“A boy does not regard his books as part of culture; at least, boys of forty years ago didn’t. We went into them neck-high for fun and illusion. We did not distinguish between our authors and the way they transmuted their material. In later life, no doubt, the critical attitude to literature brings pleasures of a refined aesthetic order. But I doubt if they console for that lost first willing surrender to the author’s most simple and direct invocation—that is to say, if we are so unfortunate as to lose it at all.”
Neville Cardus, Second Innings