A new book by Sybille Bedford, now aged 94 and a writer of singular distinction, over ten years after her last one is an unusual joy. Her memoirs, or "fragments of autobiography" as she describes them, inevitably cover much of the same ground as her semi-autobiographical novels. Musing on the difficulties that this presents, she fears boring with repetition those who remember, and confusing with elliptical reference those who do not. Well, boring she isn't; a little confusing maybe.
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