Tag Archives: J K Rowling

About A Not Very Interesting Boy

Nick Hornby is the sort of author who, in theory, I would love to hate.

Relentlessly populist (not to mention hugely popular), resolutely proletarian and never particularly subtle with his themes, Hornby seems made for me to sneer at.

I was quite impressed with High Fidelity on a first reading, but hardly blown away: it wasn’t until I read A Long Way Down that I fell in love.  And Fever Pitch sealed the deal.

Since then, I haven’t been able to walk past one of his books without buying it.  I’m saving up About A Boy for a particularly nice and lazy day when I can wolf it down in one go.  Preferably while being fed peeled grapes by Elizabeth Hurley, but Liz’s people won’t return my calls. Continue reading


On Reading Aloud

As children my sister and I were singularly blessed with parents who read to us, and read to us a lot.  I very much doubt that my parents were familiar with Mem Fox’s reading Decalogue: they simply knew that reading to children was, is and ever shall be crucial. Continue reading