John Snyder (9) (1934–)

This is a truly extraordinary, quite moving, and often funny memoir of growing up in the mountains of North Carolina, the town of Greenville South Carolina, then a farm in South Carolina. The author, who followed his brother to the University of Chicago, entering early after 11th Grade in 1951, writes with great perception and amazing detail about his day-to-day life, his family, schoolmates, neighbors, and acquaintances. The most interesting character is his father, who was a talented house builder, carver, artist, and just about anything else he set his mind to. Like my own Southern father, he was also a bit of an enigma, with on occasion an awful temper and curious mean streak.

The book is written in short episodes, which are recalled and written about so clearly, that you feel like you are there. Most importantly, they are written from the perspective of the boy that the author was, without obvious recourse to hindsight. This sharpens the observations about race relations, rich and poor, and other parts of growing up. At the beginning and end of the book, we learn a little more about what has happened in the intervening years. In addition, Snyder presents a revealing pair of letters his parents swapped just before they ran off to get married.

I can't recommend this book highly enough. Even if you think it doesn't sound interesting, trust me. If you have a soul, you will find it engrossing.… (més)

I found this book annoying. It is written in first person present tense. It seemed like listening to a first-grader tell a story.

The story takes follows a young boy as he grows up in 1930s Carolinas. He lives in the country in what, for the time, was a reasonably prosperous family. His father ran construction crews and his mother raised the kids.

When it comes time for school, the boys are shipped off to Greenville to live with their unmarried aunts. What a couple of miserable old ladies! They were just difficult to like.

The writing also seemed a little stilted, if one can imagine that in a book about the rural south.

The story itself wasn't so bad. We all grew up in unique circumstances. I just didn't like the writing.… (més)