The Fry Chronicles [Formato Kindle]

4.5 stars

The written or the spoken word? When it comes to Stephen Fry one of the greatest and learned polymaths of our time it is a difficult choice not least of all following from his brilliant readings with that wonderful voice narrating the Harry Potter series and the added attractions of this book on all sorts of I Apps and gadgets. But written word it is and thank you for the prompt delivery from Amazon pre order system for this book takes up where "Moab is my washpot" left off as Fry troops off to University and takes us on a journey up to his initial appearances on television.

I would love to claim credit for the title of this review but it is happily stolen with immense pride from the Daily Telegraph as it speaks volumes about Fry's contribution to our culture (and in any case everything that I thought of seemed to involve a rather obvious Lord Melchett quote -but see below). Fry has built up a reputation since the publication of "Moab" which formally puts him in the category of "national treasure" with a Knighthood so obviously coming down the line that all bets are off, This status has been achieved despite the odd hiccup on the way not least the debacle of Simon Gray's play "The Cell Mates" where Fry essentially did a runner after suffering a nervous breakdown leaving a deeply puzzled and annoyed Rik Mayall and much explaining to do. Yet we can forgive him this not least for his verbal dexterity, his wit, his intellectual depth and breadth, his entering the term "baaaaaaaaaaaaaah" into the English lexicon and his ability to honestly face up to some very personal demons not least his battle with bi polar disorder and his love for Wagner despite being Jewish. And then for good measure add to this the fact that he has been the poster boy for celibacy, he championed New Labour then abandoned it, led the Twitter revolution and also is the ubiquitous voice of British TV advertising. Allegedly it is rumoured that he rests on the seventh day.

"The Fry chronicles" has been well trailed with readings by Fry at the Royal Festival hall and its serialisation in the Sunday Times. It is an excellent and often poignant read but most all its an unadulterated pleasure. At the heart of this book are a number of platonic love stories not least with Emma Thompson, Rowan Atkinson and especially Hugh Laurie. Fry's admiration of his "partner in crime" is huge and he simply states with genuine affection that "Hugh had music where I had none. He had an ability to be likeably daft and clownish. He moved, tumbled and leapt like an athlete. He had authority, presence and dignity". This warm tribute is encircled by the story of how the two men met in the rarefied atmosphere of Cambridge Footlights and with Thompson being the go between. Similarly he is warm in his tribute to Atkinson and especially his cruel but debonair role in Blackadder alongside the wonderful Queenie, Miranda Richardson. Fry chronicles how the show had struggled in its first series ("The only show that looked like a million dollars but cost a million pounds") to how it lifted off into the stars in its hilarious Elizabethan iteration.

Fry's problems are well exposed in the book. His addition to all kinds of sweets and confectionaries have dogged his dietary problems although the recent loss of six stone in weight led Jeremy Clarkson to ask Fry on Top Gear "where is the rest of you"? Like many great comedians Fry has a darker side and a level of relentless insecurity. He admits at one point in the book that "I spend much of my life imprisoned by a ruthless unreasoning conscience that tortures me and denies me happiness". Those of us lucky enough not to suffer from the depressive illness are sometimes puzzled by what this means particularly for celebrities who on the surface appear to have been blessed with immense talent. Fry's consistent and honest exhortations to make the effects of bi polar disorder more understood and expose its terrible burden is admirable. Granted the book has some faults. Its Stephen Fry for god sake so you must expect an above average level of "luuviedom" and passages glorifying "Actooors". Fry cant help his loquaciousness but in these times of strained vocabulary what's wrong with that? Indeed in the video to accompany the book he happily admits to being a "bit of an old whore, swinging my handbag and offering everyone a good time ducky" and don't we just admire him for it.

Having read and enjoyed Stephen Fry's first part of his autobiography, (Moab is MY Washpot") I looked forward to reading this further extension of his quite interesting life.
Curiously it felt like wading through treacle to me, ....I was quite prepared for his verbosity, which can indeed be fun, but after a while I wanted to shout "Oh just get to the point Stephen!"
The MOST annoying feature is his constant repetition of personal apologies for almost everything. It seems he's terrified we'll perceive him as some sort of privileged prat who has enjoyed the good things of life without having to do all that much. Or heaven forbid, ...talented in some way!
Point is, we KNOW he's "made it" as an author, actor and raconteur and that's probably why we are reading the book in the first place! WE WANT to hear about his life, ...you may feel differently but the apology preceding almost every new revelation really started to drive me crazy!

Then there's the constant hugely flattering assessments of all his many well-known friends' most exceptional talents. Pages and pages of it! Yes we all know that Emma, Rowan, Hugh, etc. etc. ad damn infinitum are "great", .....but this book is supposed to be about you, Stephen Fry! I think its once again his over-apologetic nature saying "Oh I'm NOT talented at all, ...but all my friends are just SO good...! Aren't they so wonderful for including a little old nobody like me?"

Anyway, all of this added excess baggage padded around the story made reading this book a VERY drawn out experience for me. It felt like I would NEVER get to the end.
If ever the services of a good editor were called for, this is a case in point. Almost got out the blue pen myself!
As it is you'll need a large pair of figurative wellies to wade through all those constant assurances he's NOT vain or self-congratulatory. (Is there such a word?)

This is the second volume of Stephen Fry's autobiography, covering the eight years immediately after the first volume (entitled `Moab is my Washpot'). I have not yet read the first volume, which covers Stephen Fry's childhood and teenage years, and am keen to do so as soon as I can.

Stephen Fry writes this book from a position of relative fame: many of us who have followed British comedy will know at least some of his work from the 1980s, while others may only know his more recent work. But who is the man behind the public figure?

Stephen Fry arrived at Cambridge while still on probation from credit card fraud. He quickly discovers that he can sail through examinations without too much effort, befriends other bright young people such as Hugh Laurie and Emma Thompson, and finds that extra-curricular activities are even more interesting than Shakespearean texts. It seems clear that mostly this was happy period in Stephen Fry's life and the way in which he writes of it is a delight to read. It's almost like listening to him speak.

But, if publicly all seems to be going well, privately: ` I had lived twenty years convinced that my body was the enemy and that all I had going for me was my brain, my quickness of tongue and my blithe facility with language, attributes that can cause people to be as much disliked as admired.'

This questioning of self, combined with a dislike of his appearance and body made it difficult for Stephen Fry to be comfortable. There was a gap between the confident public persona he projected and how he felt:
`The sense of failure, the fear of eternal unhappiness, the insecurity, misery, self-disgust and the awful awareness of underachievement... Are you not prey to all of those things also? I do hope so. I would feel the most conspicuous oddity otherwise.'

It's a wonderful mixture of reminiscence about the 1980s with a sense of foreboding about what the future holds. Stephen Fry is disarmingly honest about his self-doubt, his neediness, his addictions and his drive for fame. If there is a sin in Stephen Fry's world, it would seem to be passive incuriosity:
`The only reason people do not know much is because they do not care to know.'

And for those of us who are not incurious, this book provides a fascinating insight into a fascinating man. I'm looking forward to the next instalment.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith