In Never, Rick Astley’s recent autobiography, the ’80s pop star describes how looking back over decades gave him a fresh appreciation of one critical factor in his success. “You see how much luck and chance is involved in your life and career,” he writes in the prologue. “You can have drive and ambition and talent, but there’s a huge amount of luck involved too: you know, someone wrote a three-and-a-half-minute pop song in 1987, and my life completely changed as a result of that. It’s ridiculous, really.”
This particularly resonated. Not just because I’ve always admired Astley for appearing to remain normal in a volatile industry (though Never shows it was more complicated than that). But also because the perspective of age does make you appreciate the seemingly arbitrary nature of success. When I look back at peers who have done well in their careers, for some it was always inevitable: they hustled harder, or their talent was inarguable. But for others it looks like chance.
I was reminded of Astley after switching off a radio interview with an author — who will remain unnamed — the other day. The account of the forces shaping their writing was pleasant enough, rattling through a narrative of a home filled with books and parents who nurtured their love of stories.