Justine Larbalestier's brilliant new book is called
Liar.*
When the reading copies landed there were rumours of a productivity lapse in the Mothership...
So, in the spirit of confession to lies of misdeeds past - we surveyed the Onions to find out when they may have been a little cavalier with the truth in literary matters. And we were well-rewarded:
1. In response to the librarian's question, I told my grade 5 class that Island of the Blue Dolphins was my favourite book, even though I had NEVER READ IT, because the four girls who answered before me all said it was their favourite. I was (still am?) consumed by guilt - as if I'd betrayed all those books that I really and truly did love. This guilt was only partly assuaged by the fact that I then immediately read Island of the Blue Dolphins - and discovered that I did, in fact, love it.
2. I have never read The Gruffalo.
3. I wrote my Year 11 essay on Pride & Prejudice having only read to p 27 (because it bored me). I tried reading it again in the summer after Year 12 - and couldn't put it down. I have since read it many times - I remain mystified about how I could possibly find it boring. PS. I got an A for the essay.
4. When younger than I am now, I pretentiously went on about how great Anna Karenina was, when I'd failed to ever read beyond the bit where Vronsky and Anna get together, and had only ever watched the BBC series in its entirety. In fact, to this day I keep putting AK aside for novels that don't hurt my arms to hold up in bed, even after seeking out the fancy new translation with the cover of flowers wilting on breasts.
5. I wrote my essay on The Old Man and the Sea after watching the movie - and I still haven't read the book.
6. I was in grade 5 and somehow lost the book I had borrowed from the mobile library (a bus that visited the school once a week or so like the bus the Queen discovered outside the Palace grounds in The Uncommon Reader). Rather than leave the classroom with the keen reading pupils, I stayed back with the unreading rest for fear of being struck down if I stepped into the book-lined bus. So each week I burned with shame and fear until at the end of the year a bill was sent to my parents!
7. On more than one occasion, I have given the impression that I have read Phillip Pullman. It's not true. I haven't.
8. The books I have lied about having read are too numerous to mention!
9. I liked Angie Sage's
Magyk more than
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. (There - I've said it... and lightning hasn't struck. Hmmmmm....)
10. Between the ages of 18 - 23 I pretended to have read Ulysses by James Joyce... I would wax lyrical and nod sagely, when in fact all my knowledge about the book could only be attributed to a very long night of drinking with a friend who happened to be writing her honours thesis on Joyce. I picked her brains relentlessly and was spared the trauma of actually reading it myself for five years. At 23 I came clean, and have been trying to finish the damn thing ever since.
11. Pride and Prejudice (and in fact Jane Austen books generally) gets on my nerves, and always has. I suspect there might be something wrong with me.
12. In grade 3, I discovered a wonderful, wonderful book in my local library called No Flying in the House by Betty Brock, which I promptly stole. It still sits, in beloved, dog-eared glory, on my bookshelves today.
So, how 'bout you? Any literary indiscretions to own up to: lies? hoaxes? omissions?
* Liar is out in the world in October, so it's a little bit of a wait, but it will be worth it. Trust me.