). He is honest about his drug use, and I respect him for not trying to excuse it away or claim it meant nothing to him, and there is something touching about his story of finally finding the love of his life, Linda, after several years of missed connections. But to make sense of his career and his influence, I will have to wait for someone a bit more objective (and someone who is a more straightforward writer) to issue the definitive book.

Lastly, the book was terribly edited and proofread. There are glaring mistakes of every kind on every page. The names of people such as Allen Klein, Phil Spector, and Steve Winwood, all of whom come up more than once, are misspelled consistently. Sentences are missing the words that would make them grammatical, or even make them make sense. At one point, he mentions the chart positions of some songs, but someone forgot to go back and dig up the chart numbers for a Bob Dylan song, resulting in blank spaces instead of numbers. Considering this came from a major publishing house (St. Martin's) and that the book was originally published in the UK two years ago, leaving plenty of time for corrections to this edition, this is nothing short of shameful. The book is a huge letdown and I cannot recommend it. Instead, go back to his original albums, most of which are available on CD, and listen to his music, most of which holds up quite well.

I would advise that you read this book for yourself and draw your own conclusions. I've been a Donovan fan for the past 37 years, and , what he says in this book is true. When you listen to his entire catalog of material and you consider when he began and how revolutionary his music was for the times, you begin to really appreciate his part in rock history. He was the first major Western rock artist to meld instruments and styles from around the world. What he brings to rock music musically is as important as what Dylan brought to it lyrically. Each album is different, and the non-hits are often of a higher quality than the hits. And, while it is true that the book is filled with his accomplishments and his associations with the icons of the 60's music scene, it's all true. And, as an earlier reviewer points out, isn't that the point of an auto-biography?

Give the book a try, and, while your at it, give his music a try. If you get Donovan, then you really get him, and there's no one else quite like him. If you don't get him, it's your loss.

Amazon.com did me a real favor with the better together offer. I had bought the Donovan Box Set "Try For the Sun" and the Autobiography "The Hurdy Gurdy Man". The combination was fantastic and worth every penny. But let's talk about the book. I have never have been much of a reader but I did find this book rather interesting. So much so I did finish it which is a lot for me. The stuff this guy did was the dreams of what kids at that time frame dreamt of, at least for me. Though this book only covers about 5 years of his life, it must have been the best five years for him. It starts with him leaving home, after a short intro of his family, walks through his journeys, his life on the road, places, events, the writing of some of the songs and what they meant lyrically, the influences from people places and events, the people, how fellow musicians reacted to him, how fans reacted to him, how producers treated him, and the problems with record companies. The hardest part for him must have been the writing of his love life. He did an eloquent job with the writing. Reading this book certainly gave me a deeper understanding of his songs. I would highly recommend this book especially if you buy the box set or if you plan on buying all of his albums. Buy the way Donovan was not a Bob Dylan wanna-be, he was an Irish, English, psychedelic, pop, blues, Jazz, folk, rock singer/song writer. Read the book you'll understand this remark. There was not a single song he did that made me think of Dylan. To me the difference between Donovan and Dylan is like night and day. Don't miss understand me I like Dylan, but in his own right.

The book lacks cohesion somewhat, often abandoning chronology and leaping confusingly back and forth in the years, but overall it's a reasonable effort, especially since Donovan apparently wrote it himself, with no recourse to ghost writers and such. (No, being able to write song lyrics does not automatically enable you to write books.) It's an easy ride, and it ambles along pleasantly, omitting all the truly important parts, as another reader has noticed; instead, it's filled with more-or-less amusing inconsequentialities, forgettable encounters and unengaging episodes, which, one must assume, held some meaning for Donovan (since he remembers them forty years later), but don't hold a reader's attention. No need to dwell on his self-aggrandizing, other reviewers have already done that enough, and besides, quite a bit of it is deserved. What puzzles me is that, in spite of the haphazard style of the book, apparently Donovan intended to give it a clear, novelistic shape and a purpose: thus, it has a beginning and it has an end - full of holes. After his breakdown in the late sixties, Donovan neatly closes the loop by being reunited with his true love and retiring from the materialistic world of showbiz to dedicate himself to his spiritual pursuits. Very nice, except that isn't quite what happened. He continued to record and perform throughout the seventies and eighties, with diminishing results. At least one extraordinary album that immediately followed his "retirement" is not even mentioned ("HMS Donovan," a sort of a follow-up to "For Little Ones"). Then there was "Essence to Essence," the last inspired album before a descent into mediocrity and loss of fame and sales. I remember seeing Donovan perform, I believe in the late seventies or very early eighties, at the Bottom Line in New York, and now, having read his memoir, I understand how he managed to go through the humiliation of being a third-rate act in a loud, barely-paying-attention, venue where people called out loudly for more beer during his softest songs: he believed what he wanted to believe.

But that is not a critique of Donovan as musician: he was, and remains a brilliant songwriter, and I wish that more people would pay attention to his comeback albums, "Sutras" and "Beat Cafe," both excellent and certainly superior to anything he wrote during the dismal eighties. Since he played just one song from these albums at his recent concert in New York, I must assume that the sales show him that the audience isn't interested: the old fans want only the old hits that remind them of their youth - too bad.

The book, however, isn't nearly as gripping as the music. You might say, "Don, keep your day job."

This really is a great, nostalgic read. The main criticism of the book seems to be that D "brags" too much. Actually, I think that's nonsense. Here's the dilemma he faced - for whatever reasons (most probably his retreat from the spotlight in 1970) he was relegated to the "British Invasion" compilations and lumped with the sort of ludicrous 1960s James Bond cum . . . well, cum Donovan milieu parodied in the Austin Powers flicks, and was not "taken seriously" by the major rock writers who tended to come online just after he left the scene - and so, much lesser lights like Clapton, Led Zeppelin, CS&N, etc., have figured much more prominently in the "official histories" of the era. Having lived through that Age of Ages as a teen folkie and proto-hippy, I can say with some pretense to authority that no one was bigger than Donovan in the second half of the 60s other than the Beatles and the Stones, and, somewhat more invisibly (as far as the Top 40 went), Bob Dylan. No one else was setting the record straight on his remarkable achievement, so he (or Linda) probably figured it was up to him to do so, or it would simply never be done. The book is somewhat less articulate than I would have expected, but this easygoing quality lets D's charming simplicity and purity shine through intact. You really have to love this guy as you read his story - lame from a botched polio vaccination, obviously way out of place in bleak, conformist working class Scotland and England in the 50s, a Flower Child before there was such a thing as a Flower Child (he's perfectly correct that he invented the type), naively trying to recreate Kerouac's road existence sleeping in piles of leaves (used leaves at that) and bumming stale bread handouts from sympathetic Cornwall bakery wives, falling hopelessly and defenselessly in love time and time again ("Jennifah Junipah"), and then finding to his amazement that he is a singer and songwriter of staggering melodic and lyric gifts, succeeding instantly on a series of TV appearances before he'd even released his first single, finding God through LSD (and his very fortunate reactions to these trips pretty clearly suggesting a soul of very high spiritual purity), and finally his shock that fame turned out to be an empty trap. What a read! He was the first folk artist to go electric, and I'm glad someone has finally pointed this out in print (even if it had to be D himself, by default). The book is a rock classic even if just for the quick character sketches of the other great artists --Paul McCartney's bossiness, John Lennon's righteous temper, George Harrison's quiet generosity, Bob Dylan's aloof egotism, the effect on poor Brian Jones of the hijacking of his Rolling Stones by Mick Jagger -- and for the valuable background on the genesis of some of his finest lyrics (electrical banana turns out to be a reference to then-new women's phallus-shaped vibrators, e.g.) It is impossible not to like this fellow, as Jimi Hendrix apparently realized. The book has sent me back to his music again and again. It's hardly D's fault that his departure left his unique brand of folk-rock-new age music without a serious successor - like Charlemagne's empire, after D's departure from the scene, this type of music was balkanized forever among acts like John Denver on the folk side, Melanie on the "rock" side, and Dan Gibson on the New Age side. No one has taken his place, and no one possibly could. The book is terrific, and should make a great film.

I'm disappointed. Donovan bursts all romantic images we have of him without leaving anything to take its place. Instead we get accounts of endless "events" and the long lists of celebrities attached to each. Historical and musical inaccuracies, not to mention editorial carelessness. We get to hear of his selfish motives as he treats women callously, including Enid, all while supposedly in search of his true love and muse. And brag brag brag.

Lucky for me I read this before Christmas, so I won't make the mistake of giving this as a gift. I'll let my Donovan fan friends keep their 60s image of him. This book taints what I still believe is wonderful music by showing Donovan as selfish and egocentric.

After the rant from the last reviewer, I just thought I'd add my 2 cents. Sure, Donovan beats his own drum here. But if his book is revisionist in certain respects, Dylan's book AND video are no less so (and they've been raved and raved over since they came out. We have Dylan, in his video, say he never dug ANY of the acts that gained fame by covering his songs in the mid 60s. Well, Bob, then why are there pictures of you on stage with the Byrds in the mid 60s, and beyond, if you didn't dig 'em?) Also, Donovan's book in some respects represents the 60s better than Dylan's, with a lot more said about the ubiquitous drugs of that age. Donovan was typecast as a one trick psyche popper not long after his first batch of singles. A virtuoso guitarist? Maybe not. But clearly he is a better and more influential talent than he's given credit for being, and that would cause anyone to beat one's own drum.

Truth be told- I read the book in one night and wasn't jumping up and down screaming I love it- not wanting the book to end. However...I must acknowledge the generosity of spirit and the wanton creativity of this one of a king minstrel- taking the romance of the Celtic poetic tradition and wrapping it together with guitar and the bohemian attitude and the adorable impishness - what a great gimmick ! This "package" was so unique, and so powerful that indeed there was not another pop artist that was not influenced by what was happening.We tend to think of the young musicians of that time as without guile but not so - but they were just the first on the path of great hysteria and riches that had heretofore not been experienced by vocal artists. The arrogance of that entire generation was overwhelming- (see the Dylan documentary Don't Look Back ) That being said - hello readers , wake up and smell the coffee. in reading between the lines I think that what happened to Donovan was the very common crash and burn syndrome of the late 60's- starting with swinging London through the summer of Love and then the riots and the carnage and poof along comes 1970 and everyone needs a nap. Don't forget that the generation in this echelon did hard core drugs much of the time - not like it was one time event- and you can see the demise right before your eyes- and how it affected lifestyle choices and sanity.I am just amazed- really awed, by the volume of work that this kid produced in such a short amount of time .He was an ORIGINAL- and this is what makes a show business legend .I thank him for writing the book and giving us some background on this artists experiences and innovations- straight from the horses mouth; as well as "insider" scoops on the "happenings"of the time- Of course we have all read about the marahishi trip- but never Donovan's point of view...As well, the innovations that are casually put into place - things that would never happen today because of the rules and regs and uptightness- for instance- Donovan is putting on a show at royal Albert hall and decides to play with lighting and put a sitar on stage , this is 1967- decisions that were made off the cuff in a weekend- in today's world of corporate sponsored music that decision and execution would probably require several dozen committees. My hope is that this book will be enjoyed by not only the Donovan fans but also the kids born on the sixties, seventies and eighties that havent had the pleasure of experiencing Flower power firsthand.

Chapter titles like candy :Rebel,Vagabond,Windcatcher,,Songmaker,Love,love,Love,Fairytale,SunshineSupergirl,magician,Busted,Electric banana, Jenifer Juniper,Yogi, Atlantis, Voyage, Freaky,Madness, Return.

Thank you, Donovan, for writing this book. Thank you for your honesty. I was impressed by your writing skills. It flowed, and easily held my interest. I can imagine that there are plenty of songwriters who couldn't make the transition to a book. I enjoyed learning about your post WWII scrabbling around the bombed-out sections of Glasgow. I never knew you were a victim of polio. Now I know so much more about what was going on in the 60s. The stardom pressure that undid Brian Jones. The drugs, and then the transition to a natural high through meditation. Now I know the person who was behind the lyric of "I made my mind up you're going to be mine...when you've made your mind up forever to be mine"

Sure, you believed in yourself to an extent bordering on obnoxiousness, but as you said, an artist has to, or no one else will. I was a bit upset with you fathering not one but two children with another, while your true love was never entirely out of mind. But, have to give you credit for your public honesty.

Donovan created his own style, bringing in jazz, celtic and classical elements to the folk/rock idiom. He was a creative force among singer/songwriters of his day. He was a voice of peace in times of war, needed now more than ever. I learned what was behind the voice coming through the LPs I played in my teenage bedroom, and was enriched by the book.