I loved this book and its author. At first I wondered why I had it on my bookshelf. Enid Bagnold was barely on my radar. When I opened it up I saw that it was marked $3. I must have picked it up at some sale when I couldn't resist the bargain. I started reading tentatively but was won over by the end of the first page. Bagnold was born in 1889 and in her teens and twenties was part of that bohemian art community that existed in Edwardian London before the war, Frank Harris and Walter de la Mare
I loved this book and its author. At first I wondered why I had it on my bookshelf. Enid Bagnold was barely on my radar. When I opened it up I saw that it was marked $3. I must have picked it up at some sale when I couldn't resist the bargain. I started reading tentatively but was won over by the end of the first page. Bagnold was born in 1889 and in her teens and twenties was part of that bohemian art community that existed in Edwardian London before the war, Frank Harris and Walter de la Mare and all that world. When she was nearly 30 and believing herself to be on the shelf she married the much older and wealthier Sir Roderick Jones, chairman of Reuters . And her life changed. When her future husband sent her off to furnish their new accommodation with instructions that the dining room table needed to be able to seat 30 she remembered the strange feeling of dislocation of her two worlds. She is quite prepared to tell stories against herself. As an art student she modelled for a fellow sculptor and he gave her the bust he produced. The sculptor was killed in the war but his genius was recognised later and much later Bagnold (now Lady Jones) thought she would donate the bust to the newly opened Tate Gallery. At a function she saw one of the directors of the Tate in conversation with someone. She waited until the conversation seemed to be over and approached the Tate director and began, 'Excuse me Sir . . .' He swung around to her and said 'Madam, can't you see I am in a private conversation. Please leave me alone.' She adds wryly, 'Needless to say the Tate didn't get the bust.' I have lent my copy of the book to someone and haven't got it back so I haven't been able to check details like the name of the sculptor or the Tate director but I'd like to share her wise words on living with a dog. They went something like this. After you get a new dog it takes about 3 years for you both to bond. And after that it is a precious and close relationship. You even share the same sense of humour. Sometimes it doesn't happen and in that case you just have a dog and that's pretty good too. I was happy with My Autobiography. I didn't feel any pressing need to read any of Bagnold's novels or plays but I liked her and found her life interesting.
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Enid Bagnold is the author of National Velvet. So, I thought her autobiography would be interesting. NOT!
She was born in 1889 and this is her story. I felt like she pulled out her diary and wrote this autobiography to include everyone she had met in her life. The names meant nothing to me.
There was a description of her relationship to her younger brother which I liked because it's the same relationship I have with my brother. We both have a younger brother with a 6 year gap in age.
"I was twelv
Enid Bagnold is the author of National Velvet. So, I thought her autobiography would be interesting. NOT!
She was born in 1889 and this is her story. I felt like she pulled out her diary and wrote this autobiography to include everyone she had met in her life. The names meant nothing to me.
There was a description of her relationship to her younger brother which I liked because it's the same relationship I have with my brother. We both have a younger brother with a 6 year gap in age.
"I was twelve & at school when he was six. I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, when he was fourteen. We came together in later life (and now), but we don't remember, in childhood the same things. How much there would have been to say and confide and laugh about if when I was twenty he had been seventeen."