I was recently lucky enough to be given a copy of Anthony Sher’s latest book “Year of the Fat Knight” as a birthday present. Before reading it, I thought I’d reacquaint myself with this, earlier work. I first read it in the 80s, shortly after it was initially published, and I’ve returned to it on a number of occasions since. I have, over the years, on several occasions tried to list my ten favourite novels. Were I to list my ten favourite books, this would easily find a place on the list, and pr

I was recently lucky enough to be given a copy of Anthony Sher’s latest book “Year of the Fat Knight” as a birthday present. Before reading it, I thought I’d reacquaint myself with this, earlier work. I first read it in the 80s, shortly after it was initially published, and I’ve returned to it on a number of occasions since. I have, over the years, on several occasions tried to list my ten favourite novels. Were I to list my ten favourite books, this would easily find a place on the list, and probably be in the top three.



Despite the familiarity arising from repeated reading, it has never lost its power to excite. For anyone with an interest in the theatre, this is simply one of the most thrilling and indeed inspiring books it has been my pleasure to read.



The basic structure is straightforward. As a youngish actor on the verge of a major breakthrough, Anthony Sher, after recovering from the agony of tearing his Achilles tendon while paying the fool in Lear, is offered the part of Richard the Third at the RSC. From there, Sher takes us through the agonies of whether to accept the part, and then once he has taken the plunge, the process of building a part. He takes the reader through the research, the psychological analysis, the building of relationships with the rest of the cast, and also the mechanics, the costume, make-up, set, and music.



One of the reasons the book succeeds so wonderfully is that Sher is an excellent storyteller. He starts slowly, with a languid holiday visiting his family in South Africa playing a major early part in his tale. Then on return, he gradually ratchets up the pace and the tension as the play goes into rehearsal and careers towards the opening night, and the catharsis of eventual success. Of course, the book wouldn’t be half as much as fun, and indeed probably wouldn’t have been published if the production hadn’t been a success. However, it was and that gives us wonderful moments such as Sher denying that he reads reviews, only for Michael Caine to suggest that he wrote them.



Aside from being a damn good story, one which had me staying awake far too long to get to the end, one of the other joys is the cast of other actors. Brian Blessed, who was seemingly as loud in the 80s as he is now. The now virtually ubiquitous Roger Allam as a young actor. The lately venerable Jonathan Pryce and Bernard Hill as dangerous young risk-takers. It also extends beyond the actors to a fascinating array of directors, costumiers, dressers, Fx people, and even drivers.



Sher’s talent goes beyond acting and writing. The book is illustrated with his own sketches, one of particular note portrays the author himself in a dream flying round a Laurence Oliver’s giant face. At the start of his journey he is thoroughly intimidated by “Sir’s” apparently definitive playing of the part. He is also feels oppressed by Shakespeare, railing at him for starting the play with such a famous line. “Now is the winter……”



To finish, I have one uncomplicated thing to say. If you are interested in the theatre, and in the art of acting, if you haven’t already read the Year of the King, do so. Now.