Smile, You're Traveling: Black Coffee Blues Part 3: Black Coffee Blues Pt.3 [Englisch] [Taschenbuch]

These entries show us that Rollins is growing up...er, well, at least he's trying. And hard. He's scored huge brownie points for not throwing us the "I'm an impenetrable mystery" shlick that most utterly self-absorbed persons do, which leads me to believe he's is doing sincerely what he claims: trying to figure himself out before he dies. Good luck, Hank, you're gonna need it. On the other hand, his full-throttle musings in the "lone man wandering the vast desert" vein (he even drags in dear, dead Hemingway for reference) in defense of his burdensome loneliness and incapacity for relationships with women get irksome, as it is quite transparent. He fiercely avows never to marry or have kids to the extent that one hears a voice from the wings: "Hank doth protests too much, methinks." At these points in the book, Rollins is little more than a case study in avoidant-ambivalent attachment style, and it gets depressing after a while. This is especially so due to his frequent mentioning of difficult bouts of depression and loneliness.

There are enjoyable points, don't get me wrong. He does express well and clearly his great affection for music, from his youthful giddiness over Black Sabbath to his near-mystical adoration for jazz and its decorated heroes like John Coltrane. Wonder why Rollins is so lippy towards musicians that don't meet his approval? The reason is made clear here: He loves music. He really LOVES music. And like anyone with some sense and a heart, he abhors witnessing the thing he loves most being kicked about in the dirt by low-wit thugs or parceled out indifferently by agenda-serving leeches. There's no shame in that, even though oddly many think Rollins ought to be shamed. So in the end, we find Rollins digging in his heels and U2 and Sheryl Crow supporters whining and sniffling. Hysterical, really. The other thing that is enjoyable about this book is the evidence that Rollins does things with very good intentions. Sometimes he doesn't make the best choices and other times he is overcome by his own shortcomings. But while he exhibits a tense bitterness edging towards cynicism, he doesn't mean to be mean. Good example is his regret over his defensive hostility towards to two fans that approached him at an inopportune time in a parking lot in Ohio, and his small, but thoughtful gesture to make amends for it. It's things like these that make this book an interesting read.

Yet among other frustrating bits is his agitation that results from a combination of his poor social skills and his inability to cope with himself. Some of this gets aimed at innocent by-standers, which gets painful to read at times. Otherwise, it's leveled, deservingly, at the music industry. However, since Rollins is honest enough to see some pretty hard truths about life, he eventually (we can only hope) will realize and accept that he must walk a different path apart from a majority of the human race, and that's not something he needs to be hostile about. He longs still, nearly forty, to be understood, and one is inspired to awe at how hard he will work and how far he will go for that. At the same time, he succeeds well at grating your nerves to point you want to shove some of his own witty snideness right back down his throat. When that happens, just flip to some point where he's describing as eloquently as he can a moment of thoughtful meditation or some time in solitude, where you can see that he's actually a decent man once he's in his element. Yeah, you read me right, the "Hot Animal Machine" is a thinking man after all. Hooray, or something.

The thing with Rollins is that his major talent is not writing or music, but simply being honest and "putting it out there." He's on the verge of making his truthfulness an art form. You get out of him what you do, and that's that. No apologies. I, for one, can dig that. Maybe you can too, but one observation should be made. The printing I have contains a multitude of typos. Hopefully this will be corrected if it goes to print again. Another thing is that there is a section of '97 entries tagged on the end, in a section after the '98 entries, with no explanation. Strange. But rather than leaving us with heartaching thoughts at the year-end anniversary of his friend's senseless and tragic death, he lets us off the train somewhere in October, a "magical" month for him he says, with the line "I have a good life." Now that's keeping your chin up, Hank.

This is a great book, and even better after reading the first two books in the BCB trilogy!