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Fern Press Look Closer.
'The best book about reading I have read for a very long time' STEPHEN FRY
'A glittering gem of a book' NATALIE HAYNES
A joyful and enlightening masterclass in how reading attentively can change our lives
As an English literature professor, Robert Douglas-Fairhurst has delighted in sharing his love of reading with his students. Bringing together more than twenty years of teaching, Look Closer explores the iconic works of literature that have formed, sustained and entertained him, from timeless classics like Wuthering Heights and Dracula to modern masterpieces such as Normal People and The Handmaid’s Tale, as well as children’s books, poetry, plays, short stories and comics.
By revealing the simple techniques to slow down, take note and bring a text to life, Look Closer makes clear how literature works and why, in these turbulent times, reading is more relevant than ever. Funny, illuminating and personal, this book ultimately shows us how great writing can change a person’s life. It is a celebration of the simple joy of reading, and how becoming more attentive readers can open up worlds and bring us closer to ourselves in delightful and unexpected ways.
'A glittering gem of a book' NATALIE HAYNES
A joyful and enlightening masterclass in how reading attentively can change our lives
As an English literature professor, Robert Douglas-Fairhurst has delighted in sharing his love of reading with his students. Bringing together more than twenty years of teaching, Look Closer explores the iconic works of literature that have formed, sustained and entertained him, from timeless classics like Wuthering Heights and Dracula to modern masterpieces such as Normal People and The Handmaid’s Tale, as well as children’s books, poetry, plays, short stories and comics.
By revealing the simple techniques to slow down, take note and bring a text to life, Look Closer makes clear how literature works and why, in these turbulent times, reading is more relevant than ever. Funny, illuminating and personal, this book ultimately shows us how great writing can change a person’s life. It is a celebration of the simple joy of reading, and how becoming more attentive readers can open up worlds and bring us closer to ourselves in delightful and unexpected ways.
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About the author
Robert Douglas-Fairhurst
21 books38 followersDouglas-Fairhurst is Professor of English Literature at Oxford University and a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. His books include Becoming Dickens: The Invention of a Novelist and The Story of Alice: Lewis Carroll and the Secret History of Wonderland.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
January 18, 2026
I love books about books and of the books about books that I’ve read this is one of the better books about books.
January 18, 2026
Exhilarating. Revelatory. I want to rush back to books I thought I knew - and give a second chance to ones I've never fancied reading.
January 9, 2026
Professor Douglas-Fairhurst teaches English Literature at Oxford, and reading Look Closer gives the reader a peek into what the environment must be like in his classroom. He's warm, conversational, and his love of reading is infectious. While cautioning that reading alone won't magically make us better people (pointing out that Stalin famously had a collection of over 25,000 works and claimed to have read 500 pages a day), he argues that literature always has the potential to transform us, if we're willing to pay attention.
We can all point to books and stories that changed us, even if we couldn't define exactly what's different about our world as we come to the last page. In Look Closer, Douglas-Fairhurst explores the myriad ways a poem or work of literature can reveal something novel in our lives. He urges us to cultivate curiosity in our reading, quoting Nietzsche:
We can all point to books and stories that changed us, even if we couldn't define exactly what's different about our world as we come to the last page. In Look Closer, Douglas-Fairhurst explores the myriad ways a poem or work of literature can reveal something novel in our lives. He urges us to cultivate curiosity in our reading, quoting Nietzsche:
In an age of work, he wrote, 'that is, of haste, of unseemly and immoderate hurry-scurry, which is so eager to "get things done"', what is needed is an approach that will teach us 'how to read well, that is, slowly, profoundly, attentively, prudently, with inner thoughts, with the mental doors ajar.' (p. 10)
February 22, 2026
An intelligent and accessible book about applying rigour to your reading to look at what the author may have intended in the sly subtext, the curious black spaces, the dot dot dot of things, the implication, the suggestion. I’ve already applied some of the thinking and I’ll go back to some of the source texts as time goes by. Different from my usual reading, but intended to complement it, so I don’t lose the detail in the rush to action.
December 20, 2025
I feared whilst reading that any criticism I might have offered would have been tainted by more than a little bias. However I was delighted to find how I enjoyed the thing itself. Something of a romp. And going back to basics is always appreciated. I should not have taken my own literary assumptions for granted with such little practice. Thanks Robert.
January 5, 2026
A fitting and beautifully written book to start my reading year in 2026. The author reflects on a love of reading and reveals how the world of words helps us better understand ourselves.
November 26, 2025
The publicity for this delightful book is at pains to point out that its intended reader is not the cloistered academic, nor the aspiring literary critic, but one whom Virginia Woolf refereed to as ‘the common reader’, in a collection of essays with that name. Like her, Douglas-Fairhurst addresses himself not to the expert but to the ordinary man or woman who reads for pleasure and wants to enhance the experience of engaging with literature.
Disclosure: in theory I am not that reader, having been a teacher of English Literature in schools and universities for forty-six years. Nevertheless, I devoured this book with great relish, often with a nod, or a wave, or a handshake of agreement and recognition, and sometimes with the shade of a reservation or even disagreement (the latter but rarely). And that, as the author makes explicit, ‘is as it should be.’
For our engagement with literature, whether it be in the activity of reading – or talking about reading – is not a mere output/input transaction; it is, or should be, a kinetic, interactive, protean relationship. To get the most out of this relationship the reader should not be passive, but open to challenges, ready to accept that during a particular reading, attitudes, understandings, misunderstandings, opinions, evaluations may all change, and change again, that there are as many readings of a text as there are readers, most of them valid. You envision Heathcliff differently from me, and neither of us see him quite as Emily did. And so with Tess, and Humbert Humbert, and Peter Pan, and Pip, and Alice and Poirot. We all have different experiences of being in the world, and so it stands to reason that our imaginings of persons and places in our literary encounters will be unique. However, unless our personal inner realisation becomes unmoored from from that of the author – in which case our reading may turn out to be rather perverse – we will all concur in a fundamental core significance.
Incidentally, I was amused by Douglas-Fairhurst’s dismissal of an assertion by F. R. Leavis’s in writing about Keat’s ‘To Autumn’. Leavis suggests that the action of pronouncing ‘cottage-trees’ suggests ‘the crisp bite and the flow of juice as the teeth close in the ripe apple.’ The hell it does. I mention this because I remember thinking this absurd when I first encountered the critique in ‘The Common Pursuit’ (1952) as a lower-sixth former.
Douglas-Fairhurst goes on to say that our relationship with a text may change over time, not just because we have changed – I hesitate to say ‘matured’ – because our exposure to the world has been over a longer period of time and there has been more of it. This made me think of a principal idea in Eliot’s Tradition and the Individual Talent’ (1919) where he claims that ‘the introduction of a new work alters the cohesion of this existing order, and causes a readjustment of the old to accommodate the new.’ Probably this kind of homeostatic process obtains with the individual reader as with the culture as a whole.
But I am in danger of creating the wrong impression. This is an agreeably accessible book and not at all stuffy. Wordsworth feared that ‘we murder to dissect’. Not so here, Douglas-Fairhurst not only keeps the texts he examines alive. He breathes fresh life into them. Certainly the book is erudite: the sheer range of texts explored is phenomenal. He considers types of narrative, unreliable narrators, single and multiple voices, points of view, action and reaction, attraction and repulsion, rhetoric, metaphor, and a variety of metrical effects (he is particularly interesting on pauses, and the white spaces within a poem). But there is no soulless tick-box analysis here. On the contrary, the writing is lucid, witty and – if I can play with the grammar – often written with a ‘tricksy spirit’.
In fact, the modus operandi is highly individual. The book proceeds through addressing individual texts explored in short chapters which focus on salient aspects of the those texts. It doesn’t proceed through logical argumentation, but is rather progressive and cumulative. Freewheeling even. We return to certain texts in order to reconsider them in view of what we have learnt so far.
There are elements of autobiography: moving, distressing, uplifting, self-deprecating, but always candid, and often funny. We learn of the author’s early reading, and though the book is not chronological, we gradually encounter more challenging texts. We move from Peter Rabbit and the author’s injunction to ‘slow down’ to Proust and Gorge Eliot and the notion that reading can have a transformative effect on the reader.
I will conclude by thanking the author for recommendations for my reading list and the addition of the word ‘cratylic’ to my vocabulary.
When we stop learning we might as well be dead.
Disclosure: in theory I am not that reader, having been a teacher of English Literature in schools and universities for forty-six years. Nevertheless, I devoured this book with great relish, often with a nod, or a wave, or a handshake of agreement and recognition, and sometimes with the shade of a reservation or even disagreement (the latter but rarely). And that, as the author makes explicit, ‘is as it should be.’
For our engagement with literature, whether it be in the activity of reading – or talking about reading – is not a mere output/input transaction; it is, or should be, a kinetic, interactive, protean relationship. To get the most out of this relationship the reader should not be passive, but open to challenges, ready to accept that during a particular reading, attitudes, understandings, misunderstandings, opinions, evaluations may all change, and change again, that there are as many readings of a text as there are readers, most of them valid. You envision Heathcliff differently from me, and neither of us see him quite as Emily did. And so with Tess, and Humbert Humbert, and Peter Pan, and Pip, and Alice and Poirot. We all have different experiences of being in the world, and so it stands to reason that our imaginings of persons and places in our literary encounters will be unique. However, unless our personal inner realisation becomes unmoored from from that of the author – in which case our reading may turn out to be rather perverse – we will all concur in a fundamental core significance.
Incidentally, I was amused by Douglas-Fairhurst’s dismissal of an assertion by F. R. Leavis’s in writing about Keat’s ‘To Autumn’. Leavis suggests that the action of pronouncing ‘cottage-trees’ suggests ‘the crisp bite and the flow of juice as the teeth close in the ripe apple.’ The hell it does. I mention this because I remember thinking this absurd when I first encountered the critique in ‘The Common Pursuit’ (1952) as a lower-sixth former.
Douglas-Fairhurst goes on to say that our relationship with a text may change over time, not just because we have changed – I hesitate to say ‘matured’ – because our exposure to the world has been over a longer period of time and there has been more of it. This made me think of a principal idea in Eliot’s Tradition and the Individual Talent’ (1919) where he claims that ‘the introduction of a new work alters the cohesion of this existing order, and causes a readjustment of the old to accommodate the new.’ Probably this kind of homeostatic process obtains with the individual reader as with the culture as a whole.
But I am in danger of creating the wrong impression. This is an agreeably accessible book and not at all stuffy. Wordsworth feared that ‘we murder to dissect’. Not so here, Douglas-Fairhurst not only keeps the texts he examines alive. He breathes fresh life into them. Certainly the book is erudite: the sheer range of texts explored is phenomenal. He considers types of narrative, unreliable narrators, single and multiple voices, points of view, action and reaction, attraction and repulsion, rhetoric, metaphor, and a variety of metrical effects (he is particularly interesting on pauses, and the white spaces within a poem). But there is no soulless tick-box analysis here. On the contrary, the writing is lucid, witty and – if I can play with the grammar – often written with a ‘tricksy spirit’.
In fact, the modus operandi is highly individual. The book proceeds through addressing individual texts explored in short chapters which focus on salient aspects of the those texts. It doesn’t proceed through logical argumentation, but is rather progressive and cumulative. Freewheeling even. We return to certain texts in order to reconsider them in view of what we have learnt so far.
There are elements of autobiography: moving, distressing, uplifting, self-deprecating, but always candid, and often funny. We learn of the author’s early reading, and though the book is not chronological, we gradually encounter more challenging texts. We move from Peter Rabbit and the author’s injunction to ‘slow down’ to Proust and Gorge Eliot and the notion that reading can have a transformative effect on the reader.
I will conclude by thanking the author for recommendations for my reading list and the addition of the word ‘cratylic’ to my vocabulary.
When we stop learning we might as well be dead.
November 20, 2025
My book of the year. A masterclass in reading. Tender, funny, and brilliant.
February 25, 2026
I am not a fan of “close reading”, being the art of pulling apart a text word by word to seek deeper meaning in a wider context, preferring to content myself with being entertained at face value by the story that is told by that same piece of text. If I like it, I might read it again and pay a bit more attention next time. I don’t start a new book by “close reading” it. Ever.
As I explained in my comments on that dull, turbid book by Francine Prose I previously read, “close reading” tends to ruin my reading experience, usually because the author or teacher of “close reading” brings in a whole raft of things from later parts of the work that the student has not got to yet, thereby snuffing out the joy of discovery inherent in a first read. Ever heard of spoilers? Alternatively they bring in the wider context, most of which is unknown to the casual reader. That can be useful for comprehension if not always enlightening.
I think “close reading” can only really work on a reread of an already familiar work. Examining a beloved book for a deeper, more satisfying experience makes much more sense than eviscerating an undiscovered work word by word. There are many layers to the reading experience: first impressions, recollections, and then deeper study and comparison. All are worthy of enjoyment in their own right. “Close reading” unfamiliar texts is almost invariably school work. And school work - as ever - is cart before horse by nature, being founded on the teacher’s convenience rather than being designed to enhance the student’s actual experience.
That said, this is a rather accessible book about “close reading”. For one, it is not snobbish. “Close reading” is not restricted to the literary canon. This book looks at Wordsworth in one paragraph and at Spider-Man in the next. Secondly, it is coherent - a rare thing in “close reading” experiences - showing logical progression from examined theme to examined theme. It has structure and - amazingly - actual points to make. And finally, the examples selected are short, to the point, and actually illustrate whatever it is this teacher is postulating, rather than being overlong, boring, and apparently chosen at random, as utterly unrelated to the point being made - as demonstrated by said Francine Prose book and every literature lesson I ever endured at school.
On top of that, this book is engagingly written, and so turns out to be a pleasant if at times mystifying read.
As I explained in my comments on that dull, turbid book by Francine Prose I previously read, “close reading” tends to ruin my reading experience, usually because the author or teacher of “close reading” brings in a whole raft of things from later parts of the work that the student has not got to yet, thereby snuffing out the joy of discovery inherent in a first read. Ever heard of spoilers? Alternatively they bring in the wider context, most of which is unknown to the casual reader. That can be useful for comprehension if not always enlightening.
I think “close reading” can only really work on a reread of an already familiar work. Examining a beloved book for a deeper, more satisfying experience makes much more sense than eviscerating an undiscovered work word by word. There are many layers to the reading experience: first impressions, recollections, and then deeper study and comparison. All are worthy of enjoyment in their own right. “Close reading” unfamiliar texts is almost invariably school work. And school work - as ever - is cart before horse by nature, being founded on the teacher’s convenience rather than being designed to enhance the student’s actual experience.
That said, this is a rather accessible book about “close reading”. For one, it is not snobbish. “Close reading” is not restricted to the literary canon. This book looks at Wordsworth in one paragraph and at Spider-Man in the next. Secondly, it is coherent - a rare thing in “close reading” experiences - showing logical progression from examined theme to examined theme. It has structure and - amazingly - actual points to make. And finally, the examples selected are short, to the point, and actually illustrate whatever it is this teacher is postulating, rather than being overlong, boring, and apparently chosen at random, as utterly unrelated to the point being made - as demonstrated by said Francine Prose book and every literature lesson I ever endured at school.
On top of that, this book is engagingly written, and so turns out to be a pleasant if at times mystifying read.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews