No One Round Here Reads Tolstoy: Memoirs of a Working-Class Reader

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Its a shame the book doesn't contain anymore pictures though- either of the author, his family or the books he loves- but maybe the printed word is the thing and he didn't want the reader just skipping to the pictures and colour plates in the middle! Hodkinson manages to discuss books with no element of showing off or of demonstrating how well read he is, which is a relief. Books are very much the heart and soul of our library, but we do a lot more as well, although I’ve never put a cardboard box on my head abs pretended to be a clock… not yet anyway! It's an article of faith to me to read books sequentially (even though nobody would ever know if I didn't! The article mentioned how in 1999 a journalist spent a year with Man City—chronicling their season—and then produced a book, which has been regarded as one of the best books in football history.

You'd struggle to enjoy this unless you grew up in the 70s in the north of England, and slightly resent it. This is yet another one of those delightful books about books, but it’s obviously about a lot more than that too, class, culture, aspiration and life’s vicissitudes are also explored in pleasing detail too. Hodkinson recaptures all the innocence, joy and magic of childhood and the seemingly endless curiosity and adventure that comes along with it, and of course there is a long list of delightful authors, titles and bands to hunt down afterwards too.He describes Billy Casper, urchin-like hero of A Kestrel for a Knave by Barry Hines (a late kitchen sink work), as “half-boy, half-pigeon”. I couldn’t find the book about Man City, but there was another title available from Mark Hodkinson, and the title struck me immediately; “No One Round Here Reads Tolstoy. This is a book about the north; it is also about publishing, writing and music, but it transcends its subjects and meets the criterion Hodkinson sets out in his preface: "The best books, the same as the best days, skitter on the breeze. There was one book in the house, kept on the top of a wardrobe with other revered items such as his cycling proficiency certificate. If, for the sake of simple maths, it is assumed I began amassing the books at the age of thirteen, it means that in the intervening 2,236 weeks I have added, on average, just over 1.

The great benefit of ebooks is that you can highlight passages and then save the highlights apart from the book. Until he moved house it hadn’t really occurred to him quite how many books that Hodkinson actually owned. Also, while as a bookish girl I was often derided or treated with suspicion, the author also struggled with those who saw it as a less manly passtime and, like me, he was told to get out more or informed reading so much would leave him needing glasses. frozen February mornings in flimsy nylon shorts and shirts, shivering, skin turning red, turning blue.This one took forever, because despite or because it being an “easy” read, and conversational in style nearly, every other book was more tempting.

His dad kept it on top of a wardrobe with other items of great worth – wedding photographs and Mark’s National Cycling Proficiency certificate. Like him, I discovered authors by stumbling across them in libraries and found other worlds and points of views.It is not just about books though, it is about his take on life and is full of the happy and sad memories he still carries with him. Part autobiography, part confessions of a book addict, part social history, and part recent publishing trends.

Mark is roughly the same age as me and, like anyone of our age, our lives are composed of a giant dichotomy separated by the appearance of mass-participation Internet in the middle of it. It’s easily done if you acquire books on a regular basis, seldom discard any and are lucky enough to live into your mid-fifties….No One Round Here Reads Tolstoy is his story of growing up a working-class lad during the 1970s and 1980s. His writing is clear and moving, especially the descriptions of his family and Grandad in particular. If that was you, particularly if you grew up in a small northern town where people said the word "book" the way they said the word "voodoo", this is probably your story.