I’m a Bossmaniac. Admittedly so. Went to see him in Foxborough on 9/14 and it was as close as I’ll ever come to a religious experience! I adore this man and his music. So, of course, I bought the book the day it came out.
It’s great, for a lot of reasons. The man’s long been known as a great storyteller, and, yes, it absolutely translates into writing. He spins some great yarns. His word choice is often delightful. There are places in the book that made me howl with laughter. You get his personal insights on a lot of Bruce-related lore. He even comes clean about how sometimes he can be a pain-in-the-ass, especially to his employees (including his band!) There’s a lot of great stuff in here for we Bossmaniacs.
That, however, is not why this book is *important*.
Even if you don’t think much of Bruce’s music, you’ve got to admit this is an accomplished guy. Millions of records sold. Record-breaking tours. Has lent his name and his talents to a lot of great causes. And he’s been doing all of this for a long time. This guy has *done* something with his life, something that’s brought great joy, and sometimes affirmation, to a lot of people around the world.
Why the book is important is this: he tells you, in sometimes horrific detail, how he’s accomplished all of this through the haze of lifelong mental illness.
Bruce is a diagnosed depressive with some anxiety. He especially details two really bad depressive episodes: one on a cross-country trip in 1982, the one that drove him to seek therapy; and one in the mid-2000s in Europe, which caused him to change his antidepressant medication. They are harrowing. He goes into great detail about how he was feeling, what he was thinking, and how completely fucking *hopeless* he felt.
Boy, can I relate.
He also makes it clear that therapy helps, medication helps, even going on stage for four hours helps. But he also makes it extremely clear that mental illness *doesn’t go away*. It can be treated. If you’re lucky, it can be treated successfully, sometimes for a very long time. But it will always, always, rear up its ugly head at you.
This is not a common schmo (like me!). This is Bruce Fucking Springsteen. The Boss. The man whose music has cleared *my* depression more than once. Bruuuuuuuuce.
When you read this book and reflect on his career, you’ll come up with two things. First, mental illness does *not* mean you spend your entire life in a corner without ever accomplishing anything, because Bruce has accomplished more than any 10 random “healthy” people. But the other thing is—yeah, in between accomplishments, sometimes you *do* spend too much time in a corner. Or, in his (and my) case, in bed, desperately trying to summon the will to get up.
It’s never going to completely go away. You *can* treat it. You *can* do great things. But you’re going to battle your inner demons for your entire life. Thanks, Bruce, for having the courage to say so.
