Waste Not, Want Not

I do love the weekend papers.  The number of purchases I've made after reading interviews and extracts in the glossies... well, it's not really helped reduce the number of unread books I have!  Last year, I was intrigued by articles about 'A Life Discarded' by Alexander Masters, so trundled off to the bookshop to treat myself.  Should I have made resisted?

'A Life Discarded'
by Alexander Masters
(Fourth Estate, 2016)

'A Life Discarded' is the story of 148 diaries found in a Cambridge skip by two academics, which were then passed on to biographer of the unusual Alexander Masters.  After paying no attention to them for a number of years and several house moves, he finally picked up a volume and started reading.  This was the beginning of a five year project that would involve graphologists, detectives and archivists, not to mention 'I', the enigmatic diarist.  But did Masters get any closer to the mysterious writer and find a meaningful story in the millions of words?

I was extremely disappointed by this book.  It's so unbelievably depressing.  What made for several interesting articles led to a very dull and at times almost narcissistic tome. It seemed to be more about what the 'biographer' thought about his reaction to the subject and her diaries rather than the subject herself, wrapped up in an at times pretentious and repetitive prose and always keeping everything at arm's length.  I felt that this was a project he didn't really want and had no passion for, but felt he had to do in light of what had happened to the diaries' finders.

Assuming that Masters was writing 'A Life Discarded' out of a sense of duty rather than passion, then the apparent lack of feeling the author seemed to have for 'I' starts to make sense.  Without giving too much away, 'I' has led a life where dreams never became reality and what talent she had was never fully encouraged or explored, largely through her own inaction.  Although Masters seems to identify with this as a writer, I never really got a sense of how he felt about 'I'.  As a reader, I knew I felt compassion and pity, but as far as I could tell, Masters felt nothing, not even contempt at someone wasting their potential or a sense of injustice that she'd been let down by those around her.  Perhaps biographers should try to stay neutral, but if that's the case, why did so much of this book seem to be about Masters?

Ironically, this book feels like a wasted opportunity.  It could've been about the many ways lives are lost, through inaction, accident and early death, but instead somehow those threads didn't come together to create a stronger narrative and central theme.  Rather than being depressing, perhaps the book would've become inspirational and about making the most of what time you have, no matter how short or long.  If, if, if...

Unfortunately, I wish I'd resisted and not bought this book.  At least I read it, though, and you never know, whoever reads it next might not be so disappointed.  After all, tomorrow is another day!

Now, what next...

Related Links

'The Biography of a Nameless Person' (The Guardian, 14/05/2016)

The End is just the Beginning

Oh dear.  Not a great start to the year then,  Six weeks in and only two books down.  Will have to try harder.  Or just read shorter books...

I've just finished 'So, Anyway...', John Cleese's bestselling autobiography.  Beginning with his early life in Weston-super-Mare, Cleese charts his growth as a person, writer and comedy performer, describing the many people who influenced him.  Fondly remembered teachers, intimidating family members and supportive friends and colleagues are all woven into the story of how Cleese went from Somerset boy to Cambridge law student to BBC comedy legend.

Unusually for an autobiography, this book manages to end on a cliffhanger!  It probably annoyed a

'So, Anyway...' by
John Cleese
(Random House Books, 2014)

lot of readers, but Cleese ends his narrative just as the Monty Python team begin working together for the first time, so doesn't actually cover a lot of his most famous work in detail, such as 'Fawlty Towers' or 'A Fish Called Wanda'.  A lot of people may find this annoying, but I actually enjoyed the earlier parts of the book most and got the feeling that the author might've done too.

One thing that did annoy me a bit, however, was something Cleese said about two thirds of the way through.  Justifying his decision to include some brilliant extracts from his early TV and other work, he declares it a fact that most readers "don't give a tinker's cuss for me as a human being or feel for the many different forms of suffering that make me so special".  How wrong you are, Mr Cleese!  I found the earlier chapters much more interesting and enjoyed learning more about your background and what made you into the iconic comedy writer you are now.

The later chapters include a number of sketches from various broadcasts, but, while illuminating for someone like me who is too young to remember them, they felt like something for the author to hide behind.  I felt the book was actually at its most interesting when Cleese offered his thoughts on psychology and the thought process that goes on behind writing or performing.  The very best at anything always make it look easy, so it's good to hear more about the intelligence and work behind it rather than just the Hollywood-dream-celebrity-culture-anyone-can-do-it-if-they-want-it-enough scenario that we're all force-fed nowadays.

Overall, I enjoyed this book very much and think fans of John Cleese and the 1960s' satire boom will do too.  I'm not sure whether I'd read a second autobiography, but then I got the feeling the author felt that such a book would be unnecessary. perhaps because so much has been written about the Python team already.  If he skipped that era entirely and began again with his post-Python work, I think I would be tempted.  But in the meantime, I think I have quite a lot to keep me busy already!