I’ve long been a fan of TV comedy duo French and Saunders, right from the energetic early days, through the middling output, and even when the pair got slightly tired in their last series. Their solo projects have been ones to watch, too, so I was looking forward to reading Dawn French’s autobiography, which is written as a series of letters. Letters to her beloved father, her best friend, childhood sweethearts, her (now ex) husband Lenny Henry, Madonna, and her partner in comedy crime, Jennifer Saunders (aka ‘Fatty’).

Flitting between distant memories and recent recollections, Dawn French’s stories are both heart-warming and hilariously funny, leading me to read passages aloud, sharing her comic anecdotes. Light-hearted as you’d expect from a comic actress, yes, but the 366 pages also touch on more sensitive and serious moments, and when this happens, Dawn writes with such sincerity and feeling, the emotions she was feeling at these times are entirely believable. The letters format works well, each individual ode taking the place of a chapter, enabling easy ‘pick up and drop’ reading.

From her childhood as an RAF girl and her early teaching years, through to her hugely successful career as a comic actress in The Comic Strip, The Vicar of Dibley, Murder Most Horrid and of course, French and Saunders, Dawn French writes honestly and candidly, sprinkling her wicked humour throughout. An enlightening, extremely humourous and well-written book, Dear Fatty is more than worthy on anyone’s celebrity autobiography (or for that matter, anyone’s) bookshelf.

• Dear Fatty by Dawn French, Arrow Books 2009, ISBN 978-0099519478

Vets Might Fly is the fifth book from the pseudonym of James Alfred Wight, made famous by the highly successful BBC TV series, All Creatures Great and Small. Published in 1976, two years before the tales hit the small screen, the 255 page, 28 chapter volume is set just after the veterinary surgeon is enlisted into the air force during the Second World War.

Taking the form of a collection of short stories, referenced by the author reminiscing from the various locations his flight is sent to (and sparked by events that happen in his air force training), it’s safe to assume from the pen name that the book will be tales of Yorkshire farming folk. And that’s exactly what it is. Which doesn’t sound either the most exciting or interesting read, and while Vets Might Fly may not be the former, at times it is most definitely the latter.

I hadn’t read any of Herriot’s work for a number of years, but after Rhian had picked this one up for me in town around the time we returned from the north last summer, it seemed the right time to get reacquainted. I’m glad I did, too, as from the story of Mrs Beck’s cat Georgina, to Kim, the Gillard’s dog (with many cows and farms inbetween), the vet’s encounters with his patients and their owners are superbly well crafted.

There’s enough medicality and humour to carry the stories along effortlessly, and as the characters are based on Herriot’s real-life waiting room (or are in fact, genuinely real), they are all believable and three-dimensional. He describes both his experiences and his beloved Yorkshire countryside in vivid detail and clarity, and his genuine fondness for both shines through.

You probably couldn’t get away with writing a book of this type in the present day. In our want-everything-now world full of celebrity culture, I very much doubt it would sell. These gentle tales of farming folk are very much of their time, but it’s a time I enjoy. Reading Herriot’s work, you are transported into his world, howling gales across the majestic fells and all. And that world is very much an enjoyable and safe and reassuring place to be.

• Vets Might Fly by James Herriot, Book Club Associates/Michael Joseph Ltd 1976, ISBN 978-0718115128

We should not be defining ourselves simply by the logo on our cars. In doing so, we hand our identity and our self-worth over to companies whose existence are geared not towards quality of life, but towards profit.

Source: Neil Boorman, Bonfire of the Brands

We’re all attracted to a certain product because of its brand. My allegiance to Volkswagen is a long-standing one, and I don’t really know why, for me, the German company’s products stand wing mirrors above cars offered by rival manufacturers. It’s even more of a brand thing when other, cheaper, VW Group products from Skoda and SEAT are as good as the more expensive offerings from their parent company. You are, quite literally, paying for the badge.

It can be argued that Neil Boorman’s book, Bonfire of the Brands, is more relevant now than when it was first published. A story of one man and his quest to live a brand-free, and arguably more ethical life, it hit the book shelves last year.. But, the values and self analytical quests contained within it fit snugly with the credit crunched and unnecessary spending world of 2008.

Boorman was a brand charlatan before writing these 244 pages, with logos plastered over everything he owned, and touching every part of his life. Of course, they appeal to all of us for all sorts of different reasons, but believing that brands had come to stand for much more than the quality or origin of the products as they did when the first branded goods were sold over a century ago, Boorman set out to find out why.

Arguing that although advertising messages bombard us from every street corner, every TV and cinema screen, and every magazine and newspaper, Boorman states the obvious in that we don’t have to adhere to the ‘consume more’ and ‘this will make your life better’ messages. And that’s before the non-ethical values that perpetuate from the ‘more, more, more’ and ‘got to have that’ society are brought into play.

Boorman’s analysis of the effects brands have on society is well-researched, and it turns from a quest searching for the answers to how brands work, the effect they have on the consumer-driven society, and how they control us, to a deep-thinking self analysis. He discovers his brand addiction manifested itself at an early age, and is something he has almost hidden his real self behind for most of his adult life.

Anecdotes and entries are interspersed with brand histories, Boorman’s own therapist reports, and his research, which turns up some interesting theories and questions. One such thought is that consumers believe the lies and messages beamed out from advertising so much that it almost brainwashes them into buying that product or service. With similarities to propagandas of war, that product or service may enhance your life, but did you really need it until you saw the commercial on TV or in the press?

As the title suggests, in the ultimate act and the last stage in his branded life, Boorman burnt £20,000 of his logoed goods on a high-profile bonfire in central London. From then on, he pledges to live brand-free for at least a year, untouched by the empty promises most branded goods offer. As well as the preparation for the sacrificial fire itself, the reader is taken on the author’s journey to find more ethical ways of buying clothes, sourcing food, and even mixing homemade cosmetics.

Some would call Boorman’s burning of his branded possessions and this subsequent book headline-grabbing voyeurism, but it’s not only enlightening, but engaging, too. Largely written as diary entries pre and post-bonfire, Bonfire of the Brands equips the reader with at least some of the tools he or she should need, if a brand-free or brand-reduced lifestyle appeals.

Starting as a blog at the beginning of his self analytical journey, Boorman’s book is mostly an easy read, and while buying brand-free T-shirts and food at overpriced markets won’t make a difference in the bigger picture, the book is at the very least an insightful and thought-provoking essay into the world of commercialism and sociology.

• Bonfire of the Brands: How I Learned to Live Without Labels by Neil Boorman, Canongate Books Ltd 2007, ISBN 978 1 84195 987 0