I wonder, would those same stories have resonated as well with kids from backgrounds different to mine? If not, where are their safe, familiar spaces, and are there enough people writing them? Now, I didn’t have a little sister and I definitely wasn’t the naughty one in our family, but they depicted the sort of middle-class family which I saw myself in. Like it or not, we’re often drawn to stories about people we see ourselves in. The book that I used to stay up late, under the covers, with a torch to read was My Naughty Little Sister by Dorothy Edwards, a set of light-hearted tales about a precocious toddler. Think about your favourite books when you were a kid.
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