Jack offers the Monday book on Tuesday this week

This is a very weird book!

I started off not believing that the title was what the book was actually about – that it was some kind of metaphor. But, no, this is a book by a guy who collects pure detritus. Things of no value and of no particular interest.

But then it begins to turn into a different kind of book. More of a sad family history that explains how he got to be that ‘collector of nothing’.

I actually found many of the stories in the book really depressing and I have a feeling it was written as a form of therapy. King flies above the story from time to time and comments on his writing and the development of the book, which apparently took a very long time and which he laid aside frequently.

We get the author’s life story, his relationships with his handicapped sister, his parents, his ex wife and newer girlfriends.

So if you are collector and think this might be for you? Definitely not!

If you like memoirs and the vicarious thrill of observing someone else’s problems then is the book for you!