This is an apparently quite famous memoir of a childhood spent in the Cotswolds immediately after the First World War. This guy is one of the youngest in a family of eight. His father has taken a job in town, and never comes to the country, simply sending money (and not exactly tons of it) to his wife to look after the children. Not all of them are hers; some are his from a previous marriage. But luckily for him he is not too bothered by any of them.
The book is quite poetic in style, and evokes quite beautifully the country life. It’s also quite interesting from a historic point of view. On the one hand, everyone seems very happy, in a sort of wasn’t village life wonderful kind of way, but then on the other hand people keep killing themselves. So that was weird.
Anyway, it was a good book I guess and has sold 6 million copies but it didn’t do much for me.