As the seasons change, so do my books. I get through a lot and am always loath to part with any, much to the VOR’s dismay. Piles of them accumulate all over the house, the bookshelves are full so they are sometimes stacked on the floor. I read more than one at a time, often having four on the go depending on mood – and number of available bookmarks (I hate turned down corners). Summer’s are for fiction, Autumn and Winter non fiction. This is my Autumn collection.
A deliberate typo this time, these are two exceptionally good books.
Richard Llewellyn’s story of Huw Morgan’s childhood (in a mining community in South Wales) is beautifully written and full of pathos and raw emotion. I consumed it over a weekend – much to the annoyance of my family. A cast of vividly eclectic characters and scenes come rushing into your head from a time and a world long past.
Brian Sewell’s autobiography is an honest, sometimes discomforting, rivetingly fascinating and unputdownable read. His account of Christies art department had many parallels with the old British wine trade – made me chuckle!