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Adrian Mole was just tree three months away from his fourteenth birthday when he began writing his diary on New Year's Day. He's just on the edge of true adolescence - pimples are appearing as is a little bit of interest in the opposite sex. He's thinking about what he might like to do ''eventually'', but his first major challenge is the breakdown of his parents' marriage. He writes with a wonderful mixture of ''knowingness'' and innocence and usually manages to get things just ever-so-slightly wrong.
A fellow reviewer said a little while ago that if you miss an iconic book when it's published it's worth waiting a while and then revisiting it when all the fuss has died down, the better to judge whether all the brouhaha was merited. I missed Adrian back in 1982, back when soldiers were fighting a distant war and, a Conservative government seemed uncertain about how to deal with raging unemployment - but there was a royal wedding to take our minds off all that was going wrong. Thirty years on and things have obviously - not changed all that much. So how would Adrian Mole's take on the ways of the world stand up to three decades of cynicism from the masses?

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