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Lowborn: Growing Up, Getting Away and Returning to Britain’s Poorest Towns
What does it really mean to be poor in Britain today? A prizewinning novelist revisits her childhood and some of the country's most deprived towns
'When every day of your life you have been told you have nothing of value to offer, that you are worth nothing to society, can you ever escape that sense of being ‘lowborn’ no matter how far you’ve come?’
Kerry Hudson is proudly working class but she was never proudly poor. The poverty she grew up in was all-encompassing, grinding and often dehumanising. Always on the move with her single mother, Kerry attended nine primary schools and five secondaries, living in B&Bs and council flats. She scores eight out of ten on the Adverse Childhood Experiences measure of childhood trauma.
Twenty years later, Kerry’s life is unrecognisable. She’s a prizewinning novelist who has travelled the world. She has a secure home, a loving partner and access to art, music, film and books. But she often finds herself looking over her shoulder, caught somehow between two worlds.
Lowborn is Kerry’s exploration of where she came from, revisiting the towns she grew up in to try to discover what being poor really means in Britain today and whether anything has changed. She also journeys into the hardest regions of her own childhood, because sometimes in order to move forwards we first have to look back.
'When every day of your life you have been told you have nothing of value to offer, that you are worth nothing to society, can you ever escape that sense of being ‘lowborn’ no matter how far you’ve come?’
Kerry Hudson is proudly working class but she was never proudly poor. The poverty she grew up in was all-encompassing, grinding and often dehumanising. Always on the move with her single mother, Kerry attended nine primary schools and five secondaries, living in B&Bs and council flats. She scores eight out of ten on the Adverse Childhood Experiences measure of childhood trauma.
Twenty years later, Kerry’s life is unrecognisable. She’s a prizewinning novelist who has travelled the world. She has a secure home, a loving partner and access to art, music, film and books. But she often finds herself looking over her shoulder, caught somehow between two worlds.
Lowborn is Kerry’s exploration of where she came from, revisiting the towns she grew up in to try to discover what being poor really means in Britain today and whether anything has changed. She also journeys into the hardest regions of her own childhood, because sometimes in order to move forwards we first have to look back.
336 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 14, 2019
150 people are currently reading
5349 people want to read
About the author
Kerry Hudson
26 books224 followersKerry Hudson was born in Aberdeen. Growing up in a succession of council estates, B&Bs and caravan parks provided her with a keen eye for idiosyncratic behaviour, material for life, and a love of travel.
Her first novel, TONY HOGAN BOUGHT ME AN ICE-CREAM FLOAT BEFORE HE STOLE MY MA, was published by Chatto & Windus in Summer 2012. It has since been shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award, Southbank Sky Arts Award, Green Carnation Prize, Polari Prize, Author's Club First Book Award and Saltire First Book Award. It was the winner of the Scottish Book Awards: Best First Novel.
Kerry’s second novel, THIRST, was developed with support from the National Lottery through an Arts Council England grant and will be published July 2014. She now lives, writes and works in East London.
Her first novel, TONY HOGAN BOUGHT ME AN ICE-CREAM FLOAT BEFORE HE STOLE MY MA, was published by Chatto & Windus in Summer 2012. It has since been shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award, Southbank Sky Arts Award, Green Carnation Prize, Polari Prize, Author's Club First Book Award and Saltire First Book Award. It was the winner of the Scottish Book Awards: Best First Novel.
Kerry’s second novel, THIRST, was developed with support from the National Lottery through an Arts Council England grant and will be published July 2014. She now lives, writes and works in East London.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 383 reviews
June 11, 2021
This is a compelling account of what it is like to grow up in poverty in Britain, what it is like to be on the margins of society in an unstable household. Hudson sums up her first eighteen years:
“1 single mother, 2 stays in foster care, 9 primary schools, 1 sexual abuse child protection enquiry, 5 high schools, 2 sexual assaults, 1 rape, 2 abortions, my 18th birthday.”
Hudson goes back (literally) to the places of her childhood which include Aberdeen, Canterbury, Airdrie, North Shields, Coatbridge, Great Yarmouth and Hetton. She recalls time spent there and revisits, sometimes meeting people who remember her. The descriptions are at times grim as were the effects on Hudson and she is very open about the effects her upbringing still has on her current life as a writer. The Britain portrayed here is dystopian, a nightmare of poverty, abuse and mindless bureaucracy. This isn’t over sentimental and Hudson doesn’t dwell too long on individual aspects. She doesn’t romanticise and acknowledges that she has been lucky to get out as many do not (As so often libraries played a role). But Hudson knows what she has escaped:
“I escaped poverty. I escaped bad food because that’s all you can afford. I escaped threadbare clothes and too-tight shoes. I escaped drinking or drugging myself into oblivion because... because. I probably escaped the early mortality rates and preventable diseases – we’ll see. I escaped obesity. I escaped the higher rate of domestic abuse... I escaped Jeremy Kyle in a shiny suit telling me my sort was scum. I escaped casual, grim violence fuelled by frustration and Special Brew. I escaped benefits queues and means assessments and shitty zero-hour contracts. I escaped homelessness.”
Sometimes it feels like Hudson is caught between two worlds. The journey is for her, but it is also to illustrate what poverty really means. Hudson felt haunted by her past:
“I realised that I could only really answer these questions if I went back. If I looked my monster in the face in the hope that it would be a shadow, after all.”
Hudson’s teenage years were pretty horrific and parts of this are difficult to read, but it is impossible not to admire her strength and bravery in putting such a very personal and painful life out into the open for scrutiny and criticism. It is also the story of life on benefits, on the edges of society and the fact that such poverty exists in so called advanced societies should be a wakeup call for us all.
“1 single mother, 2 stays in foster care, 9 primary schools, 1 sexual abuse child protection enquiry, 5 high schools, 2 sexual assaults, 1 rape, 2 abortions, my 18th birthday.”
Hudson goes back (literally) to the places of her childhood which include Aberdeen, Canterbury, Airdrie, North Shields, Coatbridge, Great Yarmouth and Hetton. She recalls time spent there and revisits, sometimes meeting people who remember her. The descriptions are at times grim as were the effects on Hudson and she is very open about the effects her upbringing still has on her current life as a writer. The Britain portrayed here is dystopian, a nightmare of poverty, abuse and mindless bureaucracy. This isn’t over sentimental and Hudson doesn’t dwell too long on individual aspects. She doesn’t romanticise and acknowledges that she has been lucky to get out as many do not (As so often libraries played a role). But Hudson knows what she has escaped:
“I escaped poverty. I escaped bad food because that’s all you can afford. I escaped threadbare clothes and too-tight shoes. I escaped drinking or drugging myself into oblivion because... because. I probably escaped the early mortality rates and preventable diseases – we’ll see. I escaped obesity. I escaped the higher rate of domestic abuse... I escaped Jeremy Kyle in a shiny suit telling me my sort was scum. I escaped casual, grim violence fuelled by frustration and Special Brew. I escaped benefits queues and means assessments and shitty zero-hour contracts. I escaped homelessness.”
Sometimes it feels like Hudson is caught between two worlds. The journey is for her, but it is also to illustrate what poverty really means. Hudson felt haunted by her past:
“I realised that I could only really answer these questions if I went back. If I looked my monster in the face in the hope that it would be a shadow, after all.”
Hudson’s teenage years were pretty horrific and parts of this are difficult to read, but it is impossible not to admire her strength and bravery in putting such a very personal and painful life out into the open for scrutiny and criticism. It is also the story of life on benefits, on the edges of society and the fact that such poverty exists in so called advanced societies should be a wakeup call for us all.
June 24, 2019
(2.5) Nowadays novelist Kerry Hudson passes for middle class, but she can’t forget the sort of situations she came from: a family history of mental illness, a single mother who got falling-down drunk, foster care, frequent moves between cheap B&Bs and homeless shelters across Scotland and England, pawn shops and government handouts, bullying and sexual assaults. In 2018 she returned to all the places she’d lived as a child to see if they were the same. For the most part, they were. “I stood in front of those houses, feeling, well, nothing really. Except, maybe, strong. Except, maybe, genuinely, finally over it.”
I can’t really argue with the rationale behind this work – to expose the plight of the poor in Britain – so I feel churlish even suggesting that there are problems with the book. But I had a pretty lukewarm reaction overall. Chapters alternate between her past in a particular town and its reality today. While there are some vivid passages of memories in the former sections, the travels in the latter sections are not particularly illuminating – with the one exception of an affecting visit to a food bank in Coatbridge. Hudson too often refers to this book in progress and details her decisions about contacting people and making travel arrangements. For this book to have been published in the first half of 2019, she must have written it very quickly indeed, much of it on the road, and that shows in the writing, which has grammar problems (“me and Mum did X,” etc.) not explained by a child’s POV – as they were in the fairly similar Maggie and Me by Damian Barr, which has more lively narration and scene-setting – and is undistinguished to the point of blandness.
Also, more time was necessary for Hudson to really think through who she is now in relation to her past self. She too often lazily points up the contradiction by referring to her bougie orders in hipster cafés, for instance. While she’s trying to make wider points about the country’s situation, she only talks politics or statistics on a couple of pages. This strikes me as an instance of the finished book not living up to the proposal. (Some photos of the places, and herself at different points in her life, would have been something to include.) I’d recommend Barr’s memoir or especially Allan Jenkins’s Plot 29 instead.
Some lines I liked:
“There was no culpability. Only fragments to be picked up, examined, partly understood and pieced together to tell this story.”
“I was learning about impermanence, that everything was expendable. That you could wake up from one morning to the next and find your life had changed completely.”
“I was the very riskiest of combinations: hopeful, hurting, vulnerable, newly aware of my sexual power and very, very lonely.”
I can’t really argue with the rationale behind this work – to expose the plight of the poor in Britain – so I feel churlish even suggesting that there are problems with the book. But I had a pretty lukewarm reaction overall. Chapters alternate between her past in a particular town and its reality today. While there are some vivid passages of memories in the former sections, the travels in the latter sections are not particularly illuminating – with the one exception of an affecting visit to a food bank in Coatbridge. Hudson too often refers to this book in progress and details her decisions about contacting people and making travel arrangements. For this book to have been published in the first half of 2019, she must have written it very quickly indeed, much of it on the road, and that shows in the writing, which has grammar problems (“me and Mum did X,” etc.) not explained by a child’s POV – as they were in the fairly similar Maggie and Me by Damian Barr, which has more lively narration and scene-setting – and is undistinguished to the point of blandness.
Also, more time was necessary for Hudson to really think through who she is now in relation to her past self. She too often lazily points up the contradiction by referring to her bougie orders in hipster cafés, for instance. While she’s trying to make wider points about the country’s situation, she only talks politics or statistics on a couple of pages. This strikes me as an instance of the finished book not living up to the proposal. (Some photos of the places, and herself at different points in her life, would have been something to include.) I’d recommend Barr’s memoir or especially Allan Jenkins’s Plot 29 instead.
Some lines I liked:
“There was no culpability. Only fragments to be picked up, examined, partly understood and pieced together to tell this story.”
“I was learning about impermanence, that everything was expendable. That you could wake up from one morning to the next and find your life had changed completely.”
“I was the very riskiest of combinations: hopeful, hurting, vulnerable, newly aware of my sexual power and very, very lonely.”
April 8, 2019
This is truly amazing. I can’t believe that someone could write such an utterly miserable story - a story of their own incredibly difficult life growing up in extreme poverty and neglect - and create something that is so rich, so engaging and so warm.
This is Hudson’s memoir of growing up with a single mother, an erratic wider family, an absent father, some cruel step-father figures against a backdrop of frightening council estates and small, grey, towns.
The book takes the reader through her early life up to her teens and then supplements this with the re-visiting of many of the towns she spent time in. This is less social commentary and more about her story now and how she feels about those places and the people she meets along the way.
It’s testament to the writer that there’s no real anger or judgement in the book. She tells her story as it is / was and the reader is left to their own thoughts. Although what you take away is the underlining feeling that things haven’t changed in time. Hudson managed to escape and use her amazing talent to write however it makes you think about the whole cycle of generations who aren’t as lucky.
As soon as I finished this I started reading Hudson’s fiction novels and they are written just as beautifully as this.
This is Hudson’s memoir of growing up with a single mother, an erratic wider family, an absent father, some cruel step-father figures against a backdrop of frightening council estates and small, grey, towns.
The book takes the reader through her early life up to her teens and then supplements this with the re-visiting of many of the towns she spent time in. This is less social commentary and more about her story now and how she feels about those places and the people she meets along the way.
It’s testament to the writer that there’s no real anger or judgement in the book. She tells her story as it is / was and the reader is left to their own thoughts. Although what you take away is the underlining feeling that things haven’t changed in time. Hudson managed to escape and use her amazing talent to write however it makes you think about the whole cycle of generations who aren’t as lucky.
As soon as I finished this I started reading Hudson’s fiction novels and they are written just as beautifully as this.
October 27, 2019
If you were to hear Kerry Hudson speak now, you would hear her soft Scottish lilt. She would be telling you about her prize-winning books that have enabled her to travel all over the world. She is in a strong relationship and has plenty of opportunities and has access to many wonderful things.
It could have been so different.
Her score for the childhood trauma on the Adverse Childhood Experiences was eight out of ten. Her mother and step-father had a tumultuous relationship. She moved constantly as a child with her single mother between sordid flats and crumby B&Bs supported by social services. She attended fourteen different schools by the time she was sixteen. It was a tough upbringing, no money for the basics let alone luxuries and that poverty was grinding and dehumanising. She almost ended up with a drinking problem, like her mother had and dropped out of school. Was fortunate that a teacher saw her potential and as she put it saved her life.
She is proud to be working class. She was never proud of her poor background.
Hudson was one of the lucky ones, she managed to escape from the vicious cycle of poverty, but the spectre of the past continues to haunt her. This book is a brutally honest account of her upbringing and the cathartic effect on revisiting those demons from her past lives. But more than that this is a process of revisiting those place that she grew up, reconnecting with some of the people that she knew in from that past.
It is also a health check on the state of our country too. Pervasive poverty spares no one and austerity for the past decade has made the people who were in just about managing, now much worse off. She was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time with her opportunities, but the majority will not have this. It should have been a depressing book, but Hudson writes with deft authority and in amongst the gloom shows that it is possible to be happy. I think this should be required reading for all tory ministers, but as they are almost all heartless, so I doubt that they will be moved by this at all.
It could have been so different.
Her score for the childhood trauma on the Adverse Childhood Experiences was eight out of ten. Her mother and step-father had a tumultuous relationship. She moved constantly as a child with her single mother between sordid flats and crumby B&Bs supported by social services. She attended fourteen different schools by the time she was sixteen. It was a tough upbringing, no money for the basics let alone luxuries and that poverty was grinding and dehumanising. She almost ended up with a drinking problem, like her mother had and dropped out of school. Was fortunate that a teacher saw her potential and as she put it saved her life.
She is proud to be working class. She was never proud of her poor background.
Hudson was one of the lucky ones, she managed to escape from the vicious cycle of poverty, but the spectre of the past continues to haunt her. This book is a brutally honest account of her upbringing and the cathartic effect on revisiting those demons from her past lives. But more than that this is a process of revisiting those place that she grew up, reconnecting with some of the people that she knew in from that past.
It is also a health check on the state of our country too. Pervasive poverty spares no one and austerity for the past decade has made the people who were in just about managing, now much worse off. She was fortunate to be in the right place at the right time with her opportunities, but the majority will not have this. It should have been a depressing book, but Hudson writes with deft authority and in amongst the gloom shows that it is possible to be happy. I think this should be required reading for all tory ministers, but as they are almost all heartless, so I doubt that they will be moved by this at all.
November 20, 2019
I was slightly disappointed with this book - expected more political commentary which there was only a small amount of (passing reference to the effects of Brexit near the end hinted at what could have been). Instead it was more of a life story of the author and I feel that that’s been done better in books like “Educated” and especially “The Glass Castle” which is one of my favourites.
Would have liked to know more about what happened to the author’s mother and it could have benefited from some photos of the people and places then and now.
Feel slightly guilty making any critical comment of a book where the author has bared their soul like this though.
Would have liked to know more about what happened to the author’s mother and it could have benefited from some photos of the people and places then and now.
Feel slightly guilty making any critical comment of a book where the author has bared their soul like this though.
March 28, 2021
For starters, trigger warnings for pretty much everything but particularly - sexual assault, drug misuse, alcoholism, toxic mother/child relationships
I feel fairly conflicted about this. While I did think this was fairly good, and I don’t like to ”judge” anyone’s real life story, I just don’t see the revelation everyone else sees in this autobiography, and in my opinion, it is ‘just’ an autobiography. I really hoped it would say more, provide more research and evidence, look at correlation and why. Discuss the distinctions between working class and poverty. Provide a balanced account of being working class - it definitely skewed a certain way. The end message of this definitely was - ‘the only way to have a good life if you’re working class is not to be working class anymore’ - which is quite frankly bullshit, but maybe I missed the marked somewhere.
Had this been sold purely as an autobiography I would have probably rated it higher, but thinking about the autobiographical aspect it just felt kind of non-stop. The book felt a little bit like one continuous run on sentence of awful shit at times, which obviously, this is non-fiction and the author experienced a lot of shit, but I felt like the reader could have been allowed to catch a breath, actually take in what was happening.
Lastly, I think this gave a very poor overall portrayal of Scotland and some of the areas in Scotland which was disappointing. There seem to be absolutely no balancing, just pure bias which was a shame, because it was interesting to read about places that are somewhat familiar to me.
I can’t seem to get away from the fact that this, while being a true story, seems like ‘poverty porn’ to me. I wonder how many of the reviewers giving this glowing reviews specifically focusing on the ‘horrors of poverty’ etc have ever experienced poverty, or at least working class life. And I can’t help but feel, anyone living that life now, would be horror struck to be portrayed this way. I’m not doing very well at explaining it but oh well. I tried!
I feel fairly conflicted about this. While I did think this was fairly good, and I don’t like to ”judge” anyone’s real life story, I just don’t see the revelation everyone else sees in this autobiography, and in my opinion, it is ‘just’ an autobiography. I really hoped it would say more, provide more research and evidence, look at correlation and why. Discuss the distinctions between working class and poverty. Provide a balanced account of being working class - it definitely skewed a certain way. The end message of this definitely was - ‘the only way to have a good life if you’re working class is not to be working class anymore’ - which is quite frankly bullshit, but maybe I missed the marked somewhere.
Had this been sold purely as an autobiography I would have probably rated it higher, but thinking about the autobiographical aspect it just felt kind of non-stop. The book felt a little bit like one continuous run on sentence of awful shit at times, which obviously, this is non-fiction and the author experienced a lot of shit, but I felt like the reader could have been allowed to catch a breath, actually take in what was happening.
Lastly, I think this gave a very poor overall portrayal of Scotland and some of the areas in Scotland which was disappointing. There seem to be absolutely no balancing, just pure bias which was a shame, because it was interesting to read about places that are somewhat familiar to me.
I can’t seem to get away from the fact that this, while being a true story, seems like ‘poverty porn’ to me. I wonder how many of the reviewers giving this glowing reviews specifically focusing on the ‘horrors of poverty’ etc have ever experienced poverty, or at least working class life. And I can’t help but feel, anyone living that life now, would be horror struck to be portrayed this way. I’m not doing very well at explaining it but oh well. I tried!
January 7, 2020
Kerry Hudson was asked to write her memoir, Lowborn: Growing Up, Getting Away and Returning to Britain's Poorest Towns, by her publisher. She did so even though the idea scared her. When she received the book deal, she wept, 'because', she says, 'I didn't know how to free myself from the tyranny of silence and the growing shame that came with that voicelessness, because I was terrified of writing this book and also terrified I'd have to live in this pretend sort of way forever if I didn't.' This impactful memoir is her first work of non-fiction after two successful novels.
Hudson 'is proudly working class but she was never proudly poor. The poverty she grew up in was all-encompassing, grinding and often dehumanising.' Hudson was born in Aberdeen, and has lived all over the country - Airdrie, Coatbridge, the northeast of England, Great Yarmouth, and Canterbury. She attended nine primary schools and five secondary schools, and scores 8 out of 10 on the Adverse Childhood Experiences measure of childhood trauma.
Hudson was born to a young Scottish mother - 'extremely, possibly irretrievably, vulnerable and fractured, and extraordinarily naive' - and a much older American father, whom she had little to do with. She and her mother first lived with her grandmother in a tiny place in Aberdeen, and when she was older, she was taken into foster care for a while. Hudson had an awareness of her situation from a young age, reflecting: 'I knew we were poor, really perilously poor, from the earliest age.'
Now, her life is thankfully very different; she has the means to travel, as well as a 'secure house, a loving partner and access to art, music, film and books.' In her introduction, she writes: 'Yes, I might have been lowborn but somehow, I ascended... I eat well and always have somewhere decent to stay... I heat my flat in the winter... I've travelled the world several times over and made a living doing what I love which also happens to be the preserve of People Not Like Me.'
Still, of course, a huge part of her identity, Hudson was keen to explore 'where she came from'. She does this by revisiting the towns which she grew up in, 'to try to discover what being poor really means in Britain today and whether anything has changed.' In her introduction, she goes into more detail, writing: 'While my life is unrecognisable today, I find myself able to reconcile my "now" with my past. I can best describe this vertiginous feeling as belonging nowhere and to no-one, neither "back there" nor truly "here". I have come to believe that being born poor is not simply a matter of economics or situation, it is a psychology and identity all its own that, in me, has endured well beyond my "escape".'
The central question which Hudson poses in Lowborn is this: 'When every day of your life you have been told you have nothing of value to offer, that you are worth nothing to society, can you ever escape that sense of being "lowborn", no matter how far you've come?' Reflecting on the writing of her memoir, Hudson shows what an effect it has had on her: 'When January came around I felt less and less inclined to go "home" to my old towns. It seemed this strange process was splitting me in half. I was an archivist of my dead life.'
At the point of writing Lowborn, Hudson has been estranged from her mother for some years. Her memoir is raw, eye-opening, and unflinchingly honest, and it feels pivotal to be reading it, particularly at a time when so many people are forced to live as Hudson once did, and believe they will never find a way out of it. There is such sadness present within the book, at moments like this in which Hudson speaks of her childhood: 'It often felt like I'd never been a child at all, that only these eighteen years of burdened adulthood existed.' Lowborn is a triumph; it feels entirely honest, and I greatly admired that Hudson does not shy away from writing anything down.
Hudson 'is proudly working class but she was never proudly poor. The poverty she grew up in was all-encompassing, grinding and often dehumanising.' Hudson was born in Aberdeen, and has lived all over the country - Airdrie, Coatbridge, the northeast of England, Great Yarmouth, and Canterbury. She attended nine primary schools and five secondary schools, and scores 8 out of 10 on the Adverse Childhood Experiences measure of childhood trauma.
Hudson was born to a young Scottish mother - 'extremely, possibly irretrievably, vulnerable and fractured, and extraordinarily naive' - and a much older American father, whom she had little to do with. She and her mother first lived with her grandmother in a tiny place in Aberdeen, and when she was older, she was taken into foster care for a while. Hudson had an awareness of her situation from a young age, reflecting: 'I knew we were poor, really perilously poor, from the earliest age.'
Now, her life is thankfully very different; she has the means to travel, as well as a 'secure house, a loving partner and access to art, music, film and books.' In her introduction, she writes: 'Yes, I might have been lowborn but somehow, I ascended... I eat well and always have somewhere decent to stay... I heat my flat in the winter... I've travelled the world several times over and made a living doing what I love which also happens to be the preserve of People Not Like Me.'
Still, of course, a huge part of her identity, Hudson was keen to explore 'where she came from'. She does this by revisiting the towns which she grew up in, 'to try to discover what being poor really means in Britain today and whether anything has changed.' In her introduction, she goes into more detail, writing: 'While my life is unrecognisable today, I find myself able to reconcile my "now" with my past. I can best describe this vertiginous feeling as belonging nowhere and to no-one, neither "back there" nor truly "here". I have come to believe that being born poor is not simply a matter of economics or situation, it is a psychology and identity all its own that, in me, has endured well beyond my "escape".'
The central question which Hudson poses in Lowborn is this: 'When every day of your life you have been told you have nothing of value to offer, that you are worth nothing to society, can you ever escape that sense of being "lowborn", no matter how far you've come?' Reflecting on the writing of her memoir, Hudson shows what an effect it has had on her: 'When January came around I felt less and less inclined to go "home" to my old towns. It seemed this strange process was splitting me in half. I was an archivist of my dead life.'
At the point of writing Lowborn, Hudson has been estranged from her mother for some years. Her memoir is raw, eye-opening, and unflinchingly honest, and it feels pivotal to be reading it, particularly at a time when so many people are forced to live as Hudson once did, and believe they will never find a way out of it. There is such sadness present within the book, at moments like this in which Hudson speaks of her childhood: 'It often felt like I'd never been a child at all, that only these eighteen years of burdened adulthood existed.' Lowborn is a triumph; it feels entirely honest, and I greatly admired that Hudson does not shy away from writing anything down.
January 22, 2022
I was expecting a bit more about what it was like growing up in poverty generally. I did enjoy the book but it was only Kerry’s story. I would have preferred her story growing up and then the revisit story rather than the forward and back chapters. Very brave though.
December 19, 2020
A painful past described with elegant, quietly unassuming poise.
June 24, 2019
From BBC radio 4 - Book of the week:
What does it really mean to be poor in Britain today? Kerry Hudson explores her own childhood, growing up in grinding poverty, and some of Britain's most deprived towns.
Kerry is an award winning novelist, with a love of travel, art, music and culture. Yet her life was not always like this, as she spent most of her childhood living through poverty with a single mother who was always on the move. Living in any flat or B&B they could afford, Kerry attended countless schools before she was able to leave that life behind her, twenty years ago.
Lowborn is Kerry's journey to revisit where she spent her childhood, in the spirit of looking back to see how far you have come. She also visits deprived areas of the country to see if anything has really changed.
In Episode 1, Kerry looks back to her early childhood.
Written and read by Kerry Hudson
Abridged and produced by Jill Waters
A Waters Company production for BBC Radio 4
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000...
What does it really mean to be poor in Britain today? Kerry Hudson explores her own childhood, growing up in grinding poverty, and some of Britain's most deprived towns.
Kerry is an award winning novelist, with a love of travel, art, music and culture. Yet her life was not always like this, as she spent most of her childhood living through poverty with a single mother who was always on the move. Living in any flat or B&B they could afford, Kerry attended countless schools before she was able to leave that life behind her, twenty years ago.
Lowborn is Kerry's journey to revisit where she spent her childhood, in the spirit of looking back to see how far you have come. She also visits deprived areas of the country to see if anything has really changed.
In Episode 1, Kerry looks back to her early childhood.
Written and read by Kerry Hudson
Abridged and produced by Jill Waters
A Waters Company production for BBC Radio 4
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000...
June 2, 2019
I came across this book purely by chance whilst browsing Audible looking for something non-fiction. I hadn't heard of the author or the book before. I love books about social history, but generally those I read are from the 1930s or earlier so I decided to try something that happened within living memory - my living memory. Kerry was born in 1980, the year in which I turned 14.
This remarkable, brutally honest memoir starts in 1980 when the author, Kerry Hudson, was born in Aberdeen to a mother who really just didn't know how to be a parent. Such a bleak childhood, with countless primary and secondary schools and never staying in one town for very long, it would be easy for this to be a miserable read, but it isn't. There are elements that are shocking, sad and incomprehensible to someone born into a happy, middle-class home with loving parents. Initially I was going to say I felt sorry for Kerry, but whilst I feel total compassion, the one thing I don't feel is pity - Kerry's is a tale of survival and achievement. I am sure the scars run deep within her, but this is a real triumph of success and survival over adversity and I really enjoyed it.
The Audio Book is narrated by the author, who has the most beautiful, gentle, reading voice.
I must check out some of her fiction now.
This remarkable, brutally honest memoir starts in 1980 when the author, Kerry Hudson, was born in Aberdeen to a mother who really just didn't know how to be a parent. Such a bleak childhood, with countless primary and secondary schools and never staying in one town for very long, it would be easy for this to be a miserable read, but it isn't. There are elements that are shocking, sad and incomprehensible to someone born into a happy, middle-class home with loving parents. Initially I was going to say I felt sorry for Kerry, but whilst I feel total compassion, the one thing I don't feel is pity - Kerry's is a tale of survival and achievement. I am sure the scars run deep within her, but this is a real triumph of success and survival over adversity and I really enjoyed it.
The Audio Book is narrated by the author, who has the most beautiful, gentle, reading voice.
I must check out some of her fiction now.
February 25, 2020
Verdict: Story (depth of topic and execution) - 5/5
Memorability - 5/5
Enjoyment - 3/5
Writing - 5/5
Overall - 4.5/5
I found this a hard listen, which makes my 'enjoyment' score a little unfair. I don't know whether it's sleep deprivation or simply because I have a little baby myself now, but I felt so deeply sad listening to this. I'm privaledged in life to never have lived or witnessed true poverty. Or at least I grew up blissfully unaware. If you've ever deemed someone a scrounger, layabout or worse then this is a must read. Challenge your own assumptions. The saddest part is I'm not sure how far we've come as a society. A challenging, compassionate honest read. Highly recommended.
Memorability - 5/5
Enjoyment - 3/5
Writing - 5/5
Overall - 4.5/5
I found this a hard listen, which makes my 'enjoyment' score a little unfair. I don't know whether it's sleep deprivation or simply because I have a little baby myself now, but I felt so deeply sad listening to this. I'm privaledged in life to never have lived or witnessed true poverty. Or at least I grew up blissfully unaware. If you've ever deemed someone a scrounger, layabout or worse then this is a must read. Challenge your own assumptions. The saddest part is I'm not sure how far we've come as a society. A challenging, compassionate honest read. Highly recommended.
September 12, 2019
This was a difficult read for me, I found it quite triggering as it bought back bad memories of my own childhood. It really illustrates the lasting scars a bad childhood leaves on the adult survivor and in many ways it never leaves you, but you find a way to rise above it. Very thought provoking.
January 4, 2020
An interesting read, an important look at crippling poverty in the UK. I felt I read it out of duty rather than enjoyment though.
An interesting read, an important look at crippling poverty in the UK. I felt I read it out of duty rather than enjoyment though.
An interesting read, an important look at crippling poverty in the UK. I felt I read it out of duty rather than enjoyment though.
November 28, 2023
Devastating.
December 3, 2019
‘I truly understood that it really was no one’s fault. That life is too messy to attribute blame so neatly. How can you blame ill and dysfunctional people living in an ill and dysfunctional society? How could I blame my mum when she was simply struggling herself? How could I blame my father when the stories I knew of his childhood pointed to terrible abandonment and abuse? Or blame my grandmother for just trying to live her life as well as she could though it was full of struggles? There was no culpability. Only fragments to be picked up, examined, partly understood and pieced together to tell this story. There were no answer in those records. Only that life was sometimes brutal to those who were vulnerable and without options.’
.
.
Lowborn is primarily a memoir about Kerry Hudson’s early life growing up in an array of working-class communities across Scotland and England, but it could also an investigative journalism piece. The investigation is into her own life - the above excerpt is from the moment she receives the documents about her time in care when she was 2 - as well as how these cities and towns are now doing under modern day austerity. This is a grim, gritty memoir that explores everything from council housing to mental health to sexual assault, because these are the things that Hudson experienced before she was 18. Living in a vast and varied amount of places throughout her childhood and adolescence, at the whim of her clearly unwell mother constantly seeking “fresh starts”, Hudson reflects and actually revisits these places now that her life is more steady in her late 30s. Last month I read Common People edited by Kit de Waal, an anthology which sought to celebrate working class culture and identities. Lowborn does not seek to celebrate, because Hudson instead reflects on the damage that poverty can do to young people and the places that they live in, as that is her lived experience. An insightful, saddening book symptomatic of Tory Britain and austerity.
.
.
Lowborn is primarily a memoir about Kerry Hudson’s early life growing up in an array of working-class communities across Scotland and England, but it could also an investigative journalism piece. The investigation is into her own life - the above excerpt is from the moment she receives the documents about her time in care when she was 2 - as well as how these cities and towns are now doing under modern day austerity. This is a grim, gritty memoir that explores everything from council housing to mental health to sexual assault, because these are the things that Hudson experienced before she was 18. Living in a vast and varied amount of places throughout her childhood and adolescence, at the whim of her clearly unwell mother constantly seeking “fresh starts”, Hudson reflects and actually revisits these places now that her life is more steady in her late 30s. Last month I read Common People edited by Kit de Waal, an anthology which sought to celebrate working class culture and identities. Lowborn does not seek to celebrate, because Hudson instead reflects on the damage that poverty can do to young people and the places that they live in, as that is her lived experience. An insightful, saddening book symptomatic of Tory Britain and austerity.
February 11, 2020
Lots of book reviewers I follow say that it's difficult to rate memoirs because it's almost like you are rating someone's personal experience. Generally, I just rate my enjoyment of spending time with a book and what effect it had on me. It's an interesting one with 'Lowborn'.
Kerry Hudson's memoir is structured as one past / one present, a chapter today and a chapter reminiscing or visiting place that she has lived in. I like the way it is written, I think it keeps a good balance between the personal and the factual, and considering that the author wants people to be aware of her situation, it works really well.
What didn't work that well was that I still don't know how she ended up going to university and sustaining a life in London. I don't know how her career started or how she became estranged from her mother. Once in London, how was her mother pulling her back into complicated situations?
I also wish the book had more in the sense of reflection and lessons learned. It's a chronological story and Kerry talks about the impact of the events on her at the time, but the commentary on what she would do today in a similar situation is fleeting and doesn't give me the sort of introspection I would be hoping for. On this note, I thought she treated her visits to the places she lived in were quite apathetically. I get if this is what one feels at the time, but even if you think about it later? Really?
It's a good book, it brings to light some of the issues of how poverty propagates poverty, how they are segregated both culturally and geographically from the rest of society, but ultimately doesn't give creative ideas for how to deal with the situation (apart from a school with empathetic programmes).
Kerry Hudson's memoir is structured as one past / one present, a chapter today and a chapter reminiscing or visiting place that she has lived in. I like the way it is written, I think it keeps a good balance between the personal and the factual, and considering that the author wants people to be aware of her situation, it works really well.
What didn't work that well was that I still don't know how she ended up going to university and sustaining a life in London. I don't know how her career started or how she became estranged from her mother. Once in London, how was her mother pulling her back into complicated situations?
I also wish the book had more in the sense of reflection and lessons learned. It's a chronological story and Kerry talks about the impact of the events on her at the time, but the commentary on what she would do today in a similar situation is fleeting and doesn't give me the sort of introspection I would be hoping for. On this note, I thought she treated her visits to the places she lived in were quite apathetically. I get if this is what one feels at the time, but even if you think about it later? Really?
It's a good book, it brings to light some of the issues of how poverty propagates poverty, how they are segregated both culturally and geographically from the rest of society, but ultimately doesn't give creative ideas for how to deal with the situation (apart from a school with empathetic programmes).
February 8, 2022
This is a good book, but not for me. A shame, because I'm interested in honest depictions of poverty. But I have to conclude that the memoir genre leaves me cold. I'm seldom able to connect with people writing about themselves in this way -- it's as though they can't get enough outside of their own heads to paint a real picture of themselves as characters. I'm left on the margins, feeling guilty for not caring enough about clearly worthy individuals. So far this has happened reading memoirs of abuse (In the Dream House), postpartum psychosis (Inferno: A Memoir), family secrets (On Chapel Sands: The Mystery of My Mother's Disappearance as a Child) and now this. I'm not sure what it says about me that a well-constructed fictional character (even one clearly based on an author's own experiences) usually resonates more with me than a memoir.
Another problem was that I felt it didn't teach me anything I didn't know. Possibly because I am interested in depictions of modern poverty, and I have read a lot of articles on the subject. Perhaps this book reaches an audience that doesn't read these articles, in which case it is, as all the reviews say, important. But I am not the audience.
Another problem was that I felt it didn't teach me anything I didn't know. Possibly because I am interested in depictions of modern poverty, and I have read a lot of articles on the subject. Perhaps this book reaches an audience that doesn't read these articles, in which case it is, as all the reviews say, important. But I am not the audience.
February 15, 2025
I’m very happy the writing of this book has been a therapeutic and cathartic experience for the author, and that it has helped her to come to terms with her own past. I wish her all the best with her future projects.
Unfortunately, for me this book hasn’t really worked - though of course I’m not here to criticise the way the author has decided to talk about her life experiences, which is her priority. The ‘2018’ parts didn’t add much of interest to the general discussion, and the social commentary felt very rushed and superficial. There was almost no research, nothing was really backed by any data (I think she quoted statistics a couple of times only), to the point that I think the book would have benefited greatly by just sticking to the menoir elements of it. Stating that ‘we live in a society that blames the poor for their own poverty while living in the illusion of meritocracy’ without presenting any supporting evedence is, as much as I share the sentiment, a disappointing way of trying to start a conversation around a topic that is very much worth discussing.
Unfortunately, for me this book hasn’t really worked - though of course I’m not here to criticise the way the author has decided to talk about her life experiences, which is her priority. The ‘2018’ parts didn’t add much of interest to the general discussion, and the social commentary felt very rushed and superficial. There was almost no research, nothing was really backed by any data (I think she quoted statistics a couple of times only), to the point that I think the book would have benefited greatly by just sticking to the menoir elements of it. Stating that ‘we live in a society that blames the poor for their own poverty while living in the illusion of meritocracy’ without presenting any supporting evedence is, as much as I share the sentiment, a disappointing way of trying to start a conversation around a topic that is very much worth discussing.
August 31, 2019
This is a heartbreaking chronicle of a gifted child who triumphs against adversarial odds to build a life for herself through strength, talent, and determination. The end--is only the beginning. I highly recommend this book!
June 3, 2019
I really wanted to like this book but I found it very lacking and repetitive. I felt the writer was holding back a lot and only gave very, very minor details. It lacked the rawness a good memoir needs to make it great.
February 8, 2024
Something that weighs heavy on my mind, and so which I like to explore in my reading, is the inequality in society in the UK. I read Cash Carraway's Skint Estate: A Memoir of Poverty, Motherhood and Survival, as hearing the voices of those who live at the sharp edge of poverty is an important counterpoint to what is often projected in the media. Unfortunately, I found that quite a disappointing book, mainly due to Carraway being a...questionable person. So I've been on the lookout for a better example, and I definitely found it in Lowborn.
Kerry Hudson spent her childhood moving between B&Bs, slum housing and even spent time in care as her mother chased and escaped men and alcohol. In this book, she details a childhood of instability, unpredictability and teetering on the edge of society as she journeys around the country visiting the many towns in which she spent spells of her childhood. Along the way, she reflects on her memories and experiences, and explores the impact of her upbringing.
One of the things I loved most about this book was how open and raw it was. Kerry shines a light not only on her family, but on herself and parts of her life which many people would attempt to conceal. Her eloquence and intelligence provides a contrast to her experiences, a contrast which blows up the stereotype of "lowborn" individuals. In doing so, she doesn't make herself look bad or even like a victim, but as a young girl who was trying to navigate the world in the only way she knew how - just like many others who could be tarred with the critical view of those who live on the margins. Obviously, Kerry has taken a path out of her early life that not all are able to, but that makes her willingness to share her experiences all the more moving. Despite the hardships and challenges detailed in this book, Hudson's resilience and the moments of positivity she remembers give this book a hopeful undertone.
On an entirely "me" level, I really enjoyed the section where Kerry finds herself at an evangelical church in Motherwell with a hip band. She is drawn in to a religious youth group simply as something to do, at the same time as she is also using drugs, alcohol and sex as a way to escape and fit in with other teens. I had similar experiences at that stage in my life - lured into a youth group which was sneakily religious whilst I was simultaneously falling into damaging behaviours. And fun fact - my youth group also attended an evangelical church in Motherwell for their hip band's concerts. I'm pretty sure it was the same one. Much like Kerry, I didn't stick around that life for long!
But back to the book - I thought this was a poignant exploration not only of one woman's childhood but also of the impact of poverty, instability and addiction on a wider scale. I enjoyed Kerry's voice, and am excited to see she has other books I can add to my stack.
Kerry Hudson spent her childhood moving between B&Bs, slum housing and even spent time in care as her mother chased and escaped men and alcohol. In this book, she details a childhood of instability, unpredictability and teetering on the edge of society as she journeys around the country visiting the many towns in which she spent spells of her childhood. Along the way, she reflects on her memories and experiences, and explores the impact of her upbringing.
One of the things I loved most about this book was how open and raw it was. Kerry shines a light not only on her family, but on herself and parts of her life which many people would attempt to conceal. Her eloquence and intelligence provides a contrast to her experiences, a contrast which blows up the stereotype of "lowborn" individuals. In doing so, she doesn't make herself look bad or even like a victim, but as a young girl who was trying to navigate the world in the only way she knew how - just like many others who could be tarred with the critical view of those who live on the margins. Obviously, Kerry has taken a path out of her early life that not all are able to, but that makes her willingness to share her experiences all the more moving. Despite the hardships and challenges detailed in this book, Hudson's resilience and the moments of positivity she remembers give this book a hopeful undertone.
On an entirely "me" level, I really enjoyed the section where Kerry finds herself at an evangelical church in Motherwell with a hip band. She is drawn in to a religious youth group simply as something to do, at the same time as she is also using drugs, alcohol and sex as a way to escape and fit in with other teens. I had similar experiences at that stage in my life - lured into a youth group which was sneakily religious whilst I was simultaneously falling into damaging behaviours. And fun fact - my youth group also attended an evangelical church in Motherwell for their hip band's concerts. I'm pretty sure it was the same one. Much like Kerry, I didn't stick around that life for long!
But back to the book - I thought this was a poignant exploration not only of one woman's childhood but also of the impact of poverty, instability and addiction on a wider scale. I enjoyed Kerry's voice, and am excited to see she has other books I can add to my stack.
November 15, 2020
I read this book in fewer than 8 hours. The very real, harsh and heartbreaking life of Kerry. The truth is, if you grew up in Scotland 80s/90s and are now comfortable in your social security of life, raising a family, working a good job, enjoying the little luxuries. The probability of your childhood living hand to mouth is still high. With any luck your parents loved you and they were the best years. But for many poverty was rife; starving, cold and neglected kids. Kerry tells a story, a real fucking story, no bullshit, just the truth and the disgusting reality that we face as a country that we let it continue to happen.
The compassion I felt for Kerry and families living this today, has led me to take to take action and use profits from my business to feed kids at christmas. Now I don’t know about you but that’s what I would call a fucking amazing book!
The compassion I felt for Kerry and families living this today, has led me to take to take action and use profits from my business to feed kids at christmas. Now I don’t know about you but that’s what I would call a fucking amazing book!
November 22, 2020
Pretty much read this in one sitting. It’s a raw and brutal look at poverty through the prism of the author’s experiences.
I thought there might be more in the way of research and social commentary, but this is really a memoir that lays bare Hudson’s traumatic childhood and is more reflective of her young life than considering solutions to the grinding and endless drudgery of being very poor.
There are some deeply disturbing revelations and this is not a read for the faint-hearted, but the book will give you a glimpse into the difficulties faced when the system is completely stacked against you and is a lesson in empathy and compassion.
I thought there might be more in the way of research and social commentary, but this is really a memoir that lays bare Hudson’s traumatic childhood and is more reflective of her young life than considering solutions to the grinding and endless drudgery of being very poor.
There are some deeply disturbing revelations and this is not a read for the faint-hearted, but the book will give you a glimpse into the difficulties faced when the system is completely stacked against you and is a lesson in empathy and compassion.
April 23, 2020
This book is described as a book about the reality of poverty, and I know that's how the author sees it, but I think poverty is only a part of it. Having said that, there is so much poverty in this book and it shows so clearly how insecure accommodation, lack of clothing, inadequate food etc affect every aspect of a family's life.
But for me, the poverty was a minor part of this book. What I saw outstanding all the way through was the effects of generations of ill-health, illness and abusive behaviour, what happens when someone utterly ill-equipped for the role becomes a parent, and how state support services can repeatedly let families down. Reading about a nine year old child diagnosed with genital warts with no follow-up investigation appalled me.
Kerry Hudson was lucky - she's intelligent and determined and she got herself out of a life of poverty through hard work. But this book shows how hard it is to do that. It should be required reading for everyone who thinks that most people on benefits are workshy scroungers who should be made to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.
But for me, the poverty was a minor part of this book. What I saw outstanding all the way through was the effects of generations of ill-health, illness and abusive behaviour, what happens when someone utterly ill-equipped for the role becomes a parent, and how state support services can repeatedly let families down. Reading about a nine year old child diagnosed with genital warts with no follow-up investigation appalled me.
Kerry Hudson was lucky - she's intelligent and determined and she got herself out of a life of poverty through hard work. But this book shows how hard it is to do that. It should be required reading for everyone who thinks that most people on benefits are workshy scroungers who should be made to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.
May 18, 2020
Magnifique témoignage où Kerry Hudson dépeint son enfance sans misérabilisme... et où on comprend que la pauvreté est malheureusement héréditaire...
April 27, 2021
Yet another book that I feel absolutely everyone should read. A memoir about experiences of poverty in the UK told from both a child perspective and adult revisiting the places she grew up in.
October 20, 2022
A very important read about growing up in poverty in the UK. One of the best memoirs I've read this year and I'd highly recommend anyone to read it.
October 6, 2023
Sent me into my own head a bit. It must have been so hard to write
“I truly understood that it really was no one’s fault. That life is too messy to attribute blame so neatly. How can you blame ill and dysfunctional people living in an ill and dysfunctional society? How could I blame my mum when she was simply struggling herself? How could I blame my father when the stories I knew of his childhood pointed to terrible abandonment and abuse? Or blame my grandmother for just trying to live her life as well as she could though it was full of struggles? There was no culpability.”
“I truly understood that it really was no one’s fault. That life is too messy to attribute blame so neatly. How can you blame ill and dysfunctional people living in an ill and dysfunctional society? How could I blame my mum when she was simply struggling herself? How could I blame my father when the stories I knew of his childhood pointed to terrible abandonment and abuse? Or blame my grandmother for just trying to live her life as well as she could though it was full of struggles? There was no culpability.”
February 26, 2025
Thought this was great tbh
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