![]() ![]() ![]() If anything her thrill at knowing someone who knew Virginia Woolf is really quite sweet. But she is so starstruck by her brief encounters with Ian Fleming and EM Forster, so self-deprecating about her disastrous meeting with Edith Sitwell and so admiring of those writers she did know well, that it never feels as though she’s showing off these literary connections. There is some name dropping here and there – with Hill sure to tell us if she has chanced upon a famous writer in a library or at a literary party. Hill writes about the smell of books, the look of them with their carefully chosen fonts and jackets, she writes of the way she reads and how it has affected her own writing and she tries to whittle her vast collection to a final 40 titles she could manage to survive on for the rest of her life. Part personal memoir, part love letter to the volumes that have been her companions for decades, it is that odd thing, a book about reading. This book is her record of the experience. ![]() Instead she would spend an entire year reading her way through the library she has built up over a lifetime of loving literature. British novelist Susan Hill decided to give up acquiring new books for a while. Others vow to get through a year without buying new clothes. Some people swear off chocolate or alcohol for Lent. ![]()
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