Without me even realising it, Rohan O’Grady’s Let’s Kill Uncle transported me into the comforting realm of the imaginationI know it was in the year after my mother died when I was 10, though I can’t remember whether it was my sister’s Girls’ Brigade troop fete or a church jumble sale we turned up to just by chance. Part of me, 44 years on, seems to remember being there with my friend Clive Brazier and his mum, though maybe I was there with my father, spending another typical weekend sniffing out a bargain. And though I couldn’t now say whether it was in Pinner or Ruislip, in my mind’s eye I can clearly see the secondhand book stall by the path leading to the church or community hall, the lawn around it dappled with sunlight, where I bought a tatty paperback edition of Rohan O’Grady’s Let’s Kill Uncle.This jumble of vagueness and clarity over the details of my copy’s provenance is strangely appropriate. The book itself is not well known, though over almost half a century I’ve reread it often enough to feel I know large parts of it by heart. In spite of its obscurity, three years after it …read more

Via: The Guardian | Books