This is not so much an autobiography as a chronicle of a lost generation and a collection of remembered memories and anecdotes about a past way of life. I first read this over thirty years ago when I was studying Kate Roberts for my Welsh A level and even then I remember the frustration that there wasn't much about Kate in the book. Now that I'm older and closer to the age Kate Roberts would have been when she wrote this, I enjoyed it so much more and understand better where she was coming from.
It is an intriguing book, written in different styles. The first chapter gives us fragments of childhood memories, finely drawn and acutely described. The author places herself firmly in each memory and describes sounds, sights, feelings and emotions. The chapters that follow are quite different. It is almost as though the emotional outpouring of the first chapter was too much for her and she has changed tack to a more objective style of writing, like a series of essays giving a historian's view or an anthropological account of life, society, culture, even children's games, in the Welsh speaking community of the quarries in the Lleyn peninsula at the end of the nineteenth century. Woven into these accounts, we get anecdotes that bring the history to life, reminding us that she is telling us about what made her and shaped her writings. Later on, the focus changes from the wider community to closer family networks and descriptions of her parents, grandparents and familiar characters.
There is very little in this book about the author that is directly described but a lot can be inferred. We get to know that she is the child of a second marriage of both parents and has both siblings and half siblings, but aren't told how many of them there were. She mentions a memory of a dangerously ill baby brother but not the outcome. The reader gets an impression that she was a fairly serious and studious child, that her family sacrificed an extra wage by allowing her to go to the County School rather than go into service, that she was precociously intelligent - competing in literary competitions above her age group - but too introverted or maybe just not talented enough to compete in the stage events. There is an overwhelming sense of someone being in control of some very intense emotions and her memories always stop short of telling us the complete story. The story of the death of another brother in the first world war that is widely accepted as having been the trigger to her writing career stops just short of the bereavement itself. Yet there is power, intensity and incredible depth in what she brings us in this book, even if she does sell us short on the "autobiography".
I read the original Welsh version - not the translation - and cannot comment on how well the controlled style of writing and acutely observed dialogue translates. I suspect that some of it would be lost in translation. Anyhow, I loved it, will now re-read her other books that I have sitting on my shelves and plan to read this book again some time.