I grew up in a household where reading was encouraged. My mother believed in the power of words, and my father obviously did too.
I think it has other roots, has to do, in part, with a general anxiety in contemporary life... nuclear bombs, inequality of possibility and chance, inequality of goods allotted to us, a kind of general racist, unjust attitude that is pervasive.
If there is such a thing as a workaholic, I'm it, and that's what passes for leisure.

