where does this fit?

Brendan Bernhard describes an autobiography, Keith Richards: Musician, Author, Military Man Manqué, at Pajamas Media.

Life is a book of surprising richness, no more so than in the part most people dread when opening a biography, auto — or otherwise: the early years, or “all that David Copperfield kind of crap,” as Holden Caulfield memorably phrased it. Not that Richards lays it on too thick, but he has an excellent memory and a novelistic eye for character, or rather “characters” — his mother, father, aunts, uncles, school teachers, playground bullies, etc. He was drawn to eccentricity as eccentrics were drawn to him. Born in 1943, he grew up amid the deprivations of post-war England and captures the flavor of the time with a skill many professional wordsmiths would envy. He was conceived, appropriately enough, during an air-raid in the war: it was “Gimme Shelter” from the start.

This is, perhaps, a perspective on the baby boom generation from the point of view of one of its heroes who indulged in excess. The book appears to be a bit more solid than a surface reaction might indicate.

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