Maggie and Me by Damian Barr

I bought this book because I heard Damian Barr reading at the Sydney Writers’ Festival. If I had realised it was going to be a misery memoir, I wouldn’t have bought it but I am so glad I did. It is not only a memoir of an unbelievably rotten child’s up bringing but also one of his coming to terms with his sexuality in a place where ‘jessies’ are likely not only to be ostracised but also to be physically harmed. Barr grew up in Motherwell, a mining town an hour out of Glasgow. It’s rough and the people in it are violent, uneducated, hard drinking and mean spirited. His mother is damaged in so many ways – by her own upbringing, by alcohol by a rain haemorrhage, by a series of violent husbands and boyfriends. Yet there is a strain of love that persists, something I found very comforting – she always gets the kids up for school, she opens tins of soup and packets of fish fingers for their tea, she loves him. He finds friends and teachers, who although they stand solidly in the background offering respite and opportunities where they can, still cannot rescue him from his situation. Only he can do that. And he does, lurching through life, grasping educational chances and making it out. The link with Maggie Thatcher, who is quoted throughout the book, I find tenuous. I think what Barr is saying is that the harshness and unfairness of her government, and her exhortations to tough it out and do better for yourself, were actually some kind of challenge to him, in a sense making him angry and determined enough to escape Motherwell and build a life for himself. There are some very endearing moments in this book, a lot of black humour, and some horrifying ones, especially as they are autobiographical. I came out of it liking and admiring this very brave man and glad that he fought his way out to a better life.