But where will I put my books? Debbie Bennett
I grew up with books. I remember my dad bringing home a Famous Five book every Friday – I used to be ready and waiting for him to come home from work and I’d have finished the book by the end of the weekend. The newsagent would deliver my comic on a Saturday and I’d lie in bed listening for the clink of the letter box; I’d scurry down and take my comic back to bed to read. These were the days when kids’ comics and magazines contained serialised picture stories – these days it’s all fashion and make-up and gossip. Do ten year-olds really want to “read” that kind of thing? Or do they have no option these days? I remember being surprised when I realised it wasn’t normal to visit the library at least once a week. Not all my friends had bookshelves in their bedrooms and buying fourteen paperbacks over the course of a family holiday wasn’t what other people did. I began to check out friends’ houses – I still do – to see whether they have Books. Books with a capital B. Cherished books, odd...