took no prisoners in his youth. Neither does he in this compelling work in which he describes an early life of increasingly violent episodes, in which teachers, social workers, and others never sought to get to know him or what his offending was about. Hence, a never-ending escalation of his violent activities, creating tensions for his family, friends, and often dubious associates in the seaside town where he grew up. So You Think You Know Me? is infused with contradictions in which the Allan Weaver who commits sometimes unspeakable acts of mayhem and aggression is not the Allan Weaver telling the story from inside his own head: an often vulnerable, sensitive, articulate and (if somewhat crazily) balanced individual to whom his own actions never seem to make any sense beyond a misguided insistence on living up to his tough guy image and reputation. It is remarkable that there can be any tidy ending to this gritty true account of a life spent in residential homes, prison, and — always at a respectful distance from — the police and other authority figures. Weaver comments on the present-day criminal justice system that he believes is still failing young people for reasons which are given in the book. So You Think You Know Me? is essential reading for anyone involved with serious young offenders, especially those of a violent disposition.

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