n the 1930s, the English composer Lord Berners wrote two memoirs: First Childhood, which covers his earliest memories and his years in prep school, and A Distant Prospect, about his years at Eton. While the former could conceivably be read alone, the second could not, and they should be considered as a whole. Berners had a sharp eye, which manifests in many beautiful descriptions, even of relatively banal subjects like the math master's voice ("the same milk-and-water voice upon which a University twang lay like a thin layer of vinegar"). As one might expect of "the English Satie," Berners also had a sharp wit, which is best when tempered by self-deprecation, as when he describes his attempt to mount a puppet Rhinegold at home only to have his novel steam device dissolve the tails of his Rhine maidens, or when blunted by genuine affection, as in the often hilarious descriptions of his familyAhe describes his aristocratic grandmother as looking like "Savonarola masquerading as Betsy Trotwood." But unmoderated, his critical edge can become simply mean, as in his descriptions of a Jewish schoolmate and a tomboyish neighbor. Aside from his usually appealing humor, these books also serve as an interesting record of a minimally closeted gay man on the much discussed eroticism of English boarding schools and the Victorian determination to breed "manliness" through ardent devotion to sport. As a whole, this is a picture of a time and a class with all of its virtues and failings.