As with the previous two volumes, it’s an entertaining mix of genuinely funny observations and idle musing, with a few serious bits thrown in for good measure. Gray tends to go on about the theatre rather a lot, which, being a playwright, and being the person who wrote the book, he is perfectly entitled to do. But don’t let that put you off: he is one of those writers with a knack for making you laugh out loud. Well, making me laugh out loud, at any rate.
I wonder why it’s playwright and not playwrite. I could probably Google it, but it’s nice to have a few mysteries left in life.