Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Dandelion Wine (Ray Bradbury, 1957)

(239 pp)

Didn't know Bradbury wrote this kind of thing; suggested by (borrowed from) Paul Jr; another book that I wouldn't necessarily seek out, but much enjoyed.

Bradbury is building stories out of his Ohio childhood.

A reason for the recommendation - and it turns out to be correct - is that Bradbury had an ear for a life very much like mine as I grew up in the 50s and 60s.  There are some differences - he's a decade or two earlier, and lives in the town proper - but there were many-many times while reading that I would have a memory, typically quite pleasant, of something long-forgotten.

As usual - I liked some stories more than others - that's not a problem.  A little dramatic with the "ravine" angle.  Perhaps a little overly hero-worship-ish with the grandparents - but that's kind of how we felt, too. Ideas about getting older; about kids getting wiser (and perhaps correspondingly sadder).

Kids sitting around listening to the grown-ups converse in the evenings - Bradbury describes it as the "soundtrack" of childhood in those days - I thought that was very observant.  (And find myself using the phrase.)

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