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35 of 36 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Great., 26 Mar 2002
There are few more solitary occupations than being a child bookworm, so it is absolutely wonderful to find something on the shelves which remembers us. Here's a simple test to see if you'll like this book- does this: "It was as if Puffin were part of the administration of the world. They were the department of the welfare state responsible for the distribution of narrative." give you a shiver of recognition? If so, you'll find much to enjoy here. It's full of little things that strike chords: the feel of old libraries, the terror of horror stories that imaginative children have; the phrase 'stepping lightly from C.S. Lewis to Jane Eyre'. My complaint would be that it is a little academic in parts- if we wanted the philosophy and analysis of our childhood reading, we've probably done it already. What I wanted more of were the small joys; the little nostalgias. Where children hide to read books; what pleases and what annoys, and I'd have liked more of Spufford's home life. There are also disappointingly few books covered- more than just a skimming of Leon Garfield, Ian Serrallier or Peter Dickinson would have been nice, and perhaps a little less of the visiting the 'Little House on the Prairie' jaunt. Also, I suppose as a girl I missed the feminine side- Anne of Green Gables, Katy, the Chalet school et al. But these are small grumbles set against what a lovely thing this is- it was suggested to me after I read 'Stet', which I would also recommend wholeheartedly- for all of us who, as an erstwhile friend of mine said, 'don't so much like books as suffer from an obsessive-compulsive illness'.
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6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
Disappointing, 11 May 2011
This review is from: The Child that Books Built (Paperback)
I bought this after reading enthusiastic reviews of it in 'The Economist' and 'Times'. That was in 2002. I'm currently having a sort out of my library so have only now got round to reading it. I have to say it wasn't worth the wait. The subject matter may be full of potential but the result was disappointing. Of the same generation as Spufford, I was always a voracious reader as a child - but hadn't even heard of (let alone read) half the books discussed here; as corollary too much of the material was meaningless to me. I also agree with a previous reviewer that the book is too academic at the expense of the joy of childhood reading and literature. Nor did the memoir element resonate with me. Throw in Spufford's rather self-pleased tone and the result is - I'm sorry to say - a dull and ultimately irritating book.
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6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
More a thesis than a memoir, 14 Jun 2008
This review is from: The Child that Books Built (Paperback)
Though I like the idea of an adult bookworm going back over the books he enjoyed as a child, the reality of this book is that it reads more like some kind of idiosyncratic analysis of children's literature than the memoir it's advertised as. When it's about the author's life it's interesting; when he describes his reactions to the various books it can be engrossing. But much of the book is cerebral philosophising, sometimes on the nature of literature, sometimes on the nature of language itself. This wouldn't be so bad if it were in a more accessible style, but unfortunately the prose is often as dry and imprenetrable as the early 'Forest' chapter, which was a real struggle to get through. If you have a fascination for language and the psychology of children's literature you might enjoy all this, but if you're looking for a memoir of a boy who retreated into books, I would look elsewhere, for this isn't it!
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