To say I started reading ‘Pretty Boy’ with a none too objective mindset is something of an understatement. In the last couple of years, or at least since the success of British crime blockbuster ‘Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels’, the general public has had a thorough introduction to bare knuckle supremo Lenny McClean. Due to the small, but incredibly formative roles Roy Shaw and Lenny played in each others lives, a lot of people are at least aware of Shaw. The chances are that you will have, perhaps subconsciously, formed some opinions already. After all, as well as crossing each others paths in a significant manner, there are numerous similarities between the two men. Both have been champion fighters. Both have carried the title of the Guv’nor. Both have spent time at her Majesties leisure and pleasure. Both have connections with various members of the criminal fraternities, many of whom are almost cuddly household names these days.
Given the fact that their autobiographies hit the best seller lists within a few matter of weeks of each other, given that they were by the same publishers, given that the presentation of each book was of similar design. Given that it is virtually impossible to talk about the history of British bare knuckle fighting without mentioning Roy and Lenny, hell, without mentioning those fights between Roy and Lenny. Well let’s just say that whilst I didn’t start to read ‘Pretty Boy’ intending to compare it to "The Guv’nor" the obvious comparisons were firmly planted. So much for an unbiased, open minded review.
So I begin the book, and the beginning is merely reinforcing the comparisons. Born into a poor London environment, the tragic early death of the father, the turning point in life when violence became a natural part of life, the early endeavours into crime and subsequent youth detention centres. Hell, it’s looking awfully similar, you can’t refute that. Then just at the point of meeting the girl, marrying and then, after an abortive attempt at going straight which goes against his natural makeup, a fully fledged entry into a life that is not so legit takes place.
It is here that ‘Pretty Boy’ begins to cut it’s own furrow and develop as a book of an entirely different, and somewhat darker, nature.
Whilst Roy developed an early passion, and by all accounts talented ability, for boxing it nonetheless played only a minor active role in his early life. Violence however was always with Roy, both professionally and personally. For Roy began a twofold development plan: armed robber, and complete psycho. While the great train robbery is the heist that caught in the nations memory, Roy racked up a number of suitably hard core, high turnover jobs himself. However very few criminals will get away with it forever, and Roy ended behind bars many times. In fact the majority of the book is given over to tales of Roy’s prison experiences with small sections detailing the exploits that got him there in the first place.
The guy spent so many years in various prisons, including military prisons, and generally reacted badly to authority, any authority, in a manner that you should be able to guess. As soon as somebody would give him an order, or punishment, it was a cue for Roy to switch into turbo nutter mode. The driving force behind Roy was, perhaps, the old maxims "don’t let the bastards grind you down" coupled with "never back down", and while the authorities never did actually break him, it damn near cost Roy his sanity and his life (it certainly cost him his marriage). The tales from the period of his life spent in Broadmoor are particularly harrowing – imagine a version of Cuckoo’s Nest without anyone being nice to mute native American Indians and you’re still way off the mark. Frightening stuff.
Throughout these years of his life Roy was something of a loose cannon, and when he had it in for you, he showed scant regard for life, quite literally at times. So when he is finally released from prison in his 30’s he is ready to give life a new try. It is at this point, with barely a quarter of the book left, that we see the Roy that we have been expecting, the prize-fighter, and we are back on familiar territory. Roy does well and rises up the ranks to earn the title Gov’nor. For the first time in his life he seems genuinely happy (though prolonged bouts of liberty tend to have that affect on a man), even getting married and falling in love which at times appear as a contradiction for a man like Roy. Eventually we get to that fight, in fact those fights, and while we are already familiar with the outcome it is interesting to gain the opposite perspective.
This pretty much wraps the book up. We have a particularly bleak tale of a man’s life in crime, agitated and exacerbated by a ferocious temper. If it weren’t an autobiography one could almost imagine it being an Alan Sillitoe novel: a man standing up for his, sometimes dubious, beliefs soaking up all they could throw at him. However it’s a little bit more than that. Roy is something of an anti-hero, and though the tone of the book almost unbearably bleak there are a number of very rich comic veins running through this book, but this is humour of the very blackest kind. They say that all humour is cruel, that it relies on the misfortune of others. Well the victims of the humour in Roy’s tale are so very obvious to see, and quite often he is the victim himself.
This is a book of an extreme life, filled with extreme actions. Roy tells it with a very refreshing style, and while he may not be proud of all he has done there is no note of remorse. In his eyes he may well have done some bad things, but he has done his time or you deserved them. Within Roy’s moralistic framework he has done no wrong, or the penance has been paid, and there is no room for sorrow or guilt.
Just to close with, Roy still seems to have violent tendencies, though perhaps not as extreme these days. I guess that age, and the fact that he is now a successful and legitimate businessman, may have some calming effect but the old temper still shines through. As such this book contains, for me, perhaps the most optimistically nihilistic ending I have ever come across in a book. Maybe it’s just me, but it’s great to see an old man hold onto what it is that gives his life meaning. Even if some poor sucker is going to receive the worst beating of his life as a result.
