“We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it. Oh no! We’ll have to go through it!”
We’re Going On A Bear Hunt is a current obsession in our house. As I read the above words to my one-year-old daughter, she giggled and shook her head when we reached ‘Oh no!’. She then stared at me expectantly, waiting for me to shake mine too. Of course, I obliged. We finished our story with many more ‘oh no!’s, giggles and head-shakes before she drifted off to the Land of Nod.
Our relationship with reading starts at a very early age – I remember bear hunts fondly from my own childhood, as many of us will. It is fascinating though, to reflect on how our tastes change as we do. As we grow, our reading lives shift in ways we barely notice at the time. One minute we’re transfixed by picture books with bold colours and repetitive rhythms, and the next we’re devouring chapter books under the duvet with a torch we definitely weren’t supposed to have. Childhood reading is wonderfully sensory — the feel of thick cardboard pages, the satisfaction of lifting a flap, the comfort of a familiar refrain. Stories are less about plot and more about ritual, closeness, and the sheer joy of language rolling around in our mouths.
Then, somewhere in the middle years, reading becomes a gateway. We start searching for ourselves in stories — or perhaps for the selves we wish we could be. We latch onto characters who feel brave when we feel timid, adventurous when our own world feels small, or gloriously rebellious when we’re still learning the rules. Books become companions, confidants, and sometimes even catalysts. They show us who we might become, or who we’re terrified of becoming.
The craze for the Harry Potter series well and truly engulfed my family. I only became interested because other people were creating a buzz about it – teachers, friends, family, the news: everyone wanted to talk about Harry Potter. My brother had the first few and I remember him and my father going to ‘Big Tesco’ to collect The Goblet of Fire at some ungodly hour of the morning. I watched him read every page of that book, willing him to read faster so I could have it next. I then had the same experience from my parents... serves me right.
By adolescence, our tastes often take another dramatic turn. Suddenly, we crave intensity. High stakes. Grand emotions.
The next set of novels that kept me up reading into the small hours was the Twilight Saga. Moody, troubled characters, vampires, secrets and romance – perfect for the teenage me. Again, the narrative features a child or teenager who was suddenly whisked into a new world of sorts. This made it very easy for me to imagine myself as an immortal vampire with super speed and glistening skin, or an auror in the Ministry of Magic.
We want novels that sweep us away, that make us feel something — anything — with the force of a tidal wave. It’s no wonder so many teenagers fall headfirst into fantasy, dystopia, romance, or anything with a brooding protagonist and a secret worth unravelling. These books don’t just entertain; they validate the sense that life is big and complicated and thrilling, even when my day-to-day reality was homework and half-hearted attempts at tidying my room.
And then adulthood arrives, quietly and without ceremony, and our reading habits shift again. Time becomes a luxury, and reading becomes something we must choose rather than something that simply happens. Our tastes broaden, splinter, or circle back on themselves. Some of us seek comfort in the familiar — the literary equivalent of a warm blanket and a cup of tea – for me, it’s Terry Pratchett. He never fails to have me in stitches, and it reminds me of audiobooks read by Tony Robinson on driving holidays as a child. Others chase novelty, complexity, or intellectual challenge. Many of us oscillate between the two, depending on the week we’ve had. I can attest to this. Reading becomes less about identity and more about nourishment: emotional, intellectual, or simply escapist.
What’s most beautiful, though, is that the cycle never really ends. We return to children’s books when we read to the next generation, rediscovering their magic with ‘oh no!’s, giggles and head-shakes. We revisit old favourites and find new meanings tucked between the lines. Our reading lives expand and contract, twist and evolve, but they never stop growing.
I hope, over this next year, you find joy in reading. I hope you enjoy the blog posts from our community, take our recommendations and run with them to whichever world your next read finds you.
Happy reading,
Mrs Board
Head of English & Media
