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

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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