Fires Which Burned Brightly: A Life in Progress

by Sebastian Faulks

In Fires Which Burned Brightly, Faulks, a reluctant memoirist, offers readers a series of detailed snapshots from a life in progress. They include a post-war rural childhood – "cold mutton and wet washing on a rack over the range" – the booze-sodden heyday of Fleet Street and a career as one of the country’s most acclaimed novelists.

There are not one, but two daring escapes from boarding school; the delirium of a jetlagged American book tour; the writing of Birdsong in his brother’s house in 1992; and memorable trips across the channel to France. Politics, psychiatry and frustrated ventures into the world of entertainment are analysed with patience and rueful humour.

The book is driven by a desire "to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." It ends with a tribute to Faulks’s parents and a sense of how his own generation was shaped by the disruptive power of war and its aftermath.

Sharply perceptive and alive with a generous wit, Fires Which Burned Brightly is a work of subtle yet profound intelligence and warmth.

Genres: Nonfiction, Biography, Memoir, Audiobook, Short Stories

338 pages, Kindle Edition

First published September 2, 2025

About the author

Sebastian Faulks is a British novelist, journalist, and broadcaster best known for his acclaimed historical novels set in France, including The Girl at the Lion d'Or, Birdsong, and Charlotte Gray. Alongside these, he has written contemporary fiction, a James Bond continuation novel (Devil May Care), and a Jeeves homage (Jeeves and the Wedding Bells). A former literary editor and journalist, Faulks gained widespread recognition with Birdsong, which solidified his literary reputation. He has also appeared regularly on British media, notably as a team captain on BBC Radio 4's The Write Stuff, and authored the TV tie-in Faulks on Fiction. Honored as a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and appointed CBE for his services to literature, Faulks continues to publish widely, with The Seventh Son released in 2023.

Reviews

[Julie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed it. There was a lot of variety in the ten essays and it always kept moving forward. I loved how Sebastian Faulks would try to engage us, his audience, by asking questions such as, "Have you ever ridden a Harley over the Golden Gate Bridge?"

My response was to perk up and think, why, no, I haven't but I'm intrigued, do go on. Faulks writes that, "The cross winds are terrible, that bridge is a monster. You end up with forearms rigid from just clinging on." Makes you feel glad to be alive doesn't it. I can imagine the exhilaration of it, from my couch.

Oh, and he refers to America as "this extraordinary self-invented country." I must say, I was surprised to find myself feeling quite homesick for America while I listened to Faulks tell about his adventures there.

The final essay is particularly tender as he talks about his brother, mother and father. He writes that he has tried to convey his feelings, however he has come to share his father's puzzlement and goes on to say, "As a parent, you do everything you can to help your children, to protect and even shape them but in the end they slip through your embrace, they remain what they appeared at the instant of their birth, a mystery."

[Howard Stephen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thoroughly enjoyable. I’m a big fan of SF’s novels and found the background to the inspiration behind several of them most illuminating. His nuanced use of language shines through as ever. The book obviously reflects a very full and varied life yet somehow manages to capture details of his life’s journey. I found the section on the US especially interesting though might take issue with SF’s dismissal of English authors’ powers of observation compared to their US counterparts. Hasn’t SF read Alan Bennett? The book only prompts me to read the few remaining SF works and to re-read several-especially Charlotte Gray which I probably rather underestimated at the time.

[Sue · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’ve read several books by Sebastian Faulks. His last one, The Seventh Son was my favourite and I highly recommend it. I do not usually read memoirs but I watched Faulks online at the Hay Festival winter weekend recently talking about Fires That Burn Brightly and it piqued my interest particularly as he described it as 10 essays rather than a continuous stream of consciousness. I was attracted to the organizational aspect and sense of completion attached to each essay. In this I was not disappointed

I chose to listen to the audiobook having enjoyed Faulks’ voice at the Hay interview. Again I was not disappointed.

The opening essay brought back many memories of a 50s childhood. Faulks was born about six weeks after me in 1953 and I was thrilled to hear his recounting of toys, songs, tv shows and events that were shared and very clear in my mind. He writes about them with fondness but without syrupy nostalgia. Being a small child in the 50s - a post-war experience - he in Berkshire and I in south London was not romantic but we were both happy children with loving parents.

Beyond the first essay our paths divided very far apart as Faulks came from a middle class family and was sent to boarding school from the age of eight.His father had been a Major in WWll and after he was demobbed trained as a solicitor. My father (a year younger than Faulks’) left school at 15 and spent the entire war in the Royal Navy leaving finally as a Petty Officer. His post war future was as a postman-sorter and eventually the manager of a branch post office. So yes very different experiences after the first essay. I did not go to boarding school and I am very grateful for that.

I enjoyed most of the following eight essays for one reason or another especially those that dealt with Faulks’ experience as a journalist in the old days of Fleet St and his work on the founding of The Independent. His essay on mental health and his own experience with what he calls “a post adolescent breakdown” as if it is an accepted medical diagnosis was also interesting.

The big BUT that is coming has nothing to do with the difference in our post 50s lives but his frequent preoccupation and glorification of excessive consumption of alcohol. He quotes his father (whom he adored) as saying “I may be an alcoholic, but I am not a dipsomaniac”, a phrase Faulks and his father seemed to find amusing. Faulks also shares that prior to his two year “post adolescent breakdown” he drank heavily, daily and took the early 70s version of recreational drugs and yet he doesn’t seem to make any kind of connection between these behaviours and his illness. Maybe there is none. especially as he has made it to 72 with a pretty ‘impressive’ alcohol habit and seemingly no further evidence of mental illness; except perhaps the drinking itself? Quite simply all the booze talk is at best juvenile and at worse boring. It disappointed me that he used a whole essay on the tracking down of good wine in remote vineyards and the consumption of said wine. This together with the unnecessary need to litter so many otherwise interesting adventures with what and how much he drank was a disappointment.

The last essay is as delightful as the first not just because it is not ‘marinated’. Faulks finishes with a very loving tribute to his parents and his wife Veronica to whom he has been married for more than 40 years - no mean feat in these times. I know because so have I 😉

[L May · Rating 3 out of 5]

much preferred hearing how faulks went about researching and writing birdsong to actually reading birdsong.

fair play that he helped deliver his and his wife’s second kid on a bathroom floor

the end made me cry, his essay on family, his mother, brother and dad was truly beautiful, and i also really enjoyed the essay on mental health and schizophrenia

couldve done without the multiple ‘i wanted women to be there (insert panel show/publishing/journalism) but my (insert sort of boss figure) wouldnt let me :(‘ points. Also the line that was like ‘if this was a proper memoir id have to talk about my women friends but as its not, i don’t’

you do get a sense of a life across these meandering essays though. overall i had a decent time

[BrianC75 · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have read most of Sebastian Faulks’ books and thoroughly enjoyed them, so was looking forward to this. The fact that my own life cycle differed from the author’s by a few short years gave the whole experience an additional boost. His descriptions of the important events, places and people over the period covered took me back to my own experiences at that time.
The quality of the author’s writing is what makes the book so enjoyable. The characters he meets and his experiences are wonderfully described - at times the reader is smiling broadly, laughing out loud or indeed fighting back a tear. Such is the quality here. Excellent.

[Peter Burton · Rating 4 out of 5]

An enjoyable read but clearly it’s better if you know his books.Instructive,I thought,of the dangers of alcohol and drugs.In fact the section on his mental health and a pitted history of the atttempts to understand it are very good.I enjoyed his childhood and early years/jobs but felt that the later parts were thin and not so instructive.Perhaps if you knew his books in detail this section would interest you.He seems to be a nice person

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

It should be a decree that Sebastian Faulks will, from now on, read all audiobooks by male authors who write in English.

The man could read the football results, and his intoning “Aberdeen 5 Celtic/Rangers/Dundee United 0 would be almost as glorious as those results themselves.

These ten “essays” which are a diarised chronicle of his background and development, are beautifully and intimately written, and achieve additional tenor in Faulks’s own narration. He gets extra kudos for continual references to Keith Reid, Terry Kath, and Jimi Hendrix.

I suspect he’d be a very entertaining individual with whom to have a pint.

[Karen · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am not a great reader of memoir but could not resist this by a favourite and much admired author. A well written and informative piece especially about Faulks earlier life and career of which I knew nothing. My favourite bits were most definitely the discussions around his novels and some of the sections on researching and writing.

[Shazza Hoppsey · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed hearing Sebastian Faulks read his reflective essays, in what adds up to a story of his life. I began to love reading with Maugham, Shirley Hazzard, William Boyd and Sebastian Faulks.
I also grew up in England and the early chapters triggered memories of my childhood with Hornsby train sets and older cousins in Canterbury.
His fascination with war history reminded me how damaged my Sargent major grandfather was from both wars. I don’t think I ever really got to know him because of his “shell shock”.
He is a functional alcoholic but does say you should consider your genes to gauge how alcohol may affect you. This idea rang true for me in the essay on researching mental illness. In our family we say mental illness doesn’t run, it gallops.

[Paula Benson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Loved this.

[Dr G · Rating 3 out of 5]

It is slightly odd reading a memoir by a well-known author whom one hasn’t read oneself. It feels a little like being stuck in a pub with a bore who cannot stop talking about himself.
There is a difference, of course. The pub-bore has absolutely no reason to assume anyone should be remotely interested in what he has done or thought or said. And almost no one is. By contrast, the writer has ample evidence that many people are fascinated by what he has to say and they frequently ask for details on what he has done. They, of course, are the ones who should read such a book.
People such as I am, having never read or observed any of the writer’s ɶuvre, simply should not read it.
But I did.
And I found the experience somewhat like being stuck in a pub. Etc etc.
That is probably a little unfair.
Faulks and I were born within a few years of each other, he in 1953 a little west of Reading in England; I in 1948 in Fremantle, Australia. It was quite interesting to recognize some items from his childhood (Dinky and Corgi toy cars; Colin Cowdrey and Fred Trueman) but to find his school experiences utterly, utterly different from mine (although I did read about English schools in my Knockout comics). It still staggers me, so many years later, just how impersonal and cruel the typical English school environment seems to have been, contrasting so dramatically with our open, friendly, humane environment.
And then there was his decision to ride a bicycle to abscond from school; his escapade took him through a succession of villages (“It was a beautiful afternoon in June. I rode through one village after another, From the hedgerows came the scent of hawthorn and cow parsley”). I never had the gumption for such an action, but if I had, I would have ridden through mile upon mile of connected suburbs.
At around the time he was smelling hawthorn hedgerows, however, his and my lives headed in even more dissimilar directions. He became fascinated with what we now call pop culture whereas I did not. And that meant we diverted further and further.
He also attended Cambridge and decided to be a writer, and had easy access to Europe. He became a journalist in the old Fleet St days, and then in San Francisco.
This all means that, for me, reading about his life is of limited interest - although I freely accept that for devotees of his writing, it would all provide interesting jigsaw pieces from his life puzzle.
I did enjoy some of his writing:
There is a certain Oxbridgian charm: Alcohol: “I determined to improve my tolerance, on the grounds that, if being mildly drunk lifted me to the level of other people, being a bit more drunk would be better. Cambridge was renowned for this sort of inductive logic.”
At other times, the humour carries a slight barb:
“If Tom’s French was rudimentary, Tucker’s was non-existent. At dinner in Burgundy one night, a waitress walked us through the cheese trolley. ‘ Celui-ci she said, ‘c’est du chèvre. Celui-ci, c’est un Coulommiers. Celui-ci, c’est un brebis…. It went on for quite a long time. She stood with her knife poised and looked expectantly at Tucker. ‘Well,’ he said, with his imperturbable confidence, ‘I must say the Celui-Ci looks rather good.’” The story is amusingly told, but I wonder how long the friendship between Tucker and the author survived, after the book was published.
By contrast, Faulks is coyly-self-effacing in regards to himself: Introducing his exploits in spoken word recordings, he explains, “Various people had been kind enough to say I had a pleasant voice”.
On occasion, he jumps into more controversial territory: “Tabloid editors want to flatter or inflame the prejudices of their readers, so the truth comes second. Sometimes there is a husk of fact in the article, sometimes there isn’t. In the end they will run whatever ‘story’ they feel will please or irritate their readers the most, sell more papers and make the proprietor rich. Even if you despise the ethics and the finished product, you can understand that way of thinking. Profit before truth. The ends (money) justify the means (lying). Simple stuff.” Simple, perhaps, but also lacking in new insight or depth.
Perhaps my favourite line was, “On these East Coast morning shuttles, the commuters know the cabin crew and there’s an easy to-and-fro. The seats are leather, cracked and comfortable, though the belt always needs tightening (the day you have to loosen an American lap-belt is the day you take a good look at yourself.)”
So, really not for me, but for those who follow Sebastian Faulks, probably a useful addition to their understanding of the author.

[Jonathan Pool · Rating 3 out of 5]

At the end of the book in the last “essay” Au Revoir I, at last, felt that Sebastian Faulks spoke from the heart. His recollections of, and love for his mother and father were heartfelt and moving. As is his love and respect for his brother, Edward.
Alas, for the most part, the collection felt perfunctory and if anything diminished my regard for the author.

What I learned from this work of non fiction is

• film/ Tv screen adaptations of Faulks’s work disappointed him. Birdsong his life’s seminal work, was not what he would have produced given the executive role. I agree with him.
• War, the army, service and patriotism are deeply embedded in his family and form the most meaningful part of his life(his side hustle as he puts it)
• Mental Health is something he has always been acutely conscious of, and has researched at least as comprehensively as his war writing. Personally I associate him with stories set in c.19th institutions and asylums, and with his magnus opus Human Traces
• Alcohol. Faulks writes with an honesty reading his relationship with alcohol. There is too much detail on the virtues of various wine grapes and vineyards. Keep that for a piece in Winemakers Monthly as detailed by a knowledgeable consumer.
• Touring and presentation. Faulks candidly admits that he looks scruffy, and is not a natural raconteur or entertainer. Despite overcoming childhood shyness he struggles. The necessary book promotions-and in particular a lengthy USA promotional tour- are purgatory for him.
I’m not very sympathetic to his outlook on this and think he needs to reward his loyal buying public with better performances for those who engage considerately.
A personal experience of mine backs this up. Faulks chose to promote his book Snow Country at an event I attended and it happened to coincide with an England cricket test.
Faulks loves his cricket; of that there is no doubt, but still..there’s no excuse for ‘pre-signing’ books and departing the stage as though the building was on fire.

Publicity surrounding this book indicates a difference of approach between Faulks and his publisher on the material to be used and the purpose of the book. The time lines jumped around within individual essays, confusingly.
Is this book a memoir? is this personal, and from the heart.? Only in very brief snatches I’m afraid.

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

Much as he looks back to childhood and writes about key moments in his life, Sebastian Faulks’ ‘Fires Which Burned Brightly’ proclaims on its cover that it is not a memoir, and that’s fine by me. Frankly, I’ll take any of his ten essays, in any order, given that they are so well written, so thoughtful, wonderfully self-deprecating, and full of signs of the times on which he’s dwelling.

His chapters on childhood opened up rarely regarded memory banks of my own childhood. Just a few years younger than the writer, I remember the mutton gristle, the reliance on the imagination for entertainment, the peculiarities of village school life and the horror of boarding school misery at the age of eight. Do you have to have had a similar childhood to become fully immersed in the constraints and freedoms of post WW2 life? Not at all. The delights and fears of childhood explored here prompt us all to think about where we’ve come from.

I particularly enjoyed the chapters which focus on the birth of specific novels, the research undertaken, the self-discipline required to release the narrative and, finally, the more tedious aspects of the publicity circus. As a result, I shall certainly re-read his earliest novels, reminded of the immediacy he creates and the intelligence of his story telling.

Whilst some may be disappointed that very little emphasis is given to his current domestic set-up, clearly a very happy one, I applaud this. It could feel rather contrary not to focus on friends and family but the focus in this collection of essays is, Faulks explains, “…not the story of a life, and maybe that’s just as well because I’m not sure there’s a documentary way of writing about such things. A novel’s the best place for emotional truths: it’s made for them.”

An excellent, fascinating, thought-provoking set of essays. If you think you might dip into them from time to time, be warned. Once immersed, it’s hard to put this book down.

My thanks to NetGalley and Random House UK, Cornerstone for a copy of this book in exchange for a fair review.

[Vicuña · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m always wary of authors who chose to narrate their own books. Sometimes there seems to be a writer conceit that makes them believe they can deliver the vest narration. In this case, there’s certainly no conceit and Sebastian Faulks narration is superb throughout. I’ve whipped through this in a couple of sessions, absolutely mesmerised by the scope of the subject matter in each of the essays. His publisher wanted a linear approach to what is essentially an autobiography, although I believe a random order, as originally envisaged, would have worked just as well.
I’ve been reading for some 70 years, being a couple of years older than Mr Faulks. This rates in the top five non fiction titles I’ve ever read. It was partly a trip down memory lane; evocative as so many memories of things past were stirred; Peter Dominic, barley wine, smoking, IOW festival…an endless list. I feel as if the listener has the privilege of sitting and chatting with the author. His revelations feel intimate without being introspective or pompous. His days as a boarder sounded Dickensian but he still triumphed. I loved the soundtracks he references throughout, having similar musical taste and I’ve revisited some of those long forgotten tracks since finishing this. There is a Spotify list. I’ve also learned so much; insight into mental illness was fascinating and I was spellbound by the way he prepared to write Birdsong. Again, this is a title I’ll revisit with a different insight and awareness. His journalist days were a hoot and overall, I can’t think of an audio title I’ve enjoyed so much. He comes across as a very likeable man, incredibly intelligent but grounded and I’ll listen to this again.

[David Margetts · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have read most of Sebastian Faulk's novels and have loved virtually all of them, some excellent, most very good, only the odd one 'disappointing', so I was looking forward to learning more about the author behind them.
The narrative around his childhood was enjoyable at the beginning of the book, and the ending in which he described more fully his family members was heart warming. I also was intrigued by the background and research to a number of his books, not least Birdsong. That said the book dipped somewhat with his rather boring 'road trip' around America, and became 'boorish' when he continually referred to his drinking. What is it about so many 'boomer men' that makes them feel it is somehow 'macho' and 'fashionable' to drink excessively? Faulks comes across as someone yet to 'grow up' and most probably an alcoholic, but as with many like him, is 'in denial', which is rather sad. Does the book make me want to read more from Sebastian, well actually no, but I probably will all the same, because in fiction he is a wonderful author.

[Liz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Having read many of Sebastian Faulks’ novels I was expecting ‘Fires Which Burned Brightly - A Life In Progress’, to contain the same attention to detail and depth of analysis; I was not disappointed. The story of his childhood in the 1950’s and 60’s brings the period vividly to life in the recall of fine detail and humorous anecdotes. The account of his time as a newspaper journalist is both informative and entertaining, and insight into his subsequent career as a writer fascinating. The hybrid format, described in the forward as a series of essays, allows for inclusion of his thoughts on psychiatry, the progression of post war Western capitalist society and the development of our current politics. These are well argued and informative. Thanks to the author and NetGalley for an advanced reading copy in return for an honest review.

[Matthew Cartledge · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is written in a series of vignettes, every one of which is interesting in its own way. I wouldn’t have expected to find the twentieth century development of mental health diagnoses, nor the travails of a writer on an American book tour as interesting as they became in the company of Faulks.

The chapter on wine in particular is magnificent-it’s refreshing to read a writer unrepentantly extolling the virtues of the moments and the connections he formed over a glass or two down the years rather than feel the need to bow to the latter day puritans who regard any suggestion alcohol might have benefits as tantamount to drug pushing.

I’ll go to the other books next I think. I’ve only read ‘Birdsong’ and ‘The Fatal Englishmen’. There are lots of others to explore.

[Derek MEACHER · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not an autobiography, according to the author, but ´A life in progress’. In fact an absorbing life emerges from these pages, but so much more. Lives. The lives of contemporaries, like myself. Reading these pages enabled me to return to moments /situations in my own life, many of which had drifted below the surface.
A brilliantly conceived and equally brilliantly written account that Faulks has shared primarily with all those listed at the conclusion of the text, with family members whose lives have been completed and with the rest of us for whom his book is a window to the truth of our existence.

[Ruth · Rating 4 out of 5]

Best described as a book of autobiographical essays, it's not quite a memoir and definitely not an autobiography yet you come away from it feeling that you know Sebastian Faulks as well as you know anyone. The first two essays are heartbreaking and the final one is such a moving tribute to his parents and brother. And the overwhelming centre of the book is the depth of grief he still carries for the soldiers of the first world war and the impact on him of his research for Birdsong. There were one or two middle essays that didn't match up to these others but overall I devoured it greedily and 'enjoyed' it far more than I thought I would.

[Douglas Mills · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am such an avid reader of Sebastian Faulks that I am sure I would find his shopping list interesting. This is a great book - the poignant ending made me stop and think about such moments in my own life - he captures that deeply personal moment beautifully. My only frustration with this series of personal anecdotes is that he does state at the beginning of his book that he was not keen on writing a personal memoir and at times, particularly in chapter 4, this is evident. However, the majority of his reflections are Sebastian Faulks at his best - rich in description and meaning - simply delightful.

[Martin Pilkington · Rating 4 out of 5]

So this isn’t a memoir, nor an autobiography, just a series of essays that tell the reader quite a lot about the life of the author!

It seems redundant to say that Sebastian Faulks writes well, if you’ve read any of his novels, or read any of his reviews in newspapers or elsewhere. These essays are very good at giving you the feel of the author’s life, even if the detail isn’t there. And the “sketchiness” is deliberate and planned. And it works as the author is honest, maybe brutally honest, about some aspects of his life, while being more cirumspect about others.

A very interesting and well written book.

[Susan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this book enchanting. I haven’t read all of his work but enough to know that I would be interested in it. I don’t think you need to know a great deal about his writing to enjoy these essays. This is a wise & thoughtful man sharing his observations, memories and reflections across his decades of experience. Anyone who is interested in the process of writing or who remembers some of the key events in recent decades will find much to enjoy in these pages. I found the final section on his family profoundly moving.

[Peter Evans · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sebastian Faulks is a highly accomplished writer and I very much enjoy his writing.
So when I started this memoir, I was very much looking forward to it. But even I couldn’t anticipate how good it would be.
It’s sincere, emotional, funny and incredibly honest, with tales of book tours and escapes from boarding school, and homage to his parents. This truly is a remarkable book and I loved every moment of it.

[Juliet · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was beautifully written - as you would expect from Sebastian Faulks - and sometimes really insightful into parts of his life that had inspired his writing and his involvement in other activities. Some essays are less interesting - especially the one about wine tasting which i felt was more a show offs guide to wine than a relevant essay for readers. But overall very much worth the time invested.

[Michaela Salmon · Rating 2 out of 5]

A collection of essays that I think I read at the start were never meant to be together as a book and this was certainly how it felt to me. Rather meandering; some essays were much more interesting than others. It’s always interesting reading about someone else’s life, childhood, sibling relationships, work experiences etc but some felt like they had a little too much detail than I needed meaning I found quite a bit of the book hard going. I much prefer his novels.

[Denise Hale · Rating 5 out of 5]

Looking back whilst moving forward

Sebastian is a little older than me and from a different background but I recognised the era he was writing about. His method of writing means you get patches of his life but each is filled with texture. I enjoyed reading this book , I liked the way he revisited the past reminding me of the atmosphere of that time without creating any feelings of nostalgia.

[David Galvani · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some good stuff here especially on how he receives inspiration for his novels. Clearly loved and missed his parents. Labours his love of drink etc and lack of application at college, admitting this lead to mental health issues. This in turn lead to may be his greatest novel, Human Traces.

A good read, but his novels are better.

[Nicola · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed parts of the book very much: the description of his childhood and life at school; his book tour in America; and the section about research will send me back to read and reread some of his novels. Other sections dragged. Faulks is clearly a kind man and interesting companion but I think I would rather read his novels.

[Estelle · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a series of moments in the life of the author. I absolutely hated Chapter 4, which dwells on his encounters with various bottles of wine and/or beer in what seemed a very self-indulgent and quite pretentious way, right until the moving final chapter about his father. Then it all became clear. It's a wonderful book.

[Nicholas Turner · Rating 4 out of 5]

A different sort of memoir and generally very enjoyable, including an exploration about his approach to researching background for novels.

There is plenty of warmth and humour throughout the book although some of the more detailed literary/ author references went over my head (more a comment on me than the author/ book).