I Forgot To Tell You
Condition: SECONDHAND
This is a secondhand book. The jacket image is a photograph of the exact copy we have in stock. This image shows the condition of this book. Further condition remarks are below.
Condition remarks:
Book: Fair
Jacket: Wear and tear with damage
Pages: Yellowed
What happens when a life lived quietly and observantly finally speaks? I Forgot to Tell You is the memoir of L. E. Jones — formally Laurence Evelyn Jones — a man of letters whose understated wit and sharp eye for the telling detail made him one of the most charming chroniclers of English upper-class life in the early twentieth century. Written with the unhurried grace of a seasoned raconteur, the book presents a series of personal reminiscences that illuminate a vanishing world of country houses, Edwardian manners, and the literary circles of his time. Jones writes with a dry, self-deprecating humour that disarms the reader while simultaneously revealing the texture of a richly observed existence. His prose carries the effortless authority of a man who has dined with the great, witnessed the extraordinary, and yet retained the modesty to frame it all as something he simply forgot to mention. Published by the distinguished house of Rupert Hart-Davis in 1959, this is a book for lovers of English memoir at its most civilised — and those who finish it will suspect, with some delight, that Jones forgot to tell them quite a lot more.
Author: L. E. Jones
Format: Hardback
Published: 1959, Rupert Hart-Davis
Genre: Biography
Condition remarks:
Book: Fair
Jacket: Wear and tear with damage
Pages: Yellowed
What happens when a life lived quietly and observantly finally speaks? I Forgot to Tell You is the memoir of L. E. Jones — formally Laurence Evelyn Jones — a man of letters whose understated wit and sharp eye for the telling detail made him one of the most charming chroniclers of English upper-class life in the early twentieth century. Written with the unhurried grace of a seasoned raconteur, the book presents a series of personal reminiscences that illuminate a vanishing world of country houses, Edwardian manners, and the literary circles of his time. Jones writes with a dry, self-deprecating humour that disarms the reader while simultaneously revealing the texture of a richly observed existence. His prose carries the effortless authority of a man who has dined with the great, witnessed the extraordinary, and yet retained the modesty to frame it all as something he simply forgot to mention. Published by the distinguished house of Rupert Hart-Davis in 1959, this is a book for lovers of English memoir at its most civilised — and those who finish it will suspect, with some delight, that Jones forgot to tell them quite a lot more.