Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death, and Jazz Chickens by Eddie Izzard
First published, 2017
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
So I've just finished Believe Me by Suzy Eddie Izzard. I'm going to point out right from the get-go, at the time this book was printed, the name on the cover was simply Eddie Izzard, but I have more respect than to toss aside a person's identity based on something so banal as what-was-printed-at-the-time. As such, I'm going to refer to the author as Suzy Eddie Izzard and let you know I've been a fan of hers for years.
Now, I picked up this book from Amazon but only realised it was second-hand when I started reading and found a startling array of crossings-out and corrections in green/peacock blue pen. The fact is, whoever owned this book before me is a thwarted proofreader; every instance of American spelling has been met with a green/blue pen and a correction to UK spelling, despite the fact that this book was first printed in the States. I know this because it's printed right there on the fly-leaf.
With regard to the entire pages that were struck through by the previous reader, those had to do with football. I'm guessing - not a fan. Although the notes from the former owner were banal and unnecessary, they didn't detract from this wonderful autobiography. If anything, the corrections put me in mind of seeing an old friend at a party - not a rave, something ritzy with canapés and an occasional velouté - and the whole time the friend is trying to talk to you, the partner, who has only ever existed as a name in a Christmas card, jumps in to make mewling noises and add tiny details that nobody cares about. Which I suppose means that, though we've never met, I think of Suzy Eddie Izzard as a friend.
Obviously, I felt an enormous sense of joy when the corrector mistakenly stated that The Big Bang was "factless", that Ian Holm wasn't in Lord Of The Rings but rather The Hobbit, and switched a correct 'was' to a very wrong 'were'. I know I'm being petty, so I'd read an unadulterated copy if I were you.
Anyway, let's get back to the book. I've said before that it's rare I get to the point of tears while reading. If I find myself getting close, I just hold the book a little way away from me so I can't chance seeing the words that shook me and look out the window, and stare at the fence until I can get a hold of myself. I was staring at a squirrel on the fence so intently by the end of chapter one that I'm surprised it didn't catch fire.
The writing style was gentle and conversational, with plenty of footnotes, but my greatest takeaway from this remarkable and heartfelt memoir is that sometimes you need to borrow confidence from your future self in order to get from where you are to where you're going. I'm going to try and remember that. And if you're going to write in books─don't.
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