This is a really wonderful memoir - of reading, and of a son's relationship with his mother. When I was in Waterstones on Deansgate last friday it just fell off the shelf into my hand, and I'm so glad it did. I think sometimes books just come to us when we need them, and i think i needed to read this now. It's a lovely, warm meditation on how readers know that, when they read, they're taking part in the 'human conversation.' It's about how readers are never lonely, bored, or alone, and how they are always *included*. It's such a warm and loving book, too, and I've spent hours and hours with it in the past week - reading and rereading sections and whole paragraphs. I've read only a handful of the books that are mentioned and discussed, but that hardly matters - it's a book of introductions, to the books and to the remarkable people in the author's life - especially his mother, who is a wonderful presence throughout.
Anyway - it's my favourite book for ages (after weeks with the jazzed-up stodge of David Mitchell and the slow-mo murderers of Sarah Waters and Sophie Hannah's Christie pastiche) - go and find it: 'The End of Your Life Book Club' by Will Schwalbe.