Postcards Say So Much by Theresa Gauthier

Postcards From the Boys by Ringo Starr

I’ve spent many a day wishing one of The Beatles would pen their autobiography. Knowing how talented they
are, and guessing that John Lennon, had he not been cut down in his prime, could well have written a fascinating account of his life, I wondered if the other three might be persuaded one day to do it.

The Beatles—the huge hardcover book that was released alongside Anthology, seemed the closest we’d get to anything official, much like the recent Get Back. The Beatles in their own words, yes, but hardly the tome I’d longed to read.

    Ringo Starr has stated he’ll never write an autobiography. He claims that everyone just wants to read about those seven years he was with The Beatles. To which I would reply, yes, we do—but personally, I want to hear about every bit of his life. I want to hear from him about his days in hospital and how he started playing drums. I want to hear from him how he managed to get so good at the drums, what he’s thinking when he drums, perhaps tidbits about the decisions he’s made when drumming—but not just The Beatles stories. There’s so much more!

I want to read about the All-Starr tours. I want to read about his movie years. I want to read about him wooing his first wife, Maureen, and later, the life he created with Barbara. I want to hear him describing his legacy—his children and their careers.

Alas, this book will never be written.

Instead Ringo has put together other sorts of books. One I’ve wanted for a long time, and I was (finally!) able to get a copy this April. 

Postcards From the Boys, first published in 2004, is exactly what it sounds like. Ringo had the presence of mind to save all the postcards he received through his life and put a good number of them together into this amazing, fun book.

The pages contain reproductions of the postcards complete with messages, doodles, etc. and putting together as coherent a picture of the life he was leading with his family and his three famous friends.

I love the book for a lot of reasons. Nostalgia, certainly, but so much more than that. There’s the glimpse at the minds of the authors, their affections for each other, their humor, what they chose to include and what they chose not to include—these pages seem as near to a complete retelling of the very years Ringo seems reluctant to discuss in the book he insists he won’t write. 

My favorite part of the book is how Ringo gave himself permission to comment on the cards. Identifying who sent which one (which isn’t always obvious) and sometimes going into detail about what was going on at the time. Sometimes a line, sometimes a paragraph, you still hear Ringo in each word. 

His assurance that they were always okay “one the music started” paints a picture of four friends who have outgrown each other’s company (at least for a time) but still cling to the one thing that drew them together.

I still wish for a complete autobiography from either Ringo or from Paul—in my dreams, someone unearths an unpublished book that John or George left behind. I’m not holding my breath—I’m just dreaming!

If you get a change to look at this book—or to get a copy of your own—I’m sure you’ll have as much fun reading it as I do every time I pick it up.