In this profound memoir, reformed skinhead Meeink, with assistance from Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead: The Frank Meeink Story. The author relates his own story of being born into a family of drug addicted parents and abuse. Rootless and without parental oversight or care. Frank Meeink’s life story involves a lot of luck — both good and bad. For many who crossed his path when he was a racist, ruthlessly violent.
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Apr 26, Honeybee77 rated it liked it. There was a duality to the narrative voice that threw me off sometimes, I assume due to the co-authorship–lots of “ain’t” and f-bombs, followed by eloquent phrases–which might bother another reader more. As for the negative: That doesn’t work that way either.
Clearly a lot of what was Skinhesd Nation indoctrination, I just found myself curious about what he was really thinking during his adolescence in addition to what he was do-ing. He knows he was a horrible person, and admits it is still a struggle for him.
He’s human and he’s imperfect. At a certain point I started to wonder if Meeink’s story was hard to read because the subject matter is hard to read about, or if it could have been streamlined a little better.
One day autobiograhy practice, I went back inside the school, hoping to God the boys’ bathroom would be empty. It was ridiculous, illogical, and appalling. He had this intensity I’d never before seen in him. By eighteen, he was doing hard time in an Illinois prison.
To my mind, the black kids at Pepper and Bartrum were vicious because they were gangsters. The style walks a straight line, the voice never feels dishonest. He talked about the Jewish man who gave him the job and the two black friends in jail, but he only briefly skimmed over what it meant that his life for 10 or 15 years was built on a set of lies. This is a book where the star rating doesn’t matter much. The problem was there wasn’t really anybody to battle in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere Pennsylvania.
Frank is truly an inspiration in any time of strife and conflict. Caleb Powell, The Rumpus. They were really hard-core street fighters, and they didn’t like skaters, especially long-haired skaters like us. I would have liked to have read more on Meeink’s state of mind as he was making the transition from neo-Nazi thinking into the process of relinquishing that mindset.
It wasn’t far from my dad’s house, and the other guys who hung out there were older, so they never had any trouble scoring booze.
Frank Meeink: From Hatred to Harmony – Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead
This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. For the first time in my whole freaking life, I felt like I mattered.
I knew all about skinheads. My mouth dropped straight to the floor when I saw him. It has become a pretty popular read due to the fact that Mr.
After two years in the ring with a full-grown boxer, I knew how to take a punch. I felt like hell when I woke up the next afternoon. I’m always curious about how people make excuses for their hatred and ignorance and am curious about how they overcome it to lead more fulfilling lives. It wasn’t just the clothes, either, or even that he’d been pumping some serious iron.
I had no clue what was going on in any of my classes, but I didn’t care. How are you doing? You’re really down to Earth. I highly recommended this book, without reservation even. Short of stabbing me or shooting me, there was nothing the gang-bangers could do to me that I hadn’t already survived at least once before.
I was not inflicted with this ciondition. And they were never stingy with it. Then she said to me in that low voice ladies use when they talk about divorce or cancer, “The move was real hard for Shawn, Frankie.
Review of Autobiography of a Recovering Skinhead () — Foreword Reviews
Apr 19, Anna Tatelman rated it really liked it. Foreword Reviews only recommends books that we love. And I got the connection with the Nazis, even if I still didn’t know what “neo” was all about. Autoboigraphy so much potty mouth though, yikes–definitely be aware of that!
So he gets off and he says, ‘Hey man. They each took a turn with a pair of electric clippers until skinheaad head was shaved clean. I saw the white powdery residue on the table, the empty pill bottles by the sink, the little bags in the trash can, the cut straws on top of the nightstand where he always stashed his gun.
Somehow I endured a year of threats by gangster kids without getting my ass kicked, although Autobiogrwphy watched one of my friends get beat up for having his head shaved and for having drawn a little swastika on his skate ramp oops.
Much has happened in the dozen years since then: The minute I did, everything in the whole world started making sense to me, even the hell of the first fourteen years of my life. But, nonetheless, it was a quick wutobiography enlightening book.