Enid Bagnold's Autobiography

by Enid Bagnold

1970 corrected reprint, tanned, clipped, marked and worn dust jacket has short tears to the edges, some marking to tanned page edges. Shipped from the U.K. All orders received before 3pm sent that weekday.

Genres: Memoir

382 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1969

About the author

British writer of novels and plays, best known for National Velvet and The Chalk Garden.

For more information, please see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enid_Bag...

Reviews

[Patricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book and its author. At first I wondered why I had it on my bookshelf. Enid Bagnold was barely on my radar. When I opened it up I saw that it was marked $3. I must have picked it up at some sale when I couldn't resist the bargain. I started reading tentatively but was won over by the end of the first page.

Bagnold was born in 1889 and in her teens and twenties was part of that bohemian art community that existed in Edwardian London before the war, Frank Harris and Walter de la Mare and all that world. When she was nearly 30 and believing herself to be on the shelf she married the much older and wealthier Sir Roderick Jones, chairman of Reuters . And her life changed.

When her future husband sent her off to furnish their new accommodation with instructions that the dining room table needed to be able to seat 30 she remembered the strange feeling of dislocation of her two worlds.

She is quite prepared to tell stories against herself. As an art student she modelled for a fellow sculptor and he gave her the bust he produced. The sculptor was killed in the war but his genius was recognised later and much later Bagnold (now Lady Jones) thought she would donate the bust to the newly opened Tate Gallery. At a function she saw one of the directors of the Tate in conversation with someone. She waited until the conversation seemed to be over and approached the Tate director and began, 'Excuse me Sir . . .' He swung around to her and said 'Madam, can't you see I am in a private conversation. Please leave me alone.' She adds wryly, 'Needless to say the Tate didn't get the bust.'

I have lent my copy of the book to someone and haven't got it back so I haven't been able to check details like the name of the sculptor or the Tate director but I'd like to share her wise words on living with a dog. They went something like this.
After you get a new dog it takes about 3 years for you both to bond. And after that it is a precious and close relationship. You even share the same sense of humour. Sometimes it doesn't happen and in that case you just have a dog and that's pretty good too. I was happy with My Autobiography. I didn't feel any pressing need to read any of Bagnold's novels or plays but I liked her and found her life interesting.

[Oolookitty · Rating 4 out of 5]

I loved the stories that she would tell about the development of her plays as they went into production, especially with Irene Mayer Selznick for “The Chalk Garden.” And, later, with the problems that arise when actors/directors have a different view of her plays, and different interpretations, than she does.

Some reviews had talked about “name-dropping.” However, she spent her life around a lot of very famous people. Is she just supposed to leave them out because some people might think it’s elitist?

[DrMama · Rating 4 out of 5]

Divinely gossipy and self-centred, but a wonderful slice of the period from someone who either knew everyone, or got to know them. The Bloomsbury Group rather looked down on her - so that's a good enough reason to read the work. However, it is fascinating - if partial - account of the period, especially the war years with her experiences as a VAD etc.. I found it particularly interesting as an 'onlooker's' account of so many people who were either famous, or became well-known later in life - if only via their advantageous marriages. I'm not wild about her fiction, although 'The Squire' is okay, but this work was an excellent insight in to a period I'm writing about.

[Val H. · Rating 5 out of 5]

2023 is my year for reading poetry, children's books and re-visiting books I have loved in years gone by. Edith Bagnold's autobiography falls into the latter category. I cannot remember when I read it or why but I know it made an impression on me. When it comes to a choice between biography and autobiography I will nearly always plump for the former. I prefer a more balanced view and some authors seem to get bogged down in what they deem to be interesting when writing of their own lives (yes, that's you John Huston, Jessie Matthews, Laurence Olivier and many more). I can think of only a handful of autobiographies that have left an impression of me - This Life by Sidney Poitier, Sylvia Brooke's Queen of the Head Hunters and Noel Streatfeild's A Vicarage Family. Many people will only remember Enid Bagnold (if they remember her at all) as the author of National Velvet but she would probably prefer she was remembered as a playwright (The Chalk Garden). Her Wiki entry will tell you more about her than I need to repeat but she came from a relatively privileged background and mixed in very bohemian and artistic circles before marrying (aged 30), the head (and owner) of Reuters news agency. If I had met her would I have liked her? Possibly not. She was by turns shy, frank, opinionated, snobbish and I am sure Anna Sebba's biography of her might paint a different picture, possibly with even more negative traits. BUT, and it's a big but, she writes gloriously well and she lived through the most interesting times and met the most interesting people. And she is very frank about her own shortcomings. I can forgive her a lot. Highly recommended!

[Fiona]

Enid Bagnold is the author of National Velvet. So, I thought her autobiography would be interesting. NOT!

She was born in 1889 and this is her story. I felt like she pulled out her diary and wrote this autobiography to include everyone she had met in her life. The names meant nothing to me.

There was a description of her relationship to her younger brother which I liked because it's the same relationship I have with my brother. We both have a younger brother with a 6 year gap in age.
"I was twelve & at school when he was six. I was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, when he was fourteen. We came together in later life (and now), but we don't remember, in childhood the same things. How much there would have been to say and confide and laugh about if when I was twenty he had been seventeen."

[Jane · Rating 3 out of 5]

Charming, but I bogged down. Maybe later . . .

[Richard · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very candid, and interesting.