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Jackdaw Cake: An Autobiography
The author recounts his childhood in Wales, his parents' seances, his marriage to the daughter of a Sicilian Mafia leader, and his experiences in the Intelligence Corps in Algeria
224 pages, Paperback
First published September 16, 1985
26 people are currently reading
217 people want to read
About the author
Norman Lewis
183 books150 followersNorman Lewis was a British writer renowned for his richly detailed travel writing, though his literary output also included twelve novels and several volumes of autobiography. Born in Enfield, Middlesex in 1908 to a Welsh family, Lewis was raised in a household steeped in spiritualism, a belief system embraced by his grieving parents following the deaths of his elder brothers. Despite these early influences, Lewis grew into a skeptic with a deeply observant eye, fascinated by cultures on the margins of the modern world.
His early adulthood was marked by various professions—including wedding photographer, umbrella wholesaler, and even motorcycle racer—before he served in the British Army during World War II. His wartime experiences in Algiers, Tunisia, and especially Naples provided the basis for one of his most celebrated books, Naples '44, widely praised as one of the finest firsthand accounts of the war. His writing blended keen observation with empathy and dry wit, traits that defined all of his travel works.
Lewis had a deep affinity for threatened cultures and traditional ways of life. His travels took him across Southeast Asia, Latin America, and the Mediterranean. Among his most important books are A Dragon Apparent, an evocative portrait of French Indochina before the Vietnam War; Golden Earth, on postwar Burma; An Empire of the East, set in Indonesia; and A Goddess in the Stones, about the tribal communities of India. In Sicily, he explored the culture and reach of the Mafia in The Honoured Society and In Sicily, offering insight without sensationalism.
In 1969, his article “Genocide in Brazil,” detailing atrocities committed against Indigenous tribes, led directly to the formation of Survival International, an organization committed to protecting tribal peoples worldwide. Lewis often cited this as the most meaningful achievement of his career, expressing lifelong concern for the destructive influence of missionary activity and modernization on indigenous societies.
Though Lewis also wrote fiction, his literary reputation rests primarily on his travel writing, which was widely admired for its moral clarity, understated style, and commitment to giving voice to overlooked communities. He remained an unshakable realist throughout his life, famously stating, “I do not believe in belief,” though he found deep joy in simply being alive.
Lewis died in 2003 in Essex, survived by his third wife Lesley and their son Gawaine, as well as five other children from previous marriages.
His early adulthood was marked by various professions—including wedding photographer, umbrella wholesaler, and even motorcycle racer—before he served in the British Army during World War II. His wartime experiences in Algiers, Tunisia, and especially Naples provided the basis for one of his most celebrated books, Naples '44, widely praised as one of the finest firsthand accounts of the war. His writing blended keen observation with empathy and dry wit, traits that defined all of his travel works.
Lewis had a deep affinity for threatened cultures and traditional ways of life. His travels took him across Southeast Asia, Latin America, and the Mediterranean. Among his most important books are A Dragon Apparent, an evocative portrait of French Indochina before the Vietnam War; Golden Earth, on postwar Burma; An Empire of the East, set in Indonesia; and A Goddess in the Stones, about the tribal communities of India. In Sicily, he explored the culture and reach of the Mafia in The Honoured Society and In Sicily, offering insight without sensationalism.
In 1969, his article “Genocide in Brazil,” detailing atrocities committed against Indigenous tribes, led directly to the formation of Survival International, an organization committed to protecting tribal peoples worldwide. Lewis often cited this as the most meaningful achievement of his career, expressing lifelong concern for the destructive influence of missionary activity and modernization on indigenous societies.
Though Lewis also wrote fiction, his literary reputation rests primarily on his travel writing, which was widely admired for its moral clarity, understated style, and commitment to giving voice to overlooked communities. He remained an unshakable realist throughout his life, famously stating, “I do not believe in belief,” though he found deep joy in simply being alive.
Lewis died in 2003 in Essex, survived by his third wife Lesley and their son Gawaine, as well as five other children from previous marriages.
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
October 20, 2017
I had read Lewis' travel narrative books a while back, so decided to try this memoir.
Title refers to being sent to live with his aunts in Wales as a young child for several months, where a cake was prepared for local jackdaws each Saturday by them, a rather unusual group to begin with. Next section has to do with his life in a London suburb with his Spiritualist parents, his father a (rather erratic) medium, and his mother a healer. Thirdly, we get his married life at the home of his his Sicilian in-laws, which often earned "you can't make this stuff up" status. The last section, on his time in the Army in North Africa during WW II interested me less, though his humor was there.
Recommended for folks interested in inter-war Britain especially, though general interest enough for most memoir aficionados.
Title refers to being sent to live with his aunts in Wales as a young child for several months, where a cake was prepared for local jackdaws each Saturday by them, a rather unusual group to begin with. Next section has to do with his life in a London suburb with his Spiritualist parents, his father a (rather erratic) medium, and his mother a healer. Thirdly, we get his married life at the home of his his Sicilian in-laws, which often earned "you can't make this stuff up" status. The last section, on his time in the Army in North Africa during WW II interested me less, though his humor was there.
Recommended for folks interested in inter-war Britain especially, though general interest enough for most memoir aficionados.
March 18, 2014
What a brilliant book! I loved it. A memoir by the celebrated travel writer of his early life and young adulthood. Early years in Wales, followed by late teens in London and then service as a young soldier in WWII.
It is beautifully written - he has a fantastic turn of phrase and I am looking forward to reading his travel books. But it is, above all, hilarious, in that droll, deadpan sort of way that comes naturally to people who see the absurdity of life and recount it effortlessly, simply by mentioning a bizarre fact or characteristic as if it were not bizarre at all.
This kind of funny and entertaining memoir always makes you wonder how close it really is to an account of reality as it was actually lived. Is it really possible that his parents in law were Sicilians with mafia connections? Or that his commanding officer was a scholar of Old Norse who also spoke Latin and gave a speech in Latin to an audience of Arabic speakers, with an interpreter who spoke no Latin and therefore made up a speech that elicited cheers from the crowd?
Such things, or things like them, are possible. When I was at school, a boy was asked to read out an essay that had been set as homework. He went on and on until the exasperated teacher told him to shut up, as it was too boring. Turned out he had not written the essay at all and was making it up as he went along but didn’t want to admit it for fear of punishment. He became a very successful scientist later in life.
Anyway, my point is that absurd and funny things do happen even in the dullest or most dispiriting circumstances. This books celebrates that fact and turns it into beautiful, amusing and life-affirming art.
It is beautifully written - he has a fantastic turn of phrase and I am looking forward to reading his travel books. But it is, above all, hilarious, in that droll, deadpan sort of way that comes naturally to people who see the absurdity of life and recount it effortlessly, simply by mentioning a bizarre fact or characteristic as if it were not bizarre at all.
This kind of funny and entertaining memoir always makes you wonder how close it really is to an account of reality as it was actually lived. Is it really possible that his parents in law were Sicilians with mafia connections? Or that his commanding officer was a scholar of Old Norse who also spoke Latin and gave a speech in Latin to an audience of Arabic speakers, with an interpreter who spoke no Latin and therefore made up a speech that elicited cheers from the crowd?
Such things, or things like them, are possible. When I was at school, a boy was asked to read out an essay that had been set as homework. He went on and on until the exasperated teacher told him to shut up, as it was too boring. Turned out he had not written the essay at all and was making it up as he went along but didn’t want to admit it for fear of punishment. He became a very successful scientist later in life.
Anyway, my point is that absurd and funny things do happen even in the dullest or most dispiriting circumstances. This books celebrates that fact and turns it into beautiful, amusing and life-affirming art.
November 27, 2015
“What thou seekest is here, it is in Ulubrae, unless equanimity is lacking"— Horace.
At the time the autobiography in my hand was revised and published, Norman Lewis was the author of thirteen novels and ten works of non-fiction. I felt surprised that I had not heard of him before. So I began, as I so often do, by looking for obituaries on the man.
Starting with http://www.theguardian.com/news/2003/... I particularly liked Julian Evans’ observation that, “it says far more about his modesty that failing to attract attention was the only claim he pretended to.” In conjunction with http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obitu... I divined a very restless and perhaps easily bored Lewis, a compulsive traveller.
Lewis conjectures whether the English county of Essex (north-east of London) might be his Ulubrae; “an ancient village about 50 kilometers (30 miles) from Rome, past the Three Taverns on the Appian Way, and at the start of the Pontine Marshes. It is known primarily for its use as a byword for a remote and empty location by Latin authors such as Cicero, Juvenal, and Horace.” [Wikipedia].
In his book, “The Appian Way”: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1... , the American Professor Robert Kaster positively revels with excited delight in discovering the past in the present; a startling complexity of ‘ghosts’ who are very much ‘alive’.
Yet there is a dissatisfaction of spirit that seems to inhabit Lewis; as marked, perhaps, through and by a living experience of total War? I was guessing, and choosing to look for the obvious. To live in ‘interesting’ times may realistically be considered a curse; yet one ameliorated to an extent by rational questioning and reflection on Life as expressed. A different time, a different way of living: a different generation now lost to us. Without the living eye-witness, sight inevitably becomes distorted, whilst fascination breeds.
Memorable examples stand out to me, including the period that Lewis spends with three, somewhat dotty, aunts in in South Wales circa. 1918; and much later, after re-marriage (we are not told whether to the same lady, or merely to the institution) and upping sticks to Isola Farnese, in Italy. A small-arms hunting party interrupts the dawning of the day; to blast at small songbirds migrating from Africa. This unregulated hunt pops away all day; the feathered bag increasing alarmingly. Annunziata, the maid hates the hunters:
NL: “Don’t you like them?”
A: “Well who would? Did you hear them down by the river? They ran out of birds, so they shot all the frogs. Can you wonder we vote Communist?”
Norman Lewis writes with a remarkable equanimity of mind. There he has indeed found his Ulubrae.
At the time the autobiography in my hand was revised and published, Norman Lewis was the author of thirteen novels and ten works of non-fiction. I felt surprised that I had not heard of him before. So I began, as I so often do, by looking for obituaries on the man.
Starting with http://www.theguardian.com/news/2003/... I particularly liked Julian Evans’ observation that, “it says far more about his modesty that failing to attract attention was the only claim he pretended to.” In conjunction with http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obitu... I divined a very restless and perhaps easily bored Lewis, a compulsive traveller.
Lewis conjectures whether the English county of Essex (north-east of London) might be his Ulubrae; “an ancient village about 50 kilometers (30 miles) from Rome, past the Three Taverns on the Appian Way, and at the start of the Pontine Marshes. It is known primarily for its use as a byword for a remote and empty location by Latin authors such as Cicero, Juvenal, and Horace.” [Wikipedia].
In his book, “The Appian Way”: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1... , the American Professor Robert Kaster positively revels with excited delight in discovering the past in the present; a startling complexity of ‘ghosts’ who are very much ‘alive’.
Yet there is a dissatisfaction of spirit that seems to inhabit Lewis; as marked, perhaps, through and by a living experience of total War? I was guessing, and choosing to look for the obvious. To live in ‘interesting’ times may realistically be considered a curse; yet one ameliorated to an extent by rational questioning and reflection on Life as expressed. A different time, a different way of living: a different generation now lost to us. Without the living eye-witness, sight inevitably becomes distorted, whilst fascination breeds.
Memorable examples stand out to me, including the period that Lewis spends with three, somewhat dotty, aunts in in South Wales circa. 1918; and much later, after re-marriage (we are not told whether to the same lady, or merely to the institution) and upping sticks to Isola Farnese, in Italy. A small-arms hunting party interrupts the dawning of the day; to blast at small songbirds migrating from Africa. This unregulated hunt pops away all day; the feathered bag increasing alarmingly. Annunziata, the maid hates the hunters:
NL: “Don’t you like them?”
A: “Well who would? Did you hear them down by the river? They ran out of birds, so they shot all the frogs. Can you wonder we vote Communist?”
Norman Lewis writes with a remarkable equanimity of mind. There he has indeed found his Ulubrae.
January 12, 2021
I picked this up because I love Norman Lewis, and then I realized quickly that this is the same book that I read under another title five years ago. But no matter, it is a real gem and I am getting so much out of my second reading. Lewis is a remarkable writer whose family is like no other that I have ever read about or met. From his deeply eccentric Welsh grandfather, a tea salesman who kept fighting cocks and a French mistress, to his strange, traumatized aunts to his pharmacist-turned-spiritualist father there are so many indelible scenes that will stay with me always. In fact, I was glad to identify the source of a clear image that has been in my mind for years of birds flying into a kitchen window to eat cake. It is hard to imagine that all of these memories are literal, but the mix of childhood interpretation and adult imagination makes for lush and luscious reading. I love this book.
January 9, 2020
Norman Lewis was a born writer: brilliant, free-flowing prose; wonderful power of observation; acute insights into the human condition. This book deals with four parts of Lewis's life: boyhood with an eccentric (even for England) family; marriage to the daughter of an eccentric (even for Sicily) family; life as an WW II intelligence officer with the British Army in North Africa and Southern Italy; and life as an expatriate family living in rural Italy in the early fifties. I re-read this book every few years to enjoy the clarity of his writing and the wealth of his life experience.
July 18, 2018
A friend once gave me Voices of the Old Sea by this writer, a wonderful account of a now-vanished existence in a coastal village in north-eastern Spain. Lewis is the perfect observer of places and people – alert, detached, non-judgemental and imaginative. The best chapters of I Came, I Saw describe his upbringing in England in the 1920s, with parents who earnestly believed in spiritualism. They wrote books on the subject, conducted seances and invited famous diviners and soothsayers to the home where the young Lewis grew up. Almost as good are the chapters on army service in the Second World War during which he worked for British Intelligence in Algeria and Tunisia. He was not directly involved in combat but scenes of a battleground when the fighting was done, and of Tunis the morning after, as the victorious British troops recover from huge hangovers, strewn around the streets, may be unique. What is most attractive to me in this book is the way the author, present in every scene, central to every episode, says almost nothing about himself (character, opinions, dispositions, preferences) not because of a tremendous diffidence but because (despite the grandiose title) this is not his concern.
May 6, 2024
A book that could be divided into two parts, although it contains five part headings, I Came, I Saw describes Norman Lewis's life in a manner that is funny, witty, demoralizing, and at times somewhat terrible. Lewis's autobiography fills its pages with craziness: insane families, lunatic army officers, drug crazed teenagers, corrupt officials, and military indifference to slaughter and murder.
The parts that consist of Lewis's childhood on through his time as an intelligence NCO in North Africa during World War II are the best. The pages read like a novel most of the time, or, when describing North Africa, Sicily, and Naples during the war, like a travel book. All of the first quality.
Lewis's parents were spiritualists, his father a medium and his mother a healer. They were at odds with the established religions and madly sincere in their beliefs. Perhaps this is why Lewis would later insist he had no beliefs; indeed, he didn't even believe in belief. Meanwhile, three crazy aunts living with their father, Lewis's grandfather, in Wales make for an equally eccentric household. And when Lewis meets an upper class Sicilian family of Spanish descent, he falls for their daughter, Ernestina, and marries her. The encounter between the two families at the Lewis home north of London is, frankly, as funny as anything I've read. Culture clash, intellectual train wreck.
When Lewis goes off to war, he becomes estranged from Ernestina, although he remains close to her parents. He describes a commanding officer in Tunisia who orders his men to appear before him, while he wears only a shiny belt, boots, and a holster for a gun which he threatens to use against one of his soldiers before turning on himself. In Algeria, Lewis details French maltreatment and outright murder of Arabs--predicting accurately enough that the war between French colons and Algerian Arabs will not turn out well for the French.
Alas, following the war, when Lewis is pushing out one book after another, the author decides to skip over things until moving his family (he never even mentions his second or third wives names) to a village near Rome. Lewis doesn't even bother with dates. The only way I knew when these events took place was because Lewis mentioned the kidnapping and mutilation of Paul Getty, which occurred in 1973. This last section is a good one, however, again filled with wit, sly observances, and a wistfulness for decaying cultures. It's just that Lewis zips from 1945 to 1973 without describing much in between that makes it disorienting. I like reading Norman Lewis, his novels and his travel writing. And this autobiography, I can tell, will remain memorable. The uniqueness of the man and the places through which he traveled come across every page.
The parts that consist of Lewis's childhood on through his time as an intelligence NCO in North Africa during World War II are the best. The pages read like a novel most of the time, or, when describing North Africa, Sicily, and Naples during the war, like a travel book. All of the first quality.
Lewis's parents were spiritualists, his father a medium and his mother a healer. They were at odds with the established religions and madly sincere in their beliefs. Perhaps this is why Lewis would later insist he had no beliefs; indeed, he didn't even believe in belief. Meanwhile, three crazy aunts living with their father, Lewis's grandfather, in Wales make for an equally eccentric household. And when Lewis meets an upper class Sicilian family of Spanish descent, he falls for their daughter, Ernestina, and marries her. The encounter between the two families at the Lewis home north of London is, frankly, as funny as anything I've read. Culture clash, intellectual train wreck.
When Lewis goes off to war, he becomes estranged from Ernestina, although he remains close to her parents. He describes a commanding officer in Tunisia who orders his men to appear before him, while he wears only a shiny belt, boots, and a holster for a gun which he threatens to use against one of his soldiers before turning on himself. In Algeria, Lewis details French maltreatment and outright murder of Arabs--predicting accurately enough that the war between French colons and Algerian Arabs will not turn out well for the French.
Alas, following the war, when Lewis is pushing out one book after another, the author decides to skip over things until moving his family (he never even mentions his second or third wives names) to a village near Rome. Lewis doesn't even bother with dates. The only way I knew when these events took place was because Lewis mentioned the kidnapping and mutilation of Paul Getty, which occurred in 1973. This last section is a good one, however, again filled with wit, sly observances, and a wistfulness for decaying cultures. It's just that Lewis zips from 1945 to 1973 without describing much in between that makes it disorienting. I like reading Norman Lewis, his novels and his travel writing. And this autobiography, I can tell, will remain memorable. The uniqueness of the man and the places through which he traveled come across every page.
February 20, 2018
This was a strange read
First of all, it is only a partial autobiography which seemed to mix itself up at times with being a travelogue. The first part of the book I really enjoyed, it bring the hilarious description of life with his bizarre family. You would be hard pressed to make up odder situations than what seemed part of his daily childhood. What choice did he have but to accept it all with equanimity yet perhaps that is what set him on a life of travel away from England. Then there was an era with his wife who was not really a wife. The book seemed to bog down in the middle with interminable war stories that mostly featured in Algeria or was it Tunisia. I kept putting the book down. They seemed to be an indictment of the British hierarchy and idiocy in Northern Africa during WWII along with the French treatment of the locals and the locals' treatment of themselves ...some of it sickenly inhumane and some of it wryly amusing. Switch to the invasion of Italy and then his returning with family much later to live among Etruscan ruins. The picture he paints of the locals there was hard to take with their brutal disregard for the environment and migrating birds. I won't go into detail here but it was quite upsetting from a modern perspective. And then it just ended back in the UK. While I learned a few interesting facts, got some new insights into a number of cultures and enjoyed his description of the Wales of his childhood, I can't say I am glad I read this book. There were some bits that I wish I had not learned about and I can't say that I came away with a happy view of prewar Wales, parts of the north African campaign or postwar Italy. Along the way, I lost some respect.
First of all, it is only a partial autobiography which seemed to mix itself up at times with being a travelogue. The first part of the book I really enjoyed, it bring the hilarious description of life with his bizarre family. You would be hard pressed to make up odder situations than what seemed part of his daily childhood. What choice did he have but to accept it all with equanimity yet perhaps that is what set him on a life of travel away from England. Then there was an era with his wife who was not really a wife. The book seemed to bog down in the middle with interminable war stories that mostly featured in Algeria or was it Tunisia. I kept putting the book down. They seemed to be an indictment of the British hierarchy and idiocy in Northern Africa during WWII along with the French treatment of the locals and the locals' treatment of themselves ...some of it sickenly inhumane and some of it wryly amusing. Switch to the invasion of Italy and then his returning with family much later to live among Etruscan ruins. The picture he paints of the locals there was hard to take with their brutal disregard for the environment and migrating birds. I won't go into detail here but it was quite upsetting from a modern perspective. And then it just ended back in the UK. While I learned a few interesting facts, got some new insights into a number of cultures and enjoyed his description of the Wales of his childhood, I can't say I am glad I read this book. There were some bits that I wish I had not learned about and I can't say that I came away with a happy view of prewar Wales, parts of the north African campaign or postwar Italy. Along the way, I lost some respect.
March 30, 2018
I downloaded this because it described him as a travel writer, and told of all the places he had lived in and written about. This one is (as the subtitle says) an autobiography and covers quite a lot of territory, from his very odd childhood in Wales and England, to his equally odd marriage to the daughter of a Sicilian couple living in London, to his time in the Intelligence Corps during WWII, to a short period living in Italy with his second wife and children. Together it made a rather odd compilation, but each portion was fascinating.
March 17, 2022
An enjoyable read!
Norman Lewis had a not very enjoyable upbringing in Wales but went on to become a celebrated novelist & Travel writer.
This is the first part of his autobiographies taking him from childhood to the end of the second world war and writing "Naples'44".
He led and unusual life meeting many colourful individuals and he writs his adventures with flair and humour.
Norman Lewis had a not very enjoyable upbringing in Wales but went on to become a celebrated novelist & Travel writer.
This is the first part of his autobiographies taking him from childhood to the end of the second world war and writing "Naples'44".
He led and unusual life meeting many colourful individuals and he writs his adventures with flair and humour.
September 3, 2017
Memoir of the author's life through about 1965. Not as detailed about some periods, as he covered those in-depth in other books, e.g., "Naples '44.". Very interesting about North Africa in 1942, Italy in the 1960s. Overall, quite good.
August 1, 2025
Extensive, and sometimes very intimate record of the author's life, who sought adventure, and found it in spades. Wonderful prose, and a pleasure to read,
August 4, 2025
What an enchanting book, now to read more by Lewis, previously having read only his book on Naples at the end of the War.
August 11, 2024
Memories from being part of an eccentric and dis functional family to the 2nd World war are played out in book.
January 24, 2021
What a marvellous man Norman Lewis must have been. This 'autobiography' opens with Lewis as a young boy spending an extended holiday with his very odd aunts in Carmarthen - Polly, Anne & Li, each one in the grip of madness imagined and real. Then his parents - healers and soothsayers, devoted members of the Spiritualist Movement, frequent holders of seances in their home in Enfield. His parents-in-law - once Lewis embarks on a rather odd but intriguing marriage to Ernestina - the Cordajas, wildly eccentric, Sicilian, moored unfathomably miles from home in Gordon Street in Bloomsbury. To Cuba and then to war.
Lewis writes with an extraordinary lightness of touch. Whether he is describing the inadvertent comedy of his parents and in-laws meeting in Bloomsbury or the French appalling treatment of Arabs in Algeria, he does so in deadpan manner. This is an utterly enchanting meander through the great travel writer's past - as a self-styled autobiography perhaps not perfectly balanced but as a memoir, particularly of his pre-war life, delightful.
Lewis writes with an extraordinary lightness of touch. Whether he is describing the inadvertent comedy of his parents and in-laws meeting in Bloomsbury or the French appalling treatment of Arabs in Algeria, he does so in deadpan manner. This is an utterly enchanting meander through the great travel writer's past - as a self-styled autobiography perhaps not perfectly balanced but as a memoir, particularly of his pre-war life, delightful.
Read
October 20, 2016An intriguing book with such flowing descriptive language. What a life he had, and he only opened up a few areas. His childhood with his crazy aunts in Wales, then years back with his Spiritualist family in Enfield, the early years of his marriage and tumultuous time with his Sicilian wife Ernestina, war years in Nth Africa in the Intelligence Corps, and finally a period with his family in Italy.
Graham Greene had "no hesitation in calling him one of the best writers, not of any particular decade, but of our century".
When I started reading my next book club assignment, it seemed so flat, no life in the prose ...
This was a gem of a book to pick up in an op shop.
Graham Greene had "no hesitation in calling him one of the best writers, not of any particular decade, but of our century".
When I started reading my next book club assignment, it seemed so flat, no life in the prose ...
This was a gem of a book to pick up in an op shop.
February 9, 2010
some parts were so fascinating I couldn't put it down, especially the beginning about his childhood in Wales. But the whole book suffered from an emotional vacancy -- I never felt like he was being honest about his thoughts and emotions.
Read
October 29, 2010Having bought this online thinking it was a book I hadn't read, I was quite annoyed to discover that it is in fact the excellent Jackdaw Cake, which I already own, with a new title. Big black mark to Picador.
March 8, 2011
Lewis is always dry, unobrtusive and deceptively clever. This autobiography is typical.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews