Alan Bennett’s The Uncommon Reader, which first appeared in 2007, is a gloriously funny and subversive little book about a serious subject – the importance of books to humanize us and their power to change our lives. It didn’t take long – it’s only 120-odd pages.
One morning, I took it from the shelf beside the bed, opened it and, instead of closing it listlessly after a paragraph or two, went on reading – or rereading – until I’d reached the end. It was, however, a ‘royal’ book that marked the beginning of my recovery. I couldn’t even bring myself to listen to the Queen – for I must admit to being a royal groupie who watched ten episodes of The Crown at one sitting. Occasionally someone came up to tempt me with a tiny morsel of Christmas food, but I couldn’t eat. I lay in bed feeling utterly miserable, listening to the sounds of sociability below.
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