There are at least two ways to make your cricket title a bestseller: write an exceptional book, or employ a shameless publicity machine.

For the household-name internationals among you the latter option is the far easier and that is something Marcus Trescothick and advisers have clocked in hawking Coming Back To Me.

There is no doubt that said publicity machine has delivered as this autobiography has become the most talked about cricket book in recent memory.

Trescothick's very public disintegration and impromptu international retirement have been the subject of constant speculation for almost three years but the reality proves more shocking and complex than anything the tabloid rumour-mongers had come up with.

In brief, the England vice-captain was unable to bear the enormous strains of 365-day international cricket - in particular the dual commitments to his family and his country - and endured a life blighted by "black wings of depression".

It is to his great credit that Coming Back To Me addresses these issues, for there are few prizes in the macho sporting world for stories that end with the main protagonist cowering and crying in the corner of a Heathrow duty free electricals shop.

However, if you are interested in this episode you will already have read as much in a News of the World serial last month. These revelations rather take the gloss off the book itself, and not only because the Screws was among the most enthusiastic purveyors of 'Banger marriage crisis! Exclusive pics!' at the height of his personal crisis.

More than that, they rob the book of its major selling point. After the Screws exclusive - which was then scalped by every website going, including this one - you are left with a fairly standard player autobiog from prolific school days onward, albeit with occasional references to the problems lurking ahead.

It is still much better than average: ghostwriter Peter Hayter is among the best in his field, and Trescothick is both a terrific bloke and magnificent batsman so there is plenty of reason to keep reading.

Nevertheless the PR armies cast a long shadow. Hayter himself recently wrote a story for the Daily Mail proclaiming that "the former England batsman's recently published autobiography, Coming Back To Me, had saved a woman's life" - but neglected to declare his own interest.

This is a fine tribute to the courageous material, but the value in making the story public rests more with the authors than those suffering from mental illness.

Coming Back To Me also fails to answer the most important on-field question going forwards: will Trescothick play for England again?

It is obvious that he will not be going on a six-month winter tour to Rhodesia and the East Indies any time soon but after a colossal summer for Somerset there seems nothing to stop a short-term return in an injury or selection crisis.

It is not difficult to imagine a situation in which England need a one- or two-Test fix for runs at the top of the order - it has been the case since Trescothick retired - and the book opening indicates first that he is ruling nothing out. Later in the piece he is sceptical but "would never say never", only to do exactly that and rule himself out in countless interviews on a recent promotional tour.

Overall, then, Coming Back To Me is a brave and worthwhile effort slightly undermined by its own launch: you have read the most important bits elsewhere, and sometimes they contradict what you're reading now.

If you've written an exceptional book, you don't need the publicity machine.

Coming Back To Me by Marcus Trescothick is £18.99 from Harper Collins.

Peter May