In love with reading fiction

By Nigel Featherstone
Updated April 23 2018 - 9:35pm, first published May 19 2014 - 3:22pm

To be under the doona, to feel the rush, a warm, warm gut, fizzing ribs, tingling fingers – well, it was such a surprise, let me tell you. It wasn’t because I’d over-done the port before going to bed, or had swum a million laps across the afternoon. It was because I had something in my hands. A book. A new book. It might have been because it was the recent novel by J. M. Coetzee, The Childhood of Jesus. I am a Coetzee fan; his Disgrace knocked me sideways when I first read it, and I dip into it annually. How to write as well as Coetzee? I’d like to know.

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