My earliest reading memory
Not my earliest reading memory, exactly, but my earliest memory of reading with avid enjoyment: The Three Investigators mysteries, a series of kids’ books about three juvenile detectives operating in far-off California (impossibly glamorous to me at the time) under the benign direction of Alfred Hitchcock, of all people. I devoured the first 12 in the franchise.
My favourite book growing up
Like everybody else growing up in the 1970s, I had a copy of Watership Down by Richard Adams on my bedroom shelves – it was the law. I did love it, though. Whatever fondness I have for the English countryside probably comes from that book. I remember my grandfather – a real country dweller – seeing me reading it and being outraged. “A book about rabbits?” he shouted. “They’re vermin!”
