I was inspired to get myself a copy of this book after being delighted with the BBC miniseries (am eagerly awaiting season 4, even if it is only partial).
I've tried to describe how this book reads, not sure I'm going to be successful here. Let's see. It's a semi-fictional (I think names of people & places are changed, no idea what else was fictionalized) auto-biography that reads like great fiction, but not in a "fiction" way at all, but in a great biography/historical document sort of way. Not making sense here? I won't belabor the point.
This is an account of a triad of small communities in British farm country from about 1880 to early 1900, as told by a girl from a tiny hamlet known as Lark Rise. She moves to another tiny village, Candleford Green as assistant in the post-office there, and then, at the end of the book, although we don't know where she goes, we know she has gone off forever to a larger place.
One funny thing about this book: it's amazing what BBC did with the material. They took names and one or two incidents from the book, but mostly the miniseries was completely new and unrelated.
A few really interesting things about this book: I loved reading about the food, she described in detail the diets (and subsequent health) of the inhabitants of the tiny hamlet of Lark Rise. They subsisted on vegetables from their gardens, pork (mostly cured), lard (which is what they spread on their bread) and the occasional poultry item, and once or twice a year joint of beef. Some of them had some honey from their own bees, some of them sent out for a little bit of milk, they bought bread from the baker (probably not much, they couldn't afford it), and their only other grain came from what they could glean in the fall--it didn't last long. Modern readers say "salt pork & lard!" why didn't they all die of heart-disease? Yet she describes the people and their healthy bone & teeth structure in detail. The people seemed to be healthy in body and in mind, with a healthy outlook on God, man and nature. I also loved reading about how they prepared and cooked their food. What would it be like to cook everything in a large kettle over an open fire? Little baskets hung inside the cauldron with the side dishes? Amazing.
I loved how Thompson described life in what seems to us to be almost an idyllic time, and yet she doesn't make it unreal. She is very candid about the fact of their poverty--food was the only thing they had enough of (good thing, too!) everything else they went without, including essentials such as heat and clothing sometimes. The reason it read so well, I think, was that Thompson was so good at just dropping the reader right into the place. Her love for her childhood home made her words sparkle and entrance.
A couple of gems from the end of the book:
"...and the row of half a dozen cottages, all exactly alike in outward appearance and inside accommodation, but differing in their degree of comfort and cleanliness. Laura wondered then, as she was often to do in her after-life, why, with houses exactly alike and incomes the same to a penny, one woman will have a cosy, tasteful little home and another something not much better than a slum dwelling." (p. 532) Interesting observation.
And, commenting on how things were looking at the turn of the century, low prices on food & necessities, rising wages, couples with more "things" and more leisure and less children and perhaps less sense of what it was to truly be a neighbor, the narrator makes this observation:
"Those were the lines along which they were developing. Spiritually, they had lost ground, rather than gained it. Their working-class forefathers had had religious or political ideals; their talk had not lost the raciness of the soil and was seasoned with native wit which, if sometimes crude, was authentic. Few of this section of their sons and daughters were churchgoers, or game much thought to religious matters. When the subject of religion was mentioned, they professed to subscribe to its dogmas and to be shocked at the questioning of the most outworn of these; but, in reality, their creed was that of keeping up appearances. The reading they did was mass reading. Before they would open a book, they had to be told it was one that everybody was reading. ...They had not a sufficient sense of humor to originate it, but borrowed it from music-hall turns and comic papers, and the voice in which such gems were repeated was flat and toneless compared to the old country speech." (p. 554)
I just thought that was interesting. Nowhere does the author speak on religious or political matters besides in passing, nor does she bemoan the change of times, but she was an acute observer of what, perhaps, has been lost in the course of progress. That agrarian lifestyle is gone, and with it a totally different breed of humble, no-nonsense, witty, hard-working, healthy people.
This book was not, as some reviewers have said, a glossed-over look into what the author remembers as the perfection of her youth. Rather a beautifully written account of life long ago.