Lone Fox Dancing is an autobiography written with remarkable honesty and intimacy. Ruskin Bond takes us through his life from his childhood to his later years as an established writer. The journey moves from Jamnagar to Delhi, Shimla and England before eventually bringing him to the hills and Mussoorie. The book is filled with anecdotes, memories and observations, narrated with the wit and simplicity that make Bond’s writing so enjoyable.

He recalls his boarding-school days in Shimla, the different places he lived, his friendships, his lonely childhood and the many people who passed through his life. One of the things I particularly enjoyed is the way he remembers places. The cities and towns are not merely backgrounds to his story; they become part of it. When Bond describes Delhi of the 1940s, for instance, you can almost visualize the city as it might have looked at the time.

Yesterday I dreamed again that I was lost in a large city of blinding lights and traffic. I was feeling quite helpless until a small boy took my hand and led me to the safety of these mountains I knew so well. I wanted him to stay – I was certain I knew him – but he turned and walked away, whistling, hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, and as I called out to ask his name, I woke up.

The book also gives us glimpses into the making of some of his well-known works and his journey towards becoming an established writer. Yet there is very little self-importance in the way he tells his story. Even after a long and successful literary career, Bond writes about himself with an endearing humility.

And then there is Mussoorie. The affection with which Bond writes about the place that became his home is unmistakable. By the later part of the autobiography, we see him settled there with his adopted family, surrounded by the landscape and people that have appeared so often in his writing.

While reading Lone Fox Dancing, you sometimes feel as though you are watching the author’s entire life unfold in front of you. It makes you sad, makes you smile, makes you wonder and, above all, makes you nostalgic. There are so many emotions that you experience while moving through the different stages of his life.

No life is more, or less, important, or interesting than another – much of it, after all, is lived inside our heads. I have finally yielded to friends who have been persuading me to the story of my life, but I am still not convinced it will be of any great value. I can only hope that it is, at least, a curiosity; a record of time gone by, an introduction to some interesting and unsung people, and a glimpse into one kind of writerly life.