'Arriving in Cambridge on my first day as an undergraduate, I could see nothing except a cold white October mist. At the age of twenty-four I was a complete failure, with nothing to show for my life except a few poems nobody wanted to publish in book form.' Falling Toward England - the second volume of Clive James's Unreliable Memoirs - was meant to be the last. Thankfully, that's not the case. In Unrelaible Memoirs III, Clive details his time at Cambridge, including film reviewing, writing poetry, falling in love (often), and marrying (once). 'Every line is propelled by a firecracker witticism' London Review of Books 'He turns phrases, mixes together cleverness and clownishness, and achieves a fluency and a level of wit that make his pages truly shimmer... May Week Was In June is vintage James' Financial Times
Unreliable Memoirs: Falling Towards England ; May Week was in June
In Unreliable Memoirs we meet a very young Clive James. One dressed in shorts. His hilarious adventures growing up in post-war Sydney are deliciously recounted in this, the first volume of his memoirs.
The Blaze of Obscurity: the inside story of his years in television, it shows Clive James on top form.
Always Unreliable is the collected first three volumes of Clive James's eloquently witty autobiographies, Unreliable Memoirs, Falling Towards England and May Week Was in June.
Long unavailable in the U.S., "Unreliable Memoirs" is being made available to American readers.
April, May and June A
Reflecting on these years, Clive is at his erudite and hilarious best. Falling Towards England is the second book of memoir from Clive James. Continue his story with May Week Was In June.
"A picture book illustrating a Pride parade. The endmatter serves as a primer on LGBT history and culture and explains the references made in the story"--
This is followed by the early decades of the Republic during which newspapers around the young country were open and transparent about their fierce allegiance to one political party or another.
A Year in Provence transports us into all the earthy pleasures of Provençal life and lets us live vicariously at a tempo governed by seasons, not by days.