My Life In Books: Introduction
Anyone who knows me, or indeed anyone who’s been following this blog for any length of time, will have gained an understanding of how important books are in my life. I can no more imagine my life without books than I can my life without writing, and they have both been present for as long as I can remember.
Even before I could read, I remember being read to. I was browsing the children’s section of the library from a very young age, regularly picking out books I liked the look of for my mother to read to me. When I got old enough to understand the words myself, I would follow along.
I have not kept a diligent count of every book I’ve ever read. But I’ve begun to think about just how many books there must have been. I rememember being read to every night from about the age of three. Let’s take an average of 30 books a year. Before the age of 12 this might be being generous, but for the 20 years I’ve been commuting into London that’s an underestimation – it’s probably been more like 50. So I think 30 works as an appropriate average. So, 30 books a year for 38 years equals (gets calculator) … 1,140 books.
A lot of them I don’t remember. The ones I do, though, are in my memory because they’ve affected my life in some way. I’ve decided to start a new series of posts on this blog dealing with these books. The title of each post will be “My Life In Books” and each post will feature a book that has played some significant role in my life.
As you can imagine, this is likely to be rather a long journey. But it won’t all be taken at once. So strap yourselves in, folks. We’re going for a ride.