A Round-up of 2011

With New Year's Eve already a fast-fading memory, it's time for a look back at Aurum's 2011. Here are some of the books we were most excited about last year...


Britain's Lost Cricket Grounds by Chris Arnot

One of last year's biggest books for Aurum was Britain's Lost Cricket Grounds by Chris Arnot. In this sumptuously illustrated volume, Arnot takes a journey to forty of the country's former cricket grounds. In their heyday, they were cherished focal-points for their local communities, but each of them now has its own sad story of demise and abandonment. The Hastings ground has been replaced with a shopping centre; another, in Sheffield, made way for an expanding football stadium. What unites them all is that magical missing sound: the crack of leather on willow.

Following the success of Britain's Lost Cities and Lost Victorian Britain, Chris Arnot tours the length and breadth of the country, hears the reminiscences of former players and spectators and unearths what is left of their once-loved grounds. The result is a rueful and reflective exploration of our lost sporting heritage.

You can read Steve James's review of Britain's Lost Cricket Grounds for the Daily Telegraph here.

"A beautifully written volume that is rich in history and anecdote... some magnificent photos will invoke poignant memories." www.thesportsbookshelf.com

"Chris Arnot’s heady romantic hymn to a variety of once famous fields is a coffee-table classic for and of posterity. Everyone will mourn for a personal vanished favourite." The Guardian

Britain's Lost Cricket Grounds is available to buy here.


The Secret Life of Bletchley Park by Sinclair McKay

2011 also saw the release in paperback of The Secret Life of Bletchley Park by Sinclair McKay. This critically acclaimed title, which was a surprise hit of 2010 in hardback, tells the story of the men and women whose code-cracking efforts were a decisive turning-point in the Second World War.

While Bletchley Park may be famous for its work in breaking the Enigma code machine, McKay also brings to life the memories of the ordinary people who found themselves stationed at this secretive Buckinghamshire country home. Through the accounts of Bletchley Park's surviving residents, the book tells tales of winters spent skating on the estate's frozen lake, high-jinks in the accommodation blocks and lives of implacable secrecy. It is the most revealing insight yet into a unique, intriguing and distinctly British episode in history.

You can read Keith Lowe's review of The Secret Life of Bletchley Park for the Daily Telegraph here.

"McKay has succeeded in honouring a genuinely remarkable group of people in a solid, often entertaining and above all warm-hearted way." Daily Mail

"A remarkably faithful account of what we did, why it mattered, and how it all felt at the time." Patricia Brown, wartime Bletchley Park worker, The Guardian

The Secret Life of Bletchley Park is available to buy here.


Fred Trueman: The Authorised Biography by Chris Waters

Throughout his cricketing career in the 50s and 60s, Fred Trueman was known for his fearsome fast bowling and fiery personality. Described by Prime Minister Harold Wilson as 'the greatest living Yorkshireman', he played with a fierce, full-blooded determination to win. Later in life, he would become known as an outspoken commentator for Test Match Special, cementing his status as a cricketing legend.

Chris Waters' perceptive new biography, however, portrays a more complex and troubled figure than anyone might have expected. Drawing on dozens of new interviews with those who knew him best, Waters tells the story of the self-doubting personality beneath Trueman's apparent bravado. This balanced, authoritative study of Fred Trueman's life will surprise - maybe even shock - his many admirers, but also confirms him as an English folk hero.

You can read Rob Bagchi's review of Fred Trueman: The Authorised Biography for the Guardian here.

"His multi-coloured life is given sharper focus by the meticulous research and unforgiving anecdotes of Chris Waters. The strengths of the book lie in the breadth of insights from those closest to Trueman, along with Waters’ own sharp conclusions." The Cricketer

"Perceptive biography… Waters has done a good job in disentangling the man from the myths, many of which were eagerly promoted by Fiery Fred himself." Indpendent on Sunday

Fred Trueman: The Authorised Biography is available to buy here.


And finally...

Sign Language: Travels in Unfortunate English from the Readers of the Telegraph

We have a feeling that Sign Language might have been tumbling out of a few Christmas stockings this year. Full of titillating translations, unintended innuendo and side-splitting spelling mistakes, it's bound to have been raising a few chuckles.

You can catch up with the Daily Telegraph's Sign Language photo galleries here.

Sign language is available to buy here.

Mary Whitehouse - A Very Strange Woman

Back in the late-1970s the legendary anti-porn crusader came to my school to lecture us about the evils of the modern world, the moral pitfalls that we, as tender teenagers, should take care to avoid.

I asked her a question, in fact. Asked her about how absurd it was that the blasphemy laws protected a minority faith in a secular society. (This in the context of the prosecution she was mounting of Gay News magazine for blasphemous libel.) She didn’t answer, of course – she was too seasoned for the likes of me to get even to first base.

But two things stayed with me from her speech.

First, her obsession with communism. She argued that the Soviet Union was attempting to undermine capitalism, democracy and Christianity (which were apparently interchangeable constructs) through the medium of pornography.

And second, her belief that her campaign to clean the filth out of society had been successful. She cited as evidence for this the absence of satire on television, perhaps failing to notice that by that stage the Sex Pistols meant a great deal more to most of us than That Was The Week That Was. She was, I thought, too busy celebrating past conflicts to recognize that the country had changed, and that all the changes were, from her point of view, surely for the worse.

Amanda Coe’s play, Filth: The Mary Whitehouse Story, on BBC2 last night, was equally stuck in the mud of an old battlefield. Centred on Whitehouse’s struggle to get a hearing from the BBC – and from her sworn enemy Hugh Carleton Greene, the then director-general – it was set entirely in the 1960s. And, as her friend Bill Deedes once pointed out, ‘The 1960s were rough times for people with the message Mrs Whitehouse sought to deliver.’

The Whitehouse we saw was thus an essentially impotent figure. Played by Julie Walters in a manner that was less Mary Whitehouse than it was, er, Julie Walters, she was seen as a thorn in the flesh of the BBC, but little more than a thorn. Perfectly true of the times, of course, but she became much more significant.

The play followed her from her days as concerned Christian parent into the birth of her more familiar incarnation as a self-publicizing complainer about pretty much anything and everything: Dr Who, Pinky and Perky, the lyrics of the Beatles’ ‘I Am the Walrus’ (not for its clear drug-fuelled consciousness, but for the use of the word ‘knickers’). And then it stopped. Which was a shame, because that’s just when she became really interesting.

Amidst all the headline-grabbing stuff in the early-1970s about Chuck Berry’s ding-a-ling, Whitehouse had a much more political agenda. The mass membership of her National Viewers and Listeners Association (VALA) was primarily motivated by a distaste for what was perceived to be obscenity, but she had no hesitation in using the platform this gave her to intervene in matters of party politics. For her, as for Roy Jenkins on the opposite side of the fence, permissiveness and liberalism skipped hand-in-hand.

So when Panorama had the nerve to ask some difficult questions of Northern Ireland prime minister, Brian Faulkner, she demanded to know ‘where the sympathies of the BBC lie in relation to Northern Ireland’. And during the three-day week in January 1974, called by Tory prime minister Ted Heath in response to an overtime ban by the National Union of Miners, she denounced the corporation for being ‘committed to polarisation of public sentiment in favour of the miners.’

There was just a hint of this in Filth, as Whitehouse complained about the BBC’s ‘propaganda for the left that verges on communism’. But mostly the play presented her as a single-issue campaigner. ‘Dearie me,’ she said, ‘we’re not political.’

And that simply wasn’t true. She’d first met her husband, Ernest (played brilliantly here by Alun Armstrong) in the 1930s when they were both members of the evangelical Oxford Group, later known as Moral Re-Armament. And although the Oxford Group was primarily and overtly religious, it had a strong political, as well, as moral, compass. Its founder, Frank Buchman, was so committed to the cause of anti-communism that he was even seduced by the ideological allure of fascism: ‘I thank Heaven for a man like Adolf Hitler,’ he enthused in 1936.

The Whitehouses shared Buchman’s passionate opposition to the Soviet Union as a godless, evil force in the world. Ernest Whitehouse believed that the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament prophesied the (temporary) triumph of communism, and his wife had no hesitation in seeing reds both under and in the bed: ‘They’ve infiltrated the trade unions,’ she argued. ‘Why does anyone still believe they haven’t infiltrated broadcasting?’

As VALA continued into the political turmoil of the 1970s, these attitudes – present from the outset – came ever more to the fore, helping to build the social coalition that would ultimately see the election of Margaret Thatcher in 1979.

Whitehouse’s ability to win battles remained dubious at best, and the campaigns against sex and swearing on television were ultimately doomed to failure. But she did live to see a new right-wing consensus built in this green and pleasant land. And she even lived to see the overthrow of communism in Eastern Europe.

Which brings me back to that claim of hers that’s been baffling me for nearly thirty years now. Was she really saying that porn was fuelled by Moscow gold? Did she really believe that the controlling interest in capitalism’s most profitable industry was held by the Soviet Union, at a time when that country was not exactly renowned for its ability to foster enterprise? And if so, who’s funding it now, when the Internet is being deluged with porn from the democratic nations of the former Soviet bloc?

What a very strange woman she was.


Alwyn Turner author of Crisis? What Crisis? Published by Aurum Press http://aurumpress.co.uk/, order now from http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/displayProductDetails.do?sku=6074732