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What Am I Still Doing Here? My Years As Me by Roger Lewis. Cover by Ronald Searle, 91 |
As a seasoned recipient of past death threats myself, mainly from anonymous journalists and other people purporting to be writers, I am familiar with the exquisite pleasure that greets such communications of terminal promise. One just knows that such incited fury will probably activate a cancer in one's crazed aspiring killer, a few years down the line.
Anyhow, Christiegate is one of his many experiences exhumed and dramatised in new memoir (or 'self-portrait') What Am I Still Doing Here? I have not read it so I can't say it's brilliant. Yet. But I can say that his last memoir Seasonal Suicide Notes made my Christmas 2009: the book is a darkly comic and mischievous counterblast to the otherwise infernal jolliness of the genre. It reads like a rave at a crematorium. Roger tells me the new book is 'far madder and darker' - this I can believe. I can't wait to review it.
I'm only sorry that Lewis' publisher Coronet has seen fit to use a customised testimonial from Stephen Fry: ordinarily I would avoid anything this simperingly wet lump of ubiquity recommends. But on this occasion I shall make an exception.
What Am I Still Doing Here? is published on October 13. To buy click here.
3 comments:
Overheard at my BB audition "Steven Fry is the most intelligent guy on earth". Pause. "No, he is what stupid folks think smart men look and sound like".
Madame is as vicious as ever but soooo entertaining.
I hear Mr Lewis is to be shot at dawn in Cardiff Castle for anti-Welsh racism - they kill their own the Welsh, don't they, bach
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