Gerry Cottle, a stockbroker's son, ran away to join the circus when he was just 15 and soon married into Britain's oldest circus dynasty. Packed with tales of circus acts gone wrong, publicity stunts falling flat, errant clowns and beautiful girls, this title tells the extraordinary story of the ultimate showman.
Confessions without absolution. A candid overview of life behind the scenes in the author's circus life. Read for personal historical research. I found this work of immense interest and its contents helpful and inspiring. I enjoyed the first chapter's info when it came to backstage routines, as well as the "10 Things..." lists found throughout. Number rating relates to the book's contribution to my writing needs. Overall, this work is also a good additional resource for the researcher and enthusiast.
Gerry Cottle ran away from his upper-middle-class suburban life at the age of 15 to join the circus. It's a great hook, but unfortunately, the memoir itself is less than great.
First of all, it's very poorly written. I'm actually appalled it made it past an editor as fit to print. (Shame on you, Vision publishing house!) Maybe the sentence fragments and run-on sentences won't bother you if you're not a stickler for grammar, but Cottle's poor writing extends to never explaining who most of the "characters" that appear in his book are. It's as if we're just supposed to know who everyone is. Some get a brief explanation; a few more receive a couple of words; most are simply name-checked and the story rumbles on. All of this makes for a very dissatisfying story. It's wrong to hold up a memoir to the same standards as a novel, but if the people who appear on the pages are not adequately evoked, I find it very difficult to engage with any kind of book.
There's also the problem of our narrator. Cottle is clearly a chancer. He's also a hypocritical, misogynistic, selfish ass. Our hero, ladies and gentleman! To Cottle's credit, he doesn't try and paint himself as a hero, but the fact remains that we want to root for the protagonist and Cottle is simply too dispicable to warm to. He cheats on his wife, grinding her down into misery and alcoholism; he neglects his family; he screws over friends and colleagues with regularity; he rarely pays his taxes (I'm sorry, but if I have to pay them as I earn minimum wage, you also do, Mr Bigshot Business Man). In short, he's awful. Case in point: Cottle is upset to find out one of his oldest friends is dying of cancer. However, he's too chickenshit to visit him on his deathbed. A few months after his friend's death, however, he does start up a relationship with his friend's newly widowed wife. CLASSY.
Okay, rant over. In between its lessons in how NOT to live your life, there are some amusing anecdotes about the circus in the book. However, the circus stuff doesn't quite make persevering with the bad writing and awful narrator worthwhile.
I was disappointed by this book - it should have been a fascinating insight, a page turner, as promised on the front cover.
It's not written particularly well; I could excuse that if it was Gerry Cottle's work alone, but it's not. It's repetitive and the language doesn't draw you into the tales, merely leaves you wishing for more detail and drama.
In terms of the subject matter: there are some interesting circus facts placed between chapters, but the overall story feels depressing and seedy somehow.
Cottle doesn't hide his drug problem or his philandering ways, but still seems to gloat slightly about it, despite his faltering admission of failure later in the book.
Clearly he should have made a lot of money, but his singlemindedness and stubborn streak were his business downfall.
Littered with autobiographical details that I wasn't really interested in, such as the author's womanising and cocaine use, but rich with details on circus life in Britain from a man who came from outside the circus world and became the owner of the biggest circus in Britain, travelled abroad, broke world records, and started a great many ventures.