Somehow Morrissey went from the crooning pseudo-Wildean frontman for The Smiths to the first modern writer to have their book made into an instant Penguin Classic. For all that we love about him, his fey and aloof humor and those jabbing little daggers of surreality in his lyrics, it didn’t seem quite proper at the time that his life’s story would be in the catalog right there next to Montaigne.
But, then, as the publisher apparently argued, “it is a classic in the making.” That could be said about pretty much any book, but fair enough. It went to sell scads of copies, so good on them.
Success breeds success, it would appear, as news comes that Morrissey is now going to be releasing a second book, a novel called List of the Lost. Let it contain lines like this from the Autobiography:
All human activity is fruitless when pitted against the girls and boys singing on pop television, for they have found the answer as the rest of us search for the question. I will sing, too. If not, I will have to die.
Please, please, please let us get what we readers want.