Over the past twenty years or so I have read virtually all of Melvyn Bragg's works of fiction, up through his three autobiographical novels, each published about two years apart. Early in 2007, when Amazon.co.uk offered "Remember Me..." as a preorder for April, I didn't hesitate. Only after I clicked the button did I notice that it was due not in April 2007, but 2008! I let the order stand (probably setting an Amazon.co.uk preorder record) and waited. When it finally arrived last month, I knew instantly that this was not a quick study, and as I read, I saw why #4 had not come as easily as #1, 2 and 3.
There are certain elements of Bragg's writing that I've come to expect, and all of them were present in this book: savory phrases ("...playing Blind Man's Bluff, bumping into the furniture of our old lives"); skillful evocations of time and place (Oxford and London of the '60s); clever literary devices (such as using the era itself as an unseen character in the story, a force powerful enough to jerk the other two primary characters around inside the plot).
But this time there was something I had not seen before: deep emotion; the author himself. This is the fourth in an ongoing autobiographical series about his own life. Yet up to now we have been presented with a sort of family album. Snapshots of "Joe" as a boy against the backdrop of an England at that time, looking back at a child wrestling with issues we presume he later overcame.
In "Remember Me..." there is such raw immediacy that, although it is 40 years past, it feels like now. The sense is that, as he was writing, a chunk of the writer was still back there, and he was bringing it forth for us to see, wounds still open and bleeding. As such, I see "Remember Me..." as not only the finest piece of fiction Bragg has written to date, but also the bravest, given his vulnerability as a public figure. I have been impressed by his writing skills in the past, but never much emotionally moved. I choked up toward the end of this one, something no book has inspired me to do in many years. I strongly recommend it for all the reasons noted above, and for its insight into the chasms and pitfalls of mental illness.