Brensham Village, the latest volume from the Slightly Foxed Editions series that I love so dearly, is a sort of sequel to Portrait of Elmbury, also published by Slightly Foxed – indeed, it is apparently the middle of a trilogy. I have yet to read Portrait of Elmbury, so let me put your mind at ease from the outset: this is a straightforward delight that requires no familiarity with the first memoir. First published in 1946, it must have been a wonderful antidote to years of war – and is equally welcome today.
. . . Brensham Village is a paean to the sort of close-knit community, reliant on the weather and each other’s temperaments, that no longer exists. He doesn’t see it through rose-tinted spectacles – and, in the 1940s, it was not that far behind him – but, above all, with the heart of one who loves the rural in all its reality. For me, it is a glorious look back at a part of the world I know well – but, for any reader, it is another joy to add to Slightly Foxed Editions’ apparently endless reservoir of joy.