As I write there are two reviews
of this book on Amazon at the moment.
One claims that 'rarely do I come across a book that makes me want to give up being a writer' and then goes on to suggest that the 'sentences drip delight like warm honey on a tongue' and that book is 'perfect'. He gives it five stars. Blimey, this must be one of the best books ever written in the history of literature.
The other awards the book just the one star calling it 'baggy, self-indulgent, inexplicably angry and over-wrought'. He seems pissed off that, having bought it on the back of the first review, it didn't live up to expectations. Hang on, is it actually terrible?
Predictably, neither is true.
Farah Damji was born into a privileged Asian family in Uganda who managed to leave the country before Idi Amin's vile purges. London was a bit of a culture shock and, it must be said, a temperature change. Try Me
is a memoir that charts an eventful life full of rebellion, sex, addiction, crime, lies and adventures. Makes my last 39 years seem awfully dull.
This is a remarkable story that is, in the main, told in an entertaining and readable fashion. She has a tendency to overwrite in places, some of the prose is unnecessarily flowery, but the underlying tale is quite gripping.
I'll be honest, there were times when I got a bit annoyed with her, which I guess is sort of the point, but there is a certain charm to her style that almost won me over.
The physical book suffers a little from common small publisher issues:
the format is a bit on the large side and there is no RRP on the book
which will annoy the book chains but these are minor gripes that
probably only an ex-retailer like me will notice.
Will I read on? Probably, but not right now. It hasn't gone to the top of my reading pile but I did enjoy what I've read so far.
Try Me
by Farah Damji is published by The Ark Press.