Have you ever even read Hunter Davies’ John Lennon-Julia's death section? Because if you haven't you're missing out.
(And perhaps not having enough compassion when judging subsequent biographers.)
“Twitchy” alone is catnip. (Full text at bottom.)
“spoke the same language, liked the same things, hated the same sort of people.”
“hated the same sort of people” **chef's kiss of all chef's kisses**
This line is one of many that makes me trust Davies’ picture of his subjects. I recognize these guys in his words. Every one of them. Davies’ access is undervalued on that score, because the picture he painted of the humans he witnessed has been confirmed over the years. That's John Lennon. That's the John Lennon we got to know after they broke up, so sanitized or not, we still recognize him. Davies’ characterizations were proven meticulous and exact, and that makes me trust him with the other people we didn't see as much. (Like, “one of nature's ravers,” Louise Harrison.)
“Twitchy took it worse than me. Then he said, ‘Who's going to look after the kids?’ And I hated him. Bloody selfishness.”
“And I hated him. Bloody selfishness.” That line. And he's talking about a guy named TWITCHY. Fuck me, I surrender.
“We'd caught up so much, me and Julia, in just a few years. We could communicate. We got on. She was great. I thought, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. That's really fucked everything. I've no responsibilities to anyone now.”
Are words even necessary? That's Oscar-stealing screenwriting. A work of art. (And the very next word in the quote is “Twitchy.” I mean.)
“I refused to go in and see her. But Twitchy did. He broke down.”
The perfect final line to a masterpiece that has been sucking biographers in since publication.
Hunter Davies • The Beatles
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Julia, John's mother, whom he was spending more and more time with, still approved of the life he was leading. She had now almost taken over from Mimi in his life. He relied on her, because she spoke the same language, liked the same things, hated the same sort of people.
“I was staying with Julia and Twitchy this weekend,” says John. “We were sitting waiting for her to come home, Twitchy and me, wondering why she was so late. The copper came to the door, to tell us about the accident. It was just like it's supposed to be, the way it is in the films. Asking if I was her son, and all that. Then he told us, and we both went white. It was the worst ever thing that happened to me. We'd caught up so much, me and Julia, in just a few years. We could communicate. We got on. She was great. I thought, fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. That's really fucked everything. I've no responsibilities to anyone now.
“Twitchy took it worse than me. Then he said, ‘Who's going to look after the kids?’ And I hated him. Bloody selfishness.
“We got a taxi over to Sefton General where she was lying dead. I didn't want to see her. I talked hysterically to the taxi driver all the way, just ranted on and on, the way you do, just babbled on. The taxi driver just grunted now and again. I refused to go in and see her. But Twitchy did. He broke down.”
