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Two Under the Indian Sun
In November 1914 two small sisters, Jon and Rumer Godden, returned to India. They had spent a year in London being "brought up" by austere aunts, but now the zeppelins were expected, and so they were summoned back to their home in East Bengal. Jon was only seven and a half and Rumer six.
"Two Under the Indian Sun", a unique collaboration, is a remembrance of the five years that followed, in the village of Narayangunj--where their father worked as a steamship agent--on a bustling river that feeds the great Brahmaputra. It is an evocation of a few years that will always be timeless for these two, and it is as true an account as memory can accomplish. India, for them, was sun-baked dust between their toes, colored robes in the market place, the chanting of coolies, the deep hoot of steamers on the river, and the smells of thorn trees, mustard, and coconut oil: smells redolent of the sun.
India was also people, people of every kind, each different from the other and bringing a trail of other differences, of place, custom, religion, even of skin. It was not an ordinary life for young girls, and later they agreed that it might have been better had they been raised in the simplicity of their Quaker forbears. "Better," Jon was to say, "but not nearly as interesting."
Above all, those five years were "a time when everything was clear: each thing was itself: joy was joy, hope was hope, fear and sorrow were fear and sorrow." Jon and Rumer have written of that time with a single voice, perhaps because during those years the two sisters grew so close that "between them was a passing of thought, of feeling, of knowing without any need for words."
[From the front inside jacket.]
"Two Under the Indian Sun", a unique collaboration, is a remembrance of the five years that followed, in the village of Narayangunj--where their father worked as a steamship agent--on a bustling river that feeds the great Brahmaputra. It is an evocation of a few years that will always be timeless for these two, and it is as true an account as memory can accomplish. India, for them, was sun-baked dust between their toes, colored robes in the market place, the chanting of coolies, the deep hoot of steamers on the river, and the smells of thorn trees, mustard, and coconut oil: smells redolent of the sun.
India was also people, people of every kind, each different from the other and bringing a trail of other differences, of place, custom, religion, even of skin. It was not an ordinary life for young girls, and later they agreed that it might have been better had they been raised in the simplicity of their Quaker forbears. "Better," Jon was to say, "but not nearly as interesting."
Above all, those five years were "a time when everything was clear: each thing was itself: joy was joy, hope was hope, fear and sorrow were fear and sorrow." Jon and Rumer have written of that time with a single voice, perhaps because during those years the two sisters grew so close that "between them was a passing of thought, of feeling, of knowing without any need for words."
[From the front inside jacket.]
196 pages, Hardcover
First published August 1, 1966
12 people are currently reading
970 people want to read
About the author
Jon Godden
26 books13 followersWinsome Ruth Key Godden was an English novelist who wrote under the name Jon Godden. She is the lesser known sister of author Rumer Godden. Although her work was praised by critics she was not interested in the commercial side of writing as she had a financially stable marriage. She spent most of her life in India; however when her marriage came to an end in 1957, she was forced to move back to family owned real estate in England where she remained until her death.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 65 reviews
August 5, 2019
An evocative autobiography of two sisters childhood in India, one of whom became a very successful author. The matter of fact way that such dangers as Black Mambas, cobras, disease, rabid dogs, foodbourne illnesses, death and poverty were handled was refreshing, compared to today when everything in this country is a reason for teeth gnashing and lawsuits. After returning to England for boarding schools in their teens, both sisters returned to India to live as adults. The beauty of the country outshone it's dangers. Very enjoyable read.
August 14, 2019
Joy. Joy amidst 1000 pitfalls and physical mountains to climb for the childhood years between 7 to 12. Northern India (now Pakistan) for a colonial English river steamer agent's family. Others have said it better in their reviews. It's about the bliss of exploring in a marvelous maze of 1000 colors and forms within immense dangers and "non-safety"- yet in a nearly unimaginable (now for 2019) freedom. The former school of all common sense childhood times 10. Mine was similar yet far colder- and I have the frost bite scars to prove it too, as I would ice skate in the park retention pond until I was literally blue. (There was also a huge 1 x 2 mile square area where they ditched all the dirt and stone from building the Dan Ryan Expressway/ Chicago that we used to call "our jungle". We had mountains, dumped dirt piled to 4 or 5 story heights were perfect for "king of the mountain" and real, true quicksand bogs in spring months too. I am not exaggerating- because two of us girls saved a 9 year old boy's life once- using limbs to drag him out. We did NOT rescue his pants or his shoes. He lived right next door to me and did he get IN TROUBLE for losing those shoes.)
Having read all of Rumer Godden's fiction books, I knew of her family and background. But having the mean and often wild eyes of Jon in this- was central to another whole dynamic. It was for me.
Her train rides and boat trips to their summer "hills" locations! All the individuals' descriptions and job perimeters concerned so core to themselves in that caste system- just incredible "eyes" in this voice of Rumer- all around.
This book made me have a distinct and vibrant dream after reading. About a poignant and until now- maybe more than six decades later- nearly forgotten of a childhood game we played. It was much like their Iurki. Not climbing on a tall cabinet "mountain" but with blindfolds- just like that and in the dark. It was usually in closets or in crawl spaces or areas in the gangways where the garbage cans were kept. But we would think up concoctions for weeks and sneak kidneys or something organ based out of the refrigerator (and did we have those kinds of "treats") to use disguised as monster brains or some other roadkill kind of story fodder to pass along in the dark. Like the telephone game, but not verbal as much as tactile and with 10 or 12 participants all crammed together. One time my brother used boiled eggs without their shells and made them into eyeballs. All our games too were imagination and tale connected-very much like Rumer's. Many were dangerous. Like Rumer's. No tech, no organized children sports or clubs- at least 3 or 4 hours a day of pure "play" time and not much watched at all. The biggest rule was to be home before the street lights came on.
None of us knew much of any of the "adult" problems or conditions of any sort let alone heard things like E.D. commercials. We had our "own" world. Dozens and dozens of us- all together. Our kick the can marathons had to be limited to 20 and no one more than 2 years apart in age. Most of our families had between 5 and 15 kids each. This is the truth. The 1950's were spectacular for play, and polio and other dire ills among us- something all the "old people" worried about.
But Rumer's was filled with rabies shots, bears, 50 other diseases and all kinds of visuals that would be considered "trauma" fodder today. Like the dog and animal treatments, and the beggar children tied and contracted so that they became twisted cripples for beggar appeal.
Amazing story and the more than amazing people these children became! School of 1000 lessons, yet none of them were science or 50 other subjects that are considered "essential" now. Instead they learned life and the reality of nature.
Having read all of Rumer Godden's fiction books, I knew of her family and background. But having the mean and often wild eyes of Jon in this- was central to another whole dynamic. It was for me.
Her train rides and boat trips to their summer "hills" locations! All the individuals' descriptions and job perimeters concerned so core to themselves in that caste system- just incredible "eyes" in this voice of Rumer- all around.
This book made me have a distinct and vibrant dream after reading. About a poignant and until now- maybe more than six decades later- nearly forgotten of a childhood game we played. It was much like their Iurki. Not climbing on a tall cabinet "mountain" but with blindfolds- just like that and in the dark. It was usually in closets or in crawl spaces or areas in the gangways where the garbage cans were kept. But we would think up concoctions for weeks and sneak kidneys or something organ based out of the refrigerator (and did we have those kinds of "treats") to use disguised as monster brains or some other roadkill kind of story fodder to pass along in the dark. Like the telephone game, but not verbal as much as tactile and with 10 or 12 participants all crammed together. One time my brother used boiled eggs without their shells and made them into eyeballs. All our games too were imagination and tale connected-very much like Rumer's. Many were dangerous. Like Rumer's. No tech, no organized children sports or clubs- at least 3 or 4 hours a day of pure "play" time and not much watched at all. The biggest rule was to be home before the street lights came on.
None of us knew much of any of the "adult" problems or conditions of any sort let alone heard things like E.D. commercials. We had our "own" world. Dozens and dozens of us- all together. Our kick the can marathons had to be limited to 20 and no one more than 2 years apart in age. Most of our families had between 5 and 15 kids each. This is the truth. The 1950's were spectacular for play, and polio and other dire ills among us- something all the "old people" worried about.
But Rumer's was filled with rabies shots, bears, 50 other diseases and all kinds of visuals that would be considered "trauma" fodder today. Like the dog and animal treatments, and the beggar children tied and contracted so that they became twisted cripples for beggar appeal.
Amazing story and the more than amazing people these children became! School of 1000 lessons, yet none of them were science or 50 other subjects that are considered "essential" now. Instead they learned life and the reality of nature.
March 27, 2018
I cannot wait to travel to India at some point in the next few years, and was thus very much looking forward to deciding on my Indian book choice for my Around the World in 80 Books challenge. There were so many intriguing and tantalising-looking works of fiction which I could have chosen, but I decided to go with something a little more unusual, and picked up Two Under the Indian Sun by sisters Jon and Rumer Godden.
I have read quite a few of Rumer Godden's books, many of which have been reissued by Virago in the last few years, but I have never come across anything of Jon's before. I loved the idea of a collaborative memoir, particularly one which focuses almost exclusively upon their childhood, which was largely spent in India. Two Under the Indian Sun covers several years, in which the girls were taken back to their parents in East Bengal, now a part of Pakistan, after the outbreak of the First World War.
The girls had both lived in India as very small children, along with their two younger sisters, Nancy and Rose, but, as was the custom at the time, were sent to live with their grandmother and maiden aunts in London. In the meantime, their family, whose father works in India, had moved from their old home in Assam to the town of Narayangunj. When they arrived back in India, they realised that they had been homesick all along.
The girls' observations of the world around them are sometimes contrasted with their experiences of India as adults, and everything is consistently captured using the most beautiful prose: 'Early mornings seem more precious in India than anywhere else; it is not only the freshness before the heat, the colours muted by the light, the sparkle of dew; it is the time for cleansing and for prayer.' Highly vivid and sensual descriptions are given throughout of the girls' surroundings: 'Perhaps the thing we had missed more than anything else was the dust: the feel of the sunbaked Indian dust between sandals and bare toes; that and the smell. It was the honey smell of the fuzz-buzz flowers of thorn trees in the sun, and the smell of open drains and urine, of coconut oil on shining black human hair, of mustard cooking oil and the blue smoke from cowdung used as fuel; it was a smell redolent of the sun, more alive and vivid than anything in the West, to us the smell of India.'
The preface of Two Under the Indian Sun begins: 'This is not an autobiography as much as an evocation of a time that is gone, a few years that will always be timeless for us; an evocation that we hope is as truthful as memory can ever be.' Interestingly, although published several decades earlier, Jon and Rumer address many similar questions to those which Penelope Lively explores in her memoir of life in 1930s and 1940s Egypt, Oleander, Jacaranda. All three authors write about the reliability of memory, particularly those made in childhood.
Spreads of rather charming photographs have been included in Two Under the Indian Sun, and these complement the memoir wonderfully. The girls' relationship with one another is beautifully evoked; whilst they fight from time to time, they write that they 'were so close that between them was a passing of thought, of feeling, of knowing without any need for words.' The girls feel an overarching affinity for life in India, something else which is shared between them: 'Our house was English streaked with Indian, or Indian streaked with English. It might have been an uneasy hybrid but we were completely and happily at home.'
The voice which Jon and Rumer have created together feel fluid, and I loved the shifts between describing themselves as 'Jon and Rumer' and then 'we'. Whilst it can occasionally be described as dark, Two Under the Indian Sun is largely a charming memoir, filled with all kinds of quaint details, and told with a light and often funny collaborative voice. Their portrayal, despite those nods to the darkness which they know exists in their adoptive country, is largely an idyllic one. They enjoy having personal freedom in India, which is markedly different to the rather strict and proper conditions which they lived under in London: 'We were free of everyone and everything and, as hares take on the colour of their surroundings, we disappeared, each going our separate ways except during the period of Nana, when we were taken for a walk every morning.' Two Under the Indian Sun is a lovely and joyful book to read, offering a multilayered portrait of India at the beginning of the twentieth century.
I have read quite a few of Rumer Godden's books, many of which have been reissued by Virago in the last few years, but I have never come across anything of Jon's before. I loved the idea of a collaborative memoir, particularly one which focuses almost exclusively upon their childhood, which was largely spent in India. Two Under the Indian Sun covers several years, in which the girls were taken back to their parents in East Bengal, now a part of Pakistan, after the outbreak of the First World War.
The girls had both lived in India as very small children, along with their two younger sisters, Nancy and Rose, but, as was the custom at the time, were sent to live with their grandmother and maiden aunts in London. In the meantime, their family, whose father works in India, had moved from their old home in Assam to the town of Narayangunj. When they arrived back in India, they realised that they had been homesick all along.
The girls' observations of the world around them are sometimes contrasted with their experiences of India as adults, and everything is consistently captured using the most beautiful prose: 'Early mornings seem more precious in India than anywhere else; it is not only the freshness before the heat, the colours muted by the light, the sparkle of dew; it is the time for cleansing and for prayer.' Highly vivid and sensual descriptions are given throughout of the girls' surroundings: 'Perhaps the thing we had missed more than anything else was the dust: the feel of the sunbaked Indian dust between sandals and bare toes; that and the smell. It was the honey smell of the fuzz-buzz flowers of thorn trees in the sun, and the smell of open drains and urine, of coconut oil on shining black human hair, of mustard cooking oil and the blue smoke from cowdung used as fuel; it was a smell redolent of the sun, more alive and vivid than anything in the West, to us the smell of India.'
The preface of Two Under the Indian Sun begins: 'This is not an autobiography as much as an evocation of a time that is gone, a few years that will always be timeless for us; an evocation that we hope is as truthful as memory can ever be.' Interestingly, although published several decades earlier, Jon and Rumer address many similar questions to those which Penelope Lively explores in her memoir of life in 1930s and 1940s Egypt, Oleander, Jacaranda. All three authors write about the reliability of memory, particularly those made in childhood.
Spreads of rather charming photographs have been included in Two Under the Indian Sun, and these complement the memoir wonderfully. The girls' relationship with one another is beautifully evoked; whilst they fight from time to time, they write that they 'were so close that between them was a passing of thought, of feeling, of knowing without any need for words.' The girls feel an overarching affinity for life in India, something else which is shared between them: 'Our house was English streaked with Indian, or Indian streaked with English. It might have been an uneasy hybrid but we were completely and happily at home.'
The voice which Jon and Rumer have created together feel fluid, and I loved the shifts between describing themselves as 'Jon and Rumer' and then 'we'. Whilst it can occasionally be described as dark, Two Under the Indian Sun is largely a charming memoir, filled with all kinds of quaint details, and told with a light and often funny collaborative voice. Their portrayal, despite those nods to the darkness which they know exists in their adoptive country, is largely an idyllic one. They enjoy having personal freedom in India, which is markedly different to the rather strict and proper conditions which they lived under in London: 'We were free of everyone and everything and, as hares take on the colour of their surroundings, we disappeared, each going our separate ways except during the period of Nana, when we were taken for a walk every morning.' Two Under the Indian Sun is a lovely and joyful book to read, offering a multilayered portrait of India at the beginning of the twentieth century.
August 12, 2018
I've always been fascinated by India and books about it, and have read and loved several of Rumer Godden's books. This was my first time to know about her older sister Jon. They spent quite a unique childhood, and together created this memoir of a different time and place. An enjoyable series of highlights of their family life and its impact on their writing careers.
April 12, 2011
I adore well-written happy childhood narratives. The memories of youth are uncomplicated and touched with wonder and magic. If those happy childhoods were lived in the Bengal, India of 100 years ago, so much the better! This is one of the best memoirs I've read. It's co-written by two sisters whose father worked for a British steamer company in what is now part of Pakistan. Concise, precise, fascinating, funny, sad. I can't wait to forget it so I can savor it all over again.
Another excellent British expat childhood memoir is Elspeth Huxley's The Flame Trees of Thika. Her parents farmed in British East Africa 100 years ago and she, too, had an unconventional upbringing. Worth seeking out if you like this sort of thing.
Another excellent British expat childhood memoir is Elspeth Huxley's The Flame Trees of Thika. Her parents farmed in British East Africa 100 years ago and she, too, had an unconventional upbringing. Worth seeking out if you like this sort of thing.
June 21, 2014
This collaborative effort between two sisters who were both writers is as slow-moving as the Godden's beloved river, covering a mere five or six years in their lives. However, these were the formative years that shaped their personalities and helped to determine their futures. After a year "at Home" being educated by puritanical maiden aunts, they are shuttled back to India due to the outbreak of WW1--much to their delight.
Published when they were both established authors, the biography describes the nearly symbiotic relationship between two sisters who did everything together, until adolescence began to drive the thin edge of a wedge between them. The writing style is definitely Rumer's, and the reader can see where the kernels of thought later developed in many of her books had their beginnings. She reveals her very poor self-image in childhood, speaking of herself as "stupid little Rumer" and relating anecdotes of times when she blundered, sometimes hurting others, and "didn't like herself at all". She would run away and hide in a corner, only to realise no one would come looking for her; after awhile she'd have to come back to the family, realising her absence hadn't been noticed or worried about. She felt less talented, less attractive, less worthy than the siblings she felt were so much better than herself: talented, temperamental Jon, pretty Rose, Nancy who "could make friends with anyone". Her parents, the emotionally distant and often physically absent Fa (who would allow his daughters to use his spare fishing poles on holiday as long as they "didn't come into his sight before teatime") and busy Mam, were not much help. Rumer mentions that Mam could probably have helped her work through her self-dislike--if Rumer had ever brought it up. Mam was apparently not observant enough to notice her daughter's pain, and the stings went too deep to be verbalised. Anyone who has read her children's books, however, has seen the scenes of self-dislike and (sometimes) redemption played out with emotional truth.
Two Under the Indian Sun is like a family album of (often) happy childhood snaps, ending abruptly as the girls enter adolescence and begin to feel the power and confusion of puberty and crossing the threshold into young-womanhood.
Published when they were both established authors, the biography describes the nearly symbiotic relationship between two sisters who did everything together, until adolescence began to drive the thin edge of a wedge between them. The writing style is definitely Rumer's, and the reader can see where the kernels of thought later developed in many of her books had their beginnings. She reveals her very poor self-image in childhood, speaking of herself as "stupid little Rumer" and relating anecdotes of times when she blundered, sometimes hurting others, and "didn't like herself at all". She would run away and hide in a corner, only to realise no one would come looking for her; after awhile she'd have to come back to the family, realising her absence hadn't been noticed or worried about. She felt less talented, less attractive, less worthy than the siblings she felt were so much better than herself: talented, temperamental Jon, pretty Rose, Nancy who "could make friends with anyone". Her parents, the emotionally distant and often physically absent Fa (who would allow his daughters to use his spare fishing poles on holiday as long as they "didn't come into his sight before teatime") and busy Mam, were not much help. Rumer mentions that Mam could probably have helped her work through her self-dislike--if Rumer had ever brought it up. Mam was apparently not observant enough to notice her daughter's pain, and the stings went too deep to be verbalised. Anyone who has read her children's books, however, has seen the scenes of self-dislike and (sometimes) redemption played out with emotional truth.
Two Under the Indian Sun is like a family album of (often) happy childhood snaps, ending abruptly as the girls enter adolescence and begin to feel the power and confusion of puberty and crossing the threshold into young-womanhood.
October 30, 2019
this was so good and interesting and i LOVED all the bits about the various games they played - it's refreshingly less heavy handed with the imperialism than Kim or The Far Pavilions, but also the ending was so abrupt? I wonder why they decided to end on that note.
March 3, 2014
I first read Jon and Rumer Godden’s memoir of growing up in India when I was in high school. Two Under the Indian Sun is not the best book you’ll read—it’s a bit slow in the plot department and the gals have a privileged white perspective in British occupied India that can be frustrating—but the Godden sisters have such an incredible love for the country, it’s hard not to be warmed by their depictions. I’m not sure why I wanted to pick up this book again after so many years—perhaps it’s the cold, gray of a long winter this year or maybe the wish to relive a childhood in an exotic land. Whatever it was that drew me back to this book, I was treated to a beautiful vacation.
Jon and Rumer Godden lived in India during World War I with their father, a shipping agent for a British company, mother, aunt, and two younger sisters. There are also a slew of Indian servants who parade across the memoir, since, though the Goddens are an average middle-class family in England, in India, they live like royalty. This privilege amidst a rigid Indian caste system and the unhygienic, impoverished conditions of Narayanganj (a northern city in what is now Pakistan) can make the girls (they are a year apart and around twelve years old) seem incredibly oblivious, even snotty. One scene where the girls are walking through the bazaar begins with empathy as they imagine what it would be like to be a Hindu or a family living in a hut or a naked boy running through the street, but. . . “soon we grew tired of wondering; the bazaar was alluring yet as we passed the sergeant’s house and the thorn-tree field, we hurried. In a few minutes the gates rolled back to let us in.” The gates and high walls of their family home keep the Goddens very much separated from India. There are moments of awareness and acknowledgement of their environment and the differences between their status and others (I appreciated the contact between their Christian beliefs and the Muslim and Hindu religions of India, which were nicely drawn educational experiences for the girls), but overall the memoir is a collection of parties, gifts, and trips founded on the backs of Indian servants’ labor. And the sense of this Goddens' golden childhood, a product of a racist British empire, is probably why the book has not lasted as a “classic.”
The memoir, though, is a nice balance of describing the wonders and strangeness of India from an outsider’s and young girl’s perspective and the incredible commonness of growing up woes—sibling rivalry, testing parental authority, and finding first loves. The girls are primarily raised by Indian nannies and educated by their Auny Mary—“Fa” and “Mam” appear in the memoir to scold them; and, really, Fa is a cold, mostly absent paternal figure. It’s a sweet, easy to read book, and, ultimately, a lovely fantasy.
Jon and Rumer Godden lived in India during World War I with their father, a shipping agent for a British company, mother, aunt, and two younger sisters. There are also a slew of Indian servants who parade across the memoir, since, though the Goddens are an average middle-class family in England, in India, they live like royalty. This privilege amidst a rigid Indian caste system and the unhygienic, impoverished conditions of Narayanganj (a northern city in what is now Pakistan) can make the girls (they are a year apart and around twelve years old) seem incredibly oblivious, even snotty. One scene where the girls are walking through the bazaar begins with empathy as they imagine what it would be like to be a Hindu or a family living in a hut or a naked boy running through the street, but. . . “soon we grew tired of wondering; the bazaar was alluring yet as we passed the sergeant’s house and the thorn-tree field, we hurried. In a few minutes the gates rolled back to let us in.” The gates and high walls of their family home keep the Goddens very much separated from India. There are moments of awareness and acknowledgement of their environment and the differences between their status and others (I appreciated the contact between their Christian beliefs and the Muslim and Hindu religions of India, which were nicely drawn educational experiences for the girls), but overall the memoir is a collection of parties, gifts, and trips founded on the backs of Indian servants’ labor. And the sense of this Goddens' golden childhood, a product of a racist British empire, is probably why the book has not lasted as a “classic.”
The memoir, though, is a nice balance of describing the wonders and strangeness of India from an outsider’s and young girl’s perspective and the incredible commonness of growing up woes—sibling rivalry, testing parental authority, and finding first loves. The girls are primarily raised by Indian nannies and educated by their Auny Mary—“Fa” and “Mam” appear in the memoir to scold them; and, really, Fa is a cold, mostly absent paternal figure. It’s a sweet, easy to read book, and, ultimately, a lovely fantasy.
February 20, 2017
After being sent to England for a year, to live with well meaning but unworldly Aunts, the sisters Jon and Rummer were now returning to their family and home in Narayangunj, India. It's 1914 and they have come home to escape from the dangers of war. Aged 7 and 6 they spend the next five years in India, where their mother is constantly vigilant of the water they drink, the mosquitoes that invade at night and all the unseen dangers of everyday life. The girls love their Indian lifestyle, and the freedom of their childhood speaks of a time that has gone forever. Their father employed as a steamboat agent was allocated a company house and here the family lived with a small number of house servants. To escape the heat of summer the household would move to the hills of Darjeeling or Musoorie for months, and reading about their travels to these hilltop villages was just lovely. It would be magic to spend the summer in a houseboat on the lake in old Kashmir. As sisters, Jon and Rummer were very close, they shared everything, had no secrets! Those five years obviously had a big influence on them both and was inspirational in their later careers as writers. The book ended too abruptly for my liking but then this idyllic time was also about to end as the sisters were changing, as we all do, with age. If I could I'd give the book an extra half a star.
February 24, 2017
Rumer Godden is one of my favorite writers, so I was delighted to come across her memoir about growing up in India. The book is co-written with her older sister, Jon, and covers the WW1 years when both girls were returned to India after war broke out. They were expected to spend their formative years in England, but war changed that. The contrast between their six months or so in England with maiden aunts and their nearly five years in India with sisters and servants and friends, roaming the countryside and having one adventure after another, is stunning. The memoir moves along briskly, and the writers recall their sometimes unlikable selves, their sometimes odd parents, and the richness of the world they lived in. Few children today have as much freedom as the two girls had in India during and after the war.
October 17, 2016
How did these two sisters remember and observe such wonderful details about their childhood in India? During the first World War, one hundred years ago, they share with the reader all the privileges of a English family living in India. They had an enormous "stone" house; their numerous servants slept mostly in huts on the ground. Even children are aware of the caste system and they accept it but question the fairness of it. The two sisters are sent back to London for one year which allows them to contrast grey days living with strict aunts with the freedom, the warmth, the colors and flavors of India. The Godden sisters refer to themselves as Jon and Rumer which was sort of odd for a memoir. But the writing was superb and the details of their life in India will linger with me for a long time.
June 11, 2012
I'm always wishing for half stars. I liked this very much. It took me back to my childhood when I loved reading Rumer Godden's books. I must have read The Greengage Summer and Kingfishers Catch Fire several times each. They were up there with Ballet Shoes and the rest of Noel Streatfield's stories but even more exotic and grown up. This memoir ends just as they arrive back in england, which sounds depressingly grey after vivid India.
January 19, 2021
Of all the many stories in this book, the one that stands out to me the most is the story of Nitai's daughter. Her life was short and primarily composed of pain. While, to the reader, it seems tragic and devastating that it was taken from her in such an unfair way, at least she didn't have to make the choice to stay or to leave of her own accord. There is something enviable about that. Tonight, perhaps no more or less than any other night--though it feels more acute in this moment--I wish that I could be Richard Cory.
November 5, 2019
Ms. Godden wrote two more books about her life and upon finishing this, I immediately put them on hold at my library. This is impossible to summarize. I can explain that it is highly evocative, and contains gorgeous descriptions of the unusual and exotic scenery. Colorful descriptions of the ethnically diverse household staff made for amusing and fascinating reading. It made this reader wish she could have had such an unconventional childhood. (The sisters were largely unschooled in a formal way for years, and yet managed to fit in academically when they returned to England.)
May 2, 2022
This was a fascinating memoir of Jon and Rumer’s five years in India as children during WWI. I know so little about India (sadly!) that reading this was like visiting a new place. My eyes were wide open trying to take everything in. Jon and Rumer remember these years so vividly.
This memoir tackles the idea of belonging in subtle and interesting ways as well. In the first chapter, Jon and Rumer are still in London with their straight-laced spinster aunts and there’s a kind of lifelessness to the world of grey London. When Jon and Rumer arrive in India to be with their parents, maternal aunt, and two younger sisters, the narrative springs into life and color and vibrancy. There is a real sense of freedom to their lives in India and their senses are so vividly alive there. It sounds like they almost immediately feel that they belong, not only in their family but in the world of their Indian town with the bazaar, the rivers, the decadent flowers, even the heat and mosquitos. Returning to England for boarding school is an exile for them.
Towards the end of the memoir, there is the tension of Jon and Rumer on the cusp of being teenagers and no longer children. This brings up new questions for them: What shall we do? What kind of people shall we be? As women, this may have seemed to be easy to answer, but they both lived rather unconventional lives. Maybe they owe that to India. The memoir ends when they are just 12/13, so it’s not at all fully explored but the questions are there.
It’s interesting because I’ve only read three of Rumer’s novels, two were set in England (China Court and An Episode of Sparrows) and one was set in France (Greengage Summer), so this is my first experience of her deep and abiding love of India. I love that the two novels set in England feel very English. It seems that she was able to find a way to embrace her love of both countries in a way that contributed wonderfully to her scope and talent as a writer. I am definitely going to be picking up her novels with an Indian setting soon.
This memoir tackles the idea of belonging in subtle and interesting ways as well. In the first chapter, Jon and Rumer are still in London with their straight-laced spinster aunts and there’s a kind of lifelessness to the world of grey London. When Jon and Rumer arrive in India to be with their parents, maternal aunt, and two younger sisters, the narrative springs into life and color and vibrancy. There is a real sense of freedom to their lives in India and their senses are so vividly alive there. It sounds like they almost immediately feel that they belong, not only in their family but in the world of their Indian town with the bazaar, the rivers, the decadent flowers, even the heat and mosquitos. Returning to England for boarding school is an exile for them.
Towards the end of the memoir, there is the tension of Jon and Rumer on the cusp of being teenagers and no longer children. This brings up new questions for them: What shall we do? What kind of people shall we be? As women, this may have seemed to be easy to answer, but they both lived rather unconventional lives. Maybe they owe that to India. The memoir ends when they are just 12/13, so it’s not at all fully explored but the questions are there.
It’s interesting because I’ve only read three of Rumer’s novels, two were set in England (China Court and An Episode of Sparrows) and one was set in France (Greengage Summer), so this is my first experience of her deep and abiding love of India. I love that the two novels set in England feel very English. It seems that she was able to find a way to embrace her love of both countries in a way that contributed wonderfully to her scope and talent as a writer. I am definitely going to be picking up her novels with an Indian setting soon.
June 2, 2018
India remains a mysterious, distant place for many travelers. In 1914, for two young Anglo-India girls, daughters of a British civil servant in one of the smaller cities, it was distant almost beyond our measure. After returning to India following some months with relatives in London, they together wrote a remembrance of a few years in India. They were both glad to return to the relative freedom of India after living with older relatives to begin their English dip; that is, the re-acculturation to which English children who had been in India with their parents, were usually subjected. It is fascinating. When writing their story from a distant perspective, in the 1960's, they noted that it wasn't autobiography they were attempting. It was the 'evocation of a time that is gone.'
Equally fascinating to me are the things that I had found had NOT changed in India when I visited a couple of years ago. Certainly, flying is faster than sailing. Communication is easier. Transportation more certain. I spent a lot of time in the country-side, however, and the calm, isolated, 'dreamy' feel of the rural world is still there. Even small cities have that feeling.
Because the sisters are good writers, too, this is a very interesting volume for those interested in the dynamic of that time, place, and the mix of cultures.
Equally fascinating to me are the things that I had found had NOT changed in India when I visited a couple of years ago. Certainly, flying is faster than sailing. Communication is easier. Transportation more certain. I spent a lot of time in the country-side, however, and the calm, isolated, 'dreamy' feel of the rural world is still there. Even small cities have that feeling.
Because the sisters are good writers, too, this is a very interesting volume for those interested in the dynamic of that time, place, and the mix of cultures.
July 15, 2009
A dreamy book about two girls, Jon and Rumer Godden, during WWI in India, and a little hint of their growing up. I loved this book, and am so happy to see I already have many books written by Rumer! I can plunge right into another one, "Breakfast with the Nikolides."
"Two Under The Indian Sun" takes place in my favorite period, WWI during the Raj. So glad I just read "Women of the Raj," which enlarged my knowledge about the lives of the women and children transplanted into India, while their fathers and husbands made a living there.
"Two Under The Indian Sun" takes place in my favorite period, WWI during the Raj. So glad I just read "Women of the Raj," which enlarged my knowledge about the lives of the women and children transplanted into India, while their fathers and husbands made a living there.
June 17, 2014
A really sweet, sensitive memoir of growing up in India in the early 20th century. Only autobiography I've read written by two people, but it works really well. They described life on the river beautifully and tell fascinating stories of their own lives and those of their neighbours. But under it all is the undercurrent of growing up, of moving from childhood to adolescence.
September 1, 2019
Charming memoir of two English girls growing up in India during WWI. Definitely days of privilege but an appealing and intimate view of family life with four girls, from the point of view of the two eldest who grow to be professional authors.
August 24, 2022
3 first half of book
4 last half of book
3 (or less) ending
Why no pictures!? They would have added a lot to the story.
The first many chapters were heavy on description. Passive voice. I preferred it when the sisters recalled events that placed themselves directly in the story.
p 79
The 'Sonachora' chugged on and we were filled with the peace of the vast slowly flowing river; our backs were turned to one another, the noise of the water precluded talk, we were alone with our own thoughts. Perhaps part of the bliss of our childhood was that, being most of the year without the normal preoccupations of most girls of our ages school, games, dancing classes, theaters, cinemas, shops—there was all the time in the world to think, avenues of time; even our lessons were taken at a slow pace; we were not continually risked along, as happens to most children of school age.
4 last half of book
3 (or less) ending
Why no pictures!? They would have added a lot to the story.
The first many chapters were heavy on description. Passive voice. I preferred it when the sisters recalled events that placed themselves directly in the story.
p 79
The 'Sonachora' chugged on and we were filled with the peace of the vast slowly flowing river; our backs were turned to one another, the noise of the water precluded talk, we were alone with our own thoughts. Perhaps part of the bliss of our childhood was that, being most of the year without the normal preoccupations of most girls of our ages school, games, dancing classes, theaters, cinemas, shops—there was all the time in the world to think, avenues of time; even our lessons were taken at a slow pace; we were not continually risked along, as happens to most children of school age.
June 20, 2025
Re read this one after 4 years still as delightful as ever! It’s surprising how it’s not talked about enough every time Rumer’s works are discussed.
September 19, 2015
This is a delightful memoir by the English sisters Jon and Rumer Godden (those are their pen names) of five childhood years spent in India with their parents, two more sisters, and a contingent of Indian servants while World War I was being fought in Europe. This golden time tied them to India for the rest of their lives even though they did their higher education in England. They returned to India, where they married other ex patriots; Rumer set up a school for dance; and both wrote novels, with Rumer becoming the more famous of the two. Her Black Narcissus (a favorite of mine) and The River were made into Hollywood movies. She also wrote a number of beloved children's books. But that was to be in the future. Two Under the Indian Sun, which the sisters wrote together (it takes a bit of getting used to as they refer to themselves in the third person, but one quickly adjusts to that), tells about their everyday life in Narayangunj in East Bengal, then a part of India and now belonging to Pakistan. But "everyday" in India was strange and wonderful: the servants called scrambled eggs "rumble tumble," and there was kedgeree for breakfast; colorful kites were flown from the roof; steamers and dozens of other boats plied the big rivers; one had to contend with malaria, rabies, dengue fever, and dysentery; there were monkeys, strange and exotic birds, jackals, pye-dogs, ponies and elephants; Hindu festivals, Muslim fast days, and Christmas were observed; and four curious growing girls absorbed the panorama of life and culture that is India. What a rare and enjoyable time for the Goddens and a pleasure to those of us who are now sharing it.
March 8, 2017
Jon and Rumer Godden spent the happiest part of their childhood in India and wrote this delightful collaborative memoir about it. I can imagine the two sisters in old age, sitting in an English cottage, asking each other, 'Do you remember?' and then naming a person or an event or a place, then the other sister replying, 'But of course!' and elaborating on the memory.
Sometimes it is possible to distinguish the hand of the author: surely the richness of the descriptions must be Rumer's, the incisiveness must be Jon's, but it the combination of the two which makes the recounting of the memories close to perfect. The sisters have recaptured their childish delight in India and added little in the way of retrospective rationalisation. It is a story of a childhood as it was lived and experienced. It is also a portrait of a vanished way of life.
My copy has a much prettier and more appropriate cover, with two girls flying kites beside a wide river full of different boats, a boy leading a bullock, a woman carrying a water jug on her head, palm trees and a small dog: ISBN 0-333-40585-4.
Sometimes it is possible to distinguish the hand of the author: surely the richness of the descriptions must be Rumer's, the incisiveness must be Jon's, but it the combination of the two which makes the recounting of the memories close to perfect. The sisters have recaptured their childish delight in India and added little in the way of retrospective rationalisation. It is a story of a childhood as it was lived and experienced. It is also a portrait of a vanished way of life.
My copy has a much prettier and more appropriate cover, with two girls flying kites beside a wide river full of different boats, a boy leading a bullock, a woman carrying a water jug on her head, palm trees and a small dog: ISBN 0-333-40585-4.
October 25, 2016
Jon and Rumer Godden, the older of four sisters in their family, had been sent to England for education, to live with their father’s sisters, as a matter of course, while their parents and younger sisters stayed in India, where their father worked for a steamship company. All families did the same. But in 1914 war broke out, and fear for their safety led their parents to recall them to India – a “reprieve” from the severe upbringing they had been receiving for the last year. In India, they lived in a large house full of servants, had their schooling in the garden from their mother’s sister, and learned lessons of life and culture they couldn’t have learned elsewhere. This memoir is written jointly, as it had to be, since the two were inseparable. It tells of their daily life at home, of summers in the Hills, of the variety of Indian people who worked for their family, and of the stretches of time to write, think, and play that created the rich inner life of two prolific writers.
June 28, 2023
What a delight! Jon and Rumer capture the essence of an idyllic childhood in India, full of joy and wonder, even if there are a thousands dangers from cobras to rabid dogs. The book begins with the girls (aged 6 and 7 yrs) in care of spinster aunts in England and there's such a contrast with the strict upbringing there and the freedom they experience when they join their parents, two younger sisters, and a house full of servants in East Bengal (now Pakistan) at the start of WWI. They write with great sensitivity and love for the Indian people and I loved that the book doesn't impose adult sensibilities upon their child-selves. They evoked so many of my own childhood memories, from making up games to reciting poetry to adults. Their voices blend beautifully--they were so close and yet at the very end, I could feel that abrupt end of childhood and their return to England five years later. But India was their home--both Jon and Rumer returned as adults to live and write there. If you wish to make a visit to India, read this book.
August 7, 2018
4.5
I absolutely loved this book! It is a book where I felt all my five senses called upon, full of colour and sounds, exotic atmospheres, beautiful observations, thoughtprovoking comments and a lovely, subtly humour. The difficult aspects of the timeperiod, cultures and religions were touched on in a more lighthearted manner, which in this case was ok with me, since it is a recollection of childrens memories and points of view and therefore not the heavy, sombre observations of adults or a book on social injustices.
It felt a little rushed at the end, but I guess that it how it must have felt for them too, so it makes sense.
I absolutely loved this book! It is a book where I felt all my five senses called upon, full of colour and sounds, exotic atmospheres, beautiful observations, thoughtprovoking comments and a lovely, subtly humour. The difficult aspects of the timeperiod, cultures and religions were touched on in a more lighthearted manner, which in this case was ok with me, since it is a recollection of childrens memories and points of view and therefore not the heavy, sombre observations of adults or a book on social injustices.
It felt a little rushed at the end, but I guess that it how it must have felt for them too, so it makes sense.
March 4, 2019
Written by two sisters, referred to in the title, this is a reminiscence of their time in India during WWI. It carries the soft effervescence of that period of childhood before puberty, when one is acutely aware of everything and nothing. Their lives were not totally protected; the drama of life still reared its head in unpleasant ways, and there were moments of tragedy. But the joy of these young girls’ lives, and their connection to the land and people creates a warmth that is lovely to be a part of, even for the brief span of this book.
This book is no longer in print; I found it in my mother’s books when cleaning out her house.
This book is no longer in print; I found it in my mother’s books when cleaning out her house.
June 30, 2013
I just finished this book. It is a well-written memoir by two sisters, Jon and Rumer Godden. The voice changes back and forth, and once you get accustomed to that, it makes for a unique style which is quite charming. I learned much about India as it was during the early 20th century, particularly from a young English girl's perspective. I hated it to end and immediately ordered another memoir by Rumer Godden. I highly recommend this book if you like coming of age memoirs, travel, and history.
April 13, 2018
I love this luminous but matter of fact prose that seems to be typically English. In this case there doesn't seem to be much hidden as unrepressed emotion, as there often is in this kind of writing. The girls' reactions and questions about life, family life, others are simply noted and often dealt with by their mother in a kind way. Just the curious facts of what English girls could see of Indian life, the curious ways of colonial English people, huge differences in income and expectations of the two (now 3 nationalities) and great descriptions of geography.
May 14, 2008
Rumer Godden, along with her sister Jon, write a memoir of this life as young children in India. I loved Rumer Godden's children's books when I was little. Very girly. I love her style of writing. I always imagined her like one of the fragile grandmothers from her stories. Here she is, as a young wild child in colonial India, with three sisters and the wide world before them. My only complaint with this book is that I wished it would never end.
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