I had read "The Lady in the Van" in the London Review of Books years ago and enjoyed it thoroughly, so I was hoping for more of the same sort. This, however, is typical LRB writing in which the most frequently used pronoun (or indeed, any other word) is "I". The first part of the book, a childhood memoir with much about the author's parents is mildly interesting. The remainder is sheer self-indulgence. So bad I wouldn't even donate it to a library.