I’m seven years old, maybe eight. I’m in the kitchen with my mother. She’s cooking; I’m studying a box of teabags on the kitchen dresser. The teabags are made by Ceylon Tea and the picture on the box is strange and beautiful: pretty young women in brightly-coloured saris, blue, red, and pink, smiling among bright … More The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka
Ten years ago I went on a mini-tour of China. In Shanghai, Beijing, and Xian the tour guide asked us not to leave the hotel in the evening – she was afraid we’d get lost. When we reached Guilan, it was a different story. There was an evening market we might like to explore, she … More Continent by Jim Crace
I first fell in love with a book when I was five. It was a Ladybird Book called Chicken Licken, a tale of a little chicken who creates panic among the other birds (Henny-Penny, Ducky-Lucky, Goosey-Loosey, Turkey-Lurkey etc.) by running around telling them the sky is falling down when an acorn falls on his head. … More The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
translated by Daisy Rockwell The older I get and the more I travel, the more I realise how many people hate the English. Not individual English people, you understand, but The English, with a capital T capital E. I can see why. TE have done some good in places (ask the Maltese, ask the Greeks … More Tomb of Sand by Geetanjali Shree
I remember seeing the film Some Like It Hot on TV when I was seven or eight. It was a Sunday afternoon and I was sprawled on the rug in front of the fire reading a book. I don’t remember much about the film apart from Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon dressed as women, and … More Mr Wilder & Me by Jonathan Coe
We’re a week away from Christmas, the biggest festive celebration in the Western calendar. If you’re anything like me, the last few weeks will have disappeared in a blur of buying presents, decorating the tree, stock-piling food and alcohol, carousing with friends, singing carols and Christmas songs, and generally building up to the big day … More Quarantine by Jim Crace
During junior school I became obsessed with Enid Blyton’s Famous Five novels. My classmate, John, was equally obsessed and we started competing to see who could collect all 21 books in the series. This was more of a challenge than it might sound. Neither of us had enough spare money to buy the entire collection … More Spies by Michael Frayn
I was only three or four, I think, when I learned adults could not necessarily be relied upon to keep their promises. At that time my mother’s youngest sister and her husband were the only members of the family to own a car. They visited every Sunday and I’d perch on the window ledge, waiting … More The Promise by Damon Galgut
translated from French by Anna Moschovakis My two granddads fought in World War One, my maternal granddad in Belgium, my paternal granddad in Iraq (where he died; there’s a Memorial at Basra commemorating him and the other 40,000 casualties of the Mesopotamia campaign). A generation on, my dad fought in World War Two in North … More At Night All Blood is Black by David Diop
My father was an alcoholic, albeit a functioning one. He would come home from work on a Friday and drink a bottle of whisky. He’d drink another two bottles on Saturday and a half-bottle on Sunday. He generally wouldn’t go to bed no matter how much my mother pleaded or cajoled, preferring to stay up … More Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart
whatcathyread 