More fool me
Stephen Fry meets interesting people (Damien Hirst, Oasis, Prince Charles, …), goes to interesting places (I wouldn’t mind spending a few weeks at the London Savoy) and leads a generally interesting life. The problem is that it’s just not as interesting as he seems to think it is himself.
That’s more or less what I was going to write, because I thought it sounded funny. Until I realised that it isn’t actually true. (And maybe not that funny.) From this autobiography, he doesn’t come across as a person who takes himself very seriously. He actually seems rather amicable. Wouldn’t mind to have him among my friends. And he certainly does know how to write.
So, why did I not really like this book? I think it’s because it has too many anecdotes, too little introspection and analysis… It’s a bit like a talk show can be at its best: interesting, funny, a great way to spend some time, good company all around… But, at the end, it doesn’t go very deep. It doesn’t really touch me.
Maybe I’m just a bit too serious myself.