One of the pleasures of my job is having long summer holidays. This not only allows me time to write but just as importantly gives me a chance to work my way through the great pile of books beside my bed.
I've just started reading this book and I'm already a bit in love with it. I won't say any more at this stage, other than quoting this long and beautiful paragraph from the third page. If this is a typical sample of the writing then I'm in for a treat…
"Stories were different, though: they came alive in the telling. Without a human voice to read them aloud, or a pair of wide eyes following them by torchlight beneath a blanket, they had no real existence in our world. They were like seeds in the beak of a bird, waiting to fall to earth, or the notes of a song laid out on a sheet, yearning for an instrument to bring their music into being. They lay dormant, hoping for the chance to emerge. Once someone started to read them, they could begin to change. They could take root in the imagination and transform the reader. Stories wanted to be read… They needed it. It was the reason they forced themselves from their world into ours. They wanted us to give them life."
I'll be reading this again for inspiration the next time I'm sitting at the keyboard, struggling to write a particular paragraph or page or chapter!