Though I'm a bit over the child-of-an-alcoholic breed of memoir, I found this one truly gripping. Admittedly, I was initially interested because I am of Scottish descent and I was hoping for lots of history and descriptions of Scottish scenery. I was not disappointed. Campbell's own story is so intricately woven into the history of Scotland and her family that it is hard to see sometimes where the Cawdors end and she begins--a truly Scottish quality. Campbell asks for no sympathy; in fact, she barely asks the reader for understanding. She seems to be aware that her coming of age was so wildly different from that of anyone reading her book, there can be little common ground... After all, how many of us came of age in the British Aristocracy in the 60s and 70s?