Books like More Fool Me

Oh deary dearingtons, as Stephen himself would say (probably).I must confess, I enjoyed Stephen's first two novels greatly. And Moab is my Washpot and The Fry Chronicles were both such wonderful volumes. They showcased all that is great about Stephen; his boundless wit, his unutterable charm and his gift for introspective self-reflection that demonstrates such depth of character. Not to mention of course, his scintillating use of language that had me laughing, crying, and racing through them, desperate for more insights into this fascinating man's life. This... was not exactly what I had in mind for the third installment. Granted, memoirs tend, as a rule, to be less interesting when a person finds great fame and fortune, as Stephen so clearly has. What can one say of interest, really, when days are filled with celeb lunches, punishing filming rehearsals and luvvie theatre dates? Unless one is prepared to spill the beans and reveal showbiz goss, there's not a lot to be said that's all that interesting. But, I was hoping, this book would prove me wrong. It did not. In fact, it gave me a great smugness that I am 100% right with that notion. Well done me. Anyway, onto why it was so rubbish.The structure is a strange choice to say the least. I don't mind the meandering backwards and forwards through time (though that will grate on some, I'm sure) so much as the fact that there's very little original material in there.What I mean by that is, the first third is quite clearly a rehash of the first two volumes of his autobiographies. It was nice to hear stories from his childhood again (discovering Oscar Wilde in a mobile library, so to speak, is one of my favourites I think) but I found myself anxiously skipping through to see just how long this would go on for. I, naturally, being a fan of Stephen's, was quite happy to go through it all again, but I did wonder when we were going to get to the meat of the thing...But ah! Around 3 hours in (I purchased the book on audiobook, much preferring to enjoy Stephen's dulcet tones in my ears. Oh, and the far lighter price tag*), there was the meat I had so been hoping for. But wait a minute, this is not the fillet steak I asked for, this is last night's Mcdonald's burger. It was all so concerned with The Groucho, cocaine, other celebs, The Groucho, cocaine, dinners, The Groucho... did I mention cocaine? Lots of class A substances but no real substance, if you'll indulge me. I listened to it all skeptically. Wait a minute, was I supposed to find this somehow... cool? It all had a bit of an "I was there man, I saw it happen" vibe that made me uneasy. I can see how Stephen's peers may find all this a revelation ("Liam Gallagher, smashing a hole in the ceiling with a pool cue! On drugs! Now really!") I found it rather tame. A bit gauche, in fact, as well as slightly embarrassing. A bit like the literary equivalent of one's uncle drinking too much brandy at Christmas and singing karaoke, thinking he's Mick Jagger.Granted, there are a few little bon mots in that middle section that made me smile, but that was it really. Most of it concerned other terribly rich and famous people doing not very interesting things. Stephen, being Stephen, barely had a bad word to say about anyone.The last part of the book contained some of the most dull diary entries I could possibly have imagined. They really did confirm the worst ideas one has of a celebrity- shallow, spoilt luvvies who are overly precious, namedrop at any opportunity and are so neurotic it's bordering on the parodical. A typical entry is as follows;"Bit hungover this morning but pushing on. Hugh came over for some writing, then lunch at The Ivy (tasty tuck) and went on to the opera with Alyce Cleese. Then out to dinner at Orso with Emma T, Ken B, Tony S and co. Then onto The Groucho where I played poker and did a gram of charlie. Came home and wrote a little, did the crossword. What a bad boy I am! Bugger. Nighty nightingtons." I mean to say, if you are not literally vomiting right down yourself in sheer and abject boredom and horror then you've got a stronger constitution than I have. He wrapped it all up with this weird life lesson parable bullshit that I found totally against the tone of the thing and completely insincere.Overall, certainly not worth it. If you're a fan of Stephen's as I once was (I use the past tense not because of this dull book, boring as it is, but because of the transphobic, misogynistic, generally wanky things he's taken to saying over the past few years) read Moab is My Washpot and maybe The Fry Chronicles. Don't read this, unless you're one of his friends, in which case you're probably referenced extensively in this book. Then, when you see him, kiss him on the cheek and say, "darling, I loved it!" whilst crossing your fingers behind your back.*Not so much of an issue for me, as patience would have probably found a gratis copy in my hands but £25? Really? Outrageous!