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?
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
I catch public transport practically every day, certainly every work day. Here in Melbourne, in the inner suburbs, it is relatively easy to get anywhere by train, tram or bus. To get to and from work I catch all three; two trams, one train and a bus. It takes me
“Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write” once said Annie Proulx, author of the Pulitzer Prize winning novel The Shipping News. As writers and wannabe writers and anyone who has ever contemplated putting pen to paper or tapping frantically on their keyboard knows,