I wish I could remember the first book I ever bought… but I can’t. I grew up in a village next to the sea on the far tip of Africa with a butcher, fishmonger, pharmacy, corner café, bucket and spade shop… but no bookshop. When a Library was finally opened in the village, the books were covered in evil-smelling plastic, toxic enough I’m sure, to kill any mockingbird. But what a collection! All those uncracked spines! All those irresistible titles! The Ballad of the Sad Cafe, The Member of the Wedding, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, Catcher in the...