I live in Edinburgh, work in museum visitor services and volunteer in a secondhand bookshop. Reading has accompanied me through shared flats, bus journeys and several ambitious attempts to organize a shelf that keeps acquiring new inhabitants. I like books that make more sense on a second visit and notes that preserve a reader's changing reactions.
The Second Shelf is my collection of personal reading essays, bookshop observations and thoughts about making time for a page without turning leisure into a performance. I write about habits and experiences rather than handing down a universal list of important books. I am especially interested in why the right book can arrive at the wrong time.
Away from reading I enjoy small exhibitions, long walks with no audiobook and learning the stories of donated objects. My notebooks contain half-finished thoughts, recommendations from friends and far fewer neat ratings than they once did.
I wrote a severe little note inside the back cover: too slow, too much description, nobody doing anything. The novel then spent several years on a shelf while I became someone with a rather different
The list had categories, deadlines and a count at the top. It also contained several books I no longer wanted to read. They remained there because removing them felt suspiciously like abandoning a commitment, although
