How chairing the Costa book awards rekindled the love of reading - Lost at 15, rediscovered at 59

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Matthew Parris rediscovers the joy of reading...

Two or three times a week before bed Mum read to my brother (16 months younger) and me; and when a sister then another brother came along, we older two still crowded round because even juvenile stories were fun when she did all the voices. I confess that as a 21-year-old undergraduate I cocked a sheepish ear when yet another sister and brother, not long arrived, snuggled up and Mum brought giants and witches and Mrs Tiggywinkle to life again.

There was Peter Pan too, and, later, those strange stories in The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley. In time she read Dickens: the whole of Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, then David Copperfield. Years later, and the moment Tony Blair strode on to the political stage, I recognised David Copperfield's faithless friend, the admired Steerforth, and steered clear...

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This page contains a single entry by achuka published on January 31, 2009 9:53 AM.

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