Pro Wrestling Books

Following on from his biography of little known British wrestling pioneer Douglas Clark, Steven Bell turns his attention to perhaps the two best known British wrestlers of their generation. The story of Dynamite Kid in particular is well-documented through his own groundbreaking autobiography and other titles including the memoirs of Bret and Bruce Hart and Heath McCoy’s history of the Stampede territory. Bell combines material from these and other books with original interviews, most notably with Ross Hart and the Billington family, providing illuminating details about home lives and some more amusing incidents from life on the road. Bell’s literary approach is both the greatest strength and weakness of the book. Rather than having quotes from any of the participants or sources, it’s presented almost in the style of a novel. This certainly makes for a consistent voice and a highly readable account. However, it can make it harder to assess the origin or validity of some of the content. Most notable are sections which include lengthy exchanges of dialogue created by Bell. While the introduction makes clear that “some minor details and dialogue are imagined”, some readers may still find these sections a little jarring, particularly where they aren’t…

With this title aimed at a niche audience, it is a fittingly in-depth work that will satisfy the most curious reader. The book follows a simple premise: follow the first 10 significant independent promotions to launch in Japan following the establishment of All Japan and New Japan as top dogs. With more than 500 pages in the book, this means each is explored in depth, including its origins, demise and a combination of in-ring and backstage development. Compared with the largely similar approaches of the existing promotions, the first thing to stand out is the sheer variety of in-ring styles of the 10 groups featured here, including shoot style (UWF, PWF-G, UWFI-i, RINGS), high-flying (Universal Lucha Libre), mixed martial arts (Pioneer Senshi, Seishin Kaikan) and violence (FMW) along with the more traditional styles of Japan Pro-Wrestling and Super World Sports. The accounts of each promotion are written in a self-contained manner, bringing pros and cons. It highlights and reveals the connections between the groups, particularly the perhaps underappreciated importance of Hisashi Shinma to the Japanese scene. However, it does mean some elements of repetition for those who plough through the book as quickly as possible. For anyone but the most…

To misquote Donald Rumsfeld, most books of this type tell you things you didn’t know about wrestlers you know. This one tells you things you didn’t know about wrestlers you didn’t know. In comparison to the first two volumes of the Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame series, this is something of a mixed bag. The main limitation is that many wrestlers were either covered in depth their role as a Canadian or a tag team member, or were better suited to a book on babyfaces (which indeed followed this one.) Such wrestlers are either left out of this book altogether or given only a brief coverage here. In particular, some of the profiles of wrestlers from the 21st century feel both too short and padded out with quotes reused from third-party interviews. While the publishers may have preferred more recognisable names, covering a narrower range of wrestlers in more depth would have improved the book overall. It’s the older eras that make the book, however. The heels of the territorial era are covered with the familiar detail of this series, complete with insightful interviews with the wrestlers and their peers. The highlight is certainly the sections on undersung villains of…

Almost every wrestling fan will find something to identify with this book, which is both its greatest strength and weakness. It’s simply one fan’s account of his time as a fan, from discovering the business to attending live shows to becoming involved in the fringes of the business through the FWA, to rediscovering a love for the British scene as well as attending several WrestleManias. This isn’t the first book of its type and is somewhat reminiscent of Confessions of a Smart Wrestling Fan and the early sections of Spandex Ballet, both of which I’ve reviewed on this site. Both of these had distinctive features, with the former more of a Fever Pitch-style autobiographical tale and the latter filled with humor. This tells it more straight and isn’t so explicitly themed, although the description of how Farrugia connected with his father through wrestling is touching without being clunky. The highlights are undoubtedly the sheer charm of Farrugia’s naivety in his early years as a fan, particularly the way he was introduced to action figures long before he saw a “real” match. The closest thing to a unique selling point here is that for many years Farrugia and his father were…

For an impossible task, this is an impressive effort. Author Brian Solomon is open about the challenges of portraying a wrestler whose dedication to protecting his character alongside the secrets of the business was perhaps greater than any other. It’s possible that a Sheik who survived until the 2020s would have joined The Undertaker and Kendo Nagasaki in finally lifting the lid on his career, but the one who died in 2003 took his secrets to the grave. In a similar way to how Pat Laprade and Bertrand Hebert acknowledged whenever they were uncertain if a story in their biography of Andre the Giant was a tall tale, Solomon is clear when he switches from documented facts to supposition in the absence of first-hand insight. He brings together historical records, archive interviews and contemporary quotes from the Sheik’s younger family members and wrestling associates. This approach certainly does not detract from the story, covering Edward Farhat’s development of the Sheik character and taking over the Detroit territory, his run as arguably the biggest box-office draw in the country, the stunning collapse of the business, and his unlikely career revival in FMW. It’s the type of account where it’s a net…

An engaging, breezy account of two decades in the business, this may still appeal most to the Australian market. Ken Dunlop wrestled throughout the 1980s and 1990s, a period in which the local business remained viable (Dunlop recollects wrestling around 15 times a month though held down a full-time job as well) but suffered in comparison to the glory days of the nationally televised World Championship Wrestling which went off air shortly after his debut. It’s a period fairly covered by Dunlop, who remains proud of his work but does not fall into hyperbole about the size of the crowds or the level of fame he achieved. The first third or so of the book is a more traditional chronological account of his career, with the rest of the chapters covering themes, from the drug scene, to injuries, mental health and crazed crowds. British readers will be particularly taken with the chapter on his 1992 tour with a post-TV era Joint Promotions and Orig Williams. The marketing for the book stresses Dunlop’s experiences as one of the few openly gay wrestlers. Perhaps surprisingly given stereotypes about both Australian macho culture and the wrestling business, particularly in that era, Dunlop was…

(The following article was originally written for a website before this blog — and indeed my own book on the topic — existed.) The gold standard for British wrestling books remains The Wrestling by Simon Garfield. Recently republished, it’s made up entirely of first-hand accounts from nearly 50 wrestlers, promoters, writers and other figures in the industry. There’s also a subplot where Garfield tries in vain to persuade in-ring comedian and real-life hardman Les Kellett to give him an interview. The revised edition contains a somewhat depressing afterword detailing the many participants who have passed away, including Davey Boy Smith. Two biographies of British grapplers who became worldwide stars include details of their days wrestling in the UK. Pure Dynamite by Tom ‘Dynamite Kid’ Billington  was widely regarded as the most revealing and honest wrestling autobiography at the time of its 1999 release, a year before Mick Foley’s first book hit the shelves. Only a small section of the book deals with his British days, but it’s still an intriguing look at the ups and down of working for Joint Promotions, then run by the family of top star Shirley ‘Big Daddy’ Crabtree, Walking a Golden Mile by William Regal…

Written by an author from Belgium, this novella demonstrates that some elements of being a teenager and loving pro wrestling are universal. The plot is relatively straightforward for what is intended to be the first of a lengthy series. A bullied teenager discovers pro wrestling and begins training while fighting back against his bullies. In this world, wrestling is a worked sport and provides him with confidence rather than legitimate fighting techniques. The writing style and language are crisp and clear (though many readers will be encountering the phrase “lick a pig!” for the first time.) Between the content and the style, it’s likely to most appeal to younger readers. Adults may find it a little brief and predictable, hence its billing as a novella. Though set in Belgium, the wrestling content will likely be familiar to fans of small-scale grappling around the world. Some elements particularly ring true, including the excitement of discovering the appeal of wrestling for the first time, and the descriptions of working matches that are considerably less choreographed than the average viewer may realise. As noted, it may be too much of a young adult novel for some people’s tastes, but it’s worth checking out…

This may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but for those looking for a literary approach to pro wrestling it’s worth checking out. Most wrestling books which don’t take a “traditional” approach to the business/artform come at it from an academic perspective – all Barthes references and homoeroticism. Purely literary takes on wrestling are rarer, with The Dead Wrestler Elegies the highlight so far. Body Drop brings together a collection of Oliu’s short pieces, many previously published in a host of literary magazines and outlets. They are for the most part not straight pieces on wrestling, but rather Oliu reflecting on his own life and experiences while framing it in, and comparing it to, the wrestling world. It’s an approach that takes full advantage of the often contradictory and brain-crunching blurring between fiction and reality in pro wrestling, a business made up of both real and illusory pain, where anything can happen but ritual is everything. The parallels and connections vary immensely in degree. One chilling piece tells the story of Chris Benoit while purposely redacting every mention of his name, while Oliu draws a direct connection between the portrayal of Yokozuna and his own experience of being overweight at…

Laser-focused, like its subject, this is a WWE autobiography like no other. Traditionally such books are filled with life stories and anecdotes about amusing or jaw-dropping incidents on the road. This is simply an account of one man’s drive to become a pro wrestler and get to the top and how he did it. When I interviewed the then Drew Galloway for Fighting Spirit Magazine it was clear this was somebody who obsessed over learning every detail and nuance of his profession and rarely if ever stopped thinking about the business. That’s borne out in this book which is effectively an account of what he was thinking at every moment of his rise, fall and resurgence. Those looking for gossip and dirt will be out of luck. His entire relationship with fellow performer Tiffany is covered in barely a paragraph. Other than the death of his mother and meeting his second wife, there’s virtually nothing about his private life. There’s no detail about outlandish ribs or road stories. Beyond the 2020 Royal Rumble, there’s very little detail about any individual match or angle. Instead what you have is a remarkably detailed insight into the lessons he learned, the mistakes he…