A Rough Trade Book of the YearA Mojo Book of the YearA Times Book of the YearAn Irish Times Book of the YearA Financial Times Book of the YearA Stylist Book of the Year The extraordinary and searingly honest personal story of musician Miki Berenyi, revealing the highs and lows of navigating the madness of the '90s music industry. While the description of insulting sexual behaviour, aggressive mansplaining and the careless attitude of the band’s managers sound unnerving, all music industry bollocks pales in comparison to real losses. While she is willing to change the names of some of its participants to protect them from having their faults exposed, this is a luxury she denies herself.

It's a gripping and delightful read even as, without an ounce of self-pity the bright energy of Miki's star is always tailed by darkness - the neglect and worse of an abusive childhood and the misogyny and exploitation that hangs like a pall over the Britpop years.

Fingers Crossed is an incredible account of a trailblazing woman and a seminal band delivered with the vivid, emotional power of an accomplished storyteller. It wasn’t really a diary where it’s like a kind of record of what happened or a journalistic description of what’s happening.

We learn how Berenyi’s parents split when she was four, after which her mother, Yasuko, a Japanese actor, began a relationship with the TV and film director Ray Austin. The first half – and in many ways the much more interesting half – is a frank depiction of young Miki’s upbringing; the daughter of a Japanese model-turned-actress and a Hungarian businessman, who split when she was quite young, causing Miki to be passed around from one household to another and all over the world. Centre stage with bright red hair, she had a striking and recognisable image, but never let this put her off mingling with the crowd at gigs and festivals.Talented and exuberant, the band became hot property, swiftly transitioning from shoegaze icons to Britpop darlings. But at the heart of the book are Miki’s own battles: the conflict between her mouthy public persona and her thin-skinned private identity; the trials of being a woman in an infuriatingly male world; the struggle to find a middle ground between safe indie obscurity and sellout international success.

Lush were a great 90s band and the records they created have stood the test of time and still sound as good today as they ever had.

It is as open and honest as it could possibly be, Berenyi has the knack of being able to sum up people’s characters in a sharp and concise manner, a gift she turns on herself more than she turns it on anyone else. Come down the travelators, exit Sainsbury's, turn right and follow the pedestrianised walkway to Crown Walk and turn right - and Coles will be right in front of you. Rivalries and finances rear their head and are what eventually breaks the band up, as is often the case. Berenyi is not so much neglected by her parents as ignored, as they both get on with other aspects of their life. Lush’s rise is vividly told, as Berenyi finds the squalor and rootlessness of her childhood has set her up well for life in a touring band.