Love, Nina: Despatches from Family Life (2024)

This is a really lightweight read of the author's sweetly funny letters to her sister whilst she was employed as a nanny and working up to a degree in English. That's one way of looking at it.

Another way is that this is a collection of mildly amusing, somewhat boring letters about from a nonedescript nanny namedropping some media celeb names. "Lightweight" is politesse forthe book has no depth at all. It is a fast read because there's nothing much to make you think. Not much to hold your attention either.

I'm giving it two stars because it really isn't a bad book even though it in no way approaches being good, and because it was mildly amusing. Amusing enough to distract me from waiting for the tow truck to come after the wheel came of my jeep this morning anyway. Not amusing enough to take away the sting of $550 (so far) repairs.

I've no idea what everyone else who rated this book at five stars was thinking, but I don't really care either. It wasn't the sort of book I could feel more than lukewarm about and wonder why it was published at all.

the book shows promise so, perhaps with time the author will develop the ability to be introspective in her writing and show us why things are not just how. Oh also not be so dazzled by meeting minor celebrities and think that we will be too.

Rewritten 2 July 2015 as the previous review was as shallow as the book. I don't this one is much better though.

This book was really disappointing. I wanted to love it, but it was just SO BORING. The stories were so lame and uninteresting that I couldn't even finish it.

The book is a collection of letters that Nina Stibbe, who was a nanny in London, wrote to her sister. The letters started in 1982 and continued until 1987. I saw a description of this book that described it as "hilarious." In reality it is just eye-rollingly dull. The stories are so humdrum I can't even rally to write summaries for you. Blah blah blah -- there's your summary.

If you've been reading my reviews for a while, you probably know that I love charming British books and consider myself an Anglophile. I was thrilled to get this book from the library; I would even use the word giddy. I expected this to be one of my favorite reads of the summer, that's how excited I was about it. What a bitter blow it was to learn the hype had been misleading.

I am just grateful I was reading a library copy and I hadn't wasted any money on this. Otherwise I would have heaved it across the room.

This year’s Dear Lupin or Dear Lumpy: a hilarious collection of letters home from a northwest London nanny in the 1980s.

“Being a nanny is great. Not like a job really, just like living in someone else’s life.”

Beginning in 1982, Nina Stibbe was a nanny to Sam and Will Frears, the sons of film director Stephen Frears and Mary-Kay Wilmers (now editor of the London Review of Books). The household was sophisticated and worldly; mum MK allowed cursing and calling parents by their first names. Alan Bennett turned up at the house all the time (feigning prim shock at the boys’ vulgar precocity), plus there are cameos from Claire Tomalin – then Literary Editor of the Sunday Times – and her then-boyfriend, Michael Frayn, who lived two doors down.

The northwest London literary scene seems a slightly odd place for a midlands nanny, but she took on her role with aplomb. Though hopeless at cooking and cleaning, she sought to improve and became an indispensable member of the family – so much so that MK had her move back in 1985, after she’d left to get her English degree from Thames Polytechnic, even though they already had a new nanny by then.

Nina’s letters back home to her sister Vic (Victoria) in Leicester are heavily British in terms of vocabulary, slang and brand names – which could be off-putting for Americans, unless you are accustomed to the sort of humor in the Bridget Jones novels, Caitlin Moran’s nonfiction, or the aforementioned Roger Mortimer letters: a very self-deprecating, even absurdist English style. Stibbe is terrific at reporting dialogue, and has a special gift for the witty aside. Here are two of my favorite of her à-propos-of-nothing remarks:

“Firstly, about your boss walking around in the nude.”

and

“Which reminds me. A nut broke my tooth (a walnut, not a person).”

I also loved her observation that reading Thomas Hardy for her course made her feel “insignificant.”

In a sense, the book is very much of its period: Margaret Thatcher is newly in power, and Nina is constantly exclaiming over novelties like BLT sandwiches, balsamic vinegar, roasted peppers and Trivial Pursuit – making for a quaint evocation of the 1980s, when, apparently, anything foreign (either American or continental) was still new and exciting in Britain.

If I could make a small complaint, it’s that the book could do with a dramatis personae like the Mortimer books have (or footnotes, at least, explaining who all the characters are), along with some better estimates of dates on the letters – at least in the e-galley, there’s not a particularly clear sense of the passage of time.

Whether she’s giggling at the nude picnic painting in the National Gallery, writing an autobiographical novel that seems indistinguishable from her letters, laughing at her classmate Stella’s hapless misadventures, palling around with her future partner Mark Nunney, who worked as Tomalin and Frayn’s assistant at No. 57, or noticing phalluses everywhere while on holiday on Rhodes, there’s something delightful on every page with Nina Stibbe.

“Nothing’s sacred (in this madhouse),” she concludes, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

*Note: in the book you might notice that Sam has an eye problem and is in and out of hospital; in fact, the situation was a lot more serious than that. He suffered from familial dysautonomia (FD, or Riley-Day syndrome, which affects Ashkenazi Jews) and was not expected to live past age five. Yet now he is a thriving filmmaker, climber and all-round inspiring person. See the Guardian’s interview with him here.

В начале 80-х двадцатилетняя Нина Стибби переехала из Лестершира в Лондон, где работала няней у двух сыновей Мэри-Кей Уилмерс, заместителя редактора London Review of Books. Сэму было 10, Уиллу - 9, а сколько было коту Лукасу, не уточняется.

Being a nanny is great. Not like a job really, just like living in someone else’s life. Today before breakfast Sam had to empty the dishwasher and Will had to feed the cat.
Sam: I hate emptying the dishwasher.
MK: We all do, that’s why we take turns.
Will: I hate the cat.
MK: We all do, that’s why we take turns.
Sam: Anyway, Will, the cat hates you.
Will: Don’t talk sh*t, Sam.
Sam: Don’t say sh*t in front of the new nanny.

К Мэри-Кей часто заходили гости, например, Клэр Томалин (литературный редактор, автор биографии Диккенса), Алан Беннетт (сценарист, драматург) и Пиппа (няня семейства по соседству, "spends ages choosing what to wear and has an endless supply of different-colored trousers (including a striped pair and a pair with flowers embroidered down one leg)"). Все веселые и диковатые анекдоты своего лондонского житья Нина рассказывала в письмах к сестре, которые через много лет, с разрешения ее работодательницы, и были опубликованы под одной обложкой.

Собственно, "Целую, Нина" — книга ни о чём, чем и симпатична до безобразия. В ней нет сюжетной линии и, в целом, ничего не происходит, разве что условно можно отметить две части: "Нина осваивается на Глостер-кресент" и "Нина сдает экзамены, читает Шекспира и поступает в колледж". Обычные семейные дни. Нина готовит мальчикам завтрак, Нина с мальчиками сочиняют стихи, Нина объясняет, почему любит ходить босиком. Снова приходят гости. Все герои легко вписались бы в очерк "Эти странные англичане" или "Придури и завихрения богемного сообщества". И все чрезвычайно милые, хоть и чокнутые, конечно.

Saturday: Mary-Kay came home with an eight-foot-tall Xmas tree. She’d carried it up from Inverness Street with one of the market blokes. We had a lot of problems getting it up. MK thought the stem was too long (she called it a stem, it was actually a trunk).
MK: Someone will have to go to the Millers’ and borrow their saw. (We ignore her.)
MK: Who’s going? I’ve just lugged the tree home.
Will: Not me.
Sam: I’m not going.
MK: (to me) Looks like it’s you, Nanny.
I said I’d go if Sam came with me. When we got there (only a few doors up) we had a scuffle on the doorstep. When Jonathan Miller answered the door, I pushed Sam in front of me and he blurted out, “The nanny wants to borrow the saw.”
When we got home, MK asked what JM had said. I said he’d said, “Don’t forget to bring it back.” MK looked at the ceiling (which in her language means “f*cking idiot”).

Забыла сказать, что, хоть и бессюжетная, книжка очень смешная, а еще по ней классно учить английский: рассказы короткие, речь живая и полезная.
На Сторителе есть аудио, читает автор.

***
Will reads a lot. In various places. He looks serious (even worried) when he reads.
Me: Is the book OK?
Will: It’s hilarious.
Me: But you look so serious.
Will: I’m laughing on the inside.
Sam: I hate it when people laugh out loud when they read.
Will: Me too, that’s why I hide it.
Sam: They’re showing off about reading a funny book.
Will: About finding it funny.
AB: (from kitchen table) I think you’re allowed to laugh if something amuses you.
Sam: Not a book.
AB: I think one’s allowed an involuntary snort…or two.
MK: One.

One million and twenty-seven years ago, after watching "Dirty Dancing" with married friends I loved and whose taste I would have sworn was exactly the same as mine in every respect, from strawberry soup (a new passion of ours--we were only 21) to Wallace Stevens, Married Friend #1 said, "Anyone who criticizes that movie is a pedant." Unfortunately, I had been about to criticize it. I said nothing, and I swore that I would never draw a protective circle around anything I loved in that particular way, would never say, This is perfect, and you're a joyless prig if you disagree.

I confess that when I first read the comments here by people who did NOT give five stars and lavish praise to Love, Nina, I was tempted to break my vow. To me, the book is a rare and delightful gift because a) it's an epistolary memoir that reads like an epistolary novel, and b) it's funny without being mean, and c) it's sweet and yet it manages to seem true. As a person who has read many, many young adult novels, and who has spent years trying to write them in an authentically innocent yet witty voice, I find it astonishing that Nina Stibbe managed to forge that kind of voice in a series of impromptu letters while actually being quite young. (And if you were joyless enough to produce evidence that the letters were doctored up and radically improved, I would still be impressed, because revision doesn't necessarily = more authentic.)

I'm not going to sword fight with the people who gave this book two stars, but I'm going to urge it on you and say I hope this book will be your "Dirty Dancing." Maybe you'll love it so much that you'll want--as I do--to declare a no-critics zone around it. To me, at least, it's perfect.

I (perhaps mistakenly) watched 'Love, Nina' the series before reading this book (and that was really quite funny). But I can honestly say that it wasn't particularly hilarious, witty, clever or any of the words bandied about by reviewers. Nina moves to be a nanny to a family in London in the 1980s. She has no experience in doing the job, but the boy's mother Mary-Kay doesn't mind - she doesn't have much time for her children anyway. Nina's life now consists of organising two unruly but quick-witted boys, dealing with new receipes her sister has sent her to cook, and being subjected to visits by Alan Bennett who lives down the road.
'Love, Nina' is all written in letter format, and to be honest I think that's where it fell down a bit. It's too regimented in format to be extremely funny. I finished it, but it wasn't a shame to me when it was over.

I picked up this book because I watched the series based on it on Netflix the other week and really liked it - probably because of the cast (Helena Bonham Carter played Mary-Kay Wilmers).

The book, however, was a different story. For some reason the story works on tv, but in epistolary novel format reads like a mildly amusing but gratingly inconsequential run down of stories that try to re-imagine Willy Russell's Educating Rita (but set in London) with added name-dropping of the London literati.

I'll give Stibbe's other books a miss.

Love, Nina was my book club's pick for this month. This book wasn't for me and somehow I knew that before I started. It's about a young girl who is a nanny for a mile in London in 1982. It's told in epistolary format but one of the things I hated was that Nina was writing to her sister Victoria but there were never any responses from her. That was weird. Another thing that annoyed me was the story begins with 2,5 pages of he characters names and the abbreviations that she's going to be using throughout the letters. Now I was reading this on my iPad so you can see how this was a bit of a pain. I just read it straight through without referring back to the list. Now this book is supposed to be funny and fresh, but I didn't laugh once the entire time I was reading it. At first I thought it was because I'm American but no one at the book club though it was funny either and most of them are British. We all thought this was perfect waste of reading time. Another thing you should be ready for is the British slang, which I'm not completely familiar with, some things yes but there were some words in the book that through me and my dictionary. So no I didn't like this one at all. Nina was immature and I just didn't care about her or what she had to say.

I'm a former colleague of the author and approached the book with some trepidation: on the one hand I really wanted it to be good (I remember Nina as a warm and likeable person, although she'd taken to wearing shoes by the time I might her), but on the other hand descriptions of the book made me worry that it was basically glorified gossip about a bunch of rarified North London creative types about whom I've more or less nothing in common. Fears were completely unfounded. She may play up her eccentric ingenue persona but as she wryly observes as a result of her studies at Thames Poly 'you can't have fiction without autobiography, and you can't have autobiography without fiction'. I found myself constantly interrupting my wife's reading in order to read out a line or two fom Nina's letters to her sister. Dialogue with and between the two biys she is looking after, and culinary discussions with Alan Bennett a particular highlight.
I think I've given it an extra star as I can hear Nina's voice throughout, a badge of authenticity.

I was surprised by how much I truly enjoyed this book. 20 year old Nina Stibbe moved from Leicester to London in the early 80's to become a nanny. And how fantastic is it that she moves in with Mary Kay Wilmers, the editor of the London Review of Books (and exwife of director Stephen Frears), who just happens to live across the street from Alan Bennett and next door to Claire Tomalin (author of the giant Dicken biography I've been meaning to read and wife of Michael Frayn). Now all this name dropping would be irrelevant if these people were not intelligent, witty, and prone to interesting kitchen banter. Even the kids have a terrific dry sense of humor that they obviously learned from their mother. Lucky Nina and lucky us. I especially fell in love with Mary Kay with her ability to sound completely unfazed at all times. Nina is very far from the perfect nanny but she seems to be the perfect fit for this slightly unconventional family. I'm always a fan of the epistolary format and long for the days when my friends and I would write letters chronicling the daily details of our ordinary lives. I'm so glad that Nina's sister saved all these letters. There is not a lot of action in this book. Halfway through the book Nina becomes a full time student while staying very close to the family so the focus on the letters shifts over time but I was very sad when it ended and I realized that I was not going to get another update on the Gloucester Crescent crew.

Without further ado, I’d say that there was absolutely no reason to put these letters together as a book and sell it to people for actual money.

I mean this definitely isn’t the best book I’ve ever read, not by a lot shot. I picked it up from the college library because it looked short and sweet and i thought it to be something different (it definitely was). I enjoyed this book and the letters from Nina to Vic was very interesting, however I do wish some letters from Vic to Nina was included (I know that’s not how it goes but still). I do believe it’s a coming of age novel and I was and still am impressed that it’s based on the author’s life.

When she was talking about being a 20 year old nanny in the 1980s I thought it was fantastic and it kept me attached to the book, during the time she was talking about college I drifted a bit i’ll be honest. I am sill shocked that little Sam and Will had such a dirty mouth at their age.

It was a fun read and I’m glad it tells you what they are all up to now. A book that is just a series of letters from one person to another is amazing, I would love to read more books like it. MK was definitely my favourite character.

I recently read the sequel to this book: Went to London, Took the Dog. I mistakenly thought I'd read Love, Nina when I had, in fact, only watched the TV series which was smart, funny and slightly deranged. So obviously I loved it. Then the sequel came up on Netgalley so I requested and got it. I really didn't enjoy it. Consequently I thought I'd better read the original. And lo and behold, it was only marginally less dull than the sequel. All I can say is bravo to Nick Hornby for turning a dull book into a wonderfully witty TV series (I knew I liked him for a reason).

So this book is simply the letters sent from Nina to her sister Vic from the home of Mary Kay Wilmers where Nina is the nanny for Mary Kay's sons, Will and Sam Frears.

I understand the use of initials for the cast of characters because you'd probably get bored of reading Alan Bennett or Jonathan Miller over and over again but I spent a fair bit of time going back and forth trying to work out who the less used initials belonged to. Its a minor niggle.

My main niggle was that it was simply a little dull. It's like reading anyone's diary but with famous literary types thrown in, instead of your Aunty Doris or Uncle Keith.

I did laugh but not as much as I did at the series so I felt let down. I am tempted to read one of Ms Stibbe's novels because I feel like reading diaries isn't giving her a fair crack at the whip.

I read 60 pages,, and then decided I just didn't care anymore. There were some humorous conversational exchanges, some sort of interesting literary gossip, but it all got old after awhile.

In a strange way I really liked this book - it made me giggle and was a really easy read. I was, however, left with a question at the end - what was the point?
The book is a series of letters written by the author to her sister during the time she had moved to London to work as a nanny in Primrose Hill. She spends her time looking after tow young boys, Sam and Will, whilst studying for an English Literature degree and learning to cook.
The letters in this book are really nice, short and witty and give a great insight into the lives of those in the house. There's Mary-Kay the mother - a witty fashionable woman with a very dry sense of humour. Alan Bennett, the author, lives across the road pops in for dinner, and the boys, Sam and Will, are very independent young men who have a very funny way of learning about the world. Nina herself is also very funny and a little bit clumsy, and all of the people mentioned in these letters are really endearing and funny, especially when they interact together. Nina does a very funny thing in her letters where she recounts conversations had in the household, and these were the funniest part of this book, many of them causing me to laugh out loud.
Despite all of this, my earlier question still remains which is what was the point in publishing these letters. Yes, they were funny, but I did get to the end of the novel and feel that nothing much had happened and although I enjoyed it, it was a bit of a non-event. For those in the book, I can imagine this was a fabulous read which bought back some wonderful memories and really made them laugh. Although for a reader from the outside this is a nice read, I don't think it has that familiarity which might be needed to make this really great. Overall though, this was a great book to read and enjoy - it was quick and easy and had some really funny moments. I would recommend others read it but not expect to come away with any earth shattering opinions.

This is a collection of letters from Nina back to her sister Vic written in the 1980's when she was a nanny in London. She was looking after Sam and Will, sons of Mary-Kay Wilmers who at the time was deputy editor of The London Review of Books. In the same street was Claire Tomalin and Alan Bennett, so Nina was surrounded by literary influences.

The letters are a raw and lightly edited collection of her thoughts, feelings and experiences that happened when she was nanny, from the absurd, Alan Bennet assisting with fixing household object to the surreal conversations that she has with the broad minded Mary-Kay Wilmers (MK in the book). As she settles in the area she begins to find her feet, and the letters detail the silly mistakes and life lessons that she learns and tells her sister about.

Half way through her stay she stars a degree at Thames Polytechnic and stops being a nanny. The letters still continue as she settles in to a different routine. In the letters home she describes her triumphs and her anxieties and the new friends that she has made. After a while she moves back in with the family and commutes to polytechnic.

Really a 2.5 star book. This both charmed and irritated in equal measure. I am not a huge fan of the epistolary style, i think that it can be used to enhance a book, but when it is the entire text then it gets a bit much. There were some very funny bits in the book, but I didn't like the conversations that were included in the letters. Whilst they filled in the gaps in the story, they grated after a while. That said, this book is worth reading; for a series of letters Stibble shows her raw potential as a writer with acute observations and wry humour, and a honesty and innocence that is fresh and startling.

I know MK and S&W wouldn't approve, but I laughed out loud at this. (I was alone so maybe it doesn't count?)

I have only just discovered Nina Stibbe and I am tearing through all her books as fast as I can (there are only five of them, damnit, what am I going to do)--anyway, this is the first, and it's fantastic. If you don't think you'd like to read a collection of letters from a young London nanny to her sister--well, read it anyway. It's sharp, funny, brilliant, British, and did I mention that she's the nanny of the editor of the London Review of Books and Alan Bennett lives across the street? Read it read it read it! I'm on to the next one, except that I loved this one so much that I can't bear to start another book yet, even another Nina Stibbe book.

Who would have thought letters between two sisters would be so entertaining and enjoyable. These letters were written in the 1980's and in today's world would not exist because they would be replaced by phone calls. We follow Nina in her job as a nanny with her charges, Will and Sam in London, and her sister, Vic, a nurse still at home in Lichestershire. A good read.

Sure this book of letters from Nina to her sister while nannying in London written in the 80’s isn’t going to appeal to everyone but I found this book FUNNY and delightful, so I’m going to go ahead and give it 4 stars.

I received this as an advance reader's copy from goodreads giveaways. Although slightly amusing, I was basically bored by this book. I felt obligated to read the whole thing in order to review it and live up to my end of the deal for the giveaways. I was interested in learning about the daily life in a London household from the Nanny's point of view. In the end, I found myself hoping that this was a very atypical household. I was not at all amused by the foul language used by the 9 and 10 year old boys in the family which was seemingly encouraged by the adults around them. I did find humor in some of the conversations which gave insight into the relationship between the nanny and the boys. This one was my favorite:
Sam: How do you play marbles? Me: I don't actually know. Sam: Is it to do with rolling them? Me: I think so, but I'm not sure how exactly. Sam: Didn't you play marbles in your day? Will: She lost them at a young age.

I came to this after watching the series on BBC 1. The series was funny and charming. The book? Not so much. I expected the book to be like the show but sadly its like reading the Cliff Notes version of someone's life. The kids are the best part and they are only mentioned in small bits.

The letters themselves make the author seem very self-absorbed and small minded. She is writing to her sister and her sister writes back but her letters are not included. Most of the time, she only mentions what her sister wrote in a post-script unless its a recipe.

Sadly, this book is just boring and completely uninteresting. I always feel bad when I don't like autobiographical books. I feel like I'm judging the author's life. In this case, it is definitely the writing style. So much promise and so little reward.

I've not read a book like this before - all it consists of is a series of letters from Nina to her sister Vic, written in the 80's. Nina is living as a nanny (later a student) in a very literary household in London. The letters to her sister are just day to day accounts of her life and many times they reminded me strongly of Mass Observation reports, especially when they include dialogue. Nina would have made a superb Mass Observer.
I didn't laugh out loud but I did find the whole book light, frothy, easy to read and often very amusing.
What gave it added interest was the list of 'famous' people that lived close by and/or dropped into the household. Alan Bennett was forever there for supper, and I loved his droll comments. Claire Tomalin lived a couple of doors away - she was already very high in my estimation but she soared ever higher when I read that she actually pipes cooking instructions on her pies in potato when she's made them in advance for dinner (30 mins at 4 gas). Genius!

Прекрасная (и очень смешная) книга, в которой решительным счетом ничего не происходит, обожаю такое.

This is a collection of letters that Nina Stibbe wrote to her sister Victoria between 1982 and 1987 while working and later studying in London. She is a entertaining writer with a great eye for detail and a knack for relaying conversations word for word. It's not a laugh out loud kind of book but it is enjoyable humorous.

Nina was a live in nanny employed by Mary-Kay Wilmers (who is now editor of the London Review of Books) to look after her two sons. They lived in Gloucester Crescent in London, which was home to a host of literary types including Alan Bennett - who lived across the road and came to dinner every night. Mary-Kay's house was described by the Guardian as "a sort of upmarket commune" and Nina later lived with the family while studying a degree in English Literature.

Not a lot HAPPENS in the book but I loved it. I felt like I was there, hanging out with all these intelligent and funny people who liked to read Yeats and Chaucer and TS Eliot and banter about words and ideas over dinner. They throw casual insults at one another constantly, but no one ever takes offence. They are all cleverer and wittier than I could ever hope to be. They use words I've never heard of, like "mardy" to describe bad moods.

Because the letters were written at that time, they also remind you of things that you tend to forget - like when Trivial Pursuit was a new board game or BLTs were unheard of or those pens where the picture changed when you clicked them or how commonly we used a dictionary to look up words.

I think why I liked the book so much is that in the 80s I (despite living on the other side of the world) was a bit obsessed with Britain. Princess Diana had recently married Charles after working as a nanny in London. British magazines like Tatler and Harpers & Queen were sharp and witty and erudite. I had a suspicion that everyone living in London was wittier and more well read than I could ever hope to be and this book kind of confirms that. I felt envious of Nina getting to live the life I would have loved to live, but at least I got a sense of what it was like.

Funny and nostalgic, I was quite jealous of the life led by Nina!

Published by Viking (Penguin) on 7 November 2013; Love, Nina by Nina Stibbe is one of those books that you find yourself quoting from constantly. So many times over the past few days I've made anyone who was close by stop what they were doing so that I could read out yet another snippet of conversation taken from Nina Stibbe's wonderfully funny, witty and wise diaries.

Nina Stibbe moved from Leicestershire to London, she was twenty years old, it was 1982. Nina had no experience of nannying, she had no experience of London. She didn't know much about the world of literature, she wasn't impressed by famous people - especially those who she'd never heard of. Nina found herself nannying in the household of Mary Kay Wilmers (or MK as the reader comes to know her as). MK founded the London Review of Books and was mother of two young sons Sam and Will (S&W).

Alan Bennet lived across the road. Yes, that Alan Bennet - he'd pop across the street for tea, clutching a can of lager and give his opinion on anything that may have happened, or be about to happen during that day.

Nina was never star-struck. She relates the day-to-day goings on in this somewhat eccentric family with a warmth and a very dry wit in letters home to her sister Victoria. Everyday conversations are related word for word and sometimes a little out of context, these conversations should probably sound mundane and a little boring, but Nina Stibbe surrounds the dialogue with descriptions of the speakers that are so vivid that the images bounce around the reader's head.

As readers, we should be grateful that Stibbe's sister Victoria kept all of the letters as without the originals, this book could not have been produced, and that would be so very very sad. What is also quite sad is that a book like this will probably never be produced that features life after the late 1990s. How many twenty year olds write letters these days? Texts and emails will never replace the joy of receiving and opening a letter, and could never be put together like this. The inside cover of Love, Nina features some of the original drawings that Nina illustrated her letters with, and it was because of these drawings that her sister kept the letters. There are only a few of them, but take a look, they are simple, but perfect.

Love, Nina is one of those books that I know I will read again, and that happens so rarely.

I’m not a big fan of tales of upper middle class bohemian households where the children are precious/child geniuses/call their parents by their first names, but I am a fan of sarky, Adrian Mole-esque writers casting an affectionate but not uncritical eye over the upper middle class bohemian ongoings. It took me a hundred pages or so before I realised that Stibbe was not quite so innocent and a lot is said for conscious comic effect.

She describes the quotidian humorously and is best when making Alan Bennett-style comments on Alan Bennett:

“Who's more likely to know about beef stew - him (a bloke who can't be bothered to cook his own tea) or the Good Housekeeping Illustrated Cookbook?”
“Everybody looks up to AB these day since all his success on the telly, so they're not going to ignore his salad.”
“No AB, he's off in Egypt or Yorkshire somewhere so no chance of him turning up and criticising the turkey bolognese.”
"AB likes blackberries but they make him nostalgic about blackberrying in the lanes, so to avoid disappointment (and the blackberrying anecdotes), I said the pie was apple and raspberry."

If you are someone who needs a relaxing read that will make you laugh then this is the book for you.

Love, Nina is a creative non-fiction book that was recommended to me by two close friends, and I have to say it took me to long to find this hidden gem. Through a series of letters Nina sent to her sister during her time as a nanny in London in the 1980s. Having no experience cooking or looking after children Nina eventually found her feet. The book is full of funny moments and the descriptions of London in the 80s really makes me think back to the late 90s with shops such as Woolworth's being mentioned. I particularly loved the mention of some of London's famous people and their antics.

The story is a lighthearted one that will make you smile, even on the lowest of days.

I couldn't quite finish it - not enough of a dramatic structure. I had actually watched the tv adaptation, which I grew rather fond of, but the book itself, hm, not really. I don't think letters, as written by a young woman to her sister, can provide sufficient literary interest without major revision. One wants to know how the events described fit into a more meaningful narrative, how they might be reintepreted with hindsight, and how the relationships with the key figures might evolve and develop. None of this happens in this book. If AB was not Alan Bennett, if Sam had not already been the subject of a documentary, I doubt this book would have seen the light of day...