My earliest reading memory
Before I could read, my mother used to make up stories inspired by her childhood in India. There were monsoons and paper boats; there were pink newspapers. Listening to her, watching her hands tell the stories, was my first form of reading.
My favourite book growing up
I read Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre at around 10 or 11 years old, then read it again and again in my teens. My bedroom was tiny, but it had a window seat. I’d climb up and pull down the blind, so I was sealed in like the girl in the book. Later on, the colonial and missionary themes came into focus, and I discovered the work of Jean Rhys that way.
