I learnt to read at school. At first, that meant reading out loud while somebody listened. It was a public experience. This oralizing from words on a page felt strange but exciting, as if something was passing through me from the page to the sounds I uttered. It was like being part of something new. Although the ultimate goal would be to read silently, Mr Harding, a primary school teacher, reminded us that we could still sometimes break that rule.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë is required reading for Mrs Fullerton’s Literature class. We have three weeks. But I have been resisting the prospect of reading real books for a while now. On the Saturday morning of the final weekend of the three-week reading period, push comes to shove.

Il faut lire Jane Eyre de Charlotte Brontë pour le cours de littérature de Mrs Fullerton. Nous avons trois semaines. Mais je résiste à la lecture de vrais livres depuis longtemps.