Nice book, shame about the typeface - Rated 
It may seem a minor point but no reputable publisher should be allowed to get away with print this small - it's about half the size of 'Writing Home' and severely marred my reading pleasure. Given the likely average age of the readership for a book like this you'd think Bennett in particular would insist on something big enough for his Gran to read. Why do they do it? Profit? Laziness? It certainly shows contempt for the reading public, but then I forget, this is Faber & Faber so that is to be expected. 'Bit small, eh? Well, screw up your eyes and be grateful - it's high art is that'.
Humour and insight - Rated 
Alan Bennett is one of the great cornerstones of the arts in Britain and to read an autobiography is always going to be interesting and informative. His achievement is all the greater coming from such a humble background and it must have been all the more difficult for him mixing with contemporaries who were mainly upper class ex public school types, and you do detect a hint of bitterness. He does however go into great detail about his family and upbringing leaving no secrets unrevealed. As with all the other sections of the book it's recalled with great insight and humour. Being such a stalwart of English literature I felt compelled to read it and I wasn't disappointed, despite it's huge size. I just wish he would accept the knighthood he richly deserves.
Laughter in the Confessional - Rated
If you know Alan Bennett's work through his plays or have enjoyed the memorable collection Writing Home in the 1990's, you might wonder what this current anthology has in store. Well the short answer is that it is the same only different. The customary Bennett humanity, acute observation, keen intelligence and wry humour are much in evidence in the diaries from 1996-2004 included here, and in several of the shorter book reviews and essays. However, it has to be said that this volume like the second set of Talking Heads takes on a much darker hue focussing on issues that the writer has only alluded to before. The first long piece is a detailed account of the mental illness suffered by his mother and aunt and pulls no punches in its depictions of the institutions they attended or the impact this had on the wider family and how their conditions indirectly led to the discovery of a family secret. Similarly, recent years have seen A.B becoming more relaxed about his sexuality and this comes over in the article Written on the Body and contented accounts of domestic bliss with partner Rupert. Then there is an increasing anger in his comments on social and political matters especially his bitter denunciation of the Iraq war. Finally there is his perceptive account of facing a life threatening battle with cancer where the title is instructive of his attitude- An Average Rock Bun. Yet even as the content becomes more hard-edged, the quality of the prose remains as pleasing as ever: Bennett remains the master of the telling phrase, his deployment of vocabulary always apposite. Consequently, we are offered a rounded portrait of this famously secretive man far more illuminating than Alexander Game's empty biography of a few years ago. Above all you will be delighted to know, Bennett is as funny as ever whether he is talking to the local coal merchant: `you're not a patch on your dad' or commenting on the men who changed a tyre in ten minutes: `I feel I want to ask them home so they can take charge of my life'. The key to the genius of Bennett is that so often you smile in recognition at the truth of his observations having seen similar yourself, only he expresses them twice as fluently and with three times the humour.
One of the best books I have read - Rated
I was hooked from the first page on this book which is brilliantly written, amazingly honest - almost too honest - and the sort of book that you think about on the way to work.
At times the subject matter of the book verges on the mundane but he has such a way of bringing characters to life in your mind that you would happily read about them watching the grass grow!
You won't regret it, but... - Rated 
'Untold Stories' was the first book I have read by Alan Bennett, the seemingly ubiquitous Christmas billboard advertising prompting me to make the purchase that I would otherwise have missed. Similarly I have (rather shamefully, in retrospect) neglected to see any of his plays or read any of his other books. Given the heavy advertising budget gone into the publication of this book (by two publishing houses, I note, therefore perhaps double the budget?), I imagined that much of the content in the book would appeal to all generations. Unfortunately, being 50 odd years his junior, I found a lot of the writing 'beyond me' as it were, as so often happens with more senior writers (towards the end of the book Bennett confesses that he does not know how to use the internet, a handicap that to me seems incomprehensible in this day and age, given my lifestyle). To a reader that is unfamiliar with his work, a lot of this book can be disregarded: who wants to read about the background of a play when one has not seen or read the play that is being described? Similarly, myself not a particular aficionado of art, his narrative on paintings was tedious and dreary at times; indeed there were moments I felt that I was ploughing through the text, impatient to reach the last pages. I noted that the front cover of the book there is a rave review quoted from Nigel Slater. It is no surprise, perhaps, that 'Toast' (Slater's autobiography) was similarly complimented in Bennett's diaries, a conicidence that seems somewhat more than accidental.
Despite these substantial complaints, however, I do not regret reading this mammoth autobiography. Bennett's writing is truly a pleasure to read, and his relentless dislike of the press (and in particular Mr. Murdoch, which is duly mentioned several times throughout) is intensely satisfying: I suppose we do have something in common, after all. The closing pages of 'Untold Stories' (the title piece and in my opinion, the best section of this book) does not fail to touch and his narrative detailing the perils of living with cancer and his experience of being 'queer bashed' in Italy shed light on topics that are too often left unstated.
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