Spanning 1979-1987, The Fry Chronicles charts Stephen's arrival at Cambridge up to his thirtieth birthday.

'Heartbreaking, a delight, a lovely, comfy book' The Times

'Perfect prose and excruciating honesty. A grand reminiscence of college and theatre and comedyland in the 1980s, with tone-perfect anecdotes and genuine readerly excitement. What Fry does, essentially, is tell us who he really is. Above all else, a thoughtful book. And namedroppy too, and funny, and marbled with melancholy' Observer

'Arguably the greatest living Englishman' Independent on Sunday

'Extremely enjoyable' Sunday Times

'Fry's linguistic facility remains one of the Wildean wonders of the new media age. The patron saint of British intelligence' Daily Telegraph

» Read the first pages of The_Fry_Chronicles by downloading the Penguin Taster here

» Visit Penguin Tasters

Stephen Fry - Video Interview

Click here to watch an interview with Stephen Fry taking about
The Fry Chronicles.

Visit Stephen Fry's website at www.stephenfry.com.

The Fry Chronicles can also be found as a tinglingly good new app for the iPhone, myFry.

myFry takes the traditional art of the index, plugs it into the mains and brings it twitchingly to life for the 21st century, creating a visual display of The Fry Chronicles that not only looks pleasing to the eye but also proves to be as intelligent, playful and fun as the man himself and it's now available in the App Store.

"Work is more fun than fun"
Noël Coward

I really must stop saying sorry; it doesn’t make things
any better or worse. If only I had it in me to be all fierce,
fearless and forthright instead of forever sprinkling
my discourse with pitiful retractions, apologies and
prevarications. It is one of the reasons I could never
have been an artist, either of a literary or any other
kind. All the true artists I know are uninterested in
the opinion of the world and wholly unconcerned
with self-explanation. Self-revelation, yes, and often,
but never self-explanation. Artists are strong, bloodyminded,
difficult and dangerous. Fate, or laziness, or
cowardice cast me long ago in the role of entertainer,
and that is what I found myself, throughout my twenties,
becoming, though at times a fatally over-earnest, overappeasing
one, which is no kind of entertainer at all, of
course. Wanting to be liked is often a very unlikeable
characteristic. Certainly I don’t like it in myself. But
then, there is a lot in myself that I don’t like.
Twelve years ago I wrote a memoir of my childhood
and adolescence called Moab is My Washpot, a title that
confused no one, so clear, direct and obvious was its
meaning and reference. Or perhaps not. The chronology
took me up to the time I emerged from prison and
managed somehow to get myself accepted into university,
which is where this book takes up the story. For the sake
of those who have read Moab I don’t mean to go over
the same ground. Where I mention events from my past
that I covered there I shall append a superscribed obelus,
thus: †.