This be the verse
They fuck you up, your mom and dad
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-stylen hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can
And don't have any kids yourself.
A look at the disintegration of a middle-class family through WWII, the book contains references to sex, drinking, drug use, infidelity, sex out of marriage- a blistering variety of topics that come as startling to a reader used to the camping-holidays everying-is-jolly tone of her childrens' books, but her voice is in no way diminished, and in fact, the domestic horrors are all the more shocking for the simple, affectless narraration. The 4 children at the heart of the book, the saplings of the title, grow into a world that stunts them, and the ending pages have an almost clumsy ironic weight- maybe a tiny bit heavy handed, but for a writer who had intended to write for adults, and then found herself a star of childrens' literature, maybe the chance to make a point was irrisistable.
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