I have a vague childhood memory of the evenings between Christmas on the 25December and Russian Christmas on the 7 January spent curled up on the sofa next to my mother, who was reading to me from The Nutcracker and The Mouse King. Opposite us was the Christmas tree we
What do a gold mine, a window display and a bookshop have to do with my mother? Well, in 1952, when my parents were living in Colorado Springs, my mother designed a window display for a bookshop which won her the third prize in a nationwide competition. In previous posts
I often wonder which books my maternal grandmother, Olga Woronoff (pictured above in 1976), read both as a teenager and a young woman. I know she loved books and reading; I have written about her attempts to devour books from a young age here. But which books did she enjoy?
As the saying goes, school days are the best days of our lives – or are they? I tend to think the days we spend in school are not memorable for the education we receive, but for the friendships we make and the lack of responsibility we have. It is
From the moment I could read and throughout most of my younger years I was a bookworm. I read all day and at night I would hide under the covers and read by torchlight. Books accompanied me everywhere – they sat next to my cereal at breakfast and I would
In another century what will historians, anthropologists and researchers make of the wealth of material we are producing today? Will they speculate at the news stories and marvel at the immaculate Instagram images? Will our emails and text messages stand the test of time? What will social media say about