A few months ago, my son mentioned that he had recently read and enjoyed Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge. Although I couldn’t recall what it was about, I was pleased that he had attempted to read Maugham, a brilliant writer believed to have been the highest paid

If you are a reader, you know that books can be your best friends. If you are not, know that books can be your best friends. Reading is a conversation conducted silently most of the time, but if you are in the habit of reading aloud it

My maternal grandfather was a doctor and after he retired from government service, he volunteered at the clinic run by the Ramakrishna Mission on Royapettah High Road in Chennai. I was in a boarding school in Chennai, and every time I visited my grandparents, either over a

I remember my music teacher once telling me, speaking about her daughter, “Oh, she’s a regular Aurangzeb.” Meaning, she didn’t like music, which clearly was upsetting to my teacher. Meaning, by extension, Aurangzeb disliked and discouraged music. That’s what we’ve been led to believe.

I love the Swedish writer Astrid Lindgren. She wrote primarily for children, but for many years she worked as a books editor, and was also a fearless political commentator. An official Swedish website has an article by David Wiles headlined: “Astrid Lindgren spoke, people listened.”

It hurts when borrowed books are not returned. Never mind that you’ve already read it and are likely not to ever read it again for the simple reason that there are so many books waiting to be read — and no amount of gratitude would do for

I ushered in the year with two books, oddly, both to do with conflict. This wasn’t a conscious choice, it just happened, perhaps the subconscious signalling a desire to learn regarding the futility of war. A Long Watch: War, Captivity

Sometimes, the oddest book captures your fancy. I’m a typical case, right through school totally terrified of arithmetic and anything mathematical. Thanks to an inspiring teacher, Mrs Rajam, and a question paper in the public exam that was entirely based on common sense, I managed to do

The sharp, icy fingers of a howling wind snatched the sheet of paper from my hand. I screamed but no sound escaped my lips. The last page of the last book on earth was gone, disappearing into the fathomless darkness of a black hole, and I stood rooted to

The other day, my sister who lives in London and I were on the phone, when suddenly, out of the blue, she said, “You know, you got me Winnie-the-Pooh from Shimla.” The gears shifted and a memory fell in place.