The Invisible Wall

This is a first book by a 96-year-old American Jew, describing his (almost) indescribable slum childhood in pre-World War I Stockport and the immediate post-war years before the family set sail for a better life in the U.S. in 1922.

The author begins the narrative when he is four and ends it when he's about 12. For a man of his age, his memory is extraordinarily powerful; his ability to recall dialogue - his own and that of others - is remarkable.

The sceptical might wonder if it's all true, whether he hasn't occasionally embroidered or invented. But I wouldn't wish to challenge him because the tale has a freshness, a vitality and a relentless energy which make the reader want to believe it.

Harry's parents are Ultra-Orthodox Jews from Poland, and live in a shabby, short street where everyone is poor (Harry shares a bed with his two brothers) all the lavatories are out of doors and the only sign of affluence is the neighbours' windup gramophone.

One side of the street is peopled only by Jews, the other by Christians, and the invisible wall of the title separates the two sides.

The Jews work in the sweatshops of the tailoring district, the Christians at the textile mills, and the sound to which Harry wakes is that of the mill workers' clogs striking sparks on the cobblestones as they march off to work.