Biographies And Diaries: 

At the suggestion of an ex-girlfriend, I have kept a diary for the last thirteen years.  This is a habit I have kept four times longer than the actual relationship, which says more about my habits, than my choice in partner.  I do it for mental clarity, even though I wonder what my stepson will actually do with them when I am not here.  

This must explain why I am fascinated by autobiographies, biographies and diaries.  This, for an avid reader like myself is the equivalent of a nourishing meal.  You can learn a lot about your favourite celebrity, the best will leave the odd unanswered question. Either well, there is skill and craft involved as much as a good read.

So firstly, a word about celebrity autobiographies: don't read them.  They are the instant noodles of the book world, but at least instant noodles aren't sold at 50% off in January.  If this is your bag, bag them then.  Sports biographies used to be like that and still are to a certain extent.  Possibly the best: 61 Minutes in Munich by Howard Gayle, the first black player to play for Liverpool.  Honest about both what was a disappointing career and the part that racism played in curtailing it.

Music is my other big passion, and again there has also been an improvement in this genre.  Me by Elton John is candid, shocking and no stone is left unturned, either in terms of his sexuality, addictions or tantrums.  It also confirms the urban myth that whilst staying in a hotel, he rang his record company to ask the wind to stop blowing outside his room. 

Keith Richards confirms the "I am not your drummer story" in Life, as well as his ongoing guerrilla war with Mick Jagger - he describes him as "a nice bunch of blokes."  I'll Never Write My Memoirs by Grace Jones is in the same vein, with possible pub quiz questions about regretting turning down a role in Blade Runner and being asked to do Slave to the Rhythm by Trevor Horn, whilst setting fire to her then boyfriend Dolph Lungren's trousers.  

Head On/Repossessed is a double volume charting Julian Cope's rise from slacking Scouse student teacher to post-punk icon and finally, The Arch Drude we know and love today.  The best is undoubtedly Miles: The Autobiography.  Published a few years before an untimely/somewhat inevitable death, Miles Davis talks at length about being one of the great artists of the twentieth century, but with as much honey as venom.  It's like being mugged by angels.  

For actors and entertainers, start with Who on Earth Is Tom Baker? It's delicious stuff from the best Doctor Who.  It's good on growing up as a Catholic in 1930's Liverpool as much as Tom's "experiences" with Doctor Who groupies or drinking with Francis Bacon. John Peel was halfway through Margrave of the Marshes when he died.  And appropriately enough, you get two sides of the man: the first is as dilatory as Peel himself, the second reveals someone with real doubts and insecurities. 

A recent read was I Know This Much Is True by Miriam Margoyles.  Arch, entertaining and completely filthy. The book is pretty much the same. See also Absolute Pandemonium by Brian Blessed. Jasper Rees was given access to Victoria Wood's archives by her family.  Let's Do It is a loving portrait of a much-missed comic mind, but someone with a propensity for personal cruelty as much as a Stakhanovite work ethic.  

In a similar vein, Piers Paul Read was given access to Alec Guinness' diaries.  This is as complete a picture as you'll get, despite the destruction of several volumes of diaries throughout his lifetime (and Read explores the reasons why).  It's shows a man who was fastidious, insecure about his own talents and ultimately resentful of being in Star Wars, which gave both financial freedom and an unwanted, but geeky fanbase.  

Richard Burton's widow gave Swansea University his diaries after his death.  Chris Williams condenses 45 years of introspection into nearly 700 pages of brutal honesty, self-destructive behaviour (hence lapses in the narrative) and a man who wanted to be rich, but with minimum effort. Finally, Richard E Grant's diaries With Nails is as gossipy and witty as the man himself.

So, plenty to enjoy till Alan Rickman's diaries are published in October.  You can expect my diaries sometime in the late 21st century, subject to my stepson understanding my handwriting and legal clearances.