My fifteenth post in this blog. I think I am supposed to link this up to all sorts of other things as part of a promotions strategy but have no idea how to do that. However, no more of writing today.

Over the past year I have read quite a lot of books but only a few have made it onto my reading record here. Why is that? Time? I don't really have that as an excuse. Effort? Possibly, because I find that I cannot write quick reviews. I always have to think about why I enjoyed or did not enjoy a novel (most are novels). I have to make some comment on the writer's techniques and ideas...does this all go back to my time as a teacher? Probably. Even so, surely a writer deserves more than 'I loved this book'. If anyone says that about any of mine, I immediately want to ask 'Really? Why?' And it's just the same if they say they didn't like it.

I don't think this is vanity - I actually do want to know what it is about fiction that fascinates us or disappoints us. And so I have a pile of books, read but not yet reviewed because I still haven't been able to explain to myself why I feel about them as I do. I suppose some people would find that rather sad, in the modern sense of the word if not the original one. But I'd rather say nothing than be superficial about a writer's work, especially now that I know what goes into every page!