Paperback Riders: Kristin Hersh “Don’t Suck, Don’t Die: Giving Up Vic Chesnutt”

Reading around the GoodReads site thinking about books to talk about here, I came across one of the most over the top pieces of press I’ve ever seen about a book from Lithub. “It paints a beautiful portrait of musician Vic Chesnutt, his unique friendship with the author, and the sorrowful broken darkness they each deal with. The language is warm, intimate, and poetic; it’s like On the Road and Sylvia Plath had a baby. It’s so gorgeous it actually hurts to read. I have not been so moved by a piece of art, any art, in years. Even with the inevitable tragic ending, Hersh keeps you hanging on with her delicate and sublime prose. You know you are circling a vortex, but the water is so perfect you don’t care. This story aches, laughs, stuns, and pulls you into it like a siren song. You will put it down and want more of both Chesnutt and Hersh and feel all the more broken hearted at the enormity of the loss.”

In 2006, National Public Radio placed Vic Chesnutt in the top five of the ten best living songwriters, along with Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Paul McCartney, and Bruce Springsteen. Hersh toured with him for many years, and they did become close friends. So, with those two recommendations ‘Don’t Suck, Don’t Die’ had to go on the list to read.

The book title comes from a pact which Hersh and Chesnutt shared “The title is what we promised each other: to never suck or die. Or what we made each other pretend to promise, I guess, since neither is actually possible.” The book itself is very personal, in places it feels like Hersh is talking directly to Chesnutt rather than explaining him to her readers. It’s a story of their shared life on the road, and their relationships with their spouses, Tina, and Billy. Hersh spends almost as much time talking about herself as she does Chesnutt. I’m sure we’ve all been to parties where a couple of people dominate the conversation sharing anecdotes and stories that mean something to them, and are sometimes clearly hilarious, but “well you had to be there I guess.” And this book reads like that in places. The closest Don’t Suck, Don’t Die’ gets to biography is music journalist Amanda Petrusich’s foreword. From there it drifts into a series of conversations, copy and pasted emails, and transcriptions of interviews. It’s not an easy read and the mental health issues which afflict both Hersh and Chesnutt leave their mark on the book, and on their music.

I’ve complained in past columns about the tour/record/tour/substance abuse/redemption/back on the road structure that so many music bios have. You can’t level that accusation at ‘Don’t Suck, Don’t Die.’ The less positive reviews criticised it for not being a straightforward biography. But that misses the point, I think. This is the story of a friendship forged in the hothouse atmosphere of a touring rock band and shown from the inside of that friendship, with partners pulled along for the ride, rather than from an external observer.

Does it live up to the hype quoted earlier? Of course not, and Hersh’s writing style is not one for relaxed bedtime reading, I found myself backing up and rereading passages to get the sense of it better. I’ll probably pick it up again at some time in the future and find it easier to read because I’ll know what to expect.

My exposure to Chesnutt’s music was limited when I started reading, so I was learning about him at the same time as I was exploring this book. Hersh gives us a selected discography, with commentary, but it’s hard to decide if she likes them or not. As a new listener I found his last but one album ‘At The Cut’ interesting, as well as his 1993 record ‘Drunk‘ which she leaves off her list, but I’ll keep listening.