I don’t know if it is a sign of ageing, but the older I get, the more I enjoy reading. Indeed, many an evening when there is something sordid or sexy on the television I find myself quite indifferent to the supposed excitement of all that malarkey and am quite happy with my head inside a book. Before you start thinking that I’ve gone all pretentious on you - I understand that I am not the only person who enjoys reading all manner of literature, from Richard Osman, that tall chap on the television who writes so-called “…retirement home murder mysteries” to heavyweight tomes written by (among others) Hilary Mantel, William Boyd and CJ Sansom.
Not forgetting Alan Bennett who always makes me laugh, plus military history via Ben Macintyre and the former Labour politician Alan Johnson, who managed to write a brilliant memoir without mentioning politics once. However on a more mundane note, has anyone else noticed that hardback books are getting bigger and bigger i.e. longer and longer? It seems that the latest offering from Robert Galbraith (aka JK Rowling) is 960 pages long and weighs in at 1.2 kg. You try propping that up on your chest when reading in bed!
Anyway, it seems that reading is the new rock n roll for some of us saddos, with the exponential (I’ve always wanted to use that word) growth of book clubs both home and abroad, indeed I know for a fact that there is more than a few of these entities on Mallorca; mostly - it has to be said, populated by the female of the species. I wonder why that is? However, on the opposite end of the spectrum, I read recently that it is becoming more and more difficult to entice children into reading as there are so many competing elements in modern living that take precedent it seems over books and reading once the kids get beyond six or seven years of age.
Personally, I have found that reading and books is a habit forming process - as once you get into the rhythm of reading and perhaps (if you are lucky) setting aside time to indulge yourself - it is a habit that is hard to shake off. I have to say that there is a literary mantra that insists that as a general rule women prefer fiction and men prefer non-fiction when it comes to choosing what to read, but I’m not so sure if that is as true as it once might have been as boundaries and tastes change. For instance, the good old-fashioned ‘bodice ripper’ novelette is not as prevalent as it once was, and equally that square-jawed match-by-match, ghost written, self-appraisal of a sportsman’s career has to be a little more subtle than it was in the past.
On the other hand I have noticed that there has been an increase in intelligent, tell-all autobiographies, from celebrities as diverse as Ruby Wax, Robert Webb and Bernie Taupin, that have proven very popular with - what can be loosely described as those of us who love a bit of showbiz in our lives. In writing all this, I have to confess that what has provoked this love letter to books and reading, is the fact that The Times/Sunday Times Cheltenham Literature Festival has been taking place just down the road from us for a week and finishes this coming Sunday and I couldn’t have been any happier if I tried - come on, how sad is that?