My literature story

I can remember being able to read fairly easily at quite an early age, but I couldn’t say for sure that I could read before I went to school (and my mother, ‘the font of all knowledge’, is on holiday so I can’t ask her!). Having helped to teach Reception children to read, I guess I must have learnt from some reading scheme, but I have no memories of one. However, I do remember quite enjoying the ‘Peter and Jane’ series. I think this was because reading one of them gave me an instant sense of achievement.

‘Bedtime stories’ were an everyday occurrence in my family. I think my mother would usually read them, starting off with a short story (and progressing to a chapter when I got older) to me whilst I was tucked up in bed and then going into my brother’s room to do the same when my light had been turned out. Like most children, I loved these moments and they helped me to associate reading with relaxation.

The monotony of car journeys would inevitably lead to squabbling and this was avoided by the playing of a ‘story tape’. I think we had most of the Roald Dahl series and I particularly remember the whole family being gripped by ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’. The books we listened to would invariably be about animals, and as we grew older would ‘advance’ to James Herriot and then Dick Francis. I think this latter author influenced my choice of detective novels in my very early teens (by authors such as Agatha Christie). Hearing the books encouraged me to have the confidence to then read books by the same authors myself.

The book that I first loved was ‘The Hungry Caterpillar’, I think because of the vivid pictures that I could imagine being able to draw myself and because of all the delicious (apart from the ‘pickle’) food he munched through.

Growing up in the countryside around adults who had done so also, an appreciation of nature and animals was installed in me at an early age. One of my most treasured books that I ‘read’ independently was ‘Brambly Hedge’. I loved escaping into the haven of this mouse world, and studying the pictures which contained intricately detailed cross-sections of each tree house.

The idea of seeing reading as a way of achieving continued in my choice of text. The short stories that made up ‘Stories for Six/Seven/Eight Year Olds’ were ideal as their size meant that I could read one a day and feel that I had achieved something. They were made up of fairy tales and I can still remember the emotions they induced in me as I read. I think that their historical context influenced my love of history. Additionally, they spurred my interest in myths and legends and may have been responsible for my addiction to ‘The Worst Witch’ series.

My love of magazines stems from being given a weekly subscription to ‘Twinkle’ for my seventh birthday. ‘Nanny’ continued this gift up until I was deemed old enough to have advanced to ‘Bunty’, which I think happened when I was about nine. The two ‘magazines’ as she called them were full of stories about different girls – some on fantasy adventures and some just going through everyday life. Initially, I enjoyed reading them, but I think I craved the chance to use my imagination, which a novel gave me. When I reached the age of twelve, I think my mother had tactfully convinced Nanny to save her pension, although I, on the other hand, was busily trying to persuade her to set me up with a subscription to ‘Mizz’ – needless to say, I failed!

Most of my books were given to me as presents, but I have to confess that the beautiful collection of classics from the ‘Everyman Library’ given to me by my godfather from the age of ten remain almost untouched. I’m not sure why exactly, but for some reason at the age of around eleven I somehow lost confidence in my reading ability. At about this time, the school that I attended introduced some sort of book club and my friends and I discovered the joys of ‘Point Horrors’ – a series of ‘horror stories’ with titles such as ‘Trick or Treat’ and ‘The Hitch-hiker’ about the dramas experienced by various American teenagers. From these, I’m afraid to say, I progressed to ‘Point Romances’ which were equally as sensationalist, unsurprisingly when you look at the title of my favourite – ‘Summer Loving, Winter Dreaming’. I have no recollection of the authors of these gruesome (as my father described them) books, they were only distinctive by the ‘Point Horror/Romance’ logo on the spine and the cover. I suppose that at least they kept me reading something, after a few pages of ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ aged ten had completely knocked my confidence. Their brevity also appealed to me. I can imagine at this point that my mother was beginning to despair with this naff teenager that was emerging, but she seemed to let it go.

Whilst my best friend, who used to lend me most of the aforementioned books, progressed to Steven King and consequently completely freaked me out by making me watch the film versions at midnight on a Saturday night, I diverted to Jilly Cooper, having been advised by a girl a couple of years older than me. Their ‘horsey’ plots appealed to me, though I was initially daunted by the size of the main novels, so Polly suggested I read a collection of short stories (I think named ‘Lisa & co’) and, five pages in, I was hooked, and soon reading the Rupert Campbell-Black series as fast as I could get my hands on them. As the odd Jilly Cooper epic (complete with ‘racey’ front cover) appeared on my parent’s book shelf), I took this as their unwritten approval of my reading choice. I know that these books are not exactly considered classic English Literature, by I really admired her amusing depictions of characters and the beauty of the countryside she described, so I think her writing must at least have expanded my vocabulary!

I think that being made to read ‘good literature’ in my English classes put me back on the straight and narrow. I also took a few Speech & Drama exams and had to read extracts from novels such as ‘Swallows and Amazons’ and this helped too. However, the competitive nature of boarding schools didn’t always help my confidence. I remember being in the same dormitory as ‘the brainiest girl in my year’ at boarding school and finding a copy of ‘Sophie’s World’ on her bedside table. On my next trip home I begged to be taken to WH Smith to purchase my own copy and studiously began reading it in bed alongside Isabel. Unfortunately, it’s taken me thirteen years to realise that I was never going to reach Isabel’s level of intellect (she later got a first from Oxford and is now some high-flying banker), and I’m afraid that, aged thirteen, I didn’t get much further than the first few chapters.

The first book I remember reading and really enjoying as an adult was ‘Captain Correlli’s Mandolin’. I did English Literature and Language for A Level and my best friend at school did pure Literature. I didn’t envy her choice, when she was trawling through ‘The Canterbury Tales’, but when she came back to ‘House’ (our boarding house) one day clutching a copy of Louise de Berniere’s novel and beaming with delight at being released from the monotony of Chaucer I was intrigued by this funny looking book. This was the first book that I had chosen to read which none of my parents of teachers could reject as being trashy, and I loved it.

I have similar memories of my Nana buying me kids comics that I wasn't really interested in but I didn't have the heart to ask her for anything different! Amanda

Oh Venetia, I´m sure you´re much more interesting than this Isabel character!
See you tomorrow.