You will be redirected back to your article in seconds

Dirty Blonde: The Diaries of Courtney Love

In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn't a book -- it's a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. This is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one's pocket and put on display.

In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on display. Even worse, it commits the terrible sin of being boring — and who ever thought Courtney Love could be boring?

In her defense, if the average reader were to dive into the book like a garbologist would to waste, they might discover more about her than may be revealed in a formal biography. The unfiltered detritus from the widow of the late Kurt Cobain — her grade-school reports and teen-in-angst journal in which she writes that, from an early age, she has always wanted to be a rock star — give a glimpse into a striving, lipsticked blur.

Outside of her fans, “Dirty Blonde” does not deliver; like her journals, it’s a self-serving purge. Love’s neighbor, thesp-turned-scribe Carrie Fisher, wrote the preface, which lends a Hollywood insider’s stamp of approval, even while serving as an extended dust-jacket blurb.

In the end, the reader is left wondering why Love would put together “Dirty Blonde” and not something with more heft and purpose. Between the family pictures and the memory box mementos, there’s a great story. It’s a shame she didn’t distill her watershed moments into a thoughtful book more deserving of her wild, storied and chaotic life.

More Reviews

  • Call Her Ganda

    Tribeca Film Review: 'Call Her Ganda'

    In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on […]

  • 'You Shall Not Sleep' Review

    Tribeca Film Review: 'You Shall Not Sleep'

    In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on […]

  • Summer musical review

    Broadway Review: 'Summer,' The Donna Summer Musical

    In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on […]

  • To-Dust-Matthew-Broderick

    Tribeca Film Review: 'To Dust'

    In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on […]

  • Cargo

    Tribeca Film Review: ‘Cargo’

    In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on […]

  • The Rachel Divide

    Film Review: 'The Rachel Divide'

    In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on […]

  • 'Song of Back and Neck' Review

    Tribeca Film Review: 'Song of Back and Neck'

    In the intro, Courtney Love admits she has not written a book. No argument there. This isn’t a book — it’s a loose, sloppy, vain ode to self. Like a handful of other ego-driven hardcover scrapbooks, this is little more than the lint, lyrics and ticket stubs pulled out of one’s pocket and put on […]

More From Our Brands

Access exclusive content