Some people like to boast about going back to favourite books. As far as I’m concerned they should be ashamed of themselves.
Summer is the time of year when we are told what to read. Summer reading supplements fall from the newspapers and collect on coffee tables, set aside to be read later. In a literary beauty parade, the great and the good line up to update us on how obscure and intellectual they are this season, while also giving the nod to the latest marketing sensation just to prove they’re still cutting edge.
Summer is the season for literary insecurity, alright. Flat on your back in the hotel bedroom, idly surfing the channels, you’ll watch dumbfounded as your girlfriend (who first of all is a woman, and second of all has an English degree, and so has two good reasons to be confident she has already read more books than you’re likely to read in your whole lifetime) assembles a great leaning tower of books and explains that those are just the ones she read on the plane, while you were fast asleep.
Having read this entire article (dates back to 2007), I think I, as with many, might have missed the humour. One thing I know: re-reading this article would surely make me narrow-minded and dim… Very dim.