YOUR correspondent’s “battles” with Dickens and George Eliot (YEP, February 20) in their youth were not joined by me. I loved Dickens.
At 12 years old, doing woodwork at school, I was awakened from a rapt reading of Pickwick Papers underneath the bench, by a hastily assembled teacher-led group.
The first suggestion of the intruders from the outside world was a row of lower legs, surmounted by grinning, mocking faces. I hadn’t heard them taking up position.
I would privately cry when I had finished such books, as I would never be able to meet them nor share their world and would be leaving them for every
Wholesome comedy, pathos, sentiment, romance, morality, character study and compassion. Why battle that lot?
P Kilroy, Spennithorne Avenue, Leeds