Dorr

I was raised to always finish my plate and finish my books. It's because of that that I developed a good sense of what I would and wouldn't like to eat or read. I'm not often wrong, and even if I am; tough luck.

I wrestled myself through Donna Tartt's The Little Friend which is arguably the most depressing book I've ever read (and I LOVED the Secret History) and even managed the entire second book of the Twilight Series.
The only book I ever picked up and had to put down was Dostojevski's the Idiot. It became clear to me (I was about 21 at the time) that there were certain books that were like lima-beans to me: indigestible.

The book in the photo is Paul Biegel's De Tuinen van Dorr (The gardens of Dorr). It has been, and will be, the book I read when I feel sad and small.
It reminds me of when I was little and my older sister would come home late from going out, wake me up, and read it to me in the attic where her bedroom was. While this is a much newer version of the book, in my mind it smells like patchouli.*


*Like all memories, it's entirely possible this is not at all how it happened and/or smelled. It is how I remember it, though :)


While World Book Day is apparently a UK and Ireland event, I feel every day should be World Book Day everywhere.