My earliest reading memory
The summer I was four, my mum read EB White’s Charlotte’s Web to me and my older sister. I don’t recall much of the story, only that my mum was unable to go on reading through her tears. And when a relative took over, after just a few pages, she too had to pass the book on, this time to my father to try and finish dry-eyed. That afternoon, at a subconscious, cellular level, I absorbed something about the emotional impact a well-told story can have on both children and adults, and how it can gather everyone to the same imagined space.
My favourite book growing up
I loved Shirley Hughes’s books, for the pictures as much as the words. Her…