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Cider with Rosie–An Exquisite Memoir

By Anita Mathias

Cider with Rosie (Essential Penguin)

I am in the second or third draft of my own memoir, and have finally solved the problem of structure, I believe.I love the structure of Laurie Lee’s memoir.I have loved Cider with Rosie for well over a decade. Laurie Lee’s writing is so exquisite, so perfect, it almost makes me want to cry with pleasure. He writes of his mother, of her invincible childlike gaiety and good nature, a kind, noble soul, betrayed and abandoned by the husband who was the love of her life, whose sudden death tilted her over into dementia, “Her flowers and songs, her unshaken fidelities, her attempts at order, her relapses into squalor, her near madness, her crying for light, her almost daily weeping for her dead child-daughter, her frisks and gaieties, her fits of screams, her love of man, her hysterical rages, her justice towards each of us children – all these rode my Mother and sat on her shoulders like a roosting of ravens and doves.”

Rilke writes to a young poet, “If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.” Lee’s childhood was provincial, disadvantaged, poor. There was no Eton-Oxford hothouse, no indication that he should or would become a writer. Yet become one he did.

His childhood was lacking in the events which might provide a biographer’s chapters, unlike say Thomas Merton’s or Vladimir Nabokov’s, (two writers I’ve reviewed on this blog.) He therefore constructs his memoir as self-contained essays. “First Light,” setting the scene in his cottage in Gloucestershire, “First Names,” describing his family, and the characters of his village; “The Kitchen,” “Village School,” a mediocre one, full of eccentric teachers; “Public Death, Private Murder,” of a murder of a bragging Kiwi, over which the entire village was complicit, and silent; Seasons, Relatives, Sex.

All the staples of memoir–but irradiated and backlit by prose which, as Walter Pater says is true of all art, “aspires to the condition of poetry”. Never to be forgotten, that first long secret drink of golden fire, juice of those valleys and of that time, wine of wild orchards, of russet summer, of plump red apples, and Rosie’s burning cheeks. Never to be forgotten, or ever tasted again… The old people in his village are “ – white-whiskered, gaitered, booted and bonneted, ancient-tongued last of their world, who thee’d and thou’d both man and beast, called young girls ‘damsels’, young boys ‘squires’, old men ‘masters’, the Squire himself ‘He’ and who remembered the Birdlip stagecoach, Kicker Harris the old coachman…”

I have read it a couple of times, and listened to it read by Laurie Lee himself a couple of times. I would highly recommend the audio version. What Laurie heard in his head as he wrote Cider with Rosie was music, the music spoken with a soft Gloucestershire burr, and the listening to the roll of his sonorous cadences is delightful.

 

Filed Under: In which I celebrate books and film and art Tagged With: Cider with Rosie, Laurie Lee, memoir

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Premier Digital Awards 2015 - Finalist - Blogger of the year
Runner Up Christian Media Awards 2014 - Tweeter of the year

Recent Posts

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anita.mathias

Writer, Blogger, Reader, Mum. Christian. Instaing Oxford, travel, gardens and healthy meals. Oxford English alum. Writing memoir. Lives in Oxford, UK

Instagram post 2187417055488451246_1686032450 My day: admiring a Christmas cactus that my friend Judy gave me last year, photographing winter trees from the bedroom window, lunch with Danny, coffee and food with Irene at Brown’s. Some reading, some writing, some weights, a good day.
I am trying to get back into weight-lifting. It reminds me that life is probably designed to have hard, challenging and difficult stuff to keep us strong. Muscle not used simply disappears. The body reabsorbs it! Muscle used paradoxically gets stronger and makes the tasks of our days and lives so much easier. So here’s to a spot of weights, and breathing in and out through them and life’s seasons, challenges and joys... so help us, God
Instagram post 2186714755975443652_1686032450 A sunny day in Porto and Coimbra.
Now back home, back to Yoga classes and the like.
I find if I get a spot up front near the instructor and next to someone accomplished, and follow them as bravely and gaspingly as I can, I get a thorough workout, totally break a sweat, do things I was certain I could not do, and get so much stronger in the process.
A bit like following Christ. Read what he said, take a deep breath and do it as exactly as you can, and you will slowly find yourself becoming a little bit stronger, wiser and yes, happier! My thought for the day 🙂
#porto #portugal #ilovetravel #happiness
Instagram post 2185957583540871908_1686032450 Images from our week in Porto.
Both my grandmothers, for as long as I knew them, were homebodies, spending their days in just one or two rooms.
I love travel, and excitement, and living as big and expansive life as I can.
But I too spend several hours every day in a quiet room, reading, writing, thinking, praying... And in the quiet room, one can interact the best thoughts of men and women down the ages, and more with infinity.. God, The sweet Spirit, The Lord Christ. #porto #portugal #travel #novembersun #marriage #marriedlife #beaches #portoribeira #fun
Instagram post 2180132061531496763_1686032450 Images from the Ashmolean Museum’s exhibition in Pompeii, death suddenly arriving in the middle of hectic life. Leaving in its aftermath particularly fertile volcanic soil.
When we become stuck in bitterness, when we recount the same sad story, again and again, in our own minds and to others... we forget that EVERY death has the potential for resurrection.
Have you suffered financial loss, financial injustice, completely untrue slander, deep sadness, failure? I have. Many humans have.
Give it to God. Give it to God of resurrection. Ask him to bring beauty from those sad, dead things.
The soil in the aftermath of a volcanic explosion is particularly fertile.
God can bring new life and beauty from dead things.
He calls out to sad hearts, "Come alive. Come alive!" #pompeii # Ashmolean
Instagram post 2175440736861042753_1686032450 Thoughts on avoiding the holes we habitually fall into, and BELATED images from one of my favourite active holidays https://anitamathias.com/2019/11/11/an-autobiography-in-five-chapters-and-avoiding-habitual-holes/
Instagram post 2156925313647782363_1686032450 I am inspired and moved by the story of Dirk Willems, a hero of the Reformation who lost his life to save his enemy, and have written a little book about him. 
It's on http://Amazon.co.uk  https://amzn.to/2Bk9Shl  and on http://Amazon.com  https://amzn.to/2VQOSYN 
Please do consider reading it & reviewing it. I would be immensely grateful.  Thank you!
Instagram post 2156141167803371501_1686032450 Okay, an unabashed Latergram on our first day in Iceland in Thingvellir National Park. Isn’t it dramatic.  And a short blog  https://anitamathias.com/2019/10/16/on-checking-in-before-you-fly/ #thingvellirnationalpark #iceland #travel #beauty #joy #adventure #life
Instagram post 2148813562469383835_1686032450 Family walks in assorted parks and gardens.  On my new spiritual discipline of Bible-walking, listening to and engaging with Scripture on the hoof.  https://anitamathias.com/2019/10/06/the-spiritual-practice-of-bible-walking/ #walkingandpraying #walkingwiththeword #biblewalking #walkingwiththelord
Instagram post 2134504882437551900_1686032450 I am in New York for a couple of weeks, for my niece Kristina’s wedding. We are having an amazing time, and I have taken a zillion pictures, and it is hot. So here’s a #latergram album from our trip to cool Iceland last month.  I have also blogged on experiencing deep peace in times of political turmoil.
https://anitamathias.com/2019/09/17/deep-peace-in-times-of-political-turmoil/  #iceland  #ringroad #icebergs #glaciers #glaciallagoon #beauty
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