 | | 24/11/2015 22:51
Sur le blog Rosalind Jana
Telling Stories
I grew up in a story-heavy household. Greek myths rubbed shoulders with the Brothers Grimm. Margaret Mahy sat on the shelves next to Enid Blyton. On the landing we had collections of folklore from around the world: Czech, Japanese, German, Australian, Welsh (all translated or retold, of course. I speak nothing else beyond very, very bad GCSE French). I mainly remember them in snatches now, the odd character or detail. What remains is that sense of being immersed in numerous worlds – falling into the pages and inhabiting whatever landscape was present, be it forest, castle, bustling city or an early 20 th Century England...
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