Matt McAvoy Book Review

Another beautifully poignant, heartfelt book by Stef-Albert, and this one is much more unambiguously memoir than semi-fictionalized.  Stef-Albert is a man who, despite his apparent phenomenal success as an artist, designer and businessman, carries his heart on his sleeve and a burden of insecurity; he is someone who appears not to need love in his life, but throws in hook, line and sinker when it is.  He is also a man who appears to carry a bitter resentment of his indifferent childhood – this is something which undoubtedly simmers with age, and Stef-Albert seems to bear testament to this.

Importantly, though, it is another wonderful piece of writing from Stef-Albert, vivid and raw in every detail.  I really felt that I was there with him, living life through his eyes, his experiences and, most telling of all, his disappointments.  The success of his adult life was in direct juxtaposition – undoubtedly by Stef-albert’s design – to the misfortunes and poor decisions which taunted and tormented his family as a youngster.  He holds nothing back in his identification of the causes.  The timeline is not linear – at least, no more than loosely.  Whilst we age with Stef-Albert through the book, there is rather an anecdotal approach to the chapter format, as with his previous offering.  This is perhaps similar to that but without the dramatization and flamboyant pride in his work – and a rather more sombre affair it is.  The hope, light and colour which pervaded Broken Rooms seems a little more dimmed and blunted in Remains of Silence; I do hope that observation doesn’t upset Stef-Albert too much.  It’s not a pessimistic book, by any means – indeed, Stef-Albert is an inspiring example to us all of how a person can reinvent themselves professionally and impel themselves with energy to succeed – but perhaps also, like all of us, that as life moves on, the strength to fight against our internal struggles gradually starts to ebb as they weigh heavier, rather than going away.  It is not a sad reflection of Stef-Albert, but rather more a wry and cynical nod to the incessant dominance of struggle in all our lives.

But I don’t want to paint the book in a negative light; it is a must-read for anyone who likes an inspirational memoir, particularly young gay people struggling with acceptance, or just anyone really attempting to find themselves.  I wish Stef-Albert enormous success, not just with the book, but with his apparent never-ending quest to learn who he is – to identify his demons, look them in the eye and say, “I see you now; you can’t hurt me anymore.”  I suspect by writing this book he is much of the way there.  It feels indeed a cathartic experience for the author, and may be just as much one for the reader, too.  An unhesitating recommendation from me.