So, Anyway...

With a little more self-discipline this could have been a great little book. I loved the tone set by Cleese. If you are familiar with the archetypes that he has so often portrayed (and why else would you be reading this book ?), you can almost hear the man himself throughout the book. Enjoyed very much the first one-third of the book, in particular the priceless description of Cleese's School days. Unfortunately the rest of the book did not make a very lasting impression, and would have benefitted from tightening up the story line and omitting the blow-by-blow reporting of sketches. All of this is said with the utmost respect for the comic talent of JC. At the end of the day, there were enough little nuggets contained in the book that I found it a worthwhile read, but based on the abovementioned points it is not a book that I plan to revisor later.

John Cleese sat down at his typewriter and started tapping out his life story. Once he hit the required word count he stopped, tried to hastily wrap it all up and then went back to mucking about on Twitter. Throughout the book Cleese often goes off on tangents. Sometimes they’re amusing anecdotes. Sometimes they’re the opinions of a grumpy old man. Sometimes they’re classes in writing comedy. Some are fun, some aren’t. And then there’s the frequently bizarre amount of space given to each subject. While Monty Python gets fairly short shrift, his minor part in a musical goes on for quite a long time. It feels like Cleese had little patience for editors or any other input that would have shaped this a bit more. It would be easy to complain. But this is undoubtedly Cleese’s own voice, when he could have easily tossed this over to a shabby ghost writer. And anyone who has chosen to read this must by now be familiar with Cleese and his obsessions. The book is a mixed bag, but not an entirely surprising one. If you imagine Cleese talking at you fairly aimlessly about his life until he gets bored then you’ll know what to expect.