Oh, I loved this so much it is hard to write about it. Noel Streatfeild, my favorite writer, wrote this "autobiographical novel" about growing up the middle daughter in a family living in a vicarage in the years between 1910 and 1914. I am starting to cry as I type, it was so good. An absolutely unvarnished, clear eyed look into what must have been one of the last homes of it's kind- a kind of late Victorian life lived in the early 20th century, with all that was to come hidden from view, thank god. This really might be the best book I've read all year, all sentiment aside- absolutely magical, and unexpectedly devastating. I'm hunting down a copy to own. I love this book.
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