Their winning ways

UGLY: The True Story of a Loveless Childhood by Constance Briscoe
Hodder £12.99 pp310

WHITE ON BLACK by Ruben Gallego
J Murray £10 pp168

If you had a ghastly childhood, you might consider writing a book about it. At the moment, there is an absolute mania for reading about other people's misery. At the bookshop, you can browse through heaps of tragic memoirs, choosing which sort of tragedy to take home next - disability, abuse or plain old grinding poverty?

While one sometimes wonders about the readers of these things, the writers are (usually) beyond criticism. Basically, you don't get to publish a book with a blurry photo of a kid on the cover unless you are a truly remarkable person, with a remarkable story to tell.

Constance Briscoe was one of the first black women in this country to sit as a judge. Not surprisingly, she is a woman who knows how to get your attention. The stark title of her book, Ugly, challenges you to look at the picture of the author on the back flap. She is decidedly handsome, and we immediately see that the insult is monstrous and ridiculous.

Briscoe has a horrible tale to tell, and she tells it with a certain triumphant relish - this is an extremely angry book, and she is out to shoot down as many of the culprits as she can. Why should she be merciful, when she was beaten and humiliated and starved? Her mother, Carmen, who came from Jamaica in the 1950s, is ruthlessly exposed as an unbalanced witch. She stabs her husband, she terrorises her many children, she abuses her unloved third daughter. In this daughter's version of her "loveless childhood", Carmen does not have a single redeeming feature.

It should be added that Carmen is reportedly planning to sue her daughter for defamation - as are several other members of the family. And one suspects that Briscoe herself is hoping they will do just that. She would love to tell this sorry tale in a court of law. Bring it on!

As a child, little Constance (known as "Clare" or "Clearie") was a chronic bedwetter. For this, she was made to suffer endless beatings and punishments. She never got a Christmas present, or a new dress. Her mother had plenty of cash for her siblings, but Briscoe had to hobble to school in shoes that were far too small. This was, however, a child of amazing spirit. At the age of 11 she went to social services and asked to be taken into care. At 12, she marched into the Camberwell Green Magistrate's Court, saying "My stepfather keeps abusing me and I was just wondering whether I could take out some action against him."

Clare knew she was clever, and she knew exactly where she was going. After seeing an episode of that venerable television soap, Crown Court, she decided she wanted to be a barrister. She met a real QC, Michael Mansfield, on a school trip, and boldly asked him for help. He was obviously deeply impressed by her determination - his continued encouragement is one of the most graceful notes in this seething book.

When not in a lather of indignation, Briscoe's writing can be very funny - there's a terrific account of Carmen seeing off a pair of Jehovah's Witnesses. "I tell you what - if I ever do walk in your valley, you'll know all about it." On the whole, however, the book is a tad vituperative in tone.

There is, in contrast, almost no anger in Ruben Gallego's White on Black. He writes about the beauty he has found in hideous places, and his tone is often positively elegiac. He had a terrible start in life. He was born in Moscow in 1968, with cerebral palsy. His grandfather was the secretary general of the Spanish Communist party. Deeply ashamed of the child, he told Ruben's mother he had died, and hid him away in a Russian state orphanage. The official line was that the state cared for all its citizens - but the provisions for disabled children were often primitive.

Amazingly, this unloved and neglected little boy survived. He tells his story in a series of detailed snapshots, but he is not trying to wring your heart. "I'm convinced," he says, "that life and literature have more than enough of the dark side." There is only too much suffering here. There are hospitals without wheelchairs, and old people's homes where the patients are eaten by rats.

More vivid for Gallego, however, are the brief flashes of pleasure. Any treat in the way of food is lovingly described. Kindly teachers and carers are evoked with affection and empathy. He writes beautifully, without a drop of bitterness and with a rare wisdom.