For a very long time I only read dead authors but expanded my horizons after I felt I had a solid enough literary cushion beneath me. At alumnae reunions, our ancient librarians fought to sit with me.
London Burning
And what’s this? There’s someone else sitting in the corner, meal long finished, looking, looking around. Don’t like that, the way he’s looking: who sits in a chicken shop and just looks?
Curiouser and Curiouser: A Literary Autobiography
I took a turn through 19th century children’s literature, where the unnerving weirdness of Pinocchio gave me a taste for speculative fiction that sent me spiralling gloriously into Stephen King.
When I Paint My Masterpiece
That was when I made my big mistake.
“The only reason he had anything to do with you was to get to me.”
She flinched.
Storyrider, Dragonreader
In children’s books, kids just get horses somehow. They don’t buy them. They win them in raffles or end up shipwrecked with them on desert islands. Horses come into children’s lives through magic. The stories give kids power, control over another creature, but even in stories parents have the ultimate power.
Transparencies
Oh… here we go again. Packing up, but hopefully the last time I recon if in truth I get there. I can’t remember the number of times I’ve moved in my life – too many.