From these memoirs Clive James comes across as a dynamic and interesting guy, always in danger of becoming insufferable. Having only ever known of him previously from his TV work, the memoirs make clear that his is a serious mind, worth engaging with, even through the thick shell of often funny, but equally often wearyingly distracting and unnecessary, wit.
Always Unreliable is the omnibus edition of the first three
volumes of Clive James’ memoirs (he has since written two more):
- Unreliable Memoirs (1981)
- Falling Towards England (1986)
- May Week Was In June (1990)
This is a lot of James’ company to keep, and while largely fun and interesting, the faults magnify through repetition. It makes it harder than it should be to say I really liked this book, or James as revealed within it. He is though almost always interesting, generous to others in his assessments, and fundamentally honest, and for that I can forgive a lot. James is amusing, even laugh out loud funny at times, but from the experience of reading this, I would say his style suits shorter forms, where his wit runs less danger of becoming monotonous.
Continue reading “Book Review: Always Unreliable, Clive James (2001)”
These are belated reviews of books I read across last year. The delay is due to having read them to answer a feeling in myself. I no longer feel the way I did last autumn, and as the feeling has passed the coherence of reviewing them together has loosened also. I have given up trying to tie them together in any meaningful way, but perhaps putting them together here does make some sense.
- Desert, Anonymous (2011)
- The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories, H.P. Lovecraft (1999 [1917 – 1935])
- Out of Time, Miranda Sawyer (2016)
Continue reading “Forms of Existential Angst (November 2018 Reading Review)”