Book Review: Things I Didn't Know by Robert Hughes

Sometimes a pop franchise can crap out so badly in the name of ongoing profit that one feels more confusion than disappointment. The Star Wars prequels, for example. Die Another Day. Godfather Part III.

Robert Hughes, who flaunts his elitism with pride, may not appreciate having his autobiography included in such a list. Yet the first two thirds of Things I Didn't Know are so bafflingly poor there’s no other place to put it. Readers who are new to the Hughes franchise might find it hard to slog through to the final (and good) third, while established fans may give up in disappointment long before.

Those who aren’t familiar with Hughes from his excellent written and televised work in history and art criticism may yet know his name. Recently, he was in a horrific and much-publicized car accident. While recovering from near-fatal physical injuries, Hughes was subject to vicious media attacks in Australia (where Rupert Murdoch has a Berlusconi-esque omnipresence in the news) on his way to a conviction for dangerous driving.

Hughes believes this roast had more to do with him being a successful expatriate then with his disparaging public comments about other people involved in the trial. One can understand his defensiveness considering the blackmail some of the other victims of the accident seem to have attempted and the persistence of the provincial prosecutors in re-opening the trial until he changed his plea to guilty. And there’s no doubt the Australian popular press was vicious to him in the extreme.

With so much blood in the air, it’s no surprise this autobiography is a defensive snarl of a book that opens with an in-depth account of the accident and its fallout. It’s also unsurprising that a spirit of defensive bitterness that seems to have inspired the book endures throughout its first two thirds, which deal with Hughes’ life as a child and young man in Australia.

Sadly – and, for me, very surprisingly – Hughes seems to have let his bitter defensiveness hurt his voice. Textually and stylistically the book suffers for Hughes’ heartfelt disgust and disappointment to the point that the Australian sections are hard to read.

Article Author: Melita Teale

Melita Teale is a writer and media analyst.

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