William Woodruff is an historian, economist, and author. He's British, but he lives in Florida. He's old, having emigrated to the States after life in Lancashire and London in the early 1900's.
That combination may not, at first glance, instantaneously translate into "ooh, exciting" in the eyes of literary hipsterdom. Sure, perhaps the occasional horn-rimmed glasses-wearing Bright Eyes-listening kid might secretly yearn to really, truly understand the depth and nuances of the rise, decline, and fall of Northern England's cotton industry in the early part of the century, but those kids are rare.
Thankfully, when two friends of mine (who happen to be married to one another), glance furtively at one another after I'd asked the question, "Do you have anything that I should be reading right now?", and return with this book, I didn't let that aforementioned combination stop me before I step into these pages.
Woodruff has a knack for combining vivid imagery with solid insight into the industry and politics of the world within which his life began, unfurled, and became real. His family, neighbors, friends, employers, first loves, and loyal dog are tangible and nearby - he welcomes you into his life, sharing it honestly and openly in the same manner that his family would have shared a hot cup of tea (despite their penniless existence at times) with anyone who stopped by.
The number of autobiographies I've read probably wouldn't amount to all fingers on both hands, but I'm thankful that I read this one. It's perhaps reminiscent of "Angela's Ashes", but that's probably only because that book sits within a similar time-period to this one, and because it's the only barely similar thing I have to compare it to. This book differs widely from "Ashes", however, in that there is a ruddy, determined hopefulness woven throughout it, sincere as the rough handshake of greeting any one of the weavers in his town would have given you if you'd walked their streets with them.
A stirring and highly readable book, and one that I found myself coming back to as often as I could.