This is a very different kind of memoir! Brearley 'turns over the pebbles', rambling along about his experiences in life, psychoanalysis (a lot of the book, including the somber last chapter) and cricket (not as much, starting off as late as the eighth chapter!) and much else, reminiscing and musing in an almost 'stream of consciousness' kind of writing.
This book is not for 'easy' reading. The chapters begin with anecdotes and observations picked seemingly at random, followed by more 'stray' recollections, but the narrative imperceptibly leads to the point he wants to make. Wafting effortlessly, he can connect carpentry to class distinctions, and broken vases with fractured minds!
Brearley made it to the England team rather late in life, didn't make too many runs, but was more celebrated as the 'thinking' captain and turned out to be amazingly successful at that. He was a qualified psychoanalyst. And enjoyed 'out-thinking' his opponents. Now in his eighties, he comes across as a forthright, sensitive, and emotionally intelligent person, the kind of friend one could cherish - a terrific sportsman and a gentleman.