Published by Penguin Books on 23 Feb 2016
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I read and read and read with an intensity I'd never really known before. I mean, I'd always considered myself to be a person who liked books. But there's a difference between liking books and needing them. I needed books. They weren't a luxury good during that time in my life. They were a Class A addictive substance...
There is this idea that you either read to escape or you read to find yourself. I don't really see the difference. We find ourselves through the process of escaping. It is not where we are, but where we want to go, and all that. "Is there no way out of the mind?" Sylvia Plath famously asked. I had been interested in this question (what it meant, what the answers might be) ever since I had come across it as a teenager in a book of quotations. If there is a way out, a way that isn't death itself, then the exit route is through words. But rather than leave the mind entirely, words help us leave a mind, and give us the building blocks to build another one, similar but better, nearby to the old one but with firmer foundations, and very often a better view.
