A couple of years ago, I did a simply marvellous post (says I to myself) on summer holiday reading lists, and why the recommended beach reads in newspapers – usually detailed in breathless column inches by authors currently on the promotional circuit – are a load of tosh.
The thing about holiday reading lists is that they are lists of books people haven’t read yet, and therefore are full of the sort of books which people won’t actually read. Books to make you look cool; to make you look clever, or deep – you can put anything you want on your holiday reading list, safe in the knowledge nobody will catch you out. Because who’s going to follow up, right?
It’s the insecure author’s holy grail in the print media, where they can promote their own books, by lying about reading books written by other people. But I reckon the rest of…
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