I find Kezia playing with books so so much of the time, and when we sit down to read a couple of times a day she absolutely loves it. As do I! It seems so mysterious: what is it that makes them so exciting? I’ve done a quick run down and this is what I reckon:
I had a baby! Almost eight months ago now. I’m still pretty proud of myself. And totally overcome still by how wonderful Kezia is. But when I come to connect my new parental status with my life in literature I am suddenly hit with a problem. It seems that mothers are hugely absent from books – in almost all stories they are either dead or completely useless.