This intensely written memoir by Adam Mars-Jones about his Welsh father, Sir William, opens with the death of Sheila, Adam’s mother, of lung cancer in 1998: ‘She died with self-effacing briskness in little more than a month.’ Adam too is self-effacing, moving in while his mother was dying, then staying on as his father’s main carer. The second of three brothers, he explains away this generous act: ‘As an under-employed freelance, I had time to spare.’ ‘Dad’, diagnosed informally as ‘demented’, was by then a retired High Court judge granted a low rent for a large flat in Gray’s Inn. Adam lived in the flat’s converted attic.
Adam is thorough and, it appears, fair. ‘Dad’ is depicted as pompous, playful, flirtatious (dubbing certain women ‘sparklers’), ungracious (rejecting Adam’s carefully chosen Christmas present) and occasionally grateful (to Adam, for looking after him). He can be cruel (to a woman guest at his own farewell party at the Garrick) and homophobic — Adam finally disclosed to him, in the late 1970s, that ‘I belonged to the category he hated and feared’.
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