Diana Athill was born in 1917, assisted André Deutsch in establishing his British publishing firm and worked as an editor with some of the most important writers of the 20th century for five decades. In other memoirs, she has written about her career, her love life and friendships; in Yesterday Morning, she recalls her childhood in Norfolk.
And a magical childhood it was, replete with pony rides, indoor and outdoor games, chores and rather desultory schooling during visits to or long stays at the House, Diana's grandparents' stately home. There was always a random sample of cousins in residence, having been left there while their parents went off to some assignment in a foreign country. "The most important thing about the place, for us children, was its feeling of permanence," Athill writes. "We did not feel deprived of entertainment.... We got our kicks from what was at hand: reading, riding, picnics, swimming in the icy North Sea, dances, acting in our own plays."
This candid memoir recalls the halcyon days of the English countryside in the 1920s. Athill is straightforward in her reminiscences, treating her readers to what she valued (or did not) as a young child. One thing that was unforgivable was being "silly," the most pejorative thing that could be said about someone's actions. This was to be avoided at all costs; never let an adult accuse you of being "silly." Among the children, the accusatory word and concept was "pubbiness." "A pubby person was a person we despised: fat, soft, silly, scared."
She recounts her parents' marriage becoming unhappy and the rows that gave her stomachaches, her mother's affair, the parade of nannies and the everydayness of a child's life when she is privileged and cosseted but still given the freedom to discover what is important to her.
Yesterday Morning is conversational, intimate and explanatory without being so self-referential as to be cloying. At 94, Athill says, "something I like about old age is that you can so easily let your mind drift. The present no longer contains much that demands concentrated thought: no more love affairs, no more work excitements or problems, no more (or very little) planning of entertainment or travel.... What an old person is... is a mobile reservoir of experience." We are lucky indeed to be able to draw from that reservoir. --Valerie Ryan
Shelf Talker: Diana Athill takes us on a beautifully written, thoroughly enjoyable trip to another time, another life.