You know it has to happen, but you wish it won’t. I was sad to hear of the death of Nina Bawden yesterday. She was a real, old-fashioned children’s author. There are still a few of them left, but now I find myself worrying about the great writers born in the 1920s.
They lived through WWII, and their books about that period have a different feel to them than those built on research. Carrie’s War makes me think of the Grandmother’s time as an evacuee, because there were similarities. Probably also many differences.
Despite writing lots of excellent children’s books over many years, for me her masterpiece will remain the sad, but wonderful Dear Austen, written after her husband’s death in the Potters Bar train crash.
I don’t suppose I expected to meet Nina, but there is something so final when you hear that someone you admire has died.
Thank you for the books.