What makes a good book?

I really enjoyed it when my Dad drove me to the town centre library every few weeks. I clutched my old books in my arms and meekly queued up to have them returned to the librarian. I wanted to be a good citizen; I was always conscientious in getting them back before the expiry date. She used to go to the big drawer behind her, take out my lender's file, take out the book ticket and replace it in the pouch at the front of the book and chuck the book into a mobile book holder behind her. I was allowed to borrow four books but I always took three as I didn't want to be greedy.

Then I used to walk round the children's library shelves with my dad, excited at the choice of books. Which book Dad? What shall I choose today? I wanted to please and astound him by choosing intelligent books to show that I was growing up into the intelligent person he wanted me to be. I wanted him to love me. I found Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift. I knew about this book, I had seen a film on TV and there had been discussion on Radio Four; oh yes, I had even listened to Radio Four with my dad. I took the book off the shelf and ran over to my dad.

“Do you think I should read this Dad?” I asked with expectant eyes, love me, love me, love me more. He took the book in his right hand and moved it up and down slowly as if to weigh it. He looked sagaciously and sympathetically at me.

“Well, I think it might be a little heavy for you Sarah! It might weigh you down!”. He looked to me like an intelligent professor, I believed everything he said.

“OK Dad, I'll put it back on the shelf and look for something else.”

From that time on, whenever I selected a book from the library, I held it in my right hand and lifted it up and down like my dad did to feel its weight. If it felt heavy I discounted it and put it back on the shelf.