Growing Up Stupid Under the Union Jack: A Memoir

"When I got to the end of St. Matthias Gap, I would stand for a while and watch the drug store. The large bottles of glass that contained 'sweets' medicines and pills of all sorts of toughness and strength and sweetness." Nobody does it better than Mr. Austin 'Tom' Clarke. Nobody can take us back into those long ago times with literature so touching, so real, so magical, so painful, so peaceful and picturesque, and yet so lovely. For Austin 'Tom' Clarke is a man for all seasons and beneath his humour and fun-poking there is a depth and intensity that makes his story so very arresting and captivating. I must say this book stimulated my mind to such an extent that it was not always easy to put it down just for a few moments. Giving an autobiographical account of his life as a youngster, we venture with him into his life at Combermere and how the school system worked at the time. Latin was a favourite with Clarke and his friends but unfortunately not having the money for the text books the information had to be handwritten from the textbooks of one of the privileged boys. Even for Scripture lessons when one would have thought that there would have been so many Bibles in the island, some guys had to write out Acts Of the Apostles in long hand. It was during wartime and things were terribly scarce and jobs hard to come by. Most of the people in the village worked for the Whites doing domestic work or at the Marine hotel in the same capacity. So it was the norm to emulate everything English.....studying English history, society and manners. After all the country was under Colonial control and Barbadians would have it no other way. They knew no other way. Mr. Clarke doesn't fail to humour us as he recounts his days in the St. Michael's Cathedral or throw us into a fit of nostalgia as he reminisces of the Brilliantine shining on his hair the first day at Combermere......so real you can actually feel the broiling hot sun and smell the sweet hairdressing grease running down his youthful neck. One of the things I loved about Austin Clarke's book came towards the end. He describes in detail his many walks on sunny afternoons along Hastings main road when the sun scorched the bottom of his feet leaving tar marks on the surface. He describes how quiet the area was in those days, with hardly anyone walking the streets or any vehicular traffic. He would always walk slowly as he approached the drug store for that was one of his favourite places where he stood outside and surveyed the place, looking at the sweets on display and inhaling the various potent medicines and of course the Lysol. The ever-faithful Lysol would always be wafting in the atmosphere; then as you extended your eyes towards the back of the store, there would be the druggist in white, and through the open window, the sea gleamed in the background. Clarke embraced a kind of peace in these surroundings.....a peace real tangible to my mind. I would encourage all literature lovers to read