An issue that has been encountered by authors since the dawn of time, perhaps one that feels too obvious to even state, is that some readers will not enjoy their books.
A new secondhand bookstore opened in Oxford city centre last week. Located in the Golden Cross shopping centre, just off Cornmarket Street, the bookstore stocks hundreds of secondhand books, ranging from accessibly priced paperbacks to rare and expensive antiquarian first-editions.
The novel demonstrates how speculative fiction is a genre ultimately concerned with the relationship between the environment and the individual, between Earth and humanity.
That Sunday could arrive first-class,
Wrapped in tissue and stickers with minimalist logo.
Sent anonymously (from a fan?).
It will be a crisp, sunblushed Sunday.
The first in...
In the name of spring cleaning, I sat down and decided to sort my books, promising to keep only those that brought memories of a happy reading experience to mind.
It’s a different emotion whenever I read the Urdu language. I’m not a native speaker, nor have I actively pursued learning the language, but as someone who finds solace in reading shayari (Urdu poetry), I wanted to follow it even in Oxford.
In my year out before my postgraduate degree, I made the momentous decision to start writing fiction. I’d recently got back into reading novels, and thought becoming a novelist would be an ideal way to commit my name to posterity.