British novelist, biographer and children's author of Russian origin, born Marta Aleksandrovna Almedingen and also known as Martha Edith Almedingen or von Almedingen.
On her mother's side, she was descended from the aristocratic Poltoratsky family; her maternal grandfather was Serge Poltoratzky, the literary scholar and bibliophile who ended his days in exile, shuttling between France and England. His daughter Olga, the novelist's mother, grew up in Kent but was fascinated by her father's native Russia, where she moved in the early 1880s and married Alexander Almedingen, who had turned his back on his family's military traditions to become a scientist. In 1900 he abandoned his family and they lived in increasingly impoverished circumstances, well described in her memoir Tomorrow Will Come, but the author was able to attend the Xenia Institute and eke out a living in the increasingly desperate times of revolution and civil war. She attended Petrograd University and became a lecturer in English and mediaeval history there in the early 1920's.
In September 1922 she managed to get permission to leave the country and went to England, where she became a well-known children's author. In 1941 she won the $5,000 Atlantic Monthly nonfiction prize for Tomorrow Will Come.
She was made a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 1951 and received the Book World Festival award in 1968.
This was my favourite book when I was a girl, 1971, chosen from the school library. I recently found it on Amazon and re read it and was surprised at how well it still reads. So well written that, as an adult, I could easily become engrossed in that world again: the 19th century family home in Kent, Ellen’s thoughts and feelings about people, places and events and her desire to become a writer. The change in family circumstances as she grows up and the journey to Russia. Writing so sophisticated for a child’s book - but set me up for reading Tolstoy and Dostoevsky as I grew up.
For the greater part, this novel is a warm hug and loving kisses for an adult reader's inner child. The language flows easily, the lack of detailed writing leaves plenty of room for thought, and it is more biographical than fictional. Yet, it evokes a forlorn nostalgia and brings home the weight of a life lived.