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Onur Başoğlu _nur_asoglu — Oh dear - I looked forward to this book, and if ever I was convinced I'd enjoy a book before starting to read it, this was the book. Every one of Stephen Fry's previous books - factual and fictional - have been a joy to read. I'm also a massive Stephen Fry fan, so this really was going to be my reading highlight of the year. As with many things in life, the anticipation was the most exciting and rewarding part of the journey. For once, Stephen Fry let me down. The whole book started off badly - an apology for the pompous verbosity we were about to suffer from the author. Stephen, Stephen, Stephen - it's your pompous verbosity we love, so for goodness sake don't apologise for it. But this was just the taste of things to come - the book became a. a list of people he'd acted with and b. a list of apologies for traits in his character. Time after time he states that he wants and needs people to like him - yet just as often, he tells us things he doesn't like about himself. It's an age old truism that if you don't like yourself, others won't like you either. Much as I love the whole package that is Stephen Fry, I did find this book very hard to like. He tells us a lot of things about himself that is fairly self-evident to anyone who reads his writing, watches him performing or indeed just enjoys him being himself in his various online and onscreen guises. He's pompous, can be a bit arrogant, stands for everything that the "traditional cliche" of the Englishman is meant to be, he's extremely clever and multi talented. He also keeps telling us how very, very rich he is. And then he apologises for everything. We all know that Stephen Fry has his black times - it's part of the complex collection of traits which makes him vulnerable, attractive and .... human to most of us. But apart from the odd stanza in this second instalment of his autobiography - and the odd part of it does stand out as a beacon of loveable Fry-y-ness - you do get the sense that he's written this book whilst his mind is at the very bottom of one of his black troughs. I think I can understand why he's written this book - he's almost ashamed of a lot of what life has given him, and I think he genuinely wants to apologise for many of the traits which a minority of people dislike about him. It's almost as if this book has been written to appease the 0.00001% of admittedly noisy Fry- dislikers in this world. But what about the other 99.99999% who actually quite like him? Maybe there is a method to his madness - maybe we'll see loads of reviews from "Fry-dislikers" saying how this book has turned around their opinion of him. But then the "Fry-dislikers" are hardly likely to read this book in the first place, are they? I'm not sorry I read this book - there were some really uplifting, insightful and entertaining passages in it. They struggled for air space amongst so much ankst though. But the ankst itself was fascinating, if a little painful. A bit like life itself really. So although this book doesn't get a great mark from me, it's a strange one, because it was very compelling reading, but in a car crashey sort of way. And I would still give my right arm to have the talent Stephen Fry has in his right, small fingernail, even just the white bit of that fingernail. You just know his next book is going to be brilliant.