Scan barcode
yeahdeadslow's review against another edition
5.0
Utterly fascinating! I fully enjoyed reading Jessica's insights into her eccentric but oppressive family life. I also loved reading about she and Esmond's incredible antics as their "conspiracy of two against the world".
raeofsunlight's review against another edition
4.0
My journey into Mitford Land began, as I’m sure almost everyone’s does, reading Nancy’s delightful books, Love in a Cold Climate and In Pursuit of Love. I read them about ten years ago and was left with memories of eccentric aristocracy and children living in vast, cold mansions, spending all their time in airing cupboards.
It was in anticipation of more of the same that I began what turned into a Mitford-focused October, with Lovell’s biography of the Mitford sisters. Early on Lovell said she would not go into detail about the ‘famous’ childhood stories of the Mitfords as these could be read about in Hons and Rebels, so I quickly switched books.
What I found was not at all what I expected. Jessica’s biography is of her early life - taking us up to her mid-20s - but it does not look back with rose-tinted glasses on a jolly aristocratic upbringing. I was shocked at what a dysfunctional family the Mitfords were, how strong bonds of love and hate tie the sisters together through their unusually eventful lives. Particularly powerful for me was Jessica’s frustration and anger at the sisters being refused a proper education because they were girls. It’s bizarre to think how drastically the UK has changes in 100 years. It also makes me wonder what a more conventional education (by modern standards - by all I’ve read the home education they received was conventional for the time) might have done for the Mitford girls. Would they have been more moderate in their politics and passions? Or would they have gone even further than they did? Between them, the six sisters sweep the political spectrum of twentieth century politics, and they are a fascinating lens through which to view the years of the 1930s and 40s.
Jessica writes in a style which reflects her upbringing: she is often funny, but you get the sense her humour is used as a barrier of protection in what was clearly an extremely traumatic early life. Her short, factual descriptions of loss were easily as moving as pages of emotional writing writing would have been, for her grief breathes strong behind her simple words.
It was great to read the history from Jessica’s perspective, especially as I found Lovell’s biography to be weighted in favour of the fascist sisters and comparatively against communist Decca (as Jessica was always called). I thought Jessica, for all that her autobiography is doubtless full of the flaws of memory and a self-centred perspective on personal history, presents herself in an honest light. She reflects on how selfish and ungrateful she had been as a teenager and, though a passionate communist for much of her life, she doesn’t underestimate the role boredom played in her big life decisions.
However, Jessica was first and foremost a journalist and there is a sense here of reading a journalistic examination of a life which simply happens to be her own, rather than really allowing us into her lived experiences.
Nonetheless, I recommend Hons and Rebels as a nice ‘in’ to the extraordinary lives of the Mitfords sisters. They may have felt bored but they were certainly never boring, and Jessica’s biography is a gripping and moving account which covers what are in my opinion the most interesting years of the Mitfords’ lives: those leading up to and during the Second World War.
It was in anticipation of more of the same that I began what turned into a Mitford-focused October, with Lovell’s biography of the Mitford sisters. Early on Lovell said she would not go into detail about the ‘famous’ childhood stories of the Mitfords as these could be read about in Hons and Rebels, so I quickly switched books.
What I found was not at all what I expected. Jessica’s biography is of her early life - taking us up to her mid-20s - but it does not look back with rose-tinted glasses on a jolly aristocratic upbringing. I was shocked at what a dysfunctional family the Mitfords were, how strong bonds of love and hate tie the sisters together through their unusually eventful lives. Particularly powerful for me was Jessica’s frustration and anger at the sisters being refused a proper education because they were girls. It’s bizarre to think how drastically the UK has changes in 100 years. It also makes me wonder what a more conventional education (by modern standards - by all I’ve read the home education they received was conventional for the time) might have done for the Mitford girls. Would they have been more moderate in their politics and passions? Or would they have gone even further than they did? Between them, the six sisters sweep the political spectrum of twentieth century politics, and they are a fascinating lens through which to view the years of the 1930s and 40s.
Jessica writes in a style which reflects her upbringing: she is often funny, but you get the sense her humour is used as a barrier of protection in what was clearly an extremely traumatic early life. Her short, factual descriptions of loss were easily as moving as pages of emotional writing writing would have been, for her grief breathes strong behind her simple words.
It was great to read the history from Jessica’s perspective, especially as I found Lovell’s biography to be weighted in favour of the fascist sisters and comparatively against communist Decca (as Jessica was always called). I thought Jessica, for all that her autobiography is doubtless full of the flaws of memory and a self-centred perspective on personal history, presents herself in an honest light. She reflects on how selfish and ungrateful she had been as a teenager and, though a passionate communist for much of her life, she doesn’t underestimate the role boredom played in her big life decisions.
However, Jessica was first and foremost a journalist and there is a sense here of reading a journalistic examination of a life which simply happens to be her own, rather than really allowing us into her lived experiences.
Nonetheless, I recommend Hons and Rebels as a nice ‘in’ to the extraordinary lives of the Mitfords sisters. They may have felt bored but they were certainly never boring, and Jessica’s biography is a gripping and moving account which covers what are in my opinion the most interesting years of the Mitfords’ lives: those leading up to and during the Second World War.
paulina_b's review against another edition
5.0
I read Hons and Rebels straight through in two days, it was that good. Jessica Mitford’s coming of age and her adventures in Europe and America in the 1930s with Esmond were so interesting. They were a charismatic and hopeful young British couple eager to see the world and to contribute good to it. It is inspiring to read about people who have dreams and convictions and then take risks and work hard to achieve something. Mitford’s writing style made me empathize quickly with her experiences during this tumultuous and unique time in history.
expendablemudge's review against another edition
4.0
Rating: 4.25* of five
I fastened on this at a liberry sale I went to recently, remembering that some fellow LTer was on a Mitford Girls kick. I was inspired to buy it by its ten cent price and also its ghastly, 60s-Penguin "artwork" cover. I like that it says "3/6" for a price, so exotic and incomprehensible. And also, The American Way of Death made a **huge** impression on me as a boy, so I wanted to know more about Miss Mitford.
Oh, the joys of being in a master's hands. Mitford dashes off, apparently effortlessly, sketches of her bizarre family, never straying into hatefulness even where antipathy exists. Her completely unconventional upbringing wuth a mother who refused to vaccinate her (a decision with a horrible, tragic cost later: Mitford contracted measles and gave them to her newborn daughter, who died as a result), contending that "the Good Body" knew its stuff, and a father whose major occupations appear to have been shouting and stomping and campaigning for Conservative politicians. Her wildly disparate sisters, novelist Nancy as the eldest and the most remote from Jessica; Diana, the great beauty and future Fascist; and Unity, the tragic figure of the family, a giant Valkyrie (ironically enough, this is also her middle name!) with an outsized personality to match, whose horrible fate was to try unsuccessfully to kill herself when her beloved Nazi Germany made war on her homeland. (The other sisters, Pam and Deborah, pretty much don't figure into Jessica's life, and her brother Tom was so much older he was more of a visiting uncle.)
So Jessica tells us the tale of someone born into privilege, luxury, and uselessness, who finds all of these qualities completely intolerable and who cannot, cannot, cannot endure the idea of the life that is laid out before her. She doesn't know what she believes, but she's sure it's not what her family believes.
I fell in love with her right then and there. I felt the same way. Jesus, racism, and conservative politics made me nauseated, as they did my eldest sister.
So Jessica Mitford, Girl Rebel, looks for a way out: Her cousin Esmond, a professional rebel with a published book and a troublemaking newspaper founded and run before he was 16, fit the bill. She spends a year finagling an introduction to him, suprisingly difficult because she's so sheltered and he's so disreputable; but once it happens, it was the proverbial match to gas!
I adored Esmond as much as Jessica did, and I adored Jessica as much as Esmond did. I cried when they lost their first daughter so unnecessarily; I cheered when they got to own that bar in Miami; I sat numbed by the enormity of Jessica's loss when Esmond died when he was 23, fighting against the Fascists he'd hated all his life, whether Spanish, English, or German.
I am so glad that I finally read this book that's as old as I am, being published in 1960. (My copy isn't that old, it dates from 1962.) It's very instructive to be reminded that youth isn't necessarily wasted on the young.
If you take my advice, you'll read it to experience the joys and sorrows of youth one more time, from a safe distance; but the stakes remain high, because the storyteller is so talented.
I fastened on this at a liberry sale I went to recently, remembering that some fellow LTer was on a Mitford Girls kick. I was inspired to buy it by its ten cent price and also its ghastly, 60s-Penguin "artwork" cover. I like that it says "3/6" for a price, so exotic and incomprehensible. And also, The American Way of Death made a **huge** impression on me as a boy, so I wanted to know more about Miss Mitford.
Oh, the joys of being in a master's hands. Mitford dashes off, apparently effortlessly, sketches of her bizarre family, never straying into hatefulness even where antipathy exists. Her completely unconventional upbringing wuth a mother who refused to vaccinate her (a decision with a horrible, tragic cost later: Mitford contracted measles and gave them to her newborn daughter, who died as a result), contending that "the Good Body" knew its stuff, and a father whose major occupations appear to have been shouting and stomping and campaigning for Conservative politicians. Her wildly disparate sisters, novelist Nancy as the eldest and the most remote from Jessica; Diana, the great beauty and future Fascist; and Unity, the tragic figure of the family, a giant Valkyrie (ironically enough, this is also her middle name!) with an outsized personality to match, whose horrible fate was to try unsuccessfully to kill herself when her beloved Nazi Germany made war on her homeland. (The other sisters, Pam and Deborah, pretty much don't figure into Jessica's life, and her brother Tom was so much older he was more of a visiting uncle.)
So Jessica tells us the tale of someone born into privilege, luxury, and uselessness, who finds all of these qualities completely intolerable and who cannot, cannot, cannot endure the idea of the life that is laid out before her. She doesn't know what she believes, but she's sure it's not what her family believes.
I fell in love with her right then and there. I felt the same way. Jesus, racism, and conservative politics made me nauseated, as they did my eldest sister.
So Jessica Mitford, Girl Rebel, looks for a way out: Her cousin Esmond, a professional rebel with a published book and a troublemaking newspaper founded and run before he was 16, fit the bill. She spends a year finagling an introduction to him, suprisingly difficult because she's so sheltered and he's so disreputable; but once it happens, it was the proverbial match to gas!
I adored Esmond as much as Jessica did, and I adored Jessica as much as Esmond did. I cried when they lost their first daughter so unnecessarily; I cheered when they got to own that bar in Miami; I sat numbed by the enormity of Jessica's loss when Esmond died when he was 23, fighting against the Fascists he'd hated all his life, whether Spanish, English, or German.
I am so glad that I finally read this book that's as old as I am, being published in 1960. (My copy isn't that old, it dates from 1962.) It's very instructive to be reminded that youth isn't necessarily wasted on the young.
If you take my advice, you'll read it to experience the joys and sorrows of youth one more time, from a safe distance; but the stakes remain high, because the storyteller is so talented.
funktious's review against another edition
4.0
Very readable and enjoyable, Decca is definitely my favourite Mitford now.
manogirl's review against another edition
4.0
The Mitfords are fascinating. The nicknames, the upbringing, the places they all ended up (a duchess! A commie! A fascist! A lesbian! A well-known writer! And Diana.), the people they knew...the people they married...
Anyway, hearing it from the horse's mouth is the way to go. I'm going to have to read some of Nancy's novels next.
Anyway, hearing it from the horse's mouth is the way to go. I'm going to have to read some of Nancy's novels next.
More...