My earliest reading memory
Learning how to read with Superman comic books on the floor of the barber’s shop my Dad went to every Saturday morning, when I was three. That same year, I branched out to Supergirl, Superdog and Superboy.
My favourite book growing up
The more appropriate was Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Like so many other girls, I identified with Jo and her temper and her unappreciated talent, despised Amy, grieved for Beth and was utterly indifferent to Meg and whatever conventional visions of happiness she had. My other favourite was A House Is Not a Home, the memoir of a New York madam, by Polly Adler. Despite the fact that I didn’t really grasp what the girls did in the evening I loved this book for its portrait of backstage life, as it were, and female solidarity. And I love that neither the librarian, nor my mother, took it out of my hands.
