![]() ![]() Naturally this provoked my interest, but not enough to make me track them down – there were too many other interesting books for me to read, and besides, the pleasure of reading books was partly talking about them afterwards with my father, something I would not have been able to do if I read clandestine titles… ![]() The nearest there was to censorship of my reading when I was a girl, was when my mother, murmuring something about saving it for when I was older, discreetly removed the Folio edition of Zola’s Nana from the bookshelves as I worked my way along them, and also when my sister came home from university enthusing about the French author Colette but refused to let me set eyes on whichever one it was that she was reading. ![]()
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