mat_tobin's review
4.0
This very much felt like a book of two halves for me but both halves were enjoyable and intriguing in their own ways. For the first half, I felt we experienced the literature that Spufford encountered as a child and the effect that these books had on him during that period. The latter part of the book (probably last third rather than half) was more of a reflection on what it is that this literature does and his search for books and a sense of enjoyment that he so relished in his early youth. Much of this change was down to the fact that by the time he reached his young adult years, the teenage (YA) market hadn’t really been invented as such as so he was caught between swimming in science fiction (I loved his short piece on Le Guin) and adult literature which just didn’t always work for him. Spufford’s writing is almost essay-like here but I enjoyed it. Orderly, organised, no side ramblings here at all but ever so insightful into the world of words. Incredibly so.
gillothen's review against another edition
3.0
Slightly disappointed. The book is structured chronologically, but with a hefty amount of added psychology and philosophy which sometimes obscures the actual books.
jobinsonlis's review against another edition
3.0
I liked this book less this time than I apparently did before (I have no memories of this book but it had a higher rating from me several years ago). It’s not really a piece of literary criticism and it’s not really an autobiography. I’m not sure what it is. The author isolates some broad ideas and broadly ruminates on them, occasionally offering devastating peeks into his childhood that raise more questions for me than they answered. I enjoyed it when he focused down on specific authors—C.S. Lewis, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Laura Ingalls Wilder were the big ones—but I didn’t always find the bigger statements he was making around them that interesting. It might be because his childhood literary touchstones weren’t mine—I loved horror as soon as I could—but mostly I think he was keeping his audience at a distance, which doesn’t work that well when you’re the subject you’re writing about. He doesn’t owe anybody an examination of his childhood but also, I mean, he’s the one that brought it up.
zeezeemama11's review against another edition
2.0
I have been into a "books on books" kick lately and had been recommended this book rather highly. I am a reader that will usually give a mediocre book/author I've never read before three books before I give up entirely on them. I don't think I made it half-way through this book. Not only was I disgusted with the author and his views on his own family. But was shocked at how bluntly his stated mentally and physically challenged people scared and revolted him, especially his own younger sibling, using that as his excuse for becoming a book-o-holic. But I was somewhat insulted that a book lover of his magnitude would help to describe this beautiful imaginary process in such addict-withdrawal like terms. The only reason I'm giving this book two stars instead of one, is cause the first chapter and scattered statements in later ones were somewhat unique and basely insightful nature touching upon childhood development, which was interesting but lacked a connection to his past topics.
gilljames's review against another edition
challenging
informative
reflective
slow-paced
3.0
When someone mentioned this book a few days ago I was surprised I couldn’t find it either on my book shelf or in my Kindle collection. Surely I’d read it? Apparently not. It was all completely new to me. Yet I have known of this work for a long time and always considered it important.
Francis Spufford writes in a very engaging prose. I actually enjoyed reading his text and being reminded of some of the texts I’d also enjoyed and studied either as a child or an adult who has an interest in children’s literature.
Yet I was somewhat disappointed. I didn’t learn anything I hadn’t known before. It didn’t really do what the title suggested. I wanted at least to know how books had built one person and perhaps even unlock the secret of why we read books.
Although I enjoyed the prose I was a little alarmed to find paragraphs stretching over one page and in some cases even two. Might that make it less enjoyable for some readers?
ohnoflora's review
3.0
The two middle chapters are very good: 'The Island', on Narnia and escaping into fantasy, especially, and 'The Town' on the Laura Ingalls Wilder books and the ambivalent communities to be found in boarding schools, real and fictional.
The rest is... frustrating. Spufford's literary analysis is strong, particularly on Narnia and C. S. Lewis, which he seems to have an affinity with. He is less strong when it comes to showing how his own life circumstances impacted on his reading, or vice versa. He has a tendency to drop an inflammatory or provocative sentence and just leave it, without any exploration of or insight into why he feels this way. His comments on disabled people, for example, are despicable and serve no purpose except for some solipsistic self-flagellation: "look at how terrible I am". And yet, there is no awareness that these thought processes are toxic or that he is attempting to change them.
And the less said on the chapter, "The Hole", the better.
It's a shame, because there is a lot in here that is very good, and I do like hearing from other readers about the books that mean a lot to them. However, this is not a book that I will be returning to.
The rest is... frustrating. Spufford's literary analysis is strong, particularly on Narnia and C. S. Lewis, which he seems to have an affinity with. He is less strong when it comes to showing how his own life circumstances impacted on his reading, or vice versa. He has a tendency to drop an inflammatory or provocative sentence and just leave it, without any exploration of or insight into why he feels this way. His comments on disabled people, for example, are despicable and serve no purpose except for some solipsistic self-flagellation: "look at how terrible I am". And yet, there is no awareness that these thought processes are toxic or that he is attempting to change them.
And the less said on the chapter, "The Hole", the better.
It's a shame, because there is a lot in here that is very good, and I do like hearing from other readers about the books that mean a lot to them. However, this is not a book that I will be returning to.
phdoingmydamnbest's review against another edition
5.0
I read this as part of my research into my extended essay for the Children's Literature module I took last term- and I'm not sure why this book isn't compulsory reading for all lifelong bookworms once they hit their 20s. A book that is autobiographical as well as semi-theoretical and psychological in its exploration of childhood reading and the way we interact with texts as children and young adults this book is mind bendingly a collective biography of all bookworms who were once voracious childhood readers.
Some of the book is pleasantly familiar and reassuring- the childhood bedtime reading, trips to the library and the child's sense of wonder at the world of books. Many of the books were familiar to me and the feelings recorded also resonant. But most striking were the parallels in specificity that I found with my own experiences, things I thought that were unique to me, feelings that flooded through me like being struck by lightning- are all recorded in this book that is a testament and love-song to the books we read in our formative years, that make us the people we have become, and are still becoming. It’s an interesting idea and one I’d love to think about more carefully, the books that built me. What group of books, ten, or twenty, or twenty-five would I choose that really built me from birth to now at 22.
What books built you?
Some of the book is pleasantly familiar and reassuring- the childhood bedtime reading, trips to the library and the child's sense of wonder at the world of books. Many of the books were familiar to me and the feelings recorded also resonant. But most striking were the parallels in specificity that I found with my own experiences, things I thought that were unique to me, feelings that flooded through me like being struck by lightning- are all recorded in this book that is a testament and love-song to the books we read in our formative years, that make us the people we have become, and are still becoming. It’s an interesting idea and one I’d love to think about more carefully, the books that built me. What group of books, ten, or twenty, or twenty-five would I choose that really built me from birth to now at 22.
What books built you?