When Lorna's father returned to their village in Wales, she had a more normal life, but never felt that she fit in with her family. She felt that her parents were so close that they really had no need to let anyone else in emotionally. Reading and running wild outdoors were her salvations.

I somewhat wish she'd spent more time on the successful part of her life, but--in truth--it's the vicarage and council house years that are more interesting and unusual, so no real issues for me there. Sharon Tolaini-Sage is the daughter of Lorna and Victor Sage. In addition to being a member of the Games Art and Design teaching team at Norwich University of the Arts, she is a translator and writer on design for Pulp , an Italian imprint of Eye Magazine . In 2017 she was appointed an ambassador for the not-for-profit organisation Women in Games, whose primary objective is to double female participation in the games industry by 2027.The book veered between being utterly compelling (the early part about her grandpa, "the old devil", is the best) and something of a slog; my interest flagged until she met her future husband, Vic. It doesn't really help that she's relentlessly unsympathetic (but how could she help it, growing up in such a volatile household?) The author's grandparents on her mother's side are the main focus of the memoir. Their hatred towards each other is the dominating motif: "So married were Grandpa and Grandma that they offended each other by existing and he must have hated the prospect of gratifying her by going first. On the other hand she truly feared death, thus he could score points by hailing it as a deliverance and embracing his fate." The entire thread of the grandfather's diary is stunningly well constructed and presented. The diary itself and the author's commentary seamlessly move from one to the other. Ms. Sage's prose is fabulous! She is an extraordinarily accomplished writer with a wonderful turn of the phrase. Just take this "caressing shapeless moments until they wriggle into life" phrase from the epigraph. Reading this I instantaneously recalled people who had this gift. How many of us, though, would have the talent to describe them in this apparently frivolous yet extremely precise way? A metaphor like that carries more meaning than a faithful and detailed account of real-life behavior. But her concern was not simply to write about women, rather to make their work more widely and intelligently known. She wrote introductions to fiction by Katherine Mansfield, Christina Stead and Virginia Woolf. In 1994, she was appointed editor-in-chief of The Cambridge Guide To Women's Writing In English. They became tighter still when Sage became ill, around the same time. With her capacity for slyness and secrecy – just as she had when she wrote about giving birth to Sharon, keeping her contractions secret because she didn't want to have to go into hospital – she hid her illness. "Nobody knew, and she kept it that way for an unreasonable length of time. I knew just because I was there and part of the concealment. When she was ill, I would sometimes move into the house with her. That was how it continued until she died. So I had a very close relationship with her in the last year, and I'm so glad of that. It has been very important to [know] that I did everything I could, and that I don't feel any regret."

The book spans the 40s, 50s and 60s, the years from her unconventional upbringing in a filthy vicarage, through her council house teens to her graduation from Durham university. One of the most compelling sections is her analysis of the failings of her vicar grandfather, responsible for the ‘bad blood’ she is later believed to inherit. Without reverting to bitterness or emotionality, but instead approaching her grandfather as text — it is his diary she plunders for evidence of his depravity — Sage painstakingly pieces together the clues as to what drives his hypocritical and unethical behaviour, not only as vicar but as husband, father and man. St Aidan's College altered its rules to allow access to women students who were also wives and mothers. Vic had also been awarded a place to read English at Durham. In 1961, a unique student family took up residence in a traditional English university. stars. It was a surprise to read about the unusual childhood of Lorna Sage, a well known literary critic. While her father was away fighting in World War II, young Lorna and her mother lived with her grandparents in a vicarage in Hanmer, Flintshire. Her grandparents had a terrible marriage and were constantly fighting. Her philandering minister grandfather loved to frequent the pubs. He was very bright and passed on his love of reading to Lorna. Her relatives wondered if Lorna had inherited his "bad blood" because they had many interests in common. Her grandmother was useless when it came to cooking and cleaning, and spent most of her time complaining about men, eating sweets, and missing the comforts of her childhood home.

Episode two - Favourite books from our guests

Sage's major study of neo-Platonism and English poetry was uncompleted at the time of her death. Instead, there was an abundance of other published work. During the 1970s, she established her reputation as an authoritative reviewer of contemporary fiction. She worked with a number of distinguished literary editors, including Terence Kilmartin at the Observer, and Ian Hamilton at New Review.

a b c d e Fenton, James (13 June 2002). "The Woman Who Did" . Retrieved 21 October 2019. (subscription required) One reviewer said that parts of the book stretched belief. That part for me was when she said she couldn't remember having sex and was incredulous to find herself pregnant. Oh well...we all have our coping mechanisms. Ms Sage is a wonderful writer. The structure and style are somewhat unusual for a memoir, and I definitely appreciate that.The coverage that ‘The Sages’ received in the press on getting their degrees, shows just how extraordinary it was that Lorna should have been married (with a quite grown-up ‘baby’) and have graduated. In a boiling summer, punning headlines (‘It’s all a matter of degrees’ and ‘The Couple Who Are One Degree Over’) in the Daily Mirror and Daily Mail emphasise how far they were outside the norm. The best (or worst) of all of these from the Daily Mail, June 27th, 1964, reads: ‘The only marriage where honours are even…’