Confessions of a Conjuror

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Surely this is a joke, I thought to myself. Surely, at some point in this book Derren Brown is going to write "Gotcha! Can't believe you read so much drivel, here's the real story,". It's so bad that by 10% into the book, I was convinced it was some kind of practical joke; a set up for some convoluted mind f*** that Derren Brown was about to reveal, but no, this is just a mindblowingly boring selection of boring random and boring thoughts that are boring, boring, boring. Did I mention that this is boring? It does not disappoint. Derren's writing style which I loved in his previous book has continued here - but in many ways is more refined. I had to look a couple of words up in a dictionary - but as I've commented on someone else's review - it's good to be challenged. Derren's prose is so elegant, funny (at times) and flows so well, this book is almost impossible to put down. There are several laugh out loud moments too! And, above all, he stresses the point that one of the things which ultimately makes life worth living is bringing other people joy. A woman passed by, having emerged from the ladies’ toilet behind me, and the game ended. The sound of the refilling cistern within was bright and loud, and then abruptly muted as the door bumped closed. The fat man wobbled away from the bar and from me, a little inebriated, and my empathy with his thoughts and sensations was lost under the high ceilings of the wide, noisy lounge. urn:lcp:confessionsofcon0000brow:epub:45622e84-4799-47ee-8944-5b795b3c1e71 Foldoutcount 0 Grant_report Arcadia #4281 Identifier confessionsofcon0000brow Identifier-ark ark:/13960/t70w79b11 Invoice 2089 Isbn 9781905026586

It truly is a set of (humiliating and hysterical and fascainting and impressive) confessions. To anyone who admires derren's work, this book is incredible. I'm a big Derren Brown fan. I watch him on TV, I've seen him live, I've read stuff he's written and even – fleetingly – met him. So I was pleased to find a copy of this book under the Christmas tree.I was conscious that the grey eyes of the French barman, who had now seen me emerge from the disabled toilet three times in the last fifteen minutes, were resting on me with an appropriately mixed signal of curiosity, admonishment and condescension. It's not just the audience who are under the microscope though, he becomes more and more self-analytical: As with the idea that psychics use Barnum statements that appear to be very personal and accurate statements about you but would actually apply to most people, I would say that most of the ideas and experiences told in here are similar in that they are obviously very personal things about Derren himself but most of it will apply to everyone in some respect. If nothing else, I could listen to Derren talk for hours without growing bored of his voice. Perhaps it is that soothing quality that makes him such an able hypnotist, but whatever it is, I was happy to listen to him narrate his own audiobook. I only thing that surprised me about this book was that I had this expectation that due to Derren's knowledge of the mind and psychology he would have some profound insights into our nature and know some secrets as to how we can increase our personal power. I don't want to use the word disappointed because that's not fair.

Derren Brown being, I think, a genuinely kind man (or so a friend who's met him less fleetingly than me assures me) and intelligent and reasonably well-informed, I enjoyed reading his views. But I read them in the same way as I listen to the views of a friend on the great issues of the day. If I wasn't already predisposed to like him and pay him some attention, I'd probably just find him boring and opinionated.I tried to recreate these sensations mentally, and considered, as I tensed and shifted in microcosm, that that was what he was feeling right now; that for him the experience of all life revolved in this instant around those sensations, and that I was (with my annoyance and self-hatred and reluctance to work) at most a blur in the corner of his vision. Vanishing Inc. UK Ltd is a company registered in England and Wales with company number 09430707. Prices shown excluding UK VAT. He relates his anxiety about losing his pens and dots them around his flat but still cannot find one when he needs it before dashing out of the door. I can relate to his 'slight' OCD and his curiosity about what would happen if chose to crash his car. In fact, I can relate to many of his observations. However, that is the first, last, and only bad word I shall offer about this book. I’m probably unduly biased anyway; the reason this book took me so long was because I was reading it during a very work-heavy week, probably leading to later frustration when I was only getting around to reading it after having left it for a few days. I pictured them tumbling to the floor, myself bending over to gather them up, and the embarrassed derision of the silent diners as they watched me carry out the apologetic, uncomfortable process.

I loathed myself again. My heart pounded beneath my stupid blousy gay shirt, and as ever, I found it absurd that I had done this a thousand times yet still battled with the same weary desire to be veiled in the shadows of a corner, to keep out of everyone’s way and let them enjoy themselves in peace.And most of us get it wrong. (This book really reminded me of Sturgeon’s Law, the revered line of wise philosophy: “ninety percent of everything is crap.”)

I personally didn't laugh at what he was saying but it was very amusing. I'll end by saying that while it's a masterpiece I can imagine certain people not liking it because of the intricacy of the language. It was this third section which was less captivating. It was brilliant, funny, and very interesting in small, but some of the time it did run on a bit. My captivation did go through phases of waning about halfway to two thirds of the way through book, though it did return later. On the language: one of my language betes noires is a reluctance to reuse the same word, to look for convoluted synonyms to avoid repetition, in a way that drags the eye and seems more clumsy than repetition would have. Derren does this throughout and it isn’t just okay, it’s a central part of the pleasure. It’s obviously tongue in cheek, and the joy he takes in finding comically wordy alternatives (again, I can’t find a better example than his discussion of Monster Munch) is transmitted without dilution to the reader. This was okay – not brilliant, not deeply philosophical – and even occasionally quite funny. The story about The Sun ‘outing’ him as homosexual was very amusingly told. (Now, Murdoch is someone who has a lot to answer for).

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The only confession here is that while he knows a lot of long words, his grammar still needs cleaning up (please learn the difference between 'I was sat' and 'I was sitting') and that whatever runs through his mind is every bit as boring as the stuff that runs through everyone else's. The only difference being that no one else would ever think this is worth publishing. I often found myself agreeing with Derren on many issues concerning...ear plugs, elevator awkwardness, and battery operated toys. He is very funny, but he might only appeal to certain people, as his humor is a bit different. (But maybe that is just how British humor is, I don't know, I'm American.)