I have no excuse having finished a couple of books several weeks ago - I can only plead the temptation of a sunny balcony in BAku where the sun is persisting to warm my old bones.
First of all - Stephen Fry's autobiography of his younger self "Moab is my Washpot" p/back Arrow Books. This has been in print since 1997 so unsure why all the fuss about it now - has it just won an award, or is it simply a clever publisher taking advantage of his current popularity? Sample of superlatives from reviews: rhapsodic; intoxicating; exhilarating; engrossing; compulsive; charming and outrageous. So, I am trying to decide why I was left feeling it was all a bit of an anti-climax, or maybe it is fairer to say I felt there was more left out than was put in. He wasted a lot of space on his usual self-effacement, so much so that it was coming across as hugely self-indulgent. I finished it with disappointed relief. I didn't find the confusing circuitous style either "charming" or "illuminating" but damned annoying and confusing.
Standing by to be shot down in flames...
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