First of all, I like this 'genre' of personal mixed with history .. it brings it home all the better, engages its readers more closely .. and additionally, in this case, the writer is adept and skillful at weaving context and personal together. Highly recommend .. makes me feel that luckily some of the downsides of that time period are hopefully forever behind us ..

I loved this by Paul Burston, an incredibly sad memoir. I loved being taken through my stomping ground in London.
Thank you Netgalley, I would recommend this book (and actually have)

This book is a must read for anyone who wants to know what it was like to grow up gay in the UK during the 1980s and 90s. Paul Burston’s memoir is beautifully written and if anyone can be called a guiding light for us through those years - and beyond - then it is him. His work as a journalist in the 1990s was a godsend for me and countless others in magazines like Time Out and City Limits; he let us know what was going on so we could go enjoy ourselves, whilst also delving into the culture’s highs and lows, and interviewing everybody on a gay young Londoner’s dreamy celebrity wish-list.

But this highly entertaining book (he’s a massive Bowie fan, and the concise, episodic chapters are often named after Bowie songs or lyrics) goes way beyond exploring Paul’s history as our most significant journo-ally of those times. From his troubled childhood growing up in Wales, to tales from his adolescence right through to middle-age of excessive highs and shocking lows, it’s a searingly honest account of an incredibly brave man’s personal journey to slay a few dragons and conquer his demons. Some wonderful love affairs and oodles of camp/outrageous showbiz gossip along the way lift the reader whenever things feel they might get a little too heavy or upsetting.

But above all this, Paul was fighting for our rights - see the cover image for early proof of this - and publicising the work that he and others were doing on the front line - and my goodness, did he work tirelessly as both activist (with ACT UP) and journalist to stand against the prejudice and ignorance surrounding the AIDS crisis, the Thatcher government’s Clause 28 banning the ‘promotion’ of homosexuality in schools, and much more besides. For a generation of gay men, his name alongside an article in everything from the Guardian to Attitude magazine meant you knew you were about to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

These days he’s the host of the wildly successful LGBT+ literary salon Polari, working tirelessly to promote the work of others in the community. There’s a real sense that this is indeed a fabulous survivor’s story. Here’s to Paul and let’s hope that one day he pens another one covering what will no doubt be a glorious second act!

I need to begin this review with a content warning. This review mentions the AIDS crisis, violence against LGBTQ+ folx, discrimination, PTSD, drug abuse, and sexual assault. I try to approach these issues with tact, but you may want to avoid this review if these topics are just too raw for you.

Going through my extensive Kindle notes and highlights for this book, I’m struck by several things about We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, is that although this is a deeply personal book, detailing Burston’s life and personal evolution, it is also a political call to action, a recounting of the AIDS crisis from the perspective of someone who watched far too many of their peers fall ill and die to it, and a takedown of hypocritical behaviors from writers, journalists, Piers Morgan, Tony Blair, the British government as a whole, Men’s Health magazine, and more I’m probably missing.

Burston makes it quite clear from the beginning that he’s no angel. He knows he’s made mistakes. He writes openly about his drug use and promiscuity, and how he ended up with what might today be diagnosed as C-PTSD (in the form of survivor’s guilt) because despite all that, he survived while so many of his beloved friends and idols died.

There’s a small note I feel I must mention before I begin. Throughout the memoir, Burston expresses his idolatry of David Bowie. Personally, I wasn’t really exposed much to David Bowie as a child, which is funny, because my mom loved him, complex sexuality and all. I’d say I was too young and so I missed the boat, but even before the internet, that wasn’t a valid excuse (MTV and VH1, anyone?). With all this talk of Bowie, and with Burston being the activist he is, as upfront, forthcoming, and sensitive to the plights of others as he is, there’s something about Bowie that I feel was missing: a mention, even just a sentence, of the sexual assault victims who have come forward since his death, exposing his actions as a statutory rapist. It is okay to both idolize someone for the things they have done for you personally and to hold them accountable for the awful things they have done to others. Those two things need not be at odds, despite what many Bowie “fanboys and girls” may claim. People are complex. Just as Bowie was both things, we can hold both emotions, the knowledge of both sides of him, and hold him accountable for all his actions, genius and evil, both.

An excellent article that succinctly summarizes what I’m trying to say can be found here https://www.mic.com/articles/132399/the-complicated-sexual-history-of-david-bowie. As a survivor of statutory rape myself, the article especially affected me where it quoted a piece on Medium (https://medium.com/@britnidlc/david-bowie-musical-genius-gender-bending-icon-perpetrator-of-sexual-violence-b2eb771431c8#.iw9wu04p6) and finished with, “Despite all of these great achievements, his past is not spotless, and for the sake of every victim of sexual violence, it doesn’t deserve to be remembered as such.”

We Can Be Heroes was profound. Yes, I’m a member of the community but I truly hope that most heterosexual and/or cisgender people can take away even half of what I did from We Can Be Heroes. Paul Burston writes eloquently with his journalistic talent, though there are certainly points at which you can feel the heat of his anger coming up off the page, as he seethes righteously.

I’m grateful that he wrote the memoir while sober and well after the events he describes, because I don’t think he could have described them as thoroughly, carefully, delicately, and with as much of his own flourish as he does here if he had instead just pieced together journals written at the times of the events. His writing is impeccable, and he manages to combine journalistic style with a personal tone that is reminiscent of a long-form essay, but better.

Paul Burston is a gay writer and activist who lived through the height of the AIDS crisis during his formative years, a time that Queer folx of this current generation might spend partying and celebrating their ‘outness’, their freedom (despite whatever DeSantis and the other mouthpieces of lesser devils have to say about sexuality and gender, we are freer than ever before, and things will get better). In addition to his journalism and activism, Paul Burston also worked in philanthropy, by starting a nonprofit (Polari) for diverse LGBTQ+ writers to submit their works for recognition. Despite its humble beginnings in a night club, it has become so successful that it was picked up by the British Library and is now internationally acclaimed.

It is painful, to say the least, to read these pages and see the similarities between his time and mine wrought so plainly. To see tragedies in history repeating themselves. Why? Hatred. Why? Misunderstanding and fear and years of indoctrination in hate-filled, fearful, and intentionally misled communities selectively closed off from the world at large until they’re not. Culture shock. Reality coming crashing down on some young bumpkin’s buzzed head. It does, and when it does, it leaves a mark. Some people grow, get better, learn, and eventually preach acceptance in their lives and those around them, but others get worse, colder, more hate-filled, angrier, looking for a scapegoat for emotions or feelings they can’t explain, or just looking for a place to put all the anger they’ve been taught is the only way men are allowed to express themselves. When that happens, the culture clash of diverse reality coming down to bear on a young, single, previously culturally isolated man, we have seen many acts of violence. Some of those acts involve firearms, legal or otherwise (does it even matter at this point? NRA-nuts must realize that a goddamn knife can’t kill as many people in as short a time as an AR-15 in a dark nightclub during the length of one song, as people try to figure out what’s happening, scattering, not fully understanding, not hearing the gunshots clearly, not expecting to be targeted in their safe spaces. There were more than 100 casualties in the mass shooting at Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, 49 dead and 53 wounded, but DeSantis thinks the far greater danger to public safety is drag queens strutting their stuff – even in age-restricted performances. Even DeSantis’s excuse for harassing the drag venue – claiming that it violated a public nuisance law – sounds suspiciously similar to the type of legislation that Burston and so many others fought against for so long; the “gross indecency” classification of crime.

When self-expression and love are crimes, repression and hate reign supreme. And that, my friends, is something we must fight “tooth and nail”, as wild beasts if we must. When children are encouraged to kill themselves by a world that not only doesn’t accept who they are, but has actively legislated that their identities are perverse, somehow wrong, that is a fight worth fighting. That is a “save the children” moment worthy of Jesus.

When men, women, nonbinary folx, and children are harassed and belittled, not just by the odd passerby, as has been deemed “acceptable” throughout most of the ‘00s, but by the very government of which we are supposedly a crucial part; when the so-called democratic republic no longer represents its constituents, that is a fight worth fighting.

Many of us are productive members of society. Those of us who can, work. We pay taxes (and we very rarely make the ridiculous claim that “taxation is equivalent to theft” or some other such nonsense, when the only similar statement that makes sense in both a historical and political context is “taxation without representation is theft”). We are statistically more likely to be law-abiding citizens who are targets of crime than criminals ourselves. And yet, we receive terrible treatment from our neighbors, our elected officials, our policymakers, our law enforcement, especially when we are most in need.

And Queer kids? They’re the best of us, even though they are not of us. They are smart and wise. They are kind and nonjudgmental. They are supportive of their found families, wherever they may be. They are resilient. And when they are given the opportunity, they blossom. They can be happy, healthy, well-adjusted kids. Not in DeSantis’s America, mind you, the one where teachers cannot help their students who come out to them as gay (see: “Don’t Say Gay” legislation link). Not in the world in which they are prevented from taking part in team activities because their gender doesn’t fit nicely into a cookie cutter world in which we do not live. Not in the world where they are scapegoated and called perverse and told that their parents or supportive adults in their lives are “groomers” because they love and respect them for who they are regardless of gender or sexuality.

DeSantis, and those like him, are building a hell on Earth for gay/Queer folx. They have the gall to say they’re “taking America back”. Back from and to whom, I wonder. Many Native American tribes, the ones to whom America would go “back” if anyone, had gender and sexuality variants that are not strictly heterosexual cisgender male and female. Today, many of their spiritual descendants choose to identify as Two Spirit, which can mean many things to many different people, but is usually folded into and under the trans umbrella, according to the Two Spirit website. It sounds settled, but it’s not.

Everyone feels differently about their identities, and that’s okay, too. A prime example would be how my interpretation of pansexuality is that it relies on a rejection of the gender binary; that to be pansexual, one must first view gender as a spectrum and not a tidy pink or blue categorization. I know not everyone feels that way. I still want to take people under my wing and talk to them about the conferences I’ve learned from when I hear them describe it otherwise, but I let them ID as they’d like, without attempting to invalidate them.

Now that I’ve gone completely into essay territory and away from the review zone, let me attempt to circle back. We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston is a memoir from which everyone can learn something, whether that is facts about the LGBTQ+ movement’s legacy or perhaps just a little bit of empathy.

I learned quite a bit about our shared Queer history from We Can Be Heroes, more than I knew I didn’t know. Burston has spent most of his adult life in the UK, and that is certainly a history I had not been exposed to. There was the 1999 terrorist attack on the Admiral Duncan, the worst act of anti-gay violence ever recorded in the UK, in which 79 people were injured and three were killed. (The media at the time focused on the fact that two of those killed and injured were heterosexual. While it’s important to stress the fact that this fight affects us all, suggesting that some lives were “more worthy” than others based on their sexuality and “just being in the wrong place at the wrong time” is simply wrong. No victim “deserved it” and to insinuate otherwise is to side with terrorism. This terrible act of violence is what reminded me of the Pulse nightclub shooting.

We Can Be Heroes is an important book, but, more than that, it’s a good book. While it’s not always enjoyable (due to the subject matter), it is always eye-opening and well-written. Paul Burston’s talents shine in this memoir and I’m so glad that I took the time to read it.

Hopefully, this review helped you decide to give We Can Be Heroes a chance, too, regardless of your sexuality or knowledge of Queer history.

I highly recommend We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/5

Thank you NetGalley and Little A Publishing for the opportunity to read and review this ARC.

So raw and honest, this read was heartbreakingly beautiful and full props to Paul Burston as he does not shy away from any devastating moments in his life and the struggles that he has experienced. Although it dealt with a lot of hard-hitting moments and trauma, it was difficult to put this book down and I had it finished within a day as the writing was so engaging and I was in awe of the strength that Paul has to overcome so much in his life.
Thank you very much to the publishers and NetGalley for this incredibly important read.

Paul Burston has written a gutsy, gritty memoir overflowing with drama and heartbreak. Managing to survive a traumatic childhood, he moved from his small Welsh town to London, finally as an out gay man. We Can Be Heroes is a fascinating insight into what it was like to be gay in the 1980s in Britain, and the gay scene in London. For me it was also a trip down a musical memory lane. While I hardly recognised any of the celebrities, shows or magazines, he mentions, I do know and love the music.
The book, of course, is also about the Aids plague, and its devastating effects. Not only did it cause illness and death, but led to homophobia becoming rife in Britain. It became a very unsafe place for visibly gay men, like Burston.
The author threw himself into gay activism, only turning away when he’d lost one too many fellow AIDS activists to the disease. Not dealing with his own trauma, he turns increasingly to alcohol and drugs to escape. Despite this, he has a successful career trajectory, moving from freelance journalism to authoring novels to setting up a literary salon to provide a platform for LGBTQ+ authors, poets and performers. “Here we could be the stars of our own stories. We could be heroes.”
I had never heard of Burston before. He comes across as hugely courageous and unafraid to stand up for his convictions. He’s also totally out there, and has the confidence to be himself. And yet he writes with humility, and is happy to detail his failings, his demons, his shame, and his survival.
I won’t forget this read in a hurry!

I have never heard of Paul Burston before starting this book. I’m just a bit older than him but I live in Canada and even though I try and keep up with contemporary Gay literature,I’ve just never come across his name/work before.
This is an extraordinary memoir-I was so moved and excited by it that I’m going to see if I can find an address to write to Paul and tell him how much I loved the book. A book like this which covers most of my own life-period is so evocative and the memories it brought back to me are incredible. I too found out about Aids before it had a name and I lost many good friends to the terrible Illness.. But the pandemic feels like it was such a long time ago and seems to be so far removed from the current Gay community%that I had forgotten what is was like to live through that period of time-the terror of getting sick,the number of friends who did succumb,it feels like such a different world but it’s to Paul’s brilliance that he took me right back to those days.
I enjoy memoirs but I tend to avoid them because the common thread is too often you can’t imagine how bad my life starting out was and look how I’ve risen since. I never felt Paul Burston engaged in over dramatic self-pity. He clearly spoke about the trials he’s gone through-his account of drug and alcohol abuse is terrifying, but there is such an easily accessible style to the writing,I felt like I was listening to the life story of a very dear friend.
A great deal of the book refers to pop references which I know almost nothing about. Yes I’ve heard of Bowie and know maybe two songs,same with the many other artists written about-but I never felt distanced from the narrative. I actually wished I had written down all of the song titles and artists discussed so I could see them in the context that Paul discusses them. I have only experienced London twice I have a very close friend who follows everything in London-from coronation street to top of the pops and I told her if I had a paper copy of the book I would definitely pass it on to her because I know she woukd live Paul’s stories.on very short trips so almost everything Paul writes about-the clubs,the neighborhoods-mean nothing to be. But none of that stopped me from rushing through the work. I think this is the fastest book I’ve read in years because I couldn’t put aside my listening to Paul’s voice and his wonderful telling of his life. What an incredibly gifted man he is and what an exceptional narrator of his own life.
I never found him to be didactic or off%putting which coukd happen when one has lived such a political life. I think this memoir is exceptional for the much younger generation of people who don’t know what life was like before marriage-equality nor people of my generation who will be happy and surprised to read how much of the past that will return to them reading this work. I think this would make a phenomenal one-person play-Paul on a stage alone telling the audience avpbout his wonderful adventures and struggles. And the fact that Paul ends the book with the idea that his life is not complete but continues to evolve and struggle was the perfect conclusion for me.
I’m going to search for his other work as this was truly a life changing/ life affirming read. I hope many other people find their way to this book as it really is an exceptional memoir.

I thought this was well written, and very honest. I too come from a small town in South Wales, and am gay, I am a few years older than Paul, and like him ended up heading to a big city, in my case Birmingham, as a gay teenager it was a bit of a minefield and an eye opener, but you can't really stay in a small place if you want to meet other people like yourself. There are a lot of differences between
the scene for men and women or there were back then, the amount of drug taking that Paul describes is astonishing to me, or maybe I was naïve .He has certainly had a hell of a life so far, and achieved a great deal too, and writes a very interesting warts and all story., it is a great read and I enjoyed reading it very much. .

What a fantastic memoir and a wonderful trip back to a time in the U.K. where gay life was exciting and subversive. As Burston suggests in his memoir, just being gay was seen as something disruptive under Thatcher's reign of terror. I was fascinated by how Burston manoeuvred through this world with absolute conviction, and how he will not be told how he should behave as a gay man and a writer. He refused to be defeated by Thatcher's homophobic policies--Burston also calls out Tony Blair for being indifferent to the repeal of Section 28.

In the book, Burston reinforces the notion that gay journalists have a responsibility to use their writing as activism. They should use their position (as well as their angry at injustices) to speak out against the government as well as the homophobic media that liked/likes to minimise and attack gay men.

I didn't want this memoir to end, and it made me want to read his articles as well as his other books.


The kindle version of the arc itself had spacing and font problems so it could be a bit difficult to read the memoir. The downloadable adobe digital version did not have this problem so I chose to read that version.

I have to be honest here. Prior to reading this book I had never heard of Paul Burston. Speaks more to my upbringing than anything else and not really being in the same world... In fact my only experience (I think that's the word) into that "side of life" was via the wonderful musician that is Tom Robinson and his song Glad to be Gay. But the book was recommended to me by the owner of a FB Book group I am in and, as my life has changed, and my experiences are much more open these days, I took a punt. And I am so very glad I did.
Wow, what a life this guy has had thus far! Ups and downs. All laid bare and truth exposed in this book. And also what an eclectic and impressive bunch of shoulders he has touched along the way. And I don't mean in a name dropping way. There is no one-upmanship to be found herein. Just included as a means to an end - to illustrate, explain.
We go through his life, the downs are harrowing and often hard to read. But then he details some juicy shenanigans - including dating stories, drug/alcohol fuelled antics, or political, some of which had me roaring with laughter. There were also things that were funny at the time but looking back... you get the picture. It includes a lot of things he has had to overcome. Equal rights being front and centre. The world is a better place inclusion wise now, not perfect, but a heck of a lot better than it was. And that is down to people like him. At least nowadays there isn't the feeling of being alone that the author experienced and there are better tools available to cope with things rather than turning to alcohol/drugs to either fit on or suppress feelings. But no judgement, it is what it was at the time... Life experience and all that...
It's also incredibly well written - obviously given his profession - and even though there are some rather awful things included, I never felt unsafe, it never got too dark. Which it easily could have given the inclusion of AIDS and the devastation that caused to the Gay community.
All in all a book that I feel privileged to have read and one that I will definitely be recommending. Thank you to the author for opening my eyes...

"We Can Be Heroes" is a moving and inspiring novel that will resonate with readers who have faced challenges related to their identity or sexuality, or who have experienced the impact of social and political changes on their lives. It is recommended for fans of LGBTQ+ literature, coming-of-age stories, and novels that explore important social issues.

The E-Book could be improved and more user-friendly, such as links to the chapters, no significant gaps between words and a cover for the book would be better. It is very document-like instead of a book. A star has been deducted because of this.

This is a first for me by the author and one I enjoyed and I would read more of their work. The book cover is eye-catching and appealing and would spark my interest if in a bookshop. Thank you very much to the author, publisher and Netgalley for this ARC.

“As an activist he stormed the House of Commons during the debate over the age of consent. As a journalist he spoke up for the rights of the community at a time of tabloid homophobia and legal inequality." As an authour he wrote books such as The Gay Divorcee, Shameless and founded the groundbreaking Polari Prize. Burston, 'l'enfant terrible', has also been pivotal in many markers of our LGBTQ+ History. He is also a “Producer. Survivor”.

Burston's writing style is honest and engaging, and his storytelling is both entertaining and informative. We can be heroes is a memoir filled with anecdotes and personal experiences that paint a vivid picture of what it was and it is like to be queer in the UK. From CND marches, to Stop The Clause campaign, ACT UP, and a lot more.

As someone who also lived through that era, I found myself nodding along and laughing at the many shared experiences. Like his audience for Polari in Hastings “Most are old enough to remember the 80s and the horrors we lived through”. I cherished revisiting the scene: all the clubs, the music, the bars/pubs and the cinemas, the Bell and Scala being favourites. As Burston puts it, when talking about Riot Act: “We’re all heroes - Michael, Vin, me, and everyone in the audience who identifies with our struggle, whatever their sexuality”.

"We can be heroes" is an essential read, even for those who didn't experience that time period. It's a testament to the power of activism, community, and resilience, and a reminder of how far we've come in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights.

Burston's memoir is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand the struggles and triumphs of the queer community.

Thanks #netgalley @amazonpublishing for this ARC

#wecanbeheroes #netgalleymember
#pudseyrecommends #lgbtbooks #lgbtq #aueerbooks

My first taste of Paul Burston's work was when I came across The Black Path, his first crime fiction title. No pun intended there - it literally was just one of those titles I happened upon. I knew the setting having spent a lot time visiting Bridgend for work, and I love books like that so I went straight in. I loved it. I knew nothing of the man behind the book, or the story behind the man, just knew I loved the writing and the story. Then he released a book with one of my favourite publishers - The Closer I Get - a story which was completely compelling and gave perhaps more of an insight into the person behind the stories.

It's only through that, and the power of social media that I've become more aware of just who Paul Burston really is, and of the kind of things he has achieved in his life, a far cry from the young boy who grew up on an estate in a small Welsh town. And achieved is probably underselling his story in all honesty as it was more of a fight in all senses of the word than a simple right of passage. Reading We Can Be Heroes has been a real eye opener, not just because of all of the things that Paul Burston has experienced, but also as a testament to the history of gay rights, and the fight for equality, within the UK. It's not a part of history that I know much about, it has no direct relevance to me or my life as such, but this is still a story which has moved me, enraged me and made me very glad that I chose to read it. I'd advocate for others to do so too, irrespective of sexual orientation or personal history.

It's fair to say that Paul Burston is a bit of a warrior. Like all warriors before him, he hasn't emerged from the many battles unscathed, and the book, like the author, bears the scars with a mixture of pride and acceptance. From a young man just trying to find his place on the gay scene of London, to AIDS and Gay Rights activist, the 'enfant terrible' of Gay journalism developed a style which was direct, confrontational and challenging - putting it mildly - but all of it at a high personal cost. Taking readers on a journey through all of the many stages of his life, the progression of his career, the many friends he lost to AIDS at far too young an age, and the incessant prejudice that was levied against the Gay community, this is an brutally honest story of a life lived to excess, often to hide from the stark and harrowing realities of all that was going on around him.

Paul Burston is not the only person to hide from their problems behind a veil of drugs and alcohol, and to that respect many people will be able to identify with his story no matter how different their own background. It is an all too recognisable scenario - a person seeking acceptance, not just from those around them, but on a personal level too. And there are some stark revelations, which come late in life, that go some way to explaining just what was behind that constant inner battle, and the demons that had haunted him for so long. That's an element of the author's story which comes late to us as readers too, not seeking our pity, but dealt with in an almost matter of fact way that can only come from someone who has finally begun to learn to come to terms with who they are.

Beyond all of this, and as moving and funny as some of Paul Burston's revelations are, this is a real guidebook through a cultural history, taking us through the many decades over which he has carved out a truly amazing path. From telemarketeer, to activist and journalist, to the creator or Polari Salon and the Polari Prize for Fiction, Paul Burston has played a significant role in the fight for gay rights and it is only in reading this book I have realised the extent of it. Some of his stories, his interactions with names that are so familiar to me, made me laugh, and his giddy enthusiasm, and occasional faux pas, in the presence of his idols really did bring a smile to my face. For every moment of laughter, there is a balancing moment of darkness, such is the contrast of his past brought vividly to life on these pages. And the book stands as a reminder of the inequality that has faced the community for far too long, the political, legal and personal injustice and prejudice that is still being fought against today.

I have loved Paul Burston's work as a writer, but I now have a deeper appreciation of the person behind the books and the wonderfully positive and proud instagram posts too. There is an air of vulnerability about much of what I read that is often hidden behind that social media smile, but also an acceptance of his past and a determination to make the most of a future denied to so many. If you only read one memoir this year, make it this one. This is not a story I will forget in a hurry for so many different reasons. Definitely recommended.

To say I wanted more would be an understatement. This was a delicious page turner right from the start. Everytime I had to put it down, it was all I could think about. I did end up finishing way past my bedtime, just so I would be able to sleep.

Well - We Can Be Heroes – what can I say other than, what a thought provoking, no holds barred book.
I often wonder about how much truth goes into people’s memoirs and I think it’s safe to say that Paul Burston, in We Can Be Heroes, doesn’t shy away from the truth as he sees it. This is an honest, sometimes hard to read, always compelling memoir written to the soundtrack of Bowie and other gay icons of the 80s. It filled me with nostalgia and rage and joy and hope because We Can Be Heroes stakes a claim for us to find heroes even when we least expect it and more importantly – to be heroes.
After finishing the memoir, I had to take some time to take stock of all the emotions it evoked in me and I think that is the mark of a good book. We Can Be Heroes got under my skin in the same way as It’s A Sin did when I first watched it. It’s a book of my time (Paul and I are similar ages) and I was at university in Stirling in the 80s. The backdrop of a large part of the book echoed the experiences shared by my gay friends and my own observations. The authenticity of reading lived experiences is just as important now as it should have been in the 80s. With two gay children myself, I often reflect (as Burston himself does) on their understanding of the sacrifice, loneliness, fear etc that was persistently always there – just there.
Every time I read a book written by a member of the LGBTQ+ community or a gay ally, who lived through the horror of the AIDS epidemic with all its loss, fear and stigmatisation and the subsequent rage against Clause 28, I am struck by their journey – a journey that demonstrates such resilience despite the hurdles placed in their way.
Can Be Heroes is a journey of self-discovery, but more than that, it documents the harsh reality of an era that, I believe, many people are unaware of. The more of these lived experiences that are published by the main stream publishers the better.
However, We Can Be Heroes is more than rage against prejudicial laws and opinions. It is also filled with hope and love and friendship and progression and emotion. It pays homage to those who provided comfort, those who died, those who survived and it documents the progress forty years has seen. Burston’s story is an important one because it shows reality rather than some sanitised version of the truth. He is sometimes harsh towards himself and the choices he made and often references the benefits of hindsight when he identifies key moments that sent him spiralling out of control. Ultimately, though there is an acceptance that the path he travelled is what it is and that he’d still moving forward and being a hero in the best way he can.

We Can Be Heroes by is searingly honest and full of nostalgia.

Paul's accounts as a gay activist in the AIDS era, journalist, author, and Polari leader are funny, eye opening, and painful in turn.

Music and self-discovery underpin it all. Highly recommend!

Thank you Paul for sharing your life with us. This fellow author knows how much of a rollercoaster the writing world can be too. Keep doing what you're doing!

A brilliant, very moving memoir from journalist, novelist, producer and activist Paul Burston. He is the founder of the LGTBQ+ Polari literary salon and the Polari Prize book awards. Sometimes a controversial figure, his life, as documented in this book, is a rollercoaster of a journey. Although at times it was very sad to read about Paul's experiences, I found the book to be warm-hearted, audacious and compelling. It has a lot of humour too and fab celebrity anecdotes, not just name-dropping but actually meaningful ones.

The title of this book is from David Bowie's 'Heroes'. Bowie's music has been a lifesaver for Paul and is referenced throughout the book, with Paul eventually meeting his hero. Other influential musicians featured include Marc Almond, Jimmy Somerville, Boy George, Neil Tennant, George Michael and Pete Burns.

There is a particular focus on what it meant to be gay, especially if you were out, in the 80s. The threat of violence, the blatant discrimination, internalised homophobia, the issues which divided the gay community, losing many dear friends to HIV / AIDS and the fear of going for a test. Paul describes the high times as well as the low, most notably how he was on a path to self-destruction with an awful lot of drug use, risky behaviour and survivors' guilt. While there is much pain and anger in this book there is hope and love too. An incredibly candid and well-written memoir.

[Review will be on my blog, 17th May]

Paul Burston seems to have lived at least six lives in one and each is worthy of its own biography.
From the early story of a young man moving to the city and coming to terms with his sexuality, to life as an activist during the AIDS crisis, to his later reinvention as a novelist and literary host, this book unfolds at a breakneck speed. There are many difficult issues discussed here and Burston doesn't shy away from the issues affecting his community and indeed his own life but it remains a very human story, even witty at times. A detailed, sometimes funny, often harrowing, always unflinching look at recent British history.

Review We Can Be Heroes by Paul Burston

• From Act Up to Riot Act
• From Bridgend to Hastings
• From acting to living
• From shame to understanding
• From covering to sharing
• From hedonism to balance
• From anger to humility
• But always personality and always purpose.

I’m reminded of Lencioni’s leadership model, that true leadership requires as much courage as it does insights. The first step is always about “trust”. Knowing oneself, being comfortable in one’s own skin, looking in the mirror and understanding and liking the person looking right back. The fear of being or showing vulnerability prevents so much happiness and forward momentum, most importantly it leads to darkness and the absence of trust.

We Can Be Heroes, this personal journey is that literary manifestation; the opening up, the second coming out, the peeling of the proverbial onion – to understand and see what is at the core. Trust is built from four components; honesty, sharing, admitting imperfections and fairness. Paul deals with each of these four robustly.

Paul builds trust with the reader from the very start; through childhood, a loving mum, the seeds of the life to come were sown, his love of drama, music, then the identification with a different life in London.
I have found this an emotional journey, reflecting on my own life story, being gay and a similar age, coming from a small northern town and loving the theatre and arts rather than sports. Our lives interlocked at pivotal moments for us both. We have laughed and cried, partied and traveled for 30 years. Having first met on the Gatwick Express, by accident, sitting next to each other on the 0540 from Victoria, but both heading to Mykonos, my first “special interest” holiday.

Without a doubt Paul has been such a good friend to me; different career routes and now living on different continents, yet he has provided sage advice, opened my eyes to new experiences and thankfully saved me from myself numerous times.

Having featured as some of the cameos in Paul’s earlier novels, I chuckle now as I read one or two of those stories recreated in his autobiography 25 or 30 years later, I’m grateful that a few aren’t attributed to save my blushes, but it has flooded my mind with stories from the past.

We Can Be Heroes is on one level a very personal insight into a man whom I’m honoured to call a dear friend. However, on another level it is an educational piece, it is the story which should have been shared during those less enlightened Section 28 days, it should be read by all those younger people who are still coming to terms with their sexuality or feeling the loneliness and shame of abuse or bullying. We Can Be Heroes is the story of hope, hard work and salvation.

We Can Be Heroes is the literary reminder to my generation and the wake-up call to those younger; just as "It’s a Sin" was for its TV audience. Paul you have paved the way for many to follow. Keep bothering, keep speaking truth to power and most importantly keep being the true you.

Our dreams and pathways change, what we wanted at 20 may well be different at 30 and change again by the time we reach 40, our dreams evolve. It is our failure to become that perceived dream which ultimately defines us all. In fact, it is our mistakes and or challenges and our personal acceptance of them which allows the real person to emerge. Paul’s struggles, his successes, his highs and lows and ultimately his understanding of them and his acceptance of them which make this the most compelling and personal story.

William Gibbon
Macau: 6th March 2023.

I really got engrossed in this book. It brought me back to 1970s San Francisco. I lived in the Castro, so I saw it all. Paul brought back so many good memories, but oh, so many bad ones. We lost a few friends to AIDS. You couldn't walk down Castro without hearing someone mention a friend was positive or one was dead. It was just a horrible, horrible time. Gays were treated like the plague. My husband had a nurse in SF General yell at him because he hugged our friend who had AIDS. I'm so glad now there are medicines.

Paul's writing of activism was also very informative and interesting. Then again, Paul is very interesting. It's just a wonderful, wonderful book, and I'm buying a copy for my gay grandson so he can see how it was.

Thank you, Paul, for writing this book. The beginning of AIDS has kind of been forgotten.

Loved all the boyfriend stories. Brought back funny memories for me.