Unreliable Memoirs (Clive James, 1980)

Unreliable Memoirs (ISBN 0-330-26463-X, check Amazon for this book: United States (Amazon.com) / International (Amazon.co.uk)

Falling Towards England (ISBN 0-330-29437-7, check Amazon for this book: United States (Amazon.com) / International (Amazon.co.uk)

Unreliable Memoirs reminds me of a Tom Sharpe novel: sustained interest and amusement all the way through, with a few passages which are almost too funny for words. I recall trying to read the epic of the dunny man, aloud, to Jo. I just couldn’t get the words out. Each time I’d sober-up and start again, but after a few words my eyes would start to water, and my chest would contract with giggles, and the words would run out of air.

Clive James writes just like he talks; you can hear that famous dry, wry voice in your head as you read the book. If you’re a fan of his television shows you’ll probably, like me, love the book on principle. But even without this predisposition, this is an extraordinarily frank and honest autobiography. James makes no attempt to sanitise his youth, or ascribe noble motives to himself, or even to omit the inevitably embarrassing debacles of puberty.

‘Standing on tiptoe, I pretended to push myself inside her, copying the grunting noises I had heard from Milo and some of the others. It was even possible that Laurel was fooled. I, however, was not.’

One of the reasons why the book reads so well is probably because James has written it like a novel, willing where necessary to sacrifice literal accuracy to the exigencies of the tale. As he notes himself, ‘If the characters around [me] were composites, they were obviously so, and with some justification. The friend who helps you dig tunnels in your back yard is rarely the same friend who ruins your summer by flying a model aeroplane into your mother’s prize trifle, but a book with everybody in it would last as long as life, and never live at all’ (Falling Towards England, Preface).

The sequel to Unreliable Memoirs, Falling Towards England, is more of the same; perhaps not quite so laugh-out-loud, but the amusement level and willingness of the author to present himself in essentially the worst light, is sustained throughout.

I’d always figured I probably would like James’ writing – and now I know. I must seek out more.

Recommendation: Whether you’re a fan of the ‘public’ Clive James or not, Unreliable Memoirs is a brilliant account of growing up clever in rural Australia. A must.

Look and Feel: My editions are Picadors; the usual matt-finish paperback.

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Unreliable Memoirs (Clive James, 1980)

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