My earliest reading memory
Sitting on the floor with my mother, reading word cards cut out from an All Bran box. The Ladybird classics soon followed. I recently found a battered copy of The Golden Goose by the Brothers Grimm and read it to my kids. My word, how times have changed. A character called Simpleton? Cake and a bottle of wine for a midday meal? (Only on holidays, mind you.)
My favourite book growing up
I was once at a drinks reception in an embassy and a towering venerable poet sidled over. “So who are your formative influences?” he asked. I met him with a half-serious look and said, “The Hardy Boys”. The great brow came down and his eyes closed. There was silence for a moment. “Ah,” he said, “Thomas Hardy!” I meant what I said, though. Aged nine to 10, I read all 85 Hardy Boys books, except for one, The House on the Cliff, which could not be had in 1980s rural Donegal. I moved shortly on from there to Jack Higgins.
