For the past few days, I’ve been listening to Home, Julie Andrew’s memoir of her early years. She grew up in England during the 1030s and 40s. She spent most of World War II in London and tells fascinating stories of black outs, bomb shelters and the Blitz. Her parents were show biz people, and her stories of life in vaudville are delightful.
But best of all is the narrator, Julie Andrews herself. Her speaking voice is as musical as her singing voice, expressive and perfectly paced, infused with optimism and hope even when she tells of the pain experienced during her parents’ divorce.
Listening to Home is like having Mary Poppins or Maria von Trapp read you a bedtime story. You don’t want to miss it.
