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Three Houses
The author shares her memories of her Victorian childhood and the homes of her parents, her cousin, Rudyard Kipling, and her grandfather, Sir Edward Burne-Jones
148 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1931
About the author
Angela Thirkell
69 books241 followers Angela Margaret Mackail was born on January 30, 1890 at 27 Young Street, Kensington Square, London. Her grandfather was Sir Edward Burne-Jones the pre-Raphaelite painter and partner in the design firm of Morris and Company for whom he designed many stained glass windows - seven of which are in St Margaret's Church in Rottingdean, West Sussex. Her grandmother was Georgiana Macdonald, one of a precocious family which included among others, Stanley Baldwin, the Prime Minister, and Rudyard Kipling. Angela's brother, Denis Mackail, was also a prolific and successful novelist. Angela's mother, Margaret Burne-Jones, married John Mackail - an administrator at the Ministry of Education and Professor of Poetry at Oxford University.
Angela married James Campbell McInnes in 1911. James was a professional Baritone and performed at concert halls throughout the UK. In 1912 their first son Graham was born and in 1914 a second son, Colin. A daughter was born in 1917 at the same time her marriage was breaking up. In November 1917 a divorce was granted and Angela and the children went to live with her parents in Pembroke Gardens in London. The child, Mary, died the next year.
Angela then met and married George Lancelot Thirkell in 1918 and in 1920 they traveled on a troop ship to George's hometown in Australia. Their adventures on the "Friedricksruh" are recounted in her Trooper to the Southern Cross published in 1934. In 1921, in Melbourne Australia, her youngest son Lancelot George was born. Angela left Australia in 1929 with 8 year old Lance and never returned. Although living with her parents in London she badly needed to earn a living so she set forth on the difficult road of the professional writer. Her first book, Three Houses, a memoir of her happy childhood was published in 1931 and was an immediate success. The first of her novels set in Trollope's mythical county of Barsetshire was Demon in the House, followed by 28 others, one each year.
Angela also wrote a book of children's stories entitled The Grateful Sparrow using Ludwig Richter's illustrations; a biography of Harriette Wilson, The Fortunes of Harriette; an historical novel, Coronation Summer, an account of the events in London during Queen Victoria's Coronation in 1838; and three semi-autobiographical novels, Ankle Deep and Oh, These Men, These Men and Trooper to the Southern Cross. When Angela died on the 29th of January 1961 she left unfinished the last of her books, Three Score and Ten which was completed by her friend, Caroline LeJeune. Angela is buried in Rottingdean alongside her daughter Mary and her Burne-Jones grandparents.
Angela married James Campbell McInnes in 1911. James was a professional Baritone and performed at concert halls throughout the UK. In 1912 their first son Graham was born and in 1914 a second son, Colin. A daughter was born in 1917 at the same time her marriage was breaking up. In November 1917 a divorce was granted and Angela and the children went to live with her parents in Pembroke Gardens in London. The child, Mary, died the next year.
Angela then met and married George Lancelot Thirkell in 1918 and in 1920 they traveled on a troop ship to George's hometown in Australia. Their adventures on the "Friedricksruh" are recounted in her Trooper to the Southern Cross published in 1934. In 1921, in Melbourne Australia, her youngest son Lancelot George was born. Angela left Australia in 1929 with 8 year old Lance and never returned. Although living with her parents in London she badly needed to earn a living so she set forth on the difficult road of the professional writer. Her first book, Three Houses, a memoir of her happy childhood was published in 1931 and was an immediate success. The first of her novels set in Trollope's mythical county of Barsetshire was Demon in the House, followed by 28 others, one each year.
Angela also wrote a book of children's stories entitled The Grateful Sparrow using Ludwig Richter's illustrations; a biography of Harriette Wilson, The Fortunes of Harriette; an historical novel, Coronation Summer, an account of the events in London during Queen Victoria's Coronation in 1838; and three semi-autobiographical novels, Ankle Deep and Oh, These Men, These Men and Trooper to the Southern Cross. When Angela died on the 29th of January 1961 she left unfinished the last of her books, Three Score and Ten which was completed by her friend, Caroline LeJeune. Angela is buried in Rottingdean alongside her daughter Mary and her Burne-Jones grandparents.
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May 28, 2019Short, sweet, really evokes a certain bygone era. I love Thirkell.
February 3, 2021
3.75 stars
This memoir of a few 'golden' years in Angela Thirkell's early childhood provides a vivid, if selective, view of social culture and family life in the last decade of the Victorian age. Thirkell organises her reminiscences around the three houses which made up the circuit of her days: The Grange, 27 Young Street and North End House. Two of the houses, The Grange (in London) and North End House (in the East Sussex village of Rottingdean) belonged to her grandparents: the celebrated Pre-Raphaelite painter/artisan Edward Burne-Jones and his wife 'Georgie'. By far, the largest part of the memoir concentrates on the summer home of the Burne-Jones grandparents, perhaps because summer and holiday memories are the most 'golden' in a child's mind.
I was astonished by the detail of what Thirkell is able to recall of her childhood; even if nostalgia and faulty memory renders it more fiction than memoir, she must have been an astonishingly observant and perceptive child. She lovingly reconstructs North End Lane, room by eccentric room, with lots of references to her grandfather's art and the William Morris furnishings and bespoke furniture.
Although the furniture may have been unyielding in the extreme, Thirkell describes a house filled with doting grandparents, delicious food, lots of freedom (mostly because Nanny was preoccupied with a baby sister) and the benefit of her grandfather's art everywhere. From the angel painted at the foot of her bed 'in our little attic night-nursery' to the 'birds and beasts and angels on a rough, whitewashed wall' where Angela and her brother were sent as punishment, they were surrounded by beauty and charm and generosity. I was intrigued by details about her grandfather, for instance the 'extravagance in his nature which loved to make pictures in a medium that would not last.'
The memoir also contains references to some of the other illustrious members of her family: her cousin Rudyard Kipling, who also lived in Rottingdean for a while, and her cousin Stanley Baldwin and his large family. She describes them within their context, though, and they are no more important or colourful than the other local personages belonging to the village and surrounding countryside.
Apparently this memoir was an immediate success and it helped launch Thirkell on what would be a prolific writing career. In 1931, at the age of 41, she was describing a vanished world - and I can well imagine that her Depression era readers shared her nostalgic for those more secure and carefree days.
What a pleasant leisurely meal was Sunday breakfast. There was no motor to be propitiated and all one's friends were in town and could be visited later in the day, so breakfast could go slowly from sausages to scones and butter and honey, and then to strawberries and cherries. The little girl's mother would read aloud afterwards while we all sat at the table and pushing aside cups and plates drew pictures out of whatever book was being read.
This memoir of a few 'golden' years in Angela Thirkell's early childhood provides a vivid, if selective, view of social culture and family life in the last decade of the Victorian age. Thirkell organises her reminiscences around the three houses which made up the circuit of her days: The Grange, 27 Young Street and North End House. Two of the houses, The Grange (in London) and North End House (in the East Sussex village of Rottingdean) belonged to her grandparents: the celebrated Pre-Raphaelite painter/artisan Edward Burne-Jones and his wife 'Georgie'. By far, the largest part of the memoir concentrates on the summer home of the Burne-Jones grandparents, perhaps because summer and holiday memories are the most 'golden' in a child's mind.
I was astonished by the detail of what Thirkell is able to recall of her childhood; even if nostalgia and faulty memory renders it more fiction than memoir, she must have been an astonishingly observant and perceptive child. She lovingly reconstructs North End Lane, room by eccentric room, with lots of references to her grandfather's art and the William Morris furnishings and bespoke furniture.
As I look back on the furniture of my grandparents' two houses I marvel chiefly at the entire lack of comfort which the pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood succeeded in creating for itself. It was not, I think, so much that they actively despised comfort, as that the word conveyed absolutely nothing to them whatsoever.
Although the furniture may have been unyielding in the extreme, Thirkell describes a house filled with doting grandparents, delicious food, lots of freedom (mostly because Nanny was preoccupied with a baby sister) and the benefit of her grandfather's art everywhere. From the angel painted at the foot of her bed 'in our little attic night-nursery' to the 'birds and beasts and angels on a rough, whitewashed wall' where Angela and her brother were sent as punishment, they were surrounded by beauty and charm and generosity. I was intrigued by details about her grandfather, for instance the 'extravagance in his nature which loved to make pictures in a medium that would not last.'
The memoir also contains references to some of the other illustrious members of her family: her cousin Rudyard Kipling, who also lived in Rottingdean for a while, and her cousin Stanley Baldwin and his large family. She describes them within their context, though, and they are no more important or colourful than the other local personages belonging to the village and surrounding countryside.
Apparently this memoir was an immediate success and it helped launch Thirkell on what would be a prolific writing career. In 1931, at the age of 41, she was describing a vanished world - and I can well imagine that her Depression era readers shared her nostalgic for those more secure and carefree days.
March 6, 2014
BOTWThe childhood memoir of the eminent author Angela Thirkell. Read by Sian Thomas.
blurb: Thirkell, who was the granddaughter of the pre-Raphaelite artist Edward Burne-Jones, recalls in rich detail and with a delightful sense of humour the three houses that were seminal to her youth. The first is The Grange, in North End Lane Fulham, which was home to her grandfather.
Abridged and produced by Jane Marshall for Jane Marshall Productions
Listen here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/...
THREE HOUSES
Episode 2: The author Angela Thirkell recalls her home in Kensington Square in the late 1890s and popping in to visit her neighbour, Auntie Stella - Mrs Patrick Campbell.
Episode 3: The author recalls the country home of her grandfather, artist Edward Burne-Jones. It is furnished with Morris wallpaper and a selection uncomfortable Pre-Raphaelite chairs.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 13, 2009
An elegaic, impressionistic recounting of Thirkell's childhood memories in her own home and in the two homes (one in London, one in the country) of her grandfather Edward Burne-Jones. It is both lovely to read and painfully class-conscious in its mourning for the Good Old Days when people knew their places.
May 18, 2019
Lovely, funny, not terribly revealing, nothing embarrassing about her famous relations. Really interesting as a glimpse at late Victorian early childhood for a certain class. I prefer her fiction, but love that she devoted so much space to what the houses and daily life were like. Plus I am fascinated at the idea of a hibernating dormouse tucked in the Christmas stocking. Probably no weirder than tiny turtles at Woolworth's, but still weird.
Library copy
Library copy
December 26, 2015
An evocative read of a bygone era.
Innocent childhood of the rich!
Lovely memories!
Innocent childhood of the rich!
Lovely memories!
August 5, 2012
Didn't love the "Three Houses" method of organization, it was clunky and off-putting. Thirkell writes like a dream when she gets on a roll, however, and I'm a fan of Burne-Jones, so all is forgiven. Enjoyed getting an inside view of Angela's grandfather's home - the Morris tapestries and chintzes, the murals - love it. The Pre-Raphaelites' foray into furniture design gets this review from the grandchildren - "They had been designed by my grandfather for the seats of knights at the Round Table in the tapestry which William Morris made...the chairs had actually been translated into wood by a skilful carpentering friend..some had round backs and some had square and there was little to choose from between them for sheer discomfort. The seats were very high off the ground with no depth from back to front, so that any knight who used them would have sat like a child with his feet dangling in the air, if indeed he managed to keep himself balanced on the exiguous seat at all. The arms of the chairs were too close together to allow anyone to use a fork and knife with any freedom and too high to get one's arms clear of them, and altogether a more unsuitable set of dining room chairs for a royal dining-room can hardly be imagined. If that is how Arthur's court was furnished it is quite enough to explain the eagerness of the knights to leave their seats and follow the quest of the Holy Grail..." Apparently there wasn't one piece of comfortable furniture in the house. Hilarious.
The very last section of the chapter "North End House" was my favorite. Thirkell is at the peak of her descriptive artistry as she describes a summer's day out, the "perambulators and nurses and children swept down the village street in a solid phalanx" on their way to the beach, with all the neighbors and stories that happen en route. Great writing.
The very last section of the chapter "North End House" was my favorite. Thirkell is at the peak of her descriptive artistry as she describes a summer's day out, the "perambulators and nurses and children swept down the village street in a solid phalanx" on their way to the beach, with all the neighbors and stories that happen en route. Great writing.
December 28, 2012
From BBC Radio 4 - Book of the Week:
Childhood memoir of author Angela Thirkell. Read by Sian Thomas.
Childhood memoir of author Angela Thirkell. Read by Sian Thomas.
December 27, 2013
A fascinating glimpse into life in the 1890s for a child born into an talented and artistic family. Her father was Professor of Poetry at Oxford University. Her maternal grandfather was Sir Edward Burne-Jones, a prominent member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, and her mother's cousins included Rudyard Kipling and Stanley Baldwin.
For me, the most charming story about her grandfather involved his paintings on the whitewashed walls of the nurseries in his country house in Sussex for the pleasure of his grandchildren, including a painting of a peacock perched on a tree.
"Beyond the peacock was a cupboard sunk in the narrow recess between the fireplace and the wall. On the upper shelves the nursery crockery was kept and the bottom shelf was full of our larger toys, or, when emptied of toys, was a good, if uncomfortable, hiding-place for a child who didn't mind sitting like a whiting with its feet in its mouth. On the other side of the fireplace was another small recess. This was the fatal corner into which I was put when I had offended against any of Nanny's rules. It was a good corner where a rebellious child could be fenced in with a chair and left to repentance. One afternoon my grandfather came up to visit us in the nursery after tea and found me, face to the wall, expiating some sin. The sight so rent him that the very next day he took his paint box into my corner and painted a cat, a kitten playing with its mother's tail, and a flight of birds, so that I might never be unhappy or without company in my corner again. I don't know what Nanny thought of it."
It is a charming memoir, made all the more interesting because of the people who were part of her childhood.
For me, the most charming story about her grandfather involved his paintings on the whitewashed walls of the nurseries in his country house in Sussex for the pleasure of his grandchildren, including a painting of a peacock perched on a tree.
"Beyond the peacock was a cupboard sunk in the narrow recess between the fireplace and the wall. On the upper shelves the nursery crockery was kept and the bottom shelf was full of our larger toys, or, when emptied of toys, was a good, if uncomfortable, hiding-place for a child who didn't mind sitting like a whiting with its feet in its mouth. On the other side of the fireplace was another small recess. This was the fatal corner into which I was put when I had offended against any of Nanny's rules. It was a good corner where a rebellious child could be fenced in with a chair and left to repentance. One afternoon my grandfather came up to visit us in the nursery after tea and found me, face to the wall, expiating some sin. The sight so rent him that the very next day he took his paint box into my corner and painted a cat, a kitten playing with its mother's tail, and a flight of birds, so that I might never be unhappy or without company in my corner again. I don't know what Nanny thought of it."
It is a charming memoir, made all the more interesting because of the people who were part of her childhood.
October 13, 2014
Beautiful descriptions of bygone times. I loved this little book of memories!
August 28, 2018
Such a sweet book! A charming look at this time period and her childhood.
February 19, 2014
Picked this up mainly because it was referenced in current texts on Edward Burne-Jones and I thought it would be a nice way to round out my knowledge from a new POV. It is hard to fault the dreamy reminiscing quality of the book as a bit of escapism but the narrative flow could have used more clarification.
It is useful as a snapshot of the life of a female child in that era but some of the class and gender considerations that go unheeded by the narrator may make a modern reader cringe. It was highly amusing to see the lofty ideals of a 'Pre-Raphaelite lifestyle' attempted in the B-J household, through the filter of a child who just wanted a comfy chair and to be left to play in the dirt.
It is useful as a snapshot of the life of a female child in that era but some of the class and gender considerations that go unheeded by the narrator may make a modern reader cringe. It was highly amusing to see the lofty ideals of a 'Pre-Raphaelite lifestyle' attempted in the B-J household, through the filter of a child who just wanted a comfy chair and to be left to play in the dirt.
February 10, 2013
AT's memoir of her early years (1931). Borrowed from Iris.
Amazing people in her life: Doting grandfather, Edward Burne-Jones, and his friend/frequent visitor, William Morris! (The Millais sometimes visited, too). She spent the summers and holidays at his house in Rottingdean.
"Cousin Ruddy" (Kipling) lived next door and played with the kids, telling them stories.
"Cousin Stan"(ley Baldwin--three-time Prime Minister) married a neighbor's daughter and often brought his whole family there for vacations.
With that kind of privileged childhood, no wonder she always wished for the past and disliked current life.
Amazing people in her life: Doting grandfather, Edward Burne-Jones, and his friend/frequent visitor, William Morris! (The Millais sometimes visited, too). She spent the summers and holidays at his house in Rottingdean.
"Cousin Ruddy" (Kipling) lived next door and played with the kids, telling them stories.
"Cousin Stan"(ley Baldwin--three-time Prime Minister) married a neighbor's daughter and often brought his whole family there for vacations.
With that kind of privileged childhood, no wonder she always wished for the past and disliked current life.
July 5, 2014
A lovely light evocation of life for the better-off over a century ago. Although, as so often, it makes you rather uncomfortable at the thought of the lovely life lived by a very select few, it is worth reading for the author's family connections with and recollections of the Pre-Raphaelite movement, and the very delightful angel at the foot of her bed. And confirmation of a suspicion many of us have long held - the lack of comfort of much Pre-Raphaelite furniture!
November 26, 2012
Being a fan of the Pre-Rapahelites, I did enjoy reading the references to Ned Burne-Jones and William Morris but there weren't enough! Much of the book is written about life after the artist's death. Having said that, I live near Rottingdean and know the village well so it was still very interesting reading about life down here on the Sussex coast at the turn of the twentieth century.
January 22, 2015
They say you should write what you know. Angela Thirkell is much better writing about her happy childhood as the adored grandchild of a famous painter (Three Houses) than she is writing novels based on her experience as an unhappy wife (Ankle Deep) and an even unhappier divorcee (O, These Men).
October 26, 2013
A charming memoir of a late Victorian childhood.
March 29, 2024
Angela Thirkell recounts her childhood memories divided between her own childhood house in Kensington, her grand-parents' London house and their house in Rottingdean, Sussex. With a child's acceptance of her circumstances, she recounts memories of meeting an elderly William Morris while reading a book lying upside down on a sofa in her grandmother's lounge and the other many famous artists who flitted through her life. Her grandfather doted on her, and so she had a painting of a cat and her kittens by Edward Burne-Jones to look at on the wall in her nursery when banished to the corner to contemplate her latest misdemeanor. A nostalgic look at childhood.
December 31, 2022
I love Thirkell's writing and so enjoyed this early book of hers very much. She describes many incidents in her childhood including observations of Sir Edward Byrne-Jones, a very famous painter, her grandfather, and a cousin Rudyard Kipling. Of course "Nanny" was forever in the background seeing to the children in those days.
I felt a bit like I was floating as I read this memoir. It was pleasant, lovely, and delightful, everything that I had hoped for when I picked it up.
I felt a bit like I was floating as I read this memoir. It was pleasant, lovely, and delightful, everything that I had hoped for when I picked it up.
September 5, 2012
A darling little book written in 1931 by the prolific Brit Angela Thirkell, She was the granddaughter of artist Edward Coley Burne-Jones, and she writes of her days, as a child, at the end of th 19th century. Just a charming little read if you are looking for a change of pace and a look at how life was lived back then.
March 11, 2018
If there were half stars available, I'd have given this book 4.5 of them. The descriptions were amazing. You could smell the aromas described, hear the birdsong, and sit by the window seat that Thirkell was speaking of. Stunning. Also, an immensely interesting subject re the Three Houses. Really very good. I enjoyed this very much.
February 17, 2013
A glimpse of a bygone age, seen through the eyes of the much-loved granddaughter of Burne-Jones. This is not only a thoroughly enjoyable, well-written book containing interesting anecdotes about the pre-Raphaelites, but it also documents parts of London that have since changed for ever.
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January 1, 2015Thirkell's gentle recollection of her childhood homes didn't keep my eyes glued to the page til the wee hours, but it was wonderfully sweet. I probably will re-read at some point.
May 26, 2022
This is a rambling, diffuse, directionless memoir of her early years. There's no real chronology; she skips from winter to summer repeatedly. One minute we're told they only spent summers at their grandparent's house, the next she describes Christmas celebrations her family attended in that same house in great detail. One moment she's a tiny tot, the next a schoolgirl, and back again. The narrative rattles and clanks with the number of famous names dropped, from Rudyard Kipling to William Morris to Lady This and Lord That, especially the Lady Whoosis who sends the grandmother a turkey with gilded claws every Christmas. (Did they leave the claws and their important gilding on in the oven?) Her description of her parents' and grandparents' houses is good, but her snobbery over any and all urban renewal in any place she lived, visited or even walked through in her youth got to be far too much of a bad thing. My goodness she is pleased with herself and her own "good taste", whatever that may have been. Modern brick dwellings are "dragon's teeth", and how DARE they open large supermarkets or remove dank, dark dwellings in London in favour of something perhaps less picturesque but more comfortable for the residents? The unsanitary cottages in the Rottingdean of her childhood she admits were "scarcely habitable" (not that she ever inhabited one) but they were "charming" because they were already there, I guess. Thirkell also has a love/hate relationship with the famous Preraphaelite artists; she loves to talk about how they did this, that and the other thing to bring her grandfather's designs and drawings into being, but she never misses an opportunity to sniff over how "hard, cold and uncomfortable" the chairs, beds, and everything else they constructed was. (Even with those by her own admission "luxurious" heavy Morris designed upholstery fabrics, I guess).
Thirkell tells a tale against her child-self in which, asked to hand round the cakes at a children's party, she replied in a "fat, disgusted voice", "I'm not a servant." That same obnoxious little brat's voice echoes through her excessive criticisms of everything that doesn't meet her personal taste or approval. I've never read any of Thirkell's fiction; I hope it's more engaging than this book. I'll have to wait to try any until I forget how annoying this memoir was.
A star and a half.
Thirkell tells a tale against her child-self in which, asked to hand round the cakes at a children's party, she replied in a "fat, disgusted voice", "I'm not a servant." That same obnoxious little brat's voice echoes through her excessive criticisms of everything that doesn't meet her personal taste or approval. I've never read any of Thirkell's fiction; I hope it's more engaging than this book. I'll have to wait to try any until I forget how annoying this memoir was.
A star and a half.
April 3, 2024
Having read some of Thirkell's Barsetshire-set novels, I was keen to read this memoir of her childhood. I really enjoyed the book with its charming evocation of the 1890s. Thirkell's was a happy upbringing and a fascinating one, being the granddaughter of the Pre-Raphaelite painter, Edward Burne-Jones. As a result, she encountered many of his friends and associates, including his great friend William Morris, his wife Jane and daughter May. Morris's rugs and wallpapers filled their London home, as well as some of May's exquisitely embroidered textiles. This house is the first of the three houses, The Grange, North End (formerly the home of Samuel Richardson). The others are her family home in Kensington, 27, Young Street and her grandparents' Rottingdean home - a wonderful seaside retreat for the summer.
I really enjoyed the descriptions of these houses, their colourful furnishings and the quirky surroundings peculiar to old properties. Recalled through the eyes of a child, it was easy to imagine and feel the magic that Thirkell and her siblings experienced both indoors and out, in the charming gardens, full of with old-fashioned plants.
There was a great sense of place in this book; not only in the houses but also in London and Rottingdean. For example, writing in 1931, Thirkell comments on the changes that she had witnessed in Kensington: in the 1890s this had been something of a quiet backwater.
The memoir is full of the keen observation of people and locales that Thirkell brings to her novels. A very enjoyable read.
I really enjoyed the descriptions of these houses, their colourful furnishings and the quirky surroundings peculiar to old properties. Recalled through the eyes of a child, it was easy to imagine and feel the magic that Thirkell and her siblings experienced both indoors and out, in the charming gardens, full of with old-fashioned plants.
There was a great sense of place in this book; not only in the houses but also in London and Rottingdean. For example, writing in 1931, Thirkell comments on the changes that she had witnessed in Kensington: in the 1890s this had been something of a quiet backwater.
The memoir is full of the keen observation of people and locales that Thirkell brings to her novels. A very enjoyable read.
October 4, 2021
This book is like a doorway into another world - specifically the world of late Victorian England, seen through the eyes of a young girl. Angela Thirkell was the granddaughter of the 'last Pre-Raphaelite' artist Edward Burne-Jones, and was also related to Rudyard Kipling and Stanley Baldwin. The three houses of the title refer to her grandparents' home, The Grange on North End Road, Fulham; 41 Kensington Square where she grew up; and her grandparents' holiday home, Prospect House in Rottingdean, Sussex. Thirkell's memories are narrated in such delightful, lively prose, retaining the perspective and wonder of a child who picks up the idiosyncratic details of everyday life, revealing the routines of the nursery, the annual treats of mummers at Christmas or perambulator journeys to the beach in summer, and the fascinating dining habits of her grandmother. The Victorian family really comes alive through these brief vignettes; the personal reminiscences and specificity of place also open a door onto an entire lost world.
March 19, 2022
I'm not a devotee of Thirkell's fiction, but I was interested in her upbringing as the granddaughter of Burne-Jones, and especially in her recollections of the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood and their subordination of comfort to design. Thus, 'the best sofa in the house was a massive wooden affair [that was] too short to lie on and you could only sit on it in an upright position, as if you tried to lean you hit your head against the high back. [The velvet upholstery] stuck to one's clothes, making it impossible to move about, and the unyielding cushions and rigid bolsters took up more room than the unlucky users.' (99-100) She did, however, enjoy licking and unsticking the William Morris wallpaper: the proof was evidently in the unpasting! An amusingly irreverent childhood memoir from a writer who was in all other respects enchanted by her grandfather.
July 8, 2019
Angela Thirkell was the granddaughter of Edward Burne Jones and Rudyard Kipling was her mother’s cousin. I found this memoir of her early life with parents, grandparents, other family and friends to be unorganized and almost confusing in the beginning. However, the description in the third part, of life at her grandparents’ summer house, was worth staying with this. It’s a lovely and idyllic description of life in that class and at that time that’s also occasionally very funny. And I found her brief description of her uncle to be an insightful and apt summary of the potential tragedy of being the very talented son of a legendarily talented father.
December 31, 2017
This is a lovely little memoir written by Victorian author; Angela Thirkell of the three homes she lived in or visited during her early childhood. Her grandfather was a famous painter, Sir Edward Burne Jones, and his home, The Grange is the first home she describes. I loved reading about these magnificent estates seen through the eyes of a child. And I also enjoyed reading about some of the famous people in their life, their cousin, Rudyad Kipling for instance.
January 7, 2023
This was a wonderful autobiography. I adore Angela Thirkell’s novels and this was written in the same humorous style. It was so lovely to read her Sussex childhood memoirs and the stories of her famous cousins Rudyard Kipling and Stanley Baldwin along with her very talented grandfather Edward Burne-Jones and his close friend William Morris. It left me wanting to read more about this very interesting family.
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