‘Journals’ by Kurt Cobain

For me personally, this particular book presents something of a moral dilemma and from consulting other reviews it is clear that many readers feel the same. On the one hand, what we have here is a fascinating and uncensored insight into one of modern music's most infamous minds, yet on the other hand the publication of these materials constitutes a serious invasion of privacy and perhaps even a violation of the musician's own civil liberties - the public airing of Kurt Cobain's last truly personal effects. While reading the book myself I tried to pitch my preconception somewhere in the middle in order to objectively examine the words I saw before me.

While many have voiced views to the contrary, there are a great many things to like about this book. The first is that Cobain's Journals have been tastefully and sympathetically reproduced in keeping with Cobain's own ideals. It is impossible to imagine these wonderfully visceral and some might say scatter-brained writings (and sketches) presented in 12-point Times New Roman type with fully justified margins and whatnot; so much of Cobain's artistic and often conflicted essence would likely be lost in the traditional narrative memoir format. Another great thing about the Journals is how comprehensive and unabridged they really are. While Cobain's oftentimes indecipherable handwriting is transcribed in full in the 'Notes' section at the back of the book, the main body has been photocopied straight from several of his very own exercise books, and therefore the frantic scribbles and spelling errors remain. The breadth of what is included in the book is unique also, as alongside banal notes for his driving test and a few simple recipes are the original treatments for the Come as You Are and Heart-Shaped Box music videos, as well as the lyrics to an embryonic version of Smells Like Teen Spirit. The roughly 300 pages of this book also showcase an individual with a sincere love for music not of his own creation; he speaks highly of his contemporaries such as the Melvins and Mudhoney, though Pearl Jam are understandably shown no such affection. My favourite thing about this book, however, is the endearing way in which he signs his letters and messages as 'Kurdt.'

However I cannot deny the crippling sense of shame that befell me when reading certain portions of the book. When Cobain writes about the contempt he feels for his parents and speaks of his love for his then-infant daughter Frances Bean I could not help but think 'I should not be reading this. All of these deeply personal musings should not be in my hands.' And yet here they are, in my hands. And no doubt the hands of countless others. I also felt an odd form of guilt particularly whilst reading the later (circa 1993) writings, a feeling likely not dissimilar to unlatching a treasure chest that you did not yourself dig up. Many fervent Nirvana fans have boycotted the Journals for this very reason, which is entirely understandable, particularly for those who experienced the whole Nirvana explosion first hand - I was only eight months old when Nevermind was released and therefore much too young to appreciate it the first time round, but it still sounds incredible twenty years on.

I imagine that many people will find themselves in a similar ethical quandary over whether or not to read this book but, ethics aside, it is an extraordinary - if occasionally unsettling - portrait of a famously tortured soul and the most important artist of recent years. Rest in peace, Kurt.

This piece was originally published on alisonlaurabell.tumblr.com in October 2011.