After years of promiscuous browsing and one-night stands, Robert Skinner is taking pleasure where he finds it.
Words Robert Skinner
I used to run a short-story magazine, and one of the best things about its demise was that I was able to read freely again: not under duress, or to a deadline, but just by sniffing around – cheerfully, haphazardly. I discovered the pleasure of remaining in the dark about some “luminous” debut, or putting down an unputdownable book and wandering outside to listen to crickets.
There is some discussion about whether one should persist with a book one doesn’t like. Sometimes I don’t even finish the ones I love. Some of my favourite books I’ve only read halfway through. But one can enjoy half a chicken parmigiana, or be haunted by a love affair that only lasts a season, so why not half a book? Must we see everything through to its bitter end?
