
What’s more important to a book lover’s legacy… their last words, or the last book they read before they die? What might our last reads tell us about ourselves, life, death and all the rest of it?
The world is currently clamouring for answers to rudimentary and yet essential questions, such as: How the hell are we supposed to work from home long-term and stay sane? How can we stay connected with people whilst still practicing social distancing? And what’s this got to do with writers, and how they might just be able to save the world for real this time?
This week I’m over at Anne R. Allen’s splendiferous blog in the US, wondering what it would be like to live with a well-known fictional character stereotype. At Christmas. Curious? Well, wonder no more, and count your blessings that you don’t…
The popularity of certain types of fiction waxes and wanes with economic cycles. This is because readers are human, and want to escape their reality. But if romantic fiction is the ultimate escapism, why isn’t it more popular at the moment? As usual, I have a theory about this, and I’m not afraid to use it…