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ikon
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1923 A Memoir

1923: A Memoir is now $1.19 on Nook

 

1923 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Review

It's a personal as well as a social history. Smith has the knack of bringing the times to life in a way that few writers can manage. It's the ability to tell a story, the knowledge of when to move on & not labour a point.
--The Bookbag

1923 is a book that succeeds in two ways with ease, both as a personal memoir of a life lived in a volatile age and as a record of that age for all time. --The Current Reader

"1923" is uplifting and highly recommended.  --Midwest Book Review

1923: A Memoir is a protest against social injustice, corruption, war, famine, poverty, and societies blinded by greed. More importantly, it is the story of hope and the notion that anything can be overcome if desired.  --The Publishing Guru

Contributor
ikon
Posts: 13
Registered: ‎03-20-2011
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Re: 1923 A Memoir

Here is a selection of reviews for 1923: A Memoir



 
"Smith's coming of age memoir takes readers on a journey of poverty and heartbreak that is the author's childhood and young adulthood growing up between the first and second world wars. Smith stays true to himself and his inner voice as he recounts the events of his early life." 

 

"This was a hard book to read, must have been hard to write and incredibly hard to live through. I grew up very poor so can identify with parts of his early life. His is an amazing story and I look forward to reading his next book."

 

"It is always interesting to see eras, such as World War II, through the eyes of one single individual. This is a well written memoir that follows the author’s life through his difficult childhood in the Great Depression, showing how his mother slowly began to give up her ideals to put food on the table for her children, while Harry turned to library books for solace. "

 

"Very well written, fast moving social history that reminds of Angela's Ashes."

1923   $1.19

 


Contributor
ikon
Posts: 13
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Re: 1923 A Memoir

From 1923: A Memoir

Confined to camp on New Year’s Eve, we sang Auld Lang Syne at the chime of midnight and toasted the year to come. During the first days and then weeks of January, we waited in disjointed apprehension to deploy to Europe. After a while, we thought our captain had played a cruel prank on us. He promised us in December a mission in Europe and a greater role in this war, and it now seemed as fanciful as Meade’s desert premonitions. We waited and asked our sergeants, “You’ll know when you know,” was the answer. 
We waited and Warsaw fell to the Russians. We waited impatiently and the death marches began for the near-lifeless prisoners of the concentration camps. We waited while the Germanic retreat of volks deutch began, from the Eastern, Hanseatic fortresses of Lithuania, Latvia, and Pomerania. Over two million Aryan refugees limped across the snow or sailed in over-laden ships across the icy Baltic. While underneath the slushy sea, Russian submarines hungrily trawled the waters in vengeful wait. The Soviet Army liberated Auschwitz and we waited. For parts of Holland still under German occupation, “The Hunger Winter” was now in its fifth month and the citizens were reduced to consuming tulip bulbs and boiling shoe leather for nutrients. We waited anxious, ignorant, and callow for Europe.1923  
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ikon
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Re: 1923 A Memoir

1923  "The platform was deserted while I waited for my train to take me to Padgate for induction.  It was cold and damp, and grey. Sweet smoke from the McIntosh candy plant fell like drizzle across the station.  I reached into my overcoat and found a near empty packet of cigarettes. I placed one into my mouth. I struck a match furiously and began to inhale the harsh tobacco.  In the distance, I could hear the whistle of the train. I could smell the coal burning off its engine.  I could smell the coal which had been dug from the pits of Barnsley, Elsecar and Barley Hole.  I could taste it in my mouth around my teeth and on my tongue. It was the soot of my father and my grandfather and all my ancestors who laboured beneath the ground.  As the train drew its way into the belly of the station, another passenger approached the platform.  He was a man in his fifties, long past the time for war and he was whistling the tune “run rabbit run rabbit run, run, run…..”