Few celebrities have managed the beauty of secrecy. To have a personal life kept personal, precious moments hidden from the camera lens, for one’s relationship status to be ignored is a privilege. Something, it seems, that has only been successfully completed by Elton John and his decades in the limelight.
Me is an accredit to that. The honesty shown by Elton John is miraculous. As an avid biography-reader, one grows accustomed to the mundane introspective usually offered by writers. There’s always something emotional withheld from the pages, even if the story is entirely accurate.
Elton, however, gave everything away. The emotional vulnerability within his life, the physical concerns, even his ever-changing mentality is captured within the pages.
He shares details about his slow and innocent path to lust, his compensating manner when it came to drugs, he even takes responsibility for relationships and marriages past, details unacknowledged for the sake of spoilers. It takes a certain level of self-awareness to write this book, which makes it all the more palpable to read.
It’s almost disgusting, to be within the emotional vortex of his life. You feel disgusting peeping in and he feels disgusting for some of his life choices. And then there are those around him, the gay haters, the crumbling family dynamic, the man that fucked chickens, they are also some characters as lively as he is.
Rather than reading through history, we’re all transported to when Elvis broke out on the scene. When the Beatles were the new wave, rock and roll was frowned upon, and who can forget the many sequins in Elton Johns life, there are so many visceral moments captured in this book. It would be a shame to miss any of them.