My earliest reading memory
The Very Hungry Caterpillar. There wasn’t much to read – the prose is what’s now called “spare” – but I vividly remember the pleasure of poking a finger through the holes punched in the page. And that final twist!
My favourite book growing up
I was a fanatical member of the Puffin Club at school, and so many of those books embedded themselves in me; E Nesbit’s Dragons, Narnia, of course, the Molesworth books, which I barely understood and found hysterical. But my favourite were Tove Jansson’s Moomins, particularly the chilly later books, with their very particular melancholy. Other books seemed to be reaching for laughter or excitement, but there was a pleasure in all that sadness and solitude.
