If you recognise the name of Christopher Milne, you might assume this memoir is filled with invectives of a childhood stolen, that his father had got to where he was by climbing my infant shoulders, that he had filched from me my good name and left me with nothing but the empty fame of being his son. Instead it is filled with halcyon days of a childhood spent in nature and imagination.

Milne, with the benefit of hindsight (and estrangement from his parents, not mentioned here), is magnanimous in his exploration of his family life, focusing on the pleasant domestic childhood he had, the loving-in-their-own-way relationships he enjoyed with his parents, and corroborating and complementing the origin of several Pooh stories with real-life events.

A touching (bittersweet for those who know what Milne has left out intentionally in order to focus on the nostalgic) and well-written memoir for fans of Pooh or fans of that genre of idyllic nature-exploring childhoods of upper middle class Brits.

Aside: how exciting that A.A. and Christopher - whose Pooh creations influenced generations of children - could've potentially been mathematicians, following the path of that other writer whose creation also influenced generations of children: Lewis Carroll aka Charles Dodgson the mathematician. ( )

Christopher Robin's autobiography. Interesting to read straight after reading Winnie the Pooh. Wonderfully evocative of the English countryside, and written with a kind and light touch. And what a different world, full time nannies who brought you up and then left when you went to school, Trinity and Cambridge, endless free range childhood adventures. ( )

One can't help but feel sympathy for the author, whose childhood was lonely and frequently mined for material by his author father. Being Christopher Robin's not-so-secret identity is bound to leave a person with baggage. However, baggage allowances in the real world are getting lower all the time, and I found it extremely tedious to not only be subjected to detailed explanations of why particular poems were, or were not, or were only partially about Christopher and/or Nanny, but to have to put up with a pedantic tone and foreshadowing as well: ("It will now, I hope, be apparent why I said in an earlier chapter that "The Engineer" was not about me") is asking a bit much of the reader. ( )

If you grew up loving Winnie the Pooh like I did (not the Disney character but the real Pooh books) then you're bound to find this book delightful and intriguing. It's written by Christopher Milne, the boy who inspired the stories by A.A. Milne. Except, as he points out, they didn't really all happen to him. Some were purely invented by the writer, others were stories from his father's childhood. It interested me to see which poems and stories he took particular pains to explain were not the way things happened. If you haven't read the originals some references will be obscure, but for me they were quite familiar as those literary works are among the few that don't pall with time.

But it's not only about the Pooh stories and how they did or didn't exist in Christopher's actual playtime. A lot of the book describes what his life was like growing up, being free to play and explore in the woodlands, ruled by and devoted to his Nanny, growing into a close and respectful relationship with his father as he was older. He also mentions some regrets when he got older at the attention fame brought him as a young child, including how other boys in boarding school teased him. I admit I got quite bored with the descriptions of all the rooms in the house and how things were laid out or who arranged different household matters. Maybe those things are interesting because the lifestyle was so different back then, but I wanted to read more about the people and their doings, about the outdoor adventures and of course, the background of the stories.

more at the Dogear Diary ( )