Pulse en una miniatura para ir a Google Books.
Cargando... May Week Was In June (1990 original; edición 1990)por Clive James (Autor)
Información de la obraMay Week Was In June por Clive James (1990)
Ninguno Cargando...
Inscríbete en LibraryThing para averiguar si este libro te gustará. Actualmente no hay Conversaciones sobre este libro. This may have fewer laugh-out-loud moments than its predecessors but it describes the period when he encountered many of the people who have since shaped our national cultural landscape and it does so with Clive's distinctive panache and erudite wit. Like the man himself, there is a brash shyness here: we are given parts of stories but the presentation is so stylish taht it is hard to see through to the core. sin reseñas | añadir una reseña
Pertenece a las series
'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 No se han encontrado descripciones de biblioteca. |
Debates activosNingunoCubiertas populares
Google Books — Cargando... GénerosSistema Decimal Melvil (DDC)070.92Information Journalism And Publishing Journalism And Publishing Biography And History BiographiesClasificación de la Biblioteca del CongresoValoraciónPromedio:
¿Eres tú?Conviértete en un Autor de LibraryThing. |
James tells his tale with a pleasing lack of modesty, though he never subsides into rank bragging either. He certainly managed to keep an impressive number of plate spinning on different poles during his time as an undergraduate (working for the Footlights, writing poetry, reviewing films, reading Proust, slowly, in French and even briefly editing Granta were just a few of the stings to his bow), though these activities naturally threatened to impinge upon his academic responsibilities. He cartainly makes Cambridge in the mid-1960s sound a beguiling place.
The second part of the book, though, seems slightly dislocated and I found myself struggling to find the will to continue. It seemed to me as if he was including accounts of adventures (or perhaps misadventures) that befell him because he thinks that they could or should be funny, but lacked the physical or spiritual energy to apply the final gloss to make them so.
The positive certainly more than outweighed the negative but he did rather sell me the dummy with this one. ( )