Wood engraver of the Bloomsbury Group. Raverat's down-to-earth reminiscences of her childhood in Cambridge, which sounds idyllic though she constantly grumbles about the restrictions of clothes, dancing class, having to attend church, and other hateful things, like the skin on boiled milk. Well written, well illustrated, funny and entertaining. Includes a short story about a little girl, Georgette, in the French town of Vence ( )

Funny, thoughtful and vivid - with marvellous illustrations. ( )

The preface to this book states 'This is a circular book. It does not begin at the beginning and go on to the end; it is all going on at the same time, sticking out like the spokes of a wheel from the hub, which is me. So it does not matter which chapter is read first or last'. That seems a pretty accurate description of this sweet, rambling autobiographical look into Cambridge at the turn of the century before the wars. Gwen, the granddaughter of Charles Darwin, is in an enviably priviledged position, although she has a wry eye for the constraints that that places upon her. I must confess, I think I loved this book mostly because I love Cambridge. The viewpoints it gives you on things I have taken forgranted for a long time - where the Mill pub is now there was once a Mill! Punts in Cambridge are a relatively new innovation! - were fascinating. ( )

When your grandfather is Charles Darwin and you can also claim Josiah Wedgewood as an ancestor, it is to be expected that your family might not fit the run of the mill Edwardian and Victorian mold. Gwen Raverat's look back at her childhood is both enchanting and enlightening for its look at this extraordinary family with its scientists, artists, musicians and thinkers, but also for its snapshot of an era. Gwen's drawings of family members, homes, and events, are peppered throughout this reprint of her memoir in this lovely little Slightly Foxed Edition.

She begins by describing her home, Newnham Grange in Cambridge. moving through chapters named Theories, Education, Ladies, Propriety, followed by one of my favourite chapters, "Aunt Etty", a loving description of and tribute to her beloved Aunt Etty (Henrietta, one of Charles Darwin's daughters). The chapter about the Darwin family home, Down House, with its mulberry tree outside the nursery window and her cherished grandmamma in residence was another favourite. "Ghosts and Horrors" describes some of the nasty things which haunt childhood, including bullies who are cruel to animals and a group of Cambridge students carrying the body of a woman down the street at night.

Her chapter about her five uncles with her descriptions of the traits and characteristics of Uncle William, Uncle George (her father), Uncle Frank, Uncle Lenny, and Uncle Horace, was nothing short of brilliant for its acute observation of each man, his place in the family, and the view in which he was held by others. These were the sons of Charles Darwin, each as individual and different from the other as brothers can be, and yet very much family in their affection and regard for each other.

The chapter headed "Religion" was great fun, as you would expect from a granddaughter of Charles Darwin. This was followed by "Sport", "Clothes" (which she detested), and "Society" (in which she always felt extremely awkward, shy, and uncomfortable).

Sharp, acerbic, wonderfully funny and irreverent, I know I would have loved Gwen Raverat (nee Darwin) in person, should I have been lucky enough to get past her shy and prickly antisocial exterior to get to know her. She lets us in with this book, writing of her memories and experiences in a way which kept me engaged to the last word. Her drawings are so good, whether capturing her young self being forced to act as a kind of chaperon, a family outing on tricycles with the family spaniel trudging along behind, or running along a nine foot high wall in the garden by the river. It's a look at an era which I only had a whiff of through my own grandparents, guessed at from the silver button hooks on my Nana's dresser along with the hair jar where one put one's hair after cleaning one's hairbrush. An era of horse drawn vehicles, spats, gas light, whale bone corsets, layers and layers of clothing, innumerable rules and regulations for behaviour, all gone except for backward peeks in a gem of a book like this.

Period Piece is an altogether delightful book, a kind of insouciant wit, too appreciative to be called cynical, too unillusioned to be called pious. Mrs Raverat is not a Darwin for nothing. Her book comes out of a highly civilized background – the English professional and intellectual middle-classes, which, if not the backbone of England, may be held to be, on the whole, its mainstream of culture, and of sophisticated intelligence and wit.