The magic of audiobooks is that, deep down, we still long to be read to | Elizabeth Quinn
An ill-matched narrator can ruin an otherwise rollicking book. But a good one can bring stories to life - and evoke our earliest childhood memories
My earliest memory of being read to as a child involves my father gleefully reading AA Milne while stretched out on my little bed, his shoes disappearing over the edge. His enthusiasm was infectious. I still know the poem Happiness by heart: John had great big waterproof boots on ..." Milne's collection When We Were Very Young marked the beginning of my reading journey and has a place on my bookshelf to this day.
I passed on my love of literature to my daughter, who, like me, took over her own reading duties from a young age. My sons were more reluctant but loved being read to well into their teens. Harry Potter on cassette - and Stephen Fry's narration - saved us from murdering each other on many a long road trip, although homicide was a distinct possibility the year I accidentally bought the Jim Dale version.
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