I have to admit that even reading books that I rate can sometimes feel like a chore. It is probably a fault in my mental disposition. I like reading but sometimes it is just easier to switch on the tele and watch one of my precious documentaries. Alan Bennett's Writing Home presents no such problem. It positively flows off the page and swims in your mind. It is witty, urbane and highly educated, a collection of essays, diaries and prefaces.
I must confess that I have carried a mild and guilty prejudice against Bennett - a prejudice I now judge to be thoroughly wrong and born out of an unseemly jealousy. Bennett gives every impression of wearing his education (a substantial one) lightly. In the past I took this to be a deliberate affectation on his part. I regret that I felt that way. Writing Home is a damned good read. Here is a nice bit of self-effacement from Bennett's diary on 20 August 1988:
Watching Barry Humphries on TV the other night I noticed the band was laughing. It reminded me how when I used to do comedy I never used to make the band laugh. Dudley [Moore] did and Peter [Cook], but not me. And somehow it was another version of not being good at games.
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