Rating: 3 stars
I’d like to advise that you don’t read this book* if you have an amount of isotonic sports drink (or any other liquid, for example tea) in your mouth (a small amount or a large amount, it doesn’t matter).
I happen to like Richard Ayoade and his satirical, self-deprecating comedy. Therefore I enjoyed Ayoade on Ayoade. It made me laugh out loud in public places. It made me cry with laughter. It made me read passages out loud to my husband, which must have been annoying as I borrowed the book from him, and he hadn’t read it. I can’t imagine it would make sense to anyone who doesn’t know or like Ayoade, but it might be pleasant to be bewildered by his style. I was bewildered from time to time, but that could be because I don’t have in-depth film knowledge and have been known to be quite credulous at times. Still, I now have a pleasing image in my head of Tilda Swinton trying to put out an unexpected fire with a navy blue tunic.
I had to make one correction. The first footnote on page 19 of the 2014 paperback edition should send you to page 256 in the appendix, not page 244. You’re welcome.
*You should read this book. Especially if you appreciate Ayoade. If you don’t appreciate him, read it anyway. Go on. Be bewildered.