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Autobiography
Book by NEVILLE CARDUS
288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1947
5 people are currently reading
74 people want to read
About the author
Neville Cardus
76 books11 followersSir John Frederick Neville Cardus CBE (3 April 1888 – 28 February 1975) was an English writer and critic, best known for his writing on music and cricket. For many years, he wrote for The Manchester Guardian. He was untrained in music, and his style of criticism was subjective, romantic and personal, in contrast with his critical contemporary Ernest Newman. Before becoming a cricket writer, he had been a cricket coach at a boys' school. His writing about the game was innovative, turning what had previously been in general a purely factual form into vivid description and criticism.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
May 10, 2021
I was in the mood for more cricket books and I decided to read Neville Cardus' autobiography.
Neville Cardus was one of the greatest cricket writers – of his time and of all-time. Old-timers will probably say that he was THE one. He elevated cricket reporting and sports journalism to art. His prose was the very definition of purple. In addition to cricket writing, he was also a music critic, something which is less talked about.
Cardus' autobiography is divided into three parts. In the first part called 'Struggle', Cardus describes his life from his birth through his teens and twenties, when things were really hard for him. In the second part 'My Summers', he describes his cricket experiences. In the third part 'My Winters' he describes his experiences as a music critic. Throughout the book, especially the third part, he talks about mentors and friends who influenced his life deeply.
My favourite part of the book was the first. The bare facts of the story are these. Cardus lived his early years in a joint family kind of situation with his mom, grandparents and aunts. His mom was a prostitute. So was his favourite aunt who brought him up. Cardus never knew who his dad was. He had just four years of formal schooling and hated it. He left school when he was 13. At some point his grandparents died, the family broke up, his favourite aunt took him to live with her but then she died too, and he was literally on the streets. From these surroundings filled with extreme poverty and with no future in sight, how Cardus managed to acquire the knowledge and education he had and how he became one of the greatest prose stylists of his time, is the stuff of dreams, it is the stuff of legend. It is nothing short of a miracle. I got goosebumps reading that story.
I enjoyed reading the second part of the book too because it was about cricket. I especially liked what Cardus wrote about Archie MacLaren. For a long time, Archie MacLaren's name was the answer to the quiz question – "Who scored the last quadruple century in county cricket?" It was nice to see the real Archie MacLaren come alive through the pages of this book. It was also wonderful to read Cardus' thoughts on Victor Trumper and his descriptions of Lancashire cricket.
The third part of the book was interesting, but I also felt that it was very specific to classical music of that period. I love classical music, but I don't think I can read a lot about specific concerts, composers, conductors at one time. Classical music fans will probably love that part of the book. But I loved some of the things that Cardus said about classical music.
The book ends at around the eve of the Second World War. Cardus was around till 1975, and so we don't know what happened in his second innings. I also read somewhere that Cardus was married, but he doesn't breathe about it in the book. It is as if his wife never existed. I don't know why. His readers would have liked to see the family-man side of him and would have liked to get acquainted with his wife.
I enjoyed reading Cardus' autobiography. The first part was very inspiring and it gave me goosebumps. If a guy who came from extreme poverty with four years of formal schooling can become one of the greatest prose stylists, there is some hope for us all.
I'll leave you with some of my favourite passages from the book.
"Music, I say again, came to me by grace. A man is not boasting when he claims to have received grace. The things that we are praised for in this world, our “successes,” are exactly the things for which we do not deserve credit; successes are easy, they come by grace. It is our failures that go sadly by without recognition of the effort and talent we have put into them; single-handed we hammered them out, but inspiration left us in the lurch."
"In his last few years he helped me, less by any precise instruction than by his company. For hours we sat in cafés in Manchester, deep under the earth on winter afternoons; his talk was a fire; not a crackling one but as a glowing hearth, steady and warm without obvious combustion. Once in June, after sunset, very late and still, he leaned over the gate of his garden and talked to me of Shakespeare’s lyrics and of the fragility of loveliness in life. The air was full of the scent of his own flowers; and the wisdom of his speech, genial yet deep, seemed part of the beauty of the summer night."
"Stendhal said that for him a landscape needed to possess some history or human interest. For me a place must have a genius in the air, a sort of distillation of years, a pathos of perspective, a mist of distance. In a word, it must have ghosts of lost wandering life, now forgotten by the extrovert and contemporary world. Historical and archæological interest is prosaic for me; I do not particularly wish to see the house in which the greatest poet was born; but to walk from Grinzing down to Vienna on a September evening, as twilight deepens and the lights of the city begin to twinkle, and to feel the sense of the past, almost to hear the vanished beauty and song whispering in rustle of leaf or wind, and in some hurrying footfalls on the roadside; to feel an awareness to all the hearts that have beaten here, the hopes and the strivings in these old houses, huddled in deserted gardens; birth and marriage and death; the comings-home at the day’s end, the glow of candlelight and wine and fellowship that surely seemed perennial and everlasting; the security of life at the crest, and now not only dead but lost to a world that must for ever be up and doing—this for me, is to live and to “go places.” Every great city is a palimpsest not of facts and events but of atmosphere and feeling, shaped by the irony of transition. That means I cannot enter into an unexplored land, a new land, where nature has not acquired an æsthetic and a pathos. Mountains and grand canyons and plains and mighty rivers are only so much geography in my eyes; mere contour-maps built on a large scale. A sunset in the Indian Ocean once bowled me over because it was like the closing scene of Götterdämmerung. I suppose I am a far-gone case of the Ruskinian “pathetic” fallacy; the external universe must appeal to me as a theatre or as a series of dissolving views, with the lantern turned inwards to my own soul."
Have you read Cardus' autobiography? What do you think about it?
Neville Cardus was one of the greatest cricket writers – of his time and of all-time. Old-timers will probably say that he was THE one. He elevated cricket reporting and sports journalism to art. His prose was the very definition of purple. In addition to cricket writing, he was also a music critic, something which is less talked about.
Cardus' autobiography is divided into three parts. In the first part called 'Struggle', Cardus describes his life from his birth through his teens and twenties, when things were really hard for him. In the second part 'My Summers', he describes his cricket experiences. In the third part 'My Winters' he describes his experiences as a music critic. Throughout the book, especially the third part, he talks about mentors and friends who influenced his life deeply.
My favourite part of the book was the first. The bare facts of the story are these. Cardus lived his early years in a joint family kind of situation with his mom, grandparents and aunts. His mom was a prostitute. So was his favourite aunt who brought him up. Cardus never knew who his dad was. He had just four years of formal schooling and hated it. He left school when he was 13. At some point his grandparents died, the family broke up, his favourite aunt took him to live with her but then she died too, and he was literally on the streets. From these surroundings filled with extreme poverty and with no future in sight, how Cardus managed to acquire the knowledge and education he had and how he became one of the greatest prose stylists of his time, is the stuff of dreams, it is the stuff of legend. It is nothing short of a miracle. I got goosebumps reading that story.
I enjoyed reading the second part of the book too because it was about cricket. I especially liked what Cardus wrote about Archie MacLaren. For a long time, Archie MacLaren's name was the answer to the quiz question – "Who scored the last quadruple century in county cricket?" It was nice to see the real Archie MacLaren come alive through the pages of this book. It was also wonderful to read Cardus' thoughts on Victor Trumper and his descriptions of Lancashire cricket.
The third part of the book was interesting, but I also felt that it was very specific to classical music of that period. I love classical music, but I don't think I can read a lot about specific concerts, composers, conductors at one time. Classical music fans will probably love that part of the book. But I loved some of the things that Cardus said about classical music.
The book ends at around the eve of the Second World War. Cardus was around till 1975, and so we don't know what happened in his second innings. I also read somewhere that Cardus was married, but he doesn't breathe about it in the book. It is as if his wife never existed. I don't know why. His readers would have liked to see the family-man side of him and would have liked to get acquainted with his wife.
I enjoyed reading Cardus' autobiography. The first part was very inspiring and it gave me goosebumps. If a guy who came from extreme poverty with four years of formal schooling can become one of the greatest prose stylists, there is some hope for us all.
I'll leave you with some of my favourite passages from the book.
"Music, I say again, came to me by grace. A man is not boasting when he claims to have received grace. The things that we are praised for in this world, our “successes,” are exactly the things for which we do not deserve credit; successes are easy, they come by grace. It is our failures that go sadly by without recognition of the effort and talent we have put into them; single-handed we hammered them out, but inspiration left us in the lurch."
"In his last few years he helped me, less by any precise instruction than by his company. For hours we sat in cafés in Manchester, deep under the earth on winter afternoons; his talk was a fire; not a crackling one but as a glowing hearth, steady and warm without obvious combustion. Once in June, after sunset, very late and still, he leaned over the gate of his garden and talked to me of Shakespeare’s lyrics and of the fragility of loveliness in life. The air was full of the scent of his own flowers; and the wisdom of his speech, genial yet deep, seemed part of the beauty of the summer night."
"Stendhal said that for him a landscape needed to possess some history or human interest. For me a place must have a genius in the air, a sort of distillation of years, a pathos of perspective, a mist of distance. In a word, it must have ghosts of lost wandering life, now forgotten by the extrovert and contemporary world. Historical and archæological interest is prosaic for me; I do not particularly wish to see the house in which the greatest poet was born; but to walk from Grinzing down to Vienna on a September evening, as twilight deepens and the lights of the city begin to twinkle, and to feel the sense of the past, almost to hear the vanished beauty and song whispering in rustle of leaf or wind, and in some hurrying footfalls on the roadside; to feel an awareness to all the hearts that have beaten here, the hopes and the strivings in these old houses, huddled in deserted gardens; birth and marriage and death; the comings-home at the day’s end, the glow of candlelight and wine and fellowship that surely seemed perennial and everlasting; the security of life at the crest, and now not only dead but lost to a world that must for ever be up and doing—this for me, is to live and to “go places.” Every great city is a palimpsest not of facts and events but of atmosphere and feeling, shaped by the irony of transition. That means I cannot enter into an unexplored land, a new land, where nature has not acquired an æsthetic and a pathos. Mountains and grand canyons and plains and mighty rivers are only so much geography in my eyes; mere contour-maps built on a large scale. A sunset in the Indian Ocean once bowled me over because it was like the closing scene of Götterdämmerung. I suppose I am a far-gone case of the Ruskinian “pathetic” fallacy; the external universe must appeal to me as a theatre or as a series of dissolving views, with the lantern turned inwards to my own soul."
Have you read Cardus' autobiography? What do you think about it?
November 21, 2023
"From Old Trafford to Dover, from Hull to Bristol, the fields were active as fast bowlers heaved and thudded and sweated over the earth, and batsmen drove and cut or got their legs in front; and the men in the slips bent down, all four of them together, as though moved by one string. On every afternoon at half-past six I saw them, in my mind’s eye, all walking home to the pavilion, with a deeper tan on their faces. And the newspapers came out with the cricket scores and the visitor from Budapest, in London for the first time, experienced a certain bewilderment when he saw an Evening News poster: “Collapse of Surrey!”"
কিছু নম্বরের কচকচি-সর্বস্ব কাঠখোট্টা, প্রচলিত, সর্বজনস্বীকৃত ক্রিকেট বিশ্লেষণকে যিনি প্রায় সাহিত্যের পর্যায়ে উন্নীত করেন তিনি কিংবদন্তি ক্রিকেট লিখিয়ে নেভিল কার্ডাস। বলা হয় ক্রিকেট-সাংবাদিকতায় তাঁর কোনো পূর্বসূরী নেই অথচ পরের সমস্ত ক্রিকেট লিখিয়ে তাঁরই উত্তরসূরী, তাঁর কাছেই ঋণী।
কার্ডাস তাঁর আত্মজীবনীতে বিশ শতকের গোড়ার কাউন্টি ও টেস্ট ক্রিকেটের যে ধ্রুপদী রূপের সাথে আমাদের পরিচয় করাচ্ছেন তার সঙ্গে অবশ্য বর্তমানে ক্রিকেট যা হইয়াছেন তার সংযোগস্থাপন অবশ্য দুরূহ একটা কাজ। প্রথম পার্থক্য অবশ্যই খেলার গতিতে। “No fours before lunch, on principle, was the unannounced policy, and as few as possible after.” কার্ডাস একজায়গায় মজা করে বলছেন ল্যাঙ্কাশায়ারের ব্যাটসম্যান মূলত দুই প্রকার – “There are batsmen who cannot score quickly because they can’t and there are batsmen who can score quickly but won’t.” তখনকার কাউন্টি ক্রিকেটের এই অলস, প্রায় রাজসিক মন্থরতা নিয়ে সবথেকে মজার ঘটনাটা লেখকের নিজের বিয়ে সম্পর্কিত:
“I went as usual to Old Trafford, stayed for a while and saw Hallows and Makepeace come forth to bat. As usual they opened with care. Then I had to leave, had to take a taxi to Manchester, there to be joined in wedlock at a registry office. Then I — that is, we — returned to Old Trafford. While I had been away from the match and had committed the most responsible and irrevocable act in mortal man’s life, Lancashire had increased their total by exactly seventeen — Makepeace 5, Hallow 11 and one leg-bye.”
এখানে মনে রাখা প্রয়োজন আমরা আলোচনা করছি ব্র্যাডম্যান-পূর্ব ক্রিকেটের কথা। এখন সম্পূর্ণ বিস্মৃত ভিক্টর ট্রাম্পারের সময়ের কথা। অনেক প্রাচীনপন্থী ক্রিকেট বিশেষজ্ঞই ব্র্যাডম্যানের কালাপাহাড়ি আগমনে গেলো গেলো রব তুলেছিলেন। একটি অসাধারণ উপমা দিয়েছেন কার্ডাস সাবেকি যুগের মারকুটে ব্যাটসম্যান ট্রাম্পার আর তরুণ তুর্কি ব্র্যাডম্যানের তুলনা করতে গিয়ে — “Bradman was the summing up of the Efficient Age which succeeded the Golden Age. Here was brilliance safe and sure, streamlined and without impulse. Victor Trumper was the flying bird; Bradman the aeroplane.”
এপর্যন্ত পড়ে ধারণা হতে পারে এই আত্মজীবনীর পুরোটাই ক্রিকেট নিয়ে। তা নয়। তিন খণ্ডের মধ্যে মূলত দ্বিতীয় খণ্ডটি নামজাদা সংবাদপত্র দ্য ম্যানচেস্টার গার্ডিয়ান-এর ডাকসাইটে ক্রিকেট প্রতিবেদক নেভিল কার্ডাসের আত্মকথন। প্রথম খণ্ডে আছে দরিদ্র ও অন্ধকার একটা শৈশব, কৈশোর। বাবা চলে গেছিলেন তাদের ফেলে আমেরিকায়। মাতামহ অবসরপ্রাপ্ত পুলিশ কনস্টেবল। অতি সামান্য পেনশন। মা-মাসিরা দেহোপজীবিনী। প্রথাগত শিক্ষা সামান্যই। কোনোরকমে একটা কেরানির চাকরি নামমাত্র পারিশ্রমিকে। ছোট থেকেই টাকা জমিয়ে ওল্ড ট্রাফোর্ডে ছোটা কাউন্টি ক্রিকেট দেখতে। বিভোর হয়ে দেখা ভিক্টর ট্রাম্পার, রঞ্জি, এ সি ম্যাকলারেনের ব্যাটিং। নিজে স্থানীয় ‘উইকেন্ড লিগ’-এ মিডিয়াম পেস বোলিং করতেন টুকটাক। সেই সূত্রেই স্রিয়ুসবুরি স্কুলে সহকারী ক্রিকেট কোচের চাকরিটা হয়ে গেলো। ভালোই চলছিল জীবন। একরকম আরামেই। কিন্তু বাদ সাধল প্রথম বিশ্বযুদ্ধ। তিনি ছিলেন, সহজ কথায়, সেনাবাহিনীর ব্যাকআপে। তাঁকে একদিনের নোটিশেও পাঠানো হতে পারে যুদ্ধের ময়দানে আবার একেবারে নাও পাঠানো হতে পারে। এরকম অনিশ্চিত যার লভ্যতা তাকে কাজে রাখে কোন আহাম্মক? ফলে বেশ কিছুদিন বেকারত্ব, তারপর নানান ঘাটের জল খেয়ে অবশেষে গার্ডিয়ানের চাকরিটা।
বইয়ের তৃতীয় খণ্ড সংগীত সমালোচক কার্ডাসের কাহিনি। এখানে আমার একটা স্বীকারোক্তি আছে। এই অংশটা অনেকটাই আমি উপর উপর পড়েছি। কারণ ক্রিকেটের মতোই সংগীত বিষয়ে স্বশিক্ষিত কার্ডাস মাঝেমধ্যে এত বিস্তারিত আলোচনায় ঢুকে পড়েছেন যে ও রসে বঞ্চিত আমি রণে ভঙ্গ দিতে বাধ্য হয়েছি।
তবে বর্ণনা ক্রিকেট ম্যাচের হোক বা অপেরার বা সেগুলো কভার করতে গিয়ে ঘটে যাওয়া মজার মজার সব ঘটনার, তা সততই প্রাঞ্জল, সুখপাঠ্য এবং পরিমিত রসবোধে সমৃদ্ধ। তাই সাহিত্যগুণে এ বইকে আমি গুডরিডস স্কেলে পাঁচে পাঁচ দিতে বাধ্য।
কিছু নম্বরের কচকচি-সর্বস্ব কাঠখোট্টা, প্রচলিত, সর্বজনস্বীকৃত ক্রিকেট বিশ্লেষণকে যিনি প্রায় সাহিত্যের পর্যায়ে উন্নীত করেন তিনি কিংবদন্তি ক্রিকেট লিখিয়ে নেভিল কার্ডাস। বলা হয় ক্রিকেট-সাংবাদিকতায় তাঁর কোনো পূর্বসূরী নেই অথচ পরের সমস্ত ক্রিকেট লিখিয়ে তাঁরই উত্তরসূরী, তাঁর কাছেই ঋণী।
কার্ডাস তাঁর আত্মজীবনীতে বিশ শতকের গোড়ার কাউন্টি ও টেস্ট ক্রিকেটের যে ধ্রুপদী রূপের সাথে আমাদের পরিচয় করাচ্ছেন তার সঙ্গে অবশ্য বর্তমানে ক্রিকেট যা হইয়াছেন তার সংযোগস্থাপন অবশ্য দুরূহ একটা কাজ। প্রথম পার্থক্য অবশ্যই খেলার গতিতে। “No fours before lunch, on principle, was the unannounced policy, and as few as possible after.” কার্ডাস একজায়গায় মজা করে বলছেন ল্যাঙ্কাশায়ারের ব্যাটসম্যান মূলত দুই প্রকার – “There are batsmen who cannot score quickly because they can’t and there are batsmen who can score quickly but won’t.” তখনকার কাউন্টি ক্রিকেটের এই অলস, প্রায় রাজসিক মন্থরতা নিয়ে সবথেকে মজার ঘটনাটা লেখকের নিজের বিয়ে সম্পর্কিত:
“I went as usual to Old Trafford, stayed for a while and saw Hallows and Makepeace come forth to bat. As usual they opened with care. Then I had to leave, had to take a taxi to Manchester, there to be joined in wedlock at a registry office. Then I — that is, we — returned to Old Trafford. While I had been away from the match and had committed the most responsible and irrevocable act in mortal man’s life, Lancashire had increased their total by exactly seventeen — Makepeace 5, Hallow 11 and one leg-bye.”
এখানে মনে রাখা প্রয়োজন আমরা আলোচনা করছি ব্র্যাডম্যান-পূর্ব ক্রিকেটের কথা। এখন সম্পূর্ণ বিস্মৃত ভিক্টর ট্রাম্পারের সময়ের কথা। অনেক প্রাচীনপন্থী ক্রিকেট বিশেষজ্ঞই ব্র্যাডম্যানের কালাপাহাড়ি আগমনে গেলো গেলো রব তুলেছিলেন। একটি অসাধারণ উপমা দিয়েছেন কার্ডাস সাবেকি যুগের মারকুটে ব্যাটসম্যান ট্রাম্পার আর তরুণ তুর্কি ব্র্যাডম্যানের তুলনা করতে গিয়ে — “Bradman was the summing up of the Efficient Age which succeeded the Golden Age. Here was brilliance safe and sure, streamlined and without impulse. Victor Trumper was the flying bird; Bradman the aeroplane.”
এপর্যন্ত পড়ে ধারণা হতে পারে এই আত্মজীবনীর পুরোটাই ক্রিকেট নিয়ে। তা নয়। তিন খণ্ডের মধ্যে মূলত দ্বিতীয় খণ্ডটি নামজাদা সংবাদপত্র দ্য ম্যানচেস্টার গার্ডিয়ান-এর ডাকসাইটে ক্রিকেট প্রতিবেদক নেভিল কার্ডাসের আত্মকথন। প্রথম খণ্ডে আছে দরিদ্র ও অন্ধকার একটা শৈশব, কৈশোর। বাবা চলে গেছিলেন তাদের ফেলে আমেরিকায়। মাতামহ অবসরপ্রাপ্ত পুলিশ কনস্টেবল। অতি সামান্য পেনশন। মা-মাসিরা দেহোপজীবিনী। প্রথাগত শিক্ষা সামান্যই। কোনোরকমে একটা কেরানির চাকরি নামমাত্র পারিশ্রমিকে। ছোট থেকেই টাকা জমিয়ে ওল্ড ট্রাফোর্ডে ছোটা কাউন্টি ক্রিকেট দেখতে। বিভোর হয়ে দেখা ভিক্টর ট্রাম্পার, রঞ্জি, এ সি ম্যাকলারেনের ব্যাটিং। নিজে স্থানীয় ‘উইকেন্ড লিগ’-এ মিডিয়াম পেস বোলিং করতেন টুকটাক। সেই সূত্রেই স্রিয়ুসবুরি স্কুলে সহকারী ক্রিকেট কোচের চাকরিটা হয়ে গেলো। ভালোই চলছিল জীবন। একরকম আরামেই। কিন্তু বাদ সাধল প্রথম বিশ্বযুদ্ধ। তিনি ছিলেন, সহজ কথায়, সেনাবাহিনীর ব্যাকআপে। তাঁকে একদিনের নোটিশেও পাঠানো হতে পারে যুদ্ধের ময়দানে আবার একেবারে নাও পাঠানো হতে পারে। এরকম অনিশ্চিত যার লভ্যতা তাকে কাজে রাখে কোন আহাম্মক? ফলে বেশ কিছুদিন বেকারত্ব, তারপর নানান ঘাটের জল খেয়ে অবশেষে গার্ডিয়ানের চাকরিটা।
বইয়ের তৃতীয় খণ্ড সংগীত সমালোচক কার্ডাসের কাহিনি। এখানে আমার একটা স্বীকারোক্তি আছে। এই অংশটা অনেকটাই আমি উপর উপর পড়েছি। কারণ ক্রিকেটের মতোই সংগীত বিষয়ে স্বশিক্ষিত কার্ডাস মাঝেমধ্যে এত বিস্তারিত আলোচনায় ঢুকে পড়েছেন যে ও রসে বঞ্চিত আমি রণে ভঙ্গ দিতে বাধ্য হয়েছি।
তবে বর্ণনা ক্রিকেট ম্যাচের হোক বা অপেরার বা সেগুলো কভার করতে গিয়ে ঘটে যাওয়া মজার মজার সব ঘটনার, তা সততই প্রাঞ্জল, সুখপাঠ্য এবং পরিমিত রসবোধে সমৃদ্ধ। তাই সাহিত্যগুণে এ বইকে আমি গুডরিডস স্কেলে পাঁচে পাঁচ দিতে বাধ্য।
September 11, 2009
A dusty tome from the university library, published 1947. What a different tone of voice he has. I didn't understand half of his cultural references but liked the ride. He eventually made a name for himself writing a high-brow cricket column. But his best love was music criticism and he regarded his writing on that topic as superior. I liked reading about what a resolutely square peg he was. His relatives dead, he lived on his own from the age of twelve and read what he decided were the great works in order to self educate. Near the end of the biography he mentions that he gives himself six hours of solitude per day. Included is a description of the last music performance season in Salzburg in 1937 before annexation.
Want to read
August 18, 2021Left at 2 chapters or so. Will certainly revisit...
Note at 10%
....
Extraordinary Language!
Keep Google handy. Late-1800s Victorian English societal references might not be common knowledge.
Archie Maclaren, WG Grace, HG Wells, Henry James, Bernard Shaw, Thomas Hardy - fine. But Henry Irving? Swinburne, George Meredith? Keir Hardie, John Burns, Charles Peace, Horatio Bottomley? Jimmy Glover?
Have Google handy.
Note at 10%
....
Extraordinary Language!
Keep Google handy. Late-1800s Victorian English societal references might not be common knowledge.
Archie Maclaren, WG Grace, HG Wells, Henry James, Bernard Shaw, Thomas Hardy - fine. But Henry Irving? Swinburne, George Meredith? Keir Hardie, John Burns, Charles Peace, Horatio Bottomley? Jimmy Glover?
Have Google handy.
October 28, 2008
this by the master of cricket writers had me enthralled throughout.
November 12, 2023
Rescued from the book bin at the local recycling center. I would never have normally come across this let alone read this one but am happy I did. Fascinating story of Neville Cardus, cricket and classical music reporter and critic for the Manchester Guardian. A self-educated man, it's a step back in time into an England that no longer exists. In addition a testament to pursuing your passions and the value of hard work.
March 17, 2022
Superbly written prose which holds the attention by itself. A picture of times gone by when Opera was just music and Cricket the bread and butter of life. I struggled with some of the technicalities of both the sport and the music but he tells great stories with talent. A working class boy made good an as usual is a slight snob and narcissist. Wort a read for a change of pace.
January 17, 2022
from the greatest cricket writer; story worth telling; not at all indulgent; Cardus was much more than a cricket writer, with a keen sense of history and significant expertise in classical music; very helpful for prospective authors to gain some insight into brilliant use of the language
August 16, 2023
A remarkable wordsmith in both music and cricket journalism. The best biography I have read , a tale of a self taught man who was the inspiration for John Arlott and his contemporaries. Be prepared to reach for the dictionary and Wiki at regular intervals!
Erudite and inspirational.
Erudite and inspirational.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews