Article: The germ of this book...

The germ of this book was a sad occasion at my aunt Janet's graveside in Devon. We had just laid her to rest, and as I threw some earth over her casket, I remember thinking how rarely aunts got the credit they deserve in our lives - Janet, herself childless, had done so much for me in my youth, not only in introducing me to books and music, but also in providing an adult presence free from the discipline that parents and schoolteachers are obliged to provide.

A few days after my aunt's funeral, I was discussing her with friends over lunch. Their four-year-old son suddenly piped up 'Why are there aunts?' Out of the mouth of babes came forth wisdom - I suddenly realized that this was a good question which hadn't yet been answered. A trawl through library catalogues confirmed my suspicion that although life and literature were absolutely full of aunts, nobody (not even an academic anthropologist or sociologist) had ever properly investigated the phenomenon.

Writing the book was the greatest fun. In the interests of digging up aunts, I got to re-read some of my favourite novels, from Frank L Baum's The Wizard of Oz to Jane Austen's Mansfield Park to P G Wodshouse's Jeeves and Wooster, as well as a lot dustily obscure texts from the Georgian and Victorian eras. Best of all, however, was the response of friends and acquaintances. Invariably, when I first told them about the project, they misheard and decided I was writing about ants, but once the mistake had been corrected and their initial incredulity had worn off, they became madly enthusiastic and proved an inexhaustible fund of memories of their own beloved - and sometimes not so beloved - aunts. Their contributions enliven every page of a book which is as much a treasury and anthology as it is a historical and personal essay on the significance and history of auntdom.

2007 © Rupert Christiansen