Palatinate Books: The Autobiographical Takeover

Originally published in a shorter form in Palatinate Books, December 2009

Ladies and gentlemen, the run-up to Christmas has officially begun. The shops have had the cards for weeks already, but you know that things are getting really serious when everyone who has ever appeared on TV suddenly has a fascinating, humorous and inspirational story to tell, at the cost of about £20 and several irretrievable hours of your life.

The past few years have seen a flood of celebrity autobiographies, and it seems that no-one is immune to the charms of a generous publishing deal, from Dawn French to Michael Parkinson via Paul O’Grady and Alan Carr. Even Andy Murray, a tennis player no older than most undergraduates last year, managed to sign a three-book contract for the various stages of his career despite having never won a major tournament, while footballers like Jamie Carragher apparently have ‘sensational stories’ that I need to read, whether I’ve actually heard of them or not. Talk about a saturated market.


Of course, if you’re not interested in the life story, you could just invest in the general ranting of your chosen celebrity- Jeremy Clarkson is on his fifth book of pet hates already with Driven to Distraction. Alternatively, there’s always Al Murray’s Pub Landlord’s Book of British Common Sense, or you could enjoy Charlie Brooker’s desert-dry wit in The Hell of It All, in which he proves that it is actually possible to hate everything in the modern world all at once. Whichever way you look, there’s a celebrity staring out from the cover of their latest tome.

The marketing behind these stocking-fillers is shamelessly simple- a book written by someone of whom a loved one is a fan is guaranteed to go down well on Christmas morning. My dad will be receiving Frankie Boyle’s gloriously titled My Shit Life So Far for this very reason. But this type of book is also popular all year round, because their appeal to the reader goes slightly deeper.


The function of celebrities as role models means that their stories- often full of the well rehearsed “bad boy/girl made good” motif- can be a source of inspiration and encouragement. Jo Brand’s new book, Look Back In Hunger, features her transformation from rebellious, runaway teenager to successful comedienne, via numerous failed relationships and ten years as a mental health nurse. Sharon Osbourne’s Extreme, is exactly that- her fluctuating weight, tempestuous family life and fight against cancer all described in vivid detail.


As well as this, the most popular books in the genre have a strong element of humour. The huge number of comedians writing recently (Boyle, Brand, Peter Kay) proves the appeal of amusing anecdotes and sharp one-liners in personal narratives, but there’s also Dara O’Briain writing about touring Britain in Tickling The English and Michael Palin’s diaries from the 1980s. Everyone likes a laugh at the best of times, but in our current climate of economic gloom, miserable weather and endless Katie Price documentaries, who doesn’t need cheering up?


This is really the genre’s chief defence. Yes, celebrity writing is very formulaic, and yes, it is a bandwagon to jump on at the first suggestion of money, but it also leaves a smile on your face. Sometimes I’d rather read about Ozzy Osbourne’s debauchery than force myself through another nineteenth-century paving slab in which a young woman almost doesn’t, but inevitably does, marry her perfect man.

One day, the tide of popular culture may move away from these books. I hope it’s in favour of such modern classics as Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. However, until Pride and Prejudice and Zombies gets the recognition it surely deserves: it is a truth universally acknowledged that a celebrity in possession of minor success must be in want of a ghost writer.