CASH: The Autobiography of Johnny Cash

Londoners have a wonderful habit of leaving things they no longer want on pavements, low walls or tucked into fence slats. I often find books this way, and being in the habit of reading anything by anyone from anywhere, I had no quarms about investing a few days in Johnny Cash’s autobiography - despite having only really heard ‘Ring of Fire’ and ‘I Walk the Line’. I knew absolutely nothing about his life, his music or his incredible career (highs and lows), and I found this book completely engrossing.

The narrative is perfectly balanced, building up a largely chronological narrative about this young cotton-pickin’ kid whose older brother died too young in a tragic accident; who came to find himself in country, gospel and rockabilly music. It covers the incredible highs and terrible lows of living wildly as an addict in the fifties, sixties and seventies. The immense loss of so many great people to reckless lifestyles, and the small world of Nashville musicians that saw Cash working with Elvis Presley, Joni Mitchell, meeting 13 year-old Dolly Parton at her debut at the Grand Ole Opry. He includes small, humorous anecdotes; recognition of influencers and wonderful friends/family, and his spiritual journey as a Christian (despite choosing all seven deadly sins).

Two aspects of this book really stand out for me. Firstly, the man can really write. It’s not totally clear where Cash ends and Patrick Carr begins, but in parts it read like a Steinbeck passage. The chapters are short and the tales are astute, and honest. He also writes about racism, the affects of colonialism on indigenous communities and the Vietnam war with humility, tenderness and deep sorrow. It’s moving and graceful and a pleasure to read. Secondly, he begins each section of his book with a description of where he’s sat, writing it. We begin in Cinnamon Hill, Jamaica - his second home and favourite retreat. He writes about his relationship with nature often, coming back to the soil and the rivers to find himself (and god).

I can go barefoot, even if my sixty-five-year-old soles aren’t nearly as tough as the Arkansas country boy’s. I can feel the rhythms of the earth, the growing and the blooming and the fading and the dying, in my bones. My bones.

He describes himself as a “weather connoisseur”, and takes his time reflecting on the state of his environment in each new place. Life on the road as a ‘music gypsy’ is deeply engrained, and I loved his descriptions of ‘Unit One’, his home on the road - a little tour bus. Reading this book felt like a deep-dive into mapping America, it almost felt like a pseudo-roadtrip narrative. It certainly centres around the same themes - rebellion, outlaws, freedom.

The weather cooks up its sudden subtropical tempests out over the horizon or, on the landward side, takes the whole afternoon to build one of those immense, imposing fortresses of thunderheads, and then, as afternoon begins its long transition to evening, turns the whole towering edifice purple gray and brings it all tumbling and crashing down on you, transforming everything into wind and water.

I’d highly recommend it if you’re into autobiographies, country music or really interesting stories.

Content Warning: Addiction, suicide, drug-use, alcoholism, divorce, death, house-fires, Vietnam war, violence, disease.