I'd lost my childhood love of reading – but rediscovered it when I set aside my iPhone
In my teens I raced through Agatha Christie, Alistair MacLean and the like, and Reader's Digest too, countless editions of which were lined up beside every toilet in the house. Then schooling started interfering with my tastes and I got into Thomas Hardy in a big way, and other big thick, proper paperback novels. After my A-levels I went cycling in France with a mate, which was a miserable experience, saved only by the enjoyment I got from reading Anna Karenina, the battered doorstop edition of which I still have but am fearful of looking at lest it completely falls apart.
Then I went to university to study English literature and had the love of reading sucked out of me. Reading, in my book, was for enjoying, not for studying. I didn't enjoy the studying of it, so I inevitably stopped enjoying the reading of it. Those reading years are a dismaying blur. The only writer to survive the cull in my love of literature was Evelyn Waugh. Everything else seemed to be a struggle. I blamed myself for not being clever enough. When I left university, I all but left reading behind too. I came across Raymond Carver, who I found easy to read and loved very much. And Richard Ford, who I found hard to read but still managed to love. Apart from that, the rest of my 20s and, and my 30s, passed by almost fiction-free.
But it all came flooding back, oddly, with the advent of the digital age. The Kindle seemed to free me up to wade back into literature until I was out of my depth and swimming freely again. I'm not sure why this is so. I think it might be that physical books had been triggering strong feelings of intellectual inadequacy from back in the day. Who knows? I didn't care. I was loving reading all over again.
But as much as the ebook gave me something beautiful back, slowly but surely it took it all away again. I think the problem has been the smartphone rather than the Kindle. Reading ebooks on the Kindle app on the iPhone rather than on the Kindle itself was too convenient an option. But, just as smartphones relentlessly erode our capacity to focus on life itself, slowly but surely my ability to engage with any one thing on them, certainly anything as long as a novel, drained away as briskly as the phone's battery.
So the other week I picked out one of the countless old-style Penguin paperbacks on my bookshelf. It was A Good Man in Africa by William Boyd. Then the peculiarly named Doctor Fischer of Geneva or The Bomb Party by Graham Greene. Then Muriel Spark, Margaret Drabble and anyone else I fancied from shelves at home or in charity shops. I'm back to the paperback format of my childhood and my reading life has begun again. These little beauties are barely 25% bigger than my iPhone and, most importantly, you can't swipe in and out of them. Suddenly I can engage with words again. I put the phone away, open the book, and read, actually read. On the tube, snootily regarding the phone-starers, I feel a bit of a clever dick. This will last until I give in to the temptation to revisit the Famous Five. I can't wait.
Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist
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The Herald Scotland
20-07-2025
- The Herald Scotland
Kirsty Wark asked me to fetch her a cup of tea and a Penguin biscuit
Certainly, she can appear regal to the journalistic peasantry. I remember a packed press conference where she breenged in with her crew. Suddenly we – self-important, like everyone in our trade – all felt like minions. She asked me to fetch her a cup of tea and a Penguin biscuit ('one with a green wrapper'). Wow. What ingredients went into creating such an imperious personage? Well, being born was a useful start. This auspicious event occurred on 3 February 1955 in Dumfries. Kirsty's father, who earned a Military Cross for heroism at Normandy, was a solicitor. A convivial raconteur, he also liked spending time on his own fly-fishing. 'I'm sure he was reflecting on the horrors of war, ' Kirsty told the I newspaper recently. Her mother was a teacher who, after one early Newsnight interview, phoned to complain that she'd split an infinitive. Poor Kirsty must have been tempted to tell her mother where to boldly go. She spent her early years in Castle Douglas before moving to Kilmarnock. After attending all-girl, 'independent' Wellington School in Ayr, she studied history, specifically Scottish Studies, at Embra Yoonie. In 1976, aged 21, Wark joined the BBC as a graduate researcher and soon became a producer for Radio Scotland, displaying enthusiasm and a willingness to make things happen. Wish I'd tried that. (Image: Jamie Simpson) BOXING CLEVER WARK switched to television in 1982, producing Reporting Scotland, Agenda and Current Account. She then moved into presenting various Scottish political programmes before moving to UK network television as part of the Breakfast Time brigade. In 1988, she reported on the Lockerbie bombing and, in 1990, made her mark as an interviewer when she confronted, so to say, Margaret Thatcher. The Iron Lady was incensed with her abrasive questions about the poll tax, and complained afterwards that she'd 'interrupted me more than I've ever been interrupted'. Later, it emerged that Wark had just learned she was pregnant with her first baby, and so was determined to remain 'preternaturally calm' for both their sakes. In 1993, she joined Newsnight, BBC 2's mumphing aboot politics show, in a role that was to last three decades. She stood down last summer, a week after the General Election. In her time, she has faced accusations of being too close to Labour. Donald Dewar, former Labour First Minister and a close friend, appointed her to a panel choosing the design for the new Scottish Parliament – with hilarious consequences! Later, the independent production company she co-owned was an awarded a BBC contract to make programmes about … construction of the Scottish Parliament building. Whoopsie. In 2005, she invited another Labour First Minister and long-time friend, Jack McConnell, now Lord McConnell of Proletariat, and his family to stay at her Majorcan holiday home over New Year. Doubt was cast on Wark's neutrality and suitability to anchor political programmes, with respected quality newspaper the Daily Mail dubbing the episode 'Villagate'. Importantly, it added that she had a 'big, almost masculine voice that belies a worked-on slim figure and good legs often hidden by trousers'. Trousers, ye say? However, several observers considered the 'scandal' overblown, with Newsnight's editor pointing out that many media peeps had old pals who went on to hold office. 'The important issue is your ability to ask tough questions and that is not a problem with Kirsty Wark …' READ MORE Rab McNeil: Get your Boots on, we're going shopping for unicorn hair gel Rab McNeil: No wonder the whole Scottish nation loves Nicola (no, not that one) Scottish Icons: William McGonagall - The poet who right bad verses wrote still floats some folk's vessel or boat Scottish Icons: There is a lot of tripe talked about haggis – so here's the truth ECK OF AN ATTITUDE ALEX Salmond was a problem for Kirsty Wark. In 2007, after an interview with then First Mniister, the BBC received 120 complaints from entirely disinterested individuals, and issued a public apology regretting Wark's 'rude and dismissive' tone. In 2020, after she presented a programme about Salmond's sexual assault trial – in which he was acquitted – more than 900 complaints of bias were made. Wark responded: 'Alex Salmond was found innocent, not guilty, there is no disputing that in any way. What we were doing was giving background to the whole thing, and we did that fairly.' Politically, she has described herself as 'soft left', with pals in all parties. Late Lib Dem leader Charles Kennedy called her a 'fierce foe when the studio lights go on, great fun in the bar'. Late Labour MP Robin Cook MP said at least she let folk answer the question, 'unlike those from the Paxman and Humphrys school'. She herself describes her approach as 'forensic' – certainly leaves blood on the floor sometimes – and contends that she's professional enough to 'leave my own views at the door when I come to work'. Forby politics, she's right arty and, indeed, has written two novels. She presented BBC Two's Late Show from 1990 to 1993 and, in 2006, interviewed playwright Harold Pinter, resisting the temptation to get back at the old scrote by leaving long silences. She made cameo appearances in Doctor Who and Absolutely Fabulous. In 2013, she appeared on the inexplicably popular Great British Bake Off, but has resisted 'many times' invitations to do Strictly Come Dancing, another programme that has sapped the nation's morale. More consequentially, she has highlighted problems of the menopause, believing people are reluctant to discuss it. Moving swiftly on, two months ago she bagged a BAFTA Fellowship, with BAFTA CEO Jane Millichip praising her 'enormous charm and wit'. GA-GA FOR RADIO ALWAYS based in Glasgow, Wark has lately been appearing in BBC Scotland's Good For Her, in a running sketch that follows a woman who can't stop speaking as if she's delivering the news. Kirsty Wark misses the buzz of Newsnight, but is content for the moment presenting arts magazine show Front Row and history series The Reunion on BBC Radio 4. She likes claes and, in 2013, was deemed one of the 50 best-dressed over-50s by fashion magazine, the Guardian. In other news, we can reveal she loves gardening and homemade jam, having spent several years in recovery from an addiction to banana cake. Meanwhile, in the interests of truth, that currently under-rated concept in which she takes such a great interest, I should clarify that, at the start of this authoritative exposé, I was only joking about the cup of tea and a Penguin. It was a Twix.
The Independent
26-06-2025
- The Independent
15 best baby books for budding bookworms
Author Emilie Buchwald once said: 'Children are made readers on the laps of their parents.' But you don't have to wait until little ones can understand the words on the page to start bonding with them over books. In fact, publisher Penguin says the best age to start reading to your baby is from three to six months, or once they are able to focus on items such as a toy. Beyond fostering an early love of reading, the developmental benefits are well documented, from enhancing language to developing fine motor skills as they turn the pages independently. The tactile experience of holding and turning pages, the visual appeal of pictures, and the stimulation of hearing a voice reading contribute to sensory development. However, finding a book that keeps both your attention and theirs can be tough. Young babies often love board books with clear images and anything that's noisy, whereas toddlers squeal with delight at pop-up designs or lift-the-flap tales. To help you find some great options for baby's first bookshelf, we've rounded up our pick of the best baby books. How we tested With the help of our 17-month-old tester, we've reviewed a variety of baby books, reading the words on the pages, lifting the flaps, pressing the buttons, and watching the pop-up elements come to life. We were looking to see which books captivated our little bookworm the most, and which titles saw our mini tester returning for more, time and time again. Why you can trust IndyBest reviews Rebecca Moore is a writer who specialises in the parenting sector. She has since written about the best parenting products on the market, such as pram mittens, musical toys, baby carriers and more. In each of her reviews, Rebecca will only recommend the products and titles she believes are worth your time and money. The best baby books for 2025 are:
The Guardian
25-06-2025
- The Guardian
I'd lost my childhood love of reading – but rediscovered it when I set aside my iPhone
Everything changes so everything can stay the same. In the beginning I read a lot. I read paperback books. The Famous Five, the Secret Seven and all that stuff. I had – have, actually – all 21 Famous Five books. They're in paperback, apart from the fifth one, Five Go Off in a Caravan, which is in hardback. A present from my nan. Nice. But I preferred paperbacks. I've never seen the point of hardbacks. They're unwieldy, harder to hold in bed, especially under the sheets when I was supposed to be asleep. In my teens I raced through Agatha Christie, Alistair MacLean and the like, and Reader's Digest too, countless editions of which were lined up beside every toilet in the house. Then schooling started interfering with my tastes and I got into Thomas Hardy in a big way, and other big thick, proper paperback novels. After my A-levels I went cycling in France with a mate, which was a miserable experience, saved only by the enjoyment I got from reading Anna Karenina, the battered doorstop edition of which I still have but am fearful of looking at lest it completely falls apart. Then I went to university to study English literature and had the love of reading sucked out of me. Reading, in my book, was for enjoying, not for studying. I didn't enjoy the studying of it, so I inevitably stopped enjoying the reading of it. Those reading years are a dismaying blur. The only writer to survive the cull in my love of literature was Evelyn Waugh. Everything else seemed to be a struggle. I blamed myself for not being clever enough. When I left university, I all but left reading behind too. I came across Raymond Carver, who I found easy to read and loved very much. And Richard Ford, who I found hard to read but still managed to love. Apart from that, the rest of my 20s and, and my 30s, passed by almost fiction-free. But it all came flooding back, oddly, with the advent of the digital age. The Kindle seemed to free me up to wade back into literature until I was out of my depth and swimming freely again. I'm not sure why this is so. I think it might be that physical books had been triggering strong feelings of intellectual inadequacy from back in the day. Who knows? I didn't care. I was loving reading all over again. But as much as the ebook gave me something beautiful back, slowly but surely it took it all away again. I think the problem has been the smartphone rather than the Kindle. Reading ebooks on the Kindle app on the iPhone rather than on the Kindle itself was too convenient an option. But, just as smartphones relentlessly erode our capacity to focus on life itself, slowly but surely my ability to engage with any one thing on them, certainly anything as long as a novel, drained away as briskly as the phone's battery. So the other week I picked out one of the countless old-style Penguin paperbacks on my bookshelf. It was A Good Man in Africa by William Boyd. Then the peculiarly named Doctor Fischer of Geneva or The Bomb Party by Graham Greene. Then Muriel Spark, Margaret Drabble and anyone else I fancied from shelves at home or in charity shops. I'm back to the paperback format of my childhood and my reading life has begun again. These little beauties are barely 25% bigger than my iPhone and, most importantly, you can't swipe in and out of them. Suddenly I can engage with words again. I put the phone away, open the book, and read, actually read. On the tube, snootily regarding the phone-starers, I feel a bit of a clever dick. This will last until I give in to the temptation to revisit the Famous Five. I can't wait. Adrian Chiles is a broadcaster, writer and Guardian columnist
