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I'm happy to partake in a bit of Black Flag in small doses, and Henry Rollins has always come across as an interesting chap - intense, yet self-aware, so I thought I'd give this a go.
I fully knew before signing up, that a book on Black Flag and the early '80s U.S. punk scene was never going to be sweetness and light, but ye gods, it was hard work. Rollins came across as a petulant teenager that hated absolutely everything, everywhere and everybody with this literally his diary.
It was relentless darkness, dirt, misery and cruelty. None more black. I almost gave up on it several times, but I hate bailing out on books early - even if I hadn't paid for them (good old libraries!), so I powered through.
If this sounds like your kind of thing, then you'll embrace the horror. However, it wasn't for me.