Dirty Blonde: The Diaries Of Courtney Love
by Courtney Love

Postcards from the edge, and some from the centre

When Love announced that she was to release a book similar to husband Kurt’s Journals, the general consensus was only one of mildly piqued interest. Perhaps it was just another crazy idea. Probably it would never happen. But surface it did, and much like Cobain’s book, Dirty Blonde gathers scraps (literally) of Love’s life in Xeroxed form, from revealingly tragic school reports (the young Courtney moved through nearly 30 towns in her formative years, with her parents’ location listed as ‘unknown’) to lists of ambitions and people she hates. Nirvana fans will relish certain unseen shots (particularly interesting are those taken by Love of Cobain at William S Burroughs’ house), but largely this is too scattershot and schizophrenic to provide any lasting satisfaction. Moments of clarity occur: Courtney’s memory of an early 80s Liverpool sparked by an old Echo & The Bunnymen book; Cobain and daughter Frances Bean in a loving, sleepy embrace, just before details of the icon’s first suicide attempt. Elsewhere, focus slips. On the page, Love’s lyrics rarely step from the realms of teenage naïvety, and the scribblings and half-baked, most likely drug-induced doodling annoys. Probably as accurate a representation of this one-woman whirlwind as possible, it’s for acolytes only.

ISBN 9780330445467

Reviewed by Jake Kennedy
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