Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road

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Overview

In less than a year, Neil Peart lost both his 19-year-old daughter, Selena, and his wife, Jackie. Faced with overwhelming sadness and isolated from the world in his home on the lake, Peart was left without direction. That lack of direction lead him on a 55,000 mile journey by motorcycle across much of North America, down through Mexico to Belize, and back again. He had needed to get away, but he had not really needed a destination. His personal odyssey is chronicled with his travel adventures, meeting up with friends and family, and the grieving, thinking, crying, and storytelling of life as he rides. Along the way, he plays music from his internal jukebox, yet nothing seems to let him find peace. And without peace, all he could do was keep riding until he found it.

Author Biography: Neil Peart is the drummer for the rock band Rush and author of Masked Rider. He lives in Toronto, Canada.

Editorial Reviews

Altfresh
Well-written, harrowing and filled with just-right touches of levity, Ghost Rider is a necessary story about the human condition.
From The Critics
An account of Peart's self-imposed exile and travels to grieve the deaths of his wife and daughter, who both died within a year of each other.... Peart's story reminded me of Theodore Roosevelt's travel West to overcome the sorrow of losing his wife and mother, who both died on the same day....Why is it that many troubled souls seek out the open road for comfort and clarity? ...When the chemistry of outward experience and inward soul searching combine, it makes for good traveling on the healing road.
—Mike Fink

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781550225488
  • Publisher: ECW Press
  • Publication date: 6/30/2002
  • Pages: 400
  • Sales rank: 74,248
  • Product dimensions: 6.00 (w) x 9.00 (h) x 1.12 (d)

Read an Excerpt

Outside the house by the lake the heavy rain seemed to hold down the darkness, grudging the slow fade from black, to blue, to gray. As I prepared that last breakfast at home, squeezing the oranges, boiling the eggs, smelling the toast and coffee, I looked out the kitchen window at the dim Quebec woods gradually coming into focus. Near the end of a wet summer, the spruce, birch, poplars, and cedars were densely green, glossy and dripping.

For this momentous departure I had hoped for a better omen than this cold, dark, rainy morning, but it did have a certain pathetic fallacy, a sympathy with my interior weather. In any case, the weather didn’t matter; I was going. I still didn’t know where (Alaska? Mexico? Patagonia?), or for how long (two months? four months? a year?), but I knew I had to go. My life depended on it.

Sipping the last cup of coffee, I wrestled into my leathers, pulled on my boots, then rinsed the cup in the sink and picked up the red helmet. I pushed it down over the thin balaclava, tightened the plastic rainsuit around my neck, and pulled on my thick waterproof gloves. I knew this was going to be a cold, wet ride, and if my brain wasn’t ready for it, at least my body would be prepared. That much I could manage.

The house on the lake had been my sanctuary, the only place I still loved, the only thing I had left, and I was tearing myself away from it unwillingly, but desperately. I didn’t expect to be back for a while, and one dark corner of my mind feared that I might never get back home again. This would be a perilous journey, and it might end badly. By this point in my life I knew that bad things could happen, even to me.

I had no definite plans, just a vague notion to head north along the Ottawa River, then turn west, maybe across Canada to Vancouver to visit my brother Danny and his family. Or, I might head northwest through the Yukon and Northwest Territories to Alaska, where I had never travelled, then catch the ferry down the coast of British Columbia toward Vancouver. Knowing that ferry would be booked up long in advance, it was the one reservation I had dared to make, and as I prepared to set out on that dark, rainy morning of August 20th, 1998, I had two and a half weeks to get to Haines, Alaska — all the while knowing that it didn’t really matter, to me or anyone else, if I kept that reservation.

Out in the driveway, the red motorcycle sat on its centerstand, beaded with raindrops and gleaming from my careful preparation. The motor was warming on fast idle, a plume of white vapor jetting out behind, its steady hum muffled by my earplugs and helmet.

I locked the door without looking back. Standing by the bike, I checked the load one more time, adjusting the rain covers and shock cords. The proverbial deep breath gave me the illusion of commitment, to the day and to the journey, and I put my left boot onto the footpeg, swung my right leg high over the heavily laden bike, and settled into the familiar saddle.

My well–travelled BMW R1100GS (the “adventure–touring” model) was packed with everything I might need for a trip of unknown duration, to unknown destinations. Two hard–shell luggage cases flanked the rear wheel, while behind the saddle I had stacked a duffel bag, tent, sleeping bag, inflatable foam pad, groundsheet, tool kit, and a small red plastic gas can. I wanted to be prepared for anything, anywhere.

Because I sometimes liked to travel faster than the posted speed limits, especially on the wide open roads of the west — where it was safe in terms of visible risks, but dangerous in terms of hidden enforcement — I had decided to try using a small radar detector, which I tucked into my jacket pocket, with its earpiece inside the helmet.

A few other necessities, additional tools, and my little beltpack filled the tankbag in front of me, and a roadmap faced up from a clear plastic cover on top. The rest of the baggage I would carry away with me that morning had less bulk, but more weight — the invisible burdens that had driven me to depart into what already seemed like a kind of exile.

Customer Reviews
Average Rating 4
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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 23, 2002

    Disappointing

    This book was nothing but disappointing. After reading Mr. Peart's previous book, 'The Masked Rider,' I had high hopes for this one, only to have them dashed by over 400 pages of what I can only call 'not much.' What makes the book even more disappointing is to see the clearly talented author's writing gone to waste on this material. There's very little story here or plot in a traditional sense in this book. Instead, what the reader gets is a slice of the inner workings of Mr. Peart's mind from a period covering a little more than a year during which the author attempts to recover from the deaths of both his wife and only child by removing himself from town and driving around North America on his motorcycle. Readers will undoubtedly understand just what he saw on his travels and just how he felt. This is what the reader gets, plain and simple. It is an unfiltered, raw, painful, intimate and very honest account. This is no lightweight material. The author has terrific talent for putting words together and conveying just exactly what was on his mind at the time. The book's brazenly and almost proudly unapologetic style is unmistakable; the author really doesn't care what the reader thinks. Most of these things are promising ingredients for this or any book. But after a while, one is reminded of a teenager far too full of his own bluster and self-purpose not to share it with the rest of the world, yet too immature to understand that the rest of the world has its own share of problems and that life does not and should not revolve around himself. When reading the book, one eventually feels like saying 'enough about you already, what about something for me!' And that's the main problem here and the key ingredient that's missing: the author has nothing to say that's of real interest to anybody. There's nothing for a general audience. They can't learn anything or grow from anything in this book because it doesn't seem as though it's written for the actual people who will be reading it. It seems to be a gift to a husband or a wife only; an intimate sharing of oneself that is satisfying and full as an offering to someone close, yet empty and meaningless as an offering to strangers, presumably the vast majority of the readers. It's as if only a mother or a lover could enjoy this book. To sum it all up, one can only wait eagerly for the next book and hope that it will be much better.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 8, 2002

    Ghost Book, Too

    As a drummer, I am aware of Mr. Peart's impressive musical skill and imagination. I also have long appreciated his considerable talent for condensing abstract concepts into song lyrics clearly and concisely. So it was with eager expectation that I ordered this book, wanting to experience the wordsmithery of Mr. Peart unfettered by rhyme and meter. And in reading it, I was astounded... astounded at its utter lack of depth. This book has no storyline. Nor does it have a point. This is not, as one might reasonably assume from the title, a sharing of insights obtined through hardship and endurance, from which others may gain hope, strength or guidance. Half the book is a dry iteration of Mr. Peart's meanderings. The other half is a collection of letters most of which were written to a beloved former traveling buddy who is in jail facing life in prison after being busted the third time for dealing drugs (oh, the unfairness of it all!). The Limelight can be deceiving to onlookers, but Mr. Peart, apparently inadvertently, reveals a lot about himself in "Ghost Rider"--not flatteringly. Bigotry rears its ugly head; he seems incapable of using "American" in a sentence unaccompanied by "fat", and jokes that the main thing wrong with Mexico is its proximity to the USA (seemingly unable to grasp the significance of the ever-widening stream of humanity stealing north across the Mexico/Texas border). It was eye-opening to learn that the author of the words, He's got a problem with his poisons But you know he'll find a cure He's cleaning up his systems To keep his nature pure considers two cartons of cigarettes a necessity for a bike trip and, by the picture he paints of himself, teeters on the brink of alcoholism while scoffing condescendingly at those in recovery. Nor is accepting personal responsibility a strong suit; his pristine driving record is marred by a ticket due to the "[illegitimate son]" (bn.com won't let me quote the word) highway patrolman who wrote it for 15 miles over the limit; Peart's speeding evidently had nothing to do with it. Throughout the book, the author routinely reveals by illustration or discussion how little regard he has for the rest of humanity. The reader's initial assumption that this springs from his loss and suffering is dispelled by a deadpan declaration, toward the end of the book and well on the way down his "healing road", of his steadily diminishing respect for humans individually and as a whole. It is especially ludicrous to see him returned to his Canadian home and trying to keep busy, wrestling with the tough decision of what to do to ride out the winter. His choices: Go snowshoeing? Skiing? Birdwatching? Practice on the drums? Write some more on this book? Read some classic of great literature? Write another letter to Brutus? (This interspersed with grumblings about how he's living beyond his means and money's getting tight) He tries to tell us about an early venture into the dating game, but never fleshes out the woman enough for us to get to know her. When things don't go smoothly between them, he takes to referring to her in his writings as "that woman". He never explains why, though, and we don't know her well enough to guess; so we're left to watch him from a distance, wondering, "Why's he doing that?". At length it comes time to end the book so it can get out on the store shelves; and in one final quickie chapter some (but not all) of the loose ends of the non-story are tidied up in the style of a b-movie: "Brutus got probation. I met a nice girl and got married. Deb couldn't handle it. Oh, well..." It's eye-opening that one who seems to me, from his lyrics, to have such clearsightedness and a solid grasp of what's important in life, reveals himself here to be startlingly shallow and in serious need of some personal work. If there is any reason for reading this book, it is that those who know Mr. Peart only from his musical career may get this closer, clear

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 15, 2008

    BEST BOOK I HAVE EVER READ

    I cried uncontrollably throughout the first chapter as he talks of Selena and Jackie's deaths. I laughed at all of his little pitfalls he enounters on the road. I feel a big connection with him because he writes and describes details in the same manner in which I would and I have also suffered a major tradgedy however not nearly as devastating as his and the fact that he made it down the healing road and found a second soul mate is a god send, and a beautiful happy ending. I love how he is so shy and reserved about women, despite the fact that he is an international known musician. I am still on my personal healing road, and this book has even helped me some. I laid out a map of Canada to help me follow him along so I would know exactly where his travels took him. I recommend this book to everyone because it makes you think, laugh, and cry.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 13, 2006

    beware

    If you're fan of Peart because of his drumming (such as I), and are looking for something related to drumming, you're not going to find it here. If you're a motorcyclist looking for stories about a motorcycling adventure, you're not going to find it here, either. This book was written from the perspective of a man that lost his whole world and was attempting to find himself and his way, by escaping into the 'unknown', and traveling 55, 000 miles using his 'vice', a motorcycle. He wasn't on the road simply touring north american highways and hotels. He was on a journey of self discovery, hoping to find something left inside of himself, to let him know he really did have continued purpose, and to carry on. Along the way, he let us in on many private letters, thoughts, and emotions. Also along the way, he included very nice imagery and descriptions of the landscapes he was traversing. I enjoyed the book very much and found it to be very revealing of Peart in a most personal way. I've been a fan of his, and Rush for some 25 years, so I was acutely aware of his passion for reading and writing. As much as I've respected him as a musician and player, I have even more respect for him as a human, dealing with tragedy. I would recommend this book to someone looking for a deeper insight into who Neil Peart is, aside from the person we, as music fans, think he is. Hope you enjoy.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 1, 2006

    Yeah, he rides...

    After reading Peart's earlier book, The Masked Rider, I took up Ghost Rider in search of more adventure, and perhaps an insight or two on grief. I slogged through the entire thing, certain there HAD to be a jewel or two in all that verbiage, but came away sorely disappointed on both counts. In The Masked Rider, Peart proved himself capable of being one of the guys. In Ghost Rider, he shows he can be an elitist prig, as well. The book is littered with disparaging references to people he encounters on the road. There's also precious little 'adventure' here. The author travels the width and breadth of North America, and never once camps out, mingles with the natives, or stays at anything less than a Best Western or Super 8 Motel. His biggest 'gamble' is whether he'll get a proper wine with his poached salmon. Worse yet, while his motorcycle eats up the miles, Peart travels not at all. He begins and ends his account in the same emotional and spiritual place. He survives his grief, but gives no indication that he's grown through it, or learned from it. Another failing, in my opinion, is in editing. I couldn't tell, with a visit to their website, if ECW is a 'vanity press' or an actual publisher, but it's obvious no one there reined in Peart's penchant for excruciating minutiae, and outsized excerpts from letters to family and friends. I do give Peart props for two things. First, he is a SERIOUS long-distance rider, and with almost 30 years of motorcycling behind me, I know what that means. Second, as a storyteller, he would probably make a pleasant enough dinner guest, provided we serve the proper wine!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 2, 2003

    Neil Peart is a Genius

    This book is not just for fans of the rock band 'Rush'. Neil Peart, the band's lyricist, takes you on an unforgettable journey. From the two tragedies that shatter his life, through the unbelievable motorcycle trip he takes to find the means to keep living. For anyone who has lost someone close to them, a must-have book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 5, 2003

    The Toronto Tonto

    Unlike, So many rock bands Rush sets a very high example of Intelligence, Especially Neil Peart. Growing up in Toronto during the 70`s I saw Rush play High schools and free shows on the water front(lake Ontario) Alex lived next door to my girlfriend and Geddy I always saw out at the clubs listening to other bands. During this time Neil was not with Rush yet and when he finally hooked up with Alex and Geddy it was magic 2112, A Farewell to kings. These albums just blew everything away. Becoming friends with Alex and Geddy was very cool because they went to school with my 2 older sisters, They were rock stars at 18-19. Neil is by far a huge influence and if you know all 3 the intelligence is amazing, We lost touch and they had the world at their feet and it all began. I saw Alex back stage at a concert in Florida and he was so excited to show me the model plane he was working on, We talked for a while and I remember they loved sports and my father was a Canadian football super star in his own right Dick Shatto who passed this past march. The time I spent with these guys was great if you love conversation and music. They were always funny and I always got them tickets to football games and them concert tickets for me. Neil was a happy and faithful man and I was not surprised when his first book came out, I was very impressed to say the least! We all go through life and it eventually ends sometimes too early. I always wish them the best.

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted June 9, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    4 out of 5

    A great read, though the ends of several chapters were missing at the time of my reading it.

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  • Posted May 6, 2010

    I Also Recommend:

    a ghost of a man left after the unexpected death of Neil Pearts nineteen year old daughter, followed by the death of his devastated and broken-hearted common-law wife, all that's left is survival instinct to just get moving.

    a profoundly sad but true story as told by Neil Peart after the deaths of first his daughter as she drives back to school and his wife just fourteen months later from cancer, his dog dies and his best friend goes to jail. From his lake-front home in Quebec, survival mode kicks in telling him to just move, just keep moving.thus the beginning of a five-month motor-cycle journey thru Canada, Alaska, America, Mexico to Belize.This moving tale of moving thru grief by just moving. Decriptions on beautiful scenery, wild animals,good food , interesting places and people and a suprisely good reading list of books as not only does Peart move, but he also reads and shares, I would highly recommend this book to anyone who appericates travel and non-fiction. A good meaty book with plenty of substance. I would also place Neil Peart in the same league with Paul Theroux.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 24, 2009

    Ghost Rider

    After I read the book I wanted to know what else was in stored for neil peart. He went through alot and travel on the motorcycle that his wife bought him. The story for me meant alot to me because as I was reading it I was losing someone very dear to me and it help me through it alot. The person I lost was like a father figure to me because he was there alot when I need it him but also he was my grandfather on my mom father. But I hope that who ever pick-up this book it is an awesome book every time I readed it I was there with Neil Peart Riding with him so I could find my way back. Right now I am reading his another book done by him and so far it is still good it seem's again that I am there right there with him again.

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  • Posted April 26, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    A good book by a great drummer and an even better writer

    Neal Peart is the drummer for the legendary band Rush. In the span of one year he lost his daughter in a car accident and his wife to cancer. In this book "Ghost Rider" Mr. Peart spells out a story thats sure to touch your heart and lift your spirit. After a 45,000 mile motorcycle trip around Canada, The United States and Mexico, Mr Peart tells us what it took for him to cope in those difficult times.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 30, 2007

    MUST BE NICE

    This book was enjoyable to if your a fan of the author. The one thing we have to remember is... It doesnt hurt to be rich wile riding your motorcycle across the the US, Canada and Mexico. If you break down who cares. Yes he does ride a long way, but he has all the resources in the world to help him.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 27, 2006

    Don't waste the money

    If you are a motorcycle enthusiast hoping for at least a good travel yarn, or if you are a literature enthusiast hoping for a well written memoir, or if you are a real idealist and looking for both in one place, this isn't it. 3 strikes, you're out. Plodding, pedestrian, self-absorbed... what's the point? I wanted to sympathize with the author, but found myself just irritated at his poorly veiled whining. One needn't include one's 'notes' as textual asides when the entire work is so poorly written it might have been just that - a scrawled out journal. About the best I can say is, as a motorcyclist, I'll give him credit for riding a long way in bad weather. I will admit. I quit trying to read it about midway through. I scanned the rest and it didn't get any better. If I can read Gravity's Rainbow and Infinite Jest I ought to be able to slog through this, eh? Not. The author should stick to playing drums. I gave it 1 star because they won't let you post a review without it.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 27, 2005

    this book rocks!!!

    i've been a fan of rush since 1978 i've seen rush a least 21 times,when i read this book i was amazed of how this man was able to get thru with this and have the courage to write about it. god bless you mr.peart rock on

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 26, 2004

    Okay but not great

    Neil is an outstanding lyricist and drummer but I have found this book, as well as his past books mildly entertaining. The first chapter was the only chapter that consisted of truely good writing. The rest of 'Travels on the Healing Road' was a long, long journey which described hotel rooms and Niel's menu choices... as well as his drink choices.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 2, 2003

    Healing Ghost Ride

    I enjoyed this book very much. Found myself looking forward to my next moments with this book. Many parallels to my life being a musician who had so many losses in one year,it made my head(body,soul) spin. Could relate on many levels. As Neal stated, you can't listen to your (or other's) music and it feels like a whole other previous life or person that existed. Glad to see Neal makes it back to creating music. If you are hurting, this book helps to validate your emotions and is a fun ride with descriptive scenic and emotional travels beside the Ghost Rider!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 20, 2003

    This book is a healer

    Neils account of the double tradgedy and his way of dealing with it was very insipring. I could of not handled it. His book was instrumental in my own healing after the senseless murder of my sons schoolmate, Danielle van Dam. Neil helped me put in perspective the feelings I was experiencing. The futility in trying to understand. But yet showed how hope can still exist when all seems hopeless. A good read that took me along his journey of healing, all the while not knowing if he ever 'heal'. Thanks, Neil

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 16, 2003

    As wondrous and heartwrenching as I anticipated

    I knew of Neil's personal tragedies long before having read this book, but I still desired to see what lay in his mind during the healing process. I was fortunate to purchase both books at the May, 2002 Rush show at Riverbend Music Center (Cincinnati), but I was already in the midst of another large book series at the time, so I didn't read either of Neil's 'til January, 2003. I first read Masked Rider as more of a prelude, and found it enjoyable - I felt I was on the bike with the troupe through their trials in the African heat. Thus, I was incredibly excited to begin Ghost Rider.

    As I began Ghost Rider, I again became immersed in Neil's world, reliving the horrible day when the police officer came to the door to deliver the news about Selena. I felt both Jackie's subsequent hopelessness and Neil's helplessness, and I gained more appreciation for the lyrics to the song 'Ghost Rider' as he told of Jackie's passing. I can sympathize with his need to just get away, and applaud his desire to 'keep moving' to avoid falling into a pit of despair, drink, and drugs. I could see how confused he was and I identify with that need for space, for the walls and memories in that house would have otherwise closed in on him. I think I would have had to get out as well, and as someone who is something of a loner, I would have been 'shouldering that invisible load' myself, thinking no one could help me through it but myself.

    I used to live out west, so I selfishly took in the landscapes as he described them and wished I could be there, though not with the same motivation. I am glad, though, to see he brought some educational materials with him (the book on birds) in order to continue his self-education - I know others who foolishly ridicule him for being a high-school dropout, but his writing makes it clear that the lack of a diploma has been no hindrance to him. I think such self-reliance helped through his travails, and I'm not sure I know anyone who would have the fortitude to travel 55,000 miles to find healing. Most might just wallow in self-pity instead.

    This is a wonderfully written book. I can see how the short-sighted might find his numerous letters a bit cumbersome, but these were the letters he sent to many people, and he wanted to credit each and every one of them for being there for him, even though they may have only been there to 'listen.' Of course many of them would contain the same information, but they were all different in subtle ways. He wrote the letters and this book as if he had nothing to hide, for the best way to heal was to be fully open with his feelings.

    As a fan of Rush, I am naturally glad he found someone and was able to resume his drumming. Now, however, I realize how close we all came to not having that anymore, and their music has more value to me, and not just because of my own selfish desires for more quality music in a time devoid of it. It's because of the inner strengths of the men involved in the band Rush, especially the drumming 'ghost' who seems to be once again whole. And as when I listen to a Rush album, I was saddened to finish Ghost Rider, and I cannot wait to enjoy it again.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 25, 2003

    A great book about what life is

    I am not a book reader at all. I am a huge fan of Rush though. I felt that I would be able to learn more about this man that has been my idol along with the other members of RUSH for over 20 yrs. Unfortunately it took a book about sadness....but it told me a lot not only about him...but what is really important in life....to be happy. Bravo to Neil and I highly recommend the book to anyone...not just fans.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 30, 2003

    Were it not Rush, we'd not read it...

    Great book, well-written. Tough at many times to read.. very descriptive writing, open. Suffice it to say were it not Neil, a guy from Rush, I would certainly not have read it, nor would I choose to read it in the future. Therefore, it's bit ironic that his fame 'allowed' him to publish this book, despite what he might otherwise believe. I cannot imagine going through what he did... I would not read the book again.. it gets a bit pathetic at times, and the publishing of letters found me wanting to 'Turn the Page' [without reading them].. again, I am not making light of what transpired in the man's life. We all know Neil is articulate, calculated.. but when they started selling 'Ghost Rider' tshirts during their latest tour, I just rolled my eyes.. nothing against him.. I just found the book to be lamenting vs soul-searching. And understandably so. I don't think Americans are portrayed in any manner within the book.. and we all know Neil lives in CA, has for some time. We wish him well, but I wish he could simply NOW write about why we WANT to read his writing.. his drumming, writing, and work for Rush. Great book, thoughtful, recommended, just very long. There is one part where he rides in America and mentions Toronto's countryside.. also too many other depictions and excerpts from others' works (long-winded at best). Get thee.. an editor, please.

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