The Penguin John Lennon

This is another of those pesky books I have had to replace because the people to whom I lent them have never returned them. Originally I possessed the two separate books: John Lennon in his own Write and A Spaniard in the Works. These books are the reason why my allegiance shifted from handsome George and angel-faced Paul to clever John, who could play with words so well and comically. Reminiscent of the great Stanley Unwin, and so, clearly, producing great joy. Sometimes the words are almost right, sometimes they are perfectly right but the sense isn't quite; either way Lennon subverts the English language - and several well-known stories - like a virtuoso and what is more, he illustrates it too (well he did go to art college). See the brilliant drawing for No Flies on Frank, poor Frank who has put on masses of weight - 'I carn't not believe this incredible fact of truth about my very body which has not gained fat since mother begat me at childburn. Yea, though I wart through the valet of thy shadowy hut I will feed no norman. What grate qualmsy hath taken me thus into such a fatty hardbuckle.' - a nice blending of the St. James version and old Hollywood reference there! What a pity he didn't go on and develop this anarchic talent further. ( )