Read 12.2024

This is an entertaining exchange of correspondence, in many ways, because Paddy Leigh Fermor loved books but obviously hated sitting down to write them, whilst Deborah, youngest Mitford sister and Duchess of Devonshire in her day job, always professed to loath books(*) but rather enjoyed writing them. He knew as little about death-watch beetles, the National Trust and diseases of sheep as she did about literature and Byzantine art, so their letters, which span five decades, never get bogged down in professional gossip, but range freely over the oddness of the world, the strange ways their respective lives have panned out, and the many interesting people they both know.

Being who they were, between the two of them they mixed with just about everybody who was anybody in the mid-20th century (not just in England and Greece, either: Deborah was sister-in-law to the Kennedys, and Paddy knew most of the ex-aristocrats of Central and Eastern Europe). Royalty, landowners, politicians, spies, travel writers and SOE types, artists and sculptors, Hollywood, the queerocracy, the Bloomsburies, and all the rest. So the names do tend to drop thick and fast, but of course they aren't trying to impress each other, it's more like an amused fascination with the way all these connections drop into place.

Often, too, they seem to use their letters as a safe space to try out material for articles or speeches they are working on: it's quite odd sometimes to read Paddy's long and detailed accounts to Deborah of trips to remote places he's been on with her husband.

Charlotte Mosley (daughter-in-law of Deborah's sister Diana) had the great advantage when she was editing this book that both participants were still around to answer questions, and she has included their comments in the footnotes where something is obscure from the letters. Other than that, her own notes are brief, unintrusive and usually enough to help you to keep up with all the idiosyncratic nicknames.

As with almost all letter collections, the main drawback is that the last part of the book leaves you on a depressing note of old age, illness, and a steady stream of funerals. Maybe the trick would be to start at the end and work backwards in time?

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(*) This was so notorious that when Evelyn Waugh sent her a presentation copy of his latest book in 1959, he arranged for it to be bound with all the pages blank to see if she would notice. ( )

A wonderful window on a friendship that has stood the test of time. Reading these letters makes me want to give up email and go back to writing physical notes! PLF's travel writing is exactly what I like to read - descriptions of the flora and fauna, logistics of how one gets to various places (I hate it when people "magically" whisk from one continent to another and never mention HOW they travelled!), people, architecture, history etc, all with self-deprecating humor. Just reading about all his mountain hiking made me exhausted! And Debo's charming stories about estate matters, livestock, books, people and doings are warm and gossipy and interesting.

These two lived through an amazing amount of history - and continue to do so today. Their take on it all is another side of conflicts and personalities one might not have heard or known about before.

I've put on hold at my library all their books that are available, I do hope their other writing is as good as their letters! ( )

Bitty and annoying. Paddy LF is one of the great travel writers but here he just rushes around like a mad-arsed fly, meeting hundreds (literally) of jolly people, mostly titled and seems unable to sit still. The occasional flash of wit sparkles through the murky waters, but his elegant style and lightly worn scholarship, so delightful in "Time of Gifts" and other masterpieces, don't get a look in among the crowds. ( )

Deborah Devonshire began life as the youngest of the (in)famous Mitford sisters, but she unexpectedly became the duchess of Devonshire when her husband, Andrew Cavendish, inherited the duchy from his brother. Patrick Leigh Fermor was a travel writer who became a war hero by kidnapping the commanding German officer on the Nazi-occupied island of Crete. (The movie "Ill Met by Moonlight" is a fictionalized account of his experience.) The two first met when Deborah was still a young debutante, but they eventually formed a deep friendship, as well as a correspondence that would last for more than half a century. Although "darling Paddy" and "darling Debo" lived through many political upheavals and personal tragedies, their letters to each other always remained upbeat, humorous, and cheerful.

I usually find nonfiction very slow going, but this book was a pleasure to read. Both "Debo" and "Paddy" wrote in a lively conversational style that's very easy to read, and I felt truly immersed in their day-to-day lives. Patrick often wrote about the various exotic places he visited, including the little town in Greece where he and his wife eventually settled. Deborah largely stayed on the Devonshire estates in England and Ireland, where she waxed poetic about sheep breeding and various fox-hunting excursions. The book also provides some fascinating insights into the psychology of the British upper classes: for example, Deborah mentions, with the utmost casualness, dining with President Kennedy several times. Though there's not much in-depth discussion of the historical events through which they lived, anyone who is interested in reading a firsthand account of the 20th century should pick up this book! I'd also recommend it for fans of the Mitfords or early 20th-century British literature in general.