Piaf: A Passionate Life by David Bret
Edith Piaf was a fascinating character, whose 47 years were crammed full of incident, many of them considered scandalous, as she rose from the street to the status of a French icon. When she was buried, the scandal ensured that the church would not officiate. Yet her coffin was draped with the tricolour as a mark of remembrance for her role in helping at least 300 PoWs escape from a German camp in WWII.
She is one of those rare artists who can transcend the boundaries of language - you don't even have to know what her songs mean in order to enjoy them and to appreciate just how much she bared herself emotionally for her audience.
This biography is good at explaining what some of those songs meant - chansons were very much of the street, often about prostitutes and the brothel; now listen to a live recording of Paif singing Milord and the earthiness of her performance takes on a whole new meaning.
But that's pretty much as good as it goes. David Bret skates over her early life, her war experiences etc, in favour of a closer look at her later career. His approach seems undisciplined: there are times when you're really not 100% certain when you're reading about, for instance.
Perhaps, most irritatingly of all, the author tries to place himself within the Piaf story. Apparently the godson of someone (who I've never heard of and cannot recall the name of) who was connected with the story (or the French music scene of the time or something), everytime he writes about interviewing someone in connection with the book, it has to be a case of: 'so-and-so told me'.
'It's not your damned story, Bret, so piss off out of it', was very much my feeling on a number of occasions.
And he also writes in a very tabloid fashion, with loads of erratic judgments about people scattered through the book (and not always backed up by any evidence at all), whilst he clearly cannot be critical of his heroine herself. You cannot, for instance, condemn Piaf's mother for certain kinds of behaviour without condemning Piaf herself for similar behaviour. It's no good to say that you excuse Piaf because of her background - unless you can show that her mother's background was much better. And the glut of exclamation marks didn't help my mood either.
Piaf was an extraordinary performer and an extraordinary human being who led an extraordinary life. She deserves an extraordinary biography. A good one would be a start. This isn't it.
Edith Piaf was a fascinating character, whose 47 years were crammed full of incident, many of them considered scandalous, as she rose from the street to the status of a French icon. When she was buried, the scandal ensured that the church would not officiate. Yet her coffin was draped with the tricolour as a mark of remembrance for her role in helping at least 300 PoWs escape from a German camp in WWII.
She is one of those rare artists who can transcend the boundaries of language - you don't even have to know what her songs mean in order to enjoy them and to appreciate just how much she bared herself emotionally for her audience.
This biography is good at explaining what some of those songs meant - chansons were very much of the street, often about prostitutes and the brothel; now listen to a live recording of Paif singing Milord and the earthiness of her performance takes on a whole new meaning.
But that's pretty much as good as it goes. David Bret skates over her early life, her war experiences etc, in favour of a closer look at her later career. His approach seems undisciplined: there are times when you're really not 100% certain when you're reading about, for instance.
Perhaps, most irritatingly of all, the author tries to place himself within the Piaf story. Apparently the godson of someone (who I've never heard of and cannot recall the name of) who was connected with the story (or the French music scene of the time or something), everytime he writes about interviewing someone in connection with the book, it has to be a case of: 'so-and-so told me'.
'It's not your damned story, Bret, so piss off out of it', was very much my feeling on a number of occasions.
And he also writes in a very tabloid fashion, with loads of erratic judgments about people scattered through the book (and not always backed up by any evidence at all), whilst he clearly cannot be critical of his heroine herself. You cannot, for instance, condemn Piaf's mother for certain kinds of behaviour without condemning Piaf herself for similar behaviour. It's no good to say that you excuse Piaf because of her background - unless you can show that her mother's background was much better. And the glut of exclamation marks didn't help my mood either.
Piaf was an extraordinary performer and an extraordinary human being who led an extraordinary life. She deserves an extraordinary biography. A good one would be a start. This isn't it.