I Was a Reluctant Reader. My Gran Fixed That in One Afternoon.
The story of how one trip to a bookshop changed everything — and why I’ve never forgotten it. I was not a reader as a child. I want to be honest about that, because I think it matters. The person writing these books, the person who has spent years trying to get reluctant readers to fall in love with stories, that person was once a boy who couldn’t get through a chapter without his mind drifting somewhere else entirely. It wasn’t that I couldn’t read. I could read perfectly well. It was that none of the books I was given at school felt like they were meant for me. They felt like homework with a cover. I’d sit with them and wait for something to happen, and nothing ever quite did, nothing that made me forget where I was, nothing that made me desperate to find out what came next. I was eight, maybe nine, and I had quietly decided that reading simply wasn’t for me. My Gran Knew Better My gran was a reader. More than that, she was a writer. She understood books from both sides, ...