I have read most of Stephen Fry's books and found them all greatly entertaining and challenging me intellectually, because of his vast vocabulary. He is very hilarious, and a good actor and screen personality. My expectation were, acccordingly, very high and I hoped to learn more about him as a person and expected interesting anecdotes etc. Instead I got lists and lists and lists and lists of people he knows and repeated mention of plays he wrote or was somehow involved in. Its just an embarassment and contains only a tiny amount of autobiographic info. His Foreword for "Nothing... except my Genius" (about Oscar Wilde) contains more info about his personal life than this autobiography. So lame was this literary offering that I am not sure if I will want to buy the next book covering, at least according to the Fry Chronicles, a much more turbulent time that includes drug taking. I fear it will be another lot of hot air an endless listings of successful actors, comedians, playwrights etc., and ramblings about Blackadder and Me and My Girl, and listings of possessions.