It’s really nice to read books by nonwriters who can, in fact, write. There is a simple confidence (and a confidence to be simple) to someone who has made their name in some other field, and has turned to writing because they felt compelled by the material. I’ve been a casual fan of both Warren Ellis and Nina Simone for a while now. I got into Dirty Three for a bit maybe ten or twelve years ago, and saw Ellis perform with the Bad Seeds around the same time, looking like a homeless man that had been freshly scrubbed and dressed to the nines and given some kind of mandolin to wail on (I learned later it was an amplified version of a Greek instrument called a bouzouki.) Nina Simone has come in and out of my life at various times - every once in a while I’ll happen upon a particular song of hers that floors me, but I must admit that I’m nowhere near the level of fandom expressed in this book by Ellis. In actuality, whether or not you’ve heard a single piece of music from either of these people shouldn’t affect your ability to enjoy this book. This is a paean to art and influence, and the persistence of the very human obsession with artifact, even in a world where digital media and streaming is making the kind of reverence Ellis describes for records, photos, exhibitions, and yes, ABC gum seem obsolete. It’s lovely to hear a charming person speak passionately about something that is important to them, and if it’s done right, that passion can make up for a complete lack of context or background for the issue at hand. Fortunately, I didn’t have that problem; I like both of these artists and the world they inhabit enough to find this book chocked full of interesting stories and information. I also love any kind of art that dives deep, as this book certainly does, into something that most people think sound ridiculous, in this case keeping a piece of chewed gum for more than two decades. This particular genre, maybe we can call it Paeans to the Mundane, when successful, imbues the whole world with a special, transcendent haze. One of people who cross paths with Nina Simone’s Gum calls it holy, and I can understand why.

One thing Ellis doesn’t try to do in this book is explain why a piece of chewed gum has such power, so much so that high art curators and the workers of precious jewels feel nervous to handle it. Perhaps that’s for the better - Ellis wants to tell the story of the Gum’s journey, not analyze its existence. But some niggling question remained in my head after finishing the book: why do we care about this? Is this book a record of the same ancient desire to embody the holy that made people carve innumerable Venus figurines 10,000 years ago, or drag the monoliths of Stonehenge across vast stretches of lands? How does this primordial instinct for artifact, to feel like we are in the presence of a fragment of god, how does it manifest in the 21st century, where holy artifacts can be cloned and copied ad infinitum? Ellis doesn’t venture into this territory, and neither will I. I do know, that for any smart person who does tackle this question, this book here is a essential document. ( )

Magical and touching. ( )

I was not expecting to be so moved by a book about a piece of stolen chewing gum. ( )

Inspiration can be highly particular. For Warren Ellis, the extraordinary musician in the band Dirty Three and long-time collaborator with Nick Cave, his personal musical journey may have begun on a night of clowns. He certainly followed a varied path from his Australian roots, across Europe, to eventually be in the audience when Dr Nina Simone performed her last concert in London. It’s not surprising that Dr Simone was one of Warren’s musical inspirations. But her gum? When he snagged it after the concert from where it had been stuck on the piano, he established a link with her that he would treasure for decades ahead. This says as much about Warren Ellis as it does about anything. But it also reveals a bit about how objects, even mundane objects, are transfigured by our associations.

This is a lovely, gentle book. It is just how his many fans think of Warren Ellis — a lovely, gentle man. He seems to be someone who throughout his life, has been compelled to travel the long road of the true artist, not fully knowing his destination other than it being at least one more step down the road. And what we find is that this too can be a good life. It’s not for everyone, but then nothing is. We can just be grateful that people like Warren are on his path.

Gently recommended to gentle souls everywhere. ( )

*3.5

This is a difficult book to review as I do not usually read music biographies (despite my love of music) as this is an ARC read. I liked the energy of Ellis—I’d love to sit and hang out with him, to hear more about his youth. I appreciate that he was able to write this as a artistic mark in his career, and I understand that insanity surrounding the musicians you love. He seems like a gentle soul. I also have a new love of listening to Arleta.

My main issue was precisely the music elbow rubbing music autobiographies tend to be. It felt like it was written for a cohort of friends and acquaintances that I am not a part of. If I went and saw this exhibit I’d buy a copy and probably rate it higher. I also have a big discontent with spirituality, and I’d probably appreciate it more if I like, believed in God still. It’s not a bad book, or story—it can actually be quite beautiful—but it just wasn’t for me, a random 21-year old with no knowledge of the people in it beside Simone.

Would pay $20 to see Nina Simone’s reaction to this though. I can’t believe she’d be the nicest about it. ( )