I’m not sure whether or not I can trust Robert Skinner. According to his memoir, I’d Rather Not, he has worked as a dishwasher, outback tour bus driver, magazine editor, mansion house-sitter, and trench digger. He’s also been homeless, a sub-par fisherman, has passionately fought against the forces of Centrelink, hitch-hiked and befriended camels. Skinner delivers the story of each chapter of his life with such humour and nonchalance that I often thought he must be exaggerating.
‘The pandemic arrived in Australia at the same time I did. (A coincidence, probably).’
The testimonials on the book’s front and back weren’t a lot of help when trying to understand what I’d Rather Not might be about; ‘an absolute bag of lollies’, ‘a properly made gin and tonic drunk outside in a garden on a perfect Saturday afternoon’. Was this a book or a classic Aussie piss-up in someone’s backyard?
But in all honesty, it is the ridiculousness and absurdity of Skinner’s lifestyle and writing that made me love this book. With his wry humour and aversion to the normal way of doings things, Robert Skinner has secured the title of Australia’s funniest writer – at least in my books. At only 166 pages long, I devoured this book in a weekend getaway in the mountains, which had me laughing loudly and intermittently while my friends tried to enjoy the peace and quiet of our fireplace-warmed cabin.
‘When it got too much, I lay in my swag at night and wrote resignation letters, but I never knew who to send them to. I sent one to my mum, who said she liked the characters but didn’t understand the ending.’
The Robert Skinner in this memoir reads like a cartoon character; in an attempt to derail a job meeting with a dole officer, he pretends to choke on a chicken bone, writhing around on the floor and gagging (it doesn’t work). He lets camels bite and nibble on him in the hopes of building a rapport with them (this also doesn’t work). He moves to Vietnam as part of an elaborate plan to save on rent money (do I have to say it again? It doesn’t work).
Skinner knows how to say what everyone is thinking. He has the voice of someone who is immune to the social programming that has been ingrained into everyone else’s psyche. For Skinner, there is nothing scary or shameful about being homeless; he refers to it as ‘just sort of lying there without a house.’ Being unemployed for an extended period of time isn’t embarrassing. In fact, it’s a well-deserved break from capitalism that he feels it is his turn to enjoy.
‘I was getting vaccinated twice a week to try to bring the state numbers up.’
I think one of my main takeaways from this book is the message that growing up never ends. You never reach a point in your life where you can say, ‘I’m all grown up. No more life lessons or learning for me.’ It just keeps going. The thought can either be depressing, or you can read I’d Rather Not.
‘So… this is growing up, I thought. Well, I didn’t like it.’
