Plagued by depression and scarred by his childhood and sadistic teachers, O'Hanlon drinks excessively, pops caffeine and nicotine pills. One of his most important possessions is a jar containing some of the charred remains of a close friend who committed suicide. In his house in Oxfordshire piles of books have spilled over tables and shelves and tottering mounds of dirty crockery obscure the sink. Yet, unlikely as it may seem, this is a remarkably light-hearted, sensitive and funny book.
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