These journal entries by Nirvana front man Cobain record his thoughts from the late 1980s until his suicide in 1994. There are no real answers to his death to be found in this collection of scrawled notes, first drafts of letters, shopping lists, and ballpoint pen drawings, although the nature of Cobain's fame will make it hard for readers not to look for them. At best, a series of intimate portraits emerge: a kid from high school; a cousin and neighbor; a bright, sensitive, fun-loving and morbid punk rocker who became spokesman for a generation he largely detested. Cobain's journals remind fans of how unlikely was his rise to fame: here was a kid from Aberdeen, dreaming of being in the next Meat Puppets, not the next Doors, who signed on with an independent label named SupPop, and ended up changing the course of commercial radio. Cobain's early letters to fellow rockers in the grunge scene also remind readers of how small and close that community was, and of the fairly incendiary politics it had developed through the Reagan years. For a true punk believer like Cobain, the loss of that community was also the loss of himself. (Nov.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

The question of how to package Cobain's journals (originally contained in more than 20 notebooks) became as important as whether they should be published. Courtney Love, Cobain's widow, ultimately decided to go with Riverhead, and her choice appears to have been a good one. Reproduced here are actual notebook pages, filled with the musician's drawings, thoughts, desires, moods, lists, and declarations, showcasing his many talents, as much as his penchant for morbidity, in an amalgamation of handwritings. While this collection offers another level of intimacy for fans who have already experienced the musician's life via records, news clippings, album art, and several biographies, no one involved with the project provides any context, and this absence is keenly felt. Notes are scattered and applied to things that are of little interest, while other confusing pieces are left without the slightest comment. Given Love's vigilance in all matters Nirvana and Cobain, it is surprising that she was not more hands-on here. Still, Journals remains a good complement to Charles R. Cross's Heavier Than Heaven, which references the notebooks, and a unique addition to popular music collections.-Rachel Collins, "Library Journal" (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Reading a diary offers a thrilling--and dangerous--immediacy of access to the author's thoughts. When those private pages are published, however, the impersonality of typesetting and crisp margins holds us at a distance. This volume, culled from more than 20 spiral-bound journals the musician left behind after his 1994 death, brings us closer by using facsimile pages to present Cobain in his own uneven handwriting. There are diary entries, song lyrics, guitar chords, comic strips, letters, drafts of promotional material, and stream-of-consciousness scrawlings. Although they're so varied that it's hard to fill in a complete picture of the man, maybe that is the complete picture: a fragmented, immensely talented individual who was only able to put the pieces together during his cathartic, chaotic live performances. Some writings reflect his efforts to get early versions of Nirvana on track professionally, and others reveal his conflicting emotions at having succeeded in a musical milieu where success itself was often seen as the enemy. Some giveaways are entirely inadvertent--it's strangely touching that Cobain, who struggled with heroin addiction, couldn't even spell the word properly (he added an e on the end). With a Nirvana greatest-hits CD just hitting the stores after protracted legal wrangling between his widow and his former bandmates, there's bound to be a resurgence of interest in the straw-haired lost boy of alternative rock. But after reading his journals, you may conclude that the spotlight was the one thing this artist didn't need. KeirGraff.