Book: This Boy by Alan Johnson

I’ve known about the first Alan Johnson memoir for some time but it’s taken his third one to come out to prompt me to pick it up.I’ve also known it has been particularly well-regarded, the reason for the two follow- ups. I’m sure. I gave myself 5 days to read it but read it in 4. It would have been 3, but as ever, I like looking forward to reading the last chapters of a good book so strung it out.Having heard the author talk at the most recent book launch, I knew that a big factor in his young life was the fact that his poorly mother died early. When that moment came in the book, after many near misses, I found myself with less emotion than I expected, much like the writer.The level of poverty, the bond with his sister Linda and the fascinating history lesson of the post war slums of Notting Hill is what made this a thoroughly engaging read. The protective instinct of Linda at just 3 years older is astounding. She practically bought her little brother up as her mum, referred to respectfully as Lily, was often incapacitated or in hospital with a heart related problem. When Lily was active, she would do as many domestic jobs as possible to give her children the best start she could with her husband Steve mostly absent, drunk or gambling. It’s astonishing to see Lily holding out a torch for her husband, despite him barely contributing any money or indeed love. His children had long lost any faith in their father.My heart broke every time I read of the author’s hunger growing up in the 1950s but it sang after reading about every loving moment created by the two women in his life, Lily and Linda. As soon as they were able, both siblings had paid employment worked alongside going to school, with Linda the more determined to see out her education and train as a nursery nurse. This at a time when a women’s place was firmly in the home, although in Linda’s home, the man did not provide.Alan was holding out to be the next Paul McCartney or a writer. Like me, his English teacher at school had an impact on his life.Liverpool born Lily was on the council house waiting list for 17 years. Council house rules were maybe even more bizarre then than they are now. When they had the opportunity, it was in Surrey, which seemed like another country to her London born children who refused to entertain the idea. The slums of Notting Hill was all they knew but Lily longed for a home simply with her own front door, rather than the bathroom many will have craved.In 2016, I find myself looking a little further to see if anyone in my neighbourhood is living in poverty and too proud to ask, when a little food package would make all the difference.Despite what the author says, he is a real writer despite not having written fiction – yet. From the first page, I knew this would possibly be the best memoir I have ever read. Until I read part two.