The subtitle to this book reveals its author's mission, 'Reading Lessons: The Books We Read at School, the Conversations They Spark, and Why They Matter'. Carol Atherton's book is both memoir of her three decade teaching career, a love letter to reading and also a celebration of literature itself. As an ardent ex-English student, I was hooked immediately. While bibiliomemoirs are a popular genre of writing, Atherton's position as educator gives her a wide-scoping view of how we can be changed by our reading, making Reading Lessons a masterpiece within its genre.

Atherton charts the key texts which come up for study for English in secondary school, describing what each one has to offer and also its respective the perils and pitfalls. Along the way, she makes a powerful argument for the role of English Literature within the curriculum, particularly important in a time when the humanities are under threat. Unsurprising for someone who has been book blogging for a decade and a half, I have always relied on stories to guide me through but it was a new idea to consider this as something directly taught at school. Strangely, while I have thought a lot about the books that I studied at university, I always felt quite dismissive on the curriculum reading I participated in at school. Reading Lessons made me think of secondary English with greater fondness and respect.

It was striking that there were so many familiar friends on Atherton's list. I studied An Inspector Calls for GCSE myself. One of the few things I remember about it is that I wrote an 18 page piece of coursework in size 10 Times New Roman. I would go on to write many essays after this one and I would never find the words to flow as easily. I feel like the high mark can only have been because I mused about everything except the kitchen sink. I certainly did not know what I was doing.

But I also felt rather jealous of Atherton's pupils because there were also quite a decent number on this list that were so much better than my own high school reading. I can see that my school made its choices largely on the basis of being inoffensive. Buddy was one of the most tedious books I can ever remember. I still recall my distaste at vividly how badly my copy smelled. I handed my copy back with relief as I had been convinced it stank out my rucksack. Wicked was a book about a boy whose twin brothers had killed a tramp and it was so forgettable that I actually cannot find any links to it online. Then there was Alan Gibbons' Chicken which was also deathly dull. None of them were ever likely inspire a life-long love of reading. I do remember enjoying Ruth Thomas' The Runaways but I had also already read it two years previously. I remember that the other Year Nine class got to read Jane Eyre as I recall the boys giggling a lot over lunch about a passage that featured the phrase 'Mr Rochester ejaculated'.

I saw English teaching from another angle during the year when I worked in a secondary school supporting low ability groups. I was in classes with Of Mice and Men and The Lord of the Flies on the curriculum. Some of the students I supported were studying Of Mice and Men for the second time, it having been picked up for both Year Nine and GCSE. These feel like choices that would make Michael Rosen weep, aiming at decent exam scores rather than promoting awareness of literature. I remember vividly how a Year Eleven child expressed his disdain for Lord of the Flies as utterly pointless. He felt that time spent studying it was fruitless given his planned career as a sheep farmer. He had more interest in Mice and Men because he could identify with the main characters' plight as underpaid agricultural workers. But even so, the English curriculum had failed to reach him.

Looking at the books on Atherton's list, I felt as though there were examples there which might have been more successful. Atherton freely admits the quandaries around shaking up a curriculum. Setting up a new scheme of work takes time. It is risky to steer off the beaten track when experimentation may lead to lower grades. Teachers living in terror of performance management understandably cling to the tried and (literally) tested. If you pick a new book and it goes wrong, you can quite literally lose everything. So just dig out Mice and Men and play it safe.

Yet for all that this can appear lazy, good books are gifts that keep on giving. Atherton discusses teaching An Inspector Calls written by socialist JB Priestley. In 1940, Priestley attacked the sentimentality of those waving farewell to RAF pilots without thinking about Britain would be able to offer them when they returned. Atherton draws a parallel with this thinking and those politicians who 'Clapped for Carers' during the 2020 lockdowns and then voted against giving key workers funding and pay rises. The central message of An Inspector Calls burns bright, 'We don't live alone. We are members of one body. We are responsible for each other. And I tell you that the time will soon come when, if men will not learn that lesson, that they will be taught it in fire and blood and anguish'. These feel like words which could apply to a number of different modern day global situations.

I was interested as Atherton described how some texts were better avoided with certain groups. She and a group of colleagues had all agreed that they would not teach Lord of the Flies to a class which contained a child who was being bullied for being overweight, since the character of Piggy might be triggering. This got me to thinking about all of the books which are not chosen to be studied in secondary school. While so much of Reading Lessons is about the joy of generating conversations from books, there are some conversations which cannot be adequately contained within the classroom. I studied The Color Purple for AS Level and found the rapes at the beginning to be extremely upsetting. I remember feeling very anxious that I would not be able to study the course as I have a habit of getting dizzy and fainting when I read about disturbing topics. But then things picked up for Celie and I was able to appreciate the book's beauty. But what are the topics that teachers can see are off-limits?

Reading Lessons also made me reflect on my own thorny experience with Anne Fine's Carnegie-winning novel Flour Babies. This is a novel about Simon Martin, a boy in his early teens, who has to take care of a bag of flour as if it is a baby for four weeks as part of a school experiment. This proves to be a triggering experience as it brings up unhappy memories about his fatherless state. There are strong themes about male role models, the responsibilities of parenthood and what it means to grow up without a dad. Anne Fine is a thoughtful writer and this is one of those books which is clearly designed to reach out to boy readers. But for me, I found it deeply distressing.

Admittedly, I was far too young to have been reading it in the first place. I was a seven year old girl who had been given ten pounds to spend on books which seemed like riches. I wanted to buy a copy of Finn Family Moomintroll but had been told that I was not allowed as I had already read it in the library. As an adult who is now free from this rule, I currently possess three different copies including a Folio edition in colour. Back in 1993 however, my money was taken from me and spent on Flour Babies as it had the Carnegie Medal winner sticker on it. When I protested, I was scolded. When I tried to explain that I hated the book, I was scolded more for a lack of appreciation of literature. I did not have the language at the time to explain that the whole premise of a boys' secondary school that had different ability groups which were then doing a science experiment was confusing and unclear, let alone the ability to articulate the fact that the book was picking up on fatherlessness and I didn't like it.

I do remember the horror I felt as Simon Martin looks back on the time he had a really cool costume to play one of the Kings in his Year Two Nativity play, how his mother had promised to come and see it but then been too ill and then one of his teachers suggested that his dad might come instead which made seven year-old Simon burst into hysterics since his father had walked out on him when he was six weeks old. He was so upset that the costume was taken from him and another child got the part while he sat and sobbed privately and missed the whole performance. Up until that point, the adults around me had always been briskly accepting of my lone-parent status. Flour Babies whispered in my ear that it was a trauma.

For context - I read that book thirty years ago and I did not have to look up the synopsis to check the facts because that passage was burned into my brain. I still remember the tight feeling in my chest as I read it. As an adult at all this distance, I can feel pity for my little seven year-old self wrestling with a book that was so utterly inappropriate for her personal situation and that she did not know how to escape. It took entirely too long for it to occur to me to just lie that I had finished it so that I could put it on the shelf and get away. There the book lurked uncompleted for many years, an unwelcome reminder of the time I had not been allowed to pick what to do with my book money.

At last, when I was eleven, my Year Six teacher wanted us to all read books by Anne Fine. Lots of books by Anne Fine. The more the better. My competitive nature won out and in a bid to beat the rest of the class, I picked Flour Babies up again. Simon Martin's feelings about his absent father were easier for me to accept. I had a clearer idea in mind of what would happen if my mother were to vanish too (I would end up at my grandparents' house) so it did not inspire the same panic. Aged eleven, I had a greater understanding of my personal history but even if I did not understand it yet, I was a couple of steps forward on the journey to constructing my own narrative. But perhaps most importantly for my appreciation of the book, by eleven I had watched the iconic Frasier episode where Niles looks after a flour baby so the whole premise made far more sense. I didn't love it but it was ok.

Still, after reading it in 1998, I did not give the book another thought until last year when a new copy of it was gifted to my then five year old with the instruction for him to read it over the summer holidays. I remember looking at it and quite clearly thinking 'Oh this is what that phrase 'the memories are flooding back' means'. Strangely enough, this new copy then mysteriously disappeared and is unlikely to resurface for at least another six years when the Astronaut can decide for himself.

It's funny because I can see that despite its award-winning status, I notice that Flour Babies has had zero recognition in terms of curriculum reading. I would suspect this is because the topic of fatherlessness has high potential to give children like me the colly-wobbles. It is too hot of a potato. You can teach a class about school boys murdering each other on a desert island (Lord of the Flies). You can teach about racial prejudice and unconscious bias (Noughts and Crosses). You can teach about sexism and male violence (My Last Duchess, Of Mice and Men, The Color Purple - half of English literature to be honest). Because these are all global societal issues. Flour Babies gets too personal. It is dealing with private family matters. So it is not appropriate for classroom discussion.

It is not to say that all the books in Reading Lessons are straightforward to teach. Atherton explains the complex history of To Kill a Mockingbird which has become under fire in recent years for promoting a white saviour narrative and for marginalising the black characters it claims to champion. Certain schools have dropped it from their syllabuses in an attempt to 'decolonise the curriculum'. Yet, Atherton points out that Bob Ewell's rage at his situation is still frighteningly relevant to modern-day America. If MAGA hats had been available in 1934, he would definitely have put one on.

One of my own gripes when I was a teacher was the push to keep things simple. I remember teaching the Bill Naughton short story to a Year 3 and 4 class and being told to use the English as a Second Language simplified version. Not long after leaving teaching, I read news reports about the growing 'vocabulary deficiency' among children and rolled my eyes. In the current climate, it is hardly surprising. We are hardly building a nation of readers. If everything remotely challenging is removed from children's reading, what is the point? At some point, do we not have to allow children to approach a book that requires thought and listen to what they have to say?

My concern with movements to 'drop' older books is that we risk erasing painful moments of history. Men like Tom Robinson really were put on trials where only one verdict was ever going to be delivered. A modern day reading of To Kill a Mockingbird has to leave room for the adults in the room to condemn the behaviour of the people of Maycomb. One of the passages I remember is when Scout talks to her brother about how her teacher had described Adolf Hitler as a terrible man. Jem agreed. But if the teacher is right about that, Scout wonders, why did she also express satisfaction about Tom Robinson's conviction? And there Jem becomes enraged. He, like Scout, is coming to terms with the systemic racism of their society. It is immovable. Seen in that context, Atticus' words become a battle cry; courage is 'when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway, and you see it through, no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do'. Again, for young people growing up in a deeply flawed world, this is a message worth hearing.

It makes me think too about my decision to read the Little House books to my son. I read Prairie Fires earlier this year. I read Pioneer Girl about ten years ago. I am well-versed in all the ways in which the series is problematic. But it remains the best child-appropriate description of all the various processes and rounds of domestic labour required to sustain frontier life that I have ever come across. For the Astronaut, growing up in a home with a voice assistant, washing machine and a dishwasher, I want him to understand how life was for children generations before. But I still gasped and skipped over the racist ditty that Laura's Pa sings towards the end of Big Woods. I know that when we read the sequel Little House on the Prairie, I will have to explain much more about the family's trespass into Indian Territory. But I still think that that is a conversation worth having. I remember listening to Samira Ahmed's interview with Dean Butler, who played Almanzo Wilder in the television series, and his impassioned panegyric on how in 'cancelling' Laura Ingalls Wilder, people ignore the fact that these things really did happen. I feel it is a reading lesson itself to appreciate that characters that we love are still deeply flawed and can commit acts that cause harm to others, regardless of their intentions. Just like in real life.

Atherton's words on I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit have made me want to seek them out. I avoided both when I was a teenager for complicated reasons. In Lower Sixth, I had found The Color Purple rough going and had heard Caged Bird was similar and couldn't really face it. I also read The Wasp Factory for a book group at around the same time and once again had nearly lost consciousness with the horror of it so was seeking books that were less demanding for my free time. Still, I see them now as missed opportunities. I intend to remedy this soon.

For all the talk about the books from my own schooldays, I was also intrigued by the couple of 'new faces' that have arrived. I was a couple of years too old to catch Noughts and Crosses as a teenager but can see how it can be a thought-provoking read for young adults. When I was at school, we were taught that racism was an issue of the past. Something from history. It is vitally important for adults in authority to admit to young people that these attitudes persist and that they are wrong. I was interested too to catch that Kit de Waal's My Name is Leon is another book dealing with similar issues recommended for study - a review I wrote of that book won me an award a number of years ago so I am always pleased to hear it is doing well.

Still, I was most delighted to hear that Jamila Gavin's Coram Boy is now a popular GCSE text. I read that book aged fourteen and absolutely loved it. I would be nervous to revisit lest it prove as unsettling a return as when I re-read Witch Child and discovered that all the high feelings had been confined to no more than a couple of paragraphs scattered across the book. I was intrigued though by Atherton's description of how Coram Boy unlocks discussion about the history of the slave trade and of course about the lack of care for foundlings. And again, while this book may have been set over two hundred years ago, it was only in 2014 that an amateur historian uncovered a mass grave of over 800 babies hidden in a septic tank in County Galway in Ireland. These are not issues of the past.

But does it benefit a book to be studied? I remember watching the film adaptation of Atonement with a friend who had studied it for A level. She critiqued various points of the film in terms of how they clashed with the identified themes of the novel. I had read the book aged fifteen because I liked the look of the cover and wanted to read a Real Grown Up Book™. The tragic love story between Robbie and Cecilia had been agonising in the best possible way. I loved that book so purely. With pride that I had managed to read it all by myself. And as I watched the film with my friend, I was filled with gratitude that I had never had to sully that with essay questions.

Atherton touches on this as she emphasises how she recommends certain books such as I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings and Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit as additional reading. Some books are worth reading alone. But additional reading is not something that I can ever remember being suggested until I reached university. I had English teachers who I liked. I think that for the most part they liked me. I won the English prize when I finished school although I never went to the awards evening to collect it. But I do not think that the English department in my school made any effort to steer my reading or to expand my understanding. By this I do not mean that they taught me nothing. To the contrary, I remember my GCSE teacher in particular taking me in hand because I was incapable of writing a proper paragraph (Point, Evidence, Explanation) but this notion of expanded ideas or discovering new literary worlds ... never happened for me as a school pupil. So I finished Reading Lessons feeling rather jealous of Carol Atherton's pupils. They have been extremely fortunate.

With a first class degree in English from Oxford and a subsequent DPhil, Atherton is clearly used to fending off enquiries of 'Miss, why are you just a teacher?' but in Reading Lessons she makes clear why the role became her calling. This book is not just about the importance of books but also about the vital role of good teachers. Reading Lessons feels like required reading for those in charge of education policy, emphasising why it matters to have some breathing room somewhere in the curriculum for independent thought.

But Reading Lessons also made me reflect on myself. I have always loved talking about my reading, sharing what I think about it, so much so that I had to start a book blog or else be an absolute nightmare at any and all social gatherings. I became a teacher in the hope that I could find that there. When I look back on those brief difficult years, I know that reading with my class was something that I did well. I tried to find different kinds of books to read with them. I read with expression. But any kind of individuality of thought always came under attack. We weren't supposed to read real books, just the potted extracts from the literacy syllabus. It was about reading to boost data rather than as Atherton describes, 'to prompt [the children] to look inwards at themselves and their developing identities, and out, at the messy world they are inheriting from us'. In an increasingly target-driven system, the fluidity of English has come under threat both in the secondary sector but also all the way down to primary.

Atherton's closing words championing the importance of her chosen subject are a true battle cry. English Literature matters. The ability to 'read sensitively and write precisely is vital, not only in many workplaces but also to participating in the life of a democracy'. English 'is the subject that helps us to shape our relationship with words and the many ways in which humans have used them'. STEM disciplines may be important but so too are the arts and humanities in developing active citizens who can read critically and think for themselves.

I will never stand in front of a class again. I accepted that many years ago. But I do have two little people of my own and their future reading is of vital importance to me. Reading together at bedtime can be incredibly healing at the end of a long day. Giving children the chance to see the world from a different perspective is vitally important and the best way to do that is through books. Reading is about far more than phonics, far more than decoding. It is about empathy. It is about understanding that sometimes there is no right or wrong answer. Because there often isn't in real life either. Education is not purely transactional. It requires the students to think for themselves too. And that often happens in English before it happens anywhere else.

For those who love books, read this book. For those who have children who are studying or will one day study books, read this book. For those who care about schools and how they operate, read this book. Reading Lessons is a true battle hymn for English Literature.

This book made me want to quit my 'aspirational' job in publishing and retrain as an English teacher. I didn't study all of the books discussed when I was at school but it made me so nostalgic for a certain time and place in my life. 100% recommend!

A well-crafted story with plenty to appreciate. The pacing, characters, and plot twists kept me interested throughout. I'm looking forward to seeing how readers respond once it's released!

This is an exquisite book about books. My personal love of reading came from my teachers in school and during my tenure as a primary school teacher, I wanted to instill a love of reading for them also. I would recommend this book to all educators wanting to broaden a love of reading with their students.

My love for reading came from my English Literature lessons in school and it inspired me to study this at degree level. This book is a nostalgic look back and I really enjoyed it!

We could call this a ‘memoir in books’ or an ‘ode to English literature and, especially, English teachers’ or ‘the book that will make your TBR even longer than it already is’. Whichever way we look at this, it is an amazing read!

In ‘Reading Lessons: the books we read at school, the conversations they speak and why the matter’, Carol Atherton – an English teacher with almost three decades of experience – looks at how literature can help us make sense of the world around us, and inside us.

Having completed my studies abroad, I am not familiar with the titles at the heart of secondary level education in this country. This was therefore an incredibly enriching experience and I’ve already started going through the list of books mentioned.

While learning about books previously unknown to me, I’ve also learnt a lot about those I’ve already read. It’s a source of constant awe how a text can be so relevant today regardless of when it was first written and published.

And I’m grateful to teachers like Carol Atherton, whose life mission is making these books and ideas accessible to young minds.

I love books and I especially love books about books and this book about books is brilliant. It made me fall in love with the texts again. It made me wish I’d had a teacher like Ms Atherton when I was at school. It made me think about the relevance of "literature" to today’s generation of youngsters.

But mainly it made me happy that someone else understood the way that books can change people’s lives, the way they did mine.

The chapters on Jeanette Winterston and Dickens were my favourites and I’ve bought a copy of the Steinbeck because I haven’t read it. I will read it now with a new awareness.

Carol Atherton has a lot to be proud of and the book reflects her own experiences and her own journey with books, using the A Level syllabus as a framework. I enjoyed the book and will reread it when I’ve read the books described again. That seems like a superpower to me.

I was given a copy of the book by NetGalley

I put here that I wouldn't recommend it to my students - and that is true. I would, however, recommend it to my colleagues, and that is testament in itself. This was a fascinating read about the power that books hold, and the impact that school has on how we engage with books throughout the rest of our lives. I would recommend this for anyone who works within an education setting, or who is interested in books outside of just the "reading" of them.

Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC for this book.

Carol Atherton’s Reading Lessons was essentially a love letter to literature, highlighting the value it brings to the development of secondary school students in the UK separate to the technical, ‘STEM’ skills that are increasingly sought after in the current education system. It was incredibly insightful to see how the stories Atherton teaches weave into her, and her students', own personal stories – I enjoyed the chapters focusing on both the books I’ve read, as much as those I haven’t (and have subsequently added to the neverending TBR). Would suggest temporarily skipping the chapters for books you haven’t, but want to, read in order to avoid spoilers.

Overall, a lovely book and throwback to secondary school English Lit.

This book was like someone dove into my mind, gathered up everything I love about reading (and why it's so important) and put it down on the page. Glorious!!!

This was a different genre of book than what I normally read but I enjoyed it and would recommend it if you are looking for something different than your usual read!

A lovely book, about what lessons we can learn from the books taught in the UK school system.

Many of the books were ones I *hadn‘t* studied, or even read so, beware, this book if full of spoilers!

I really liked that though - the plot spoilers and the author‘s explanations and analysis drew me to the books and made me want to read them all!

Dedicating each chapter to must-read novels or ones almost every English Literature student knows/needs to know, Carol Atherton shows through her 30-year career the importance of seeing a novel, novella, poem, play, etc. as more than just its plot or space in time. From an English Lit student's perspective, Reading Lessons is a must-read for anyone wanting to see how to analyse books and listen to not only a teacher but also points and input from Atherton's past students.

I thoroughly enjoyed Atherton's book, as it looks at some of my favourite pieces of literature but also helped me see some others in new lights, making me want to go back and re-read them with these new perspectives.

I highly recommend Reading Lessons to any Literature student out there who wants to see classics (both classical, modern and contemporary pieces) in new lights.

Thank you, NetGalley and Penguin General UK for sending me an ARC in exchange for my honest review.

Every couple of years the subject of school texts comes up and the overarching question is whether they are still relevant. In this book, Carol Atherton explains that they are and goes into great detail to say how and why that is the case.

In the introduction there are quotes that I recognise from the books I read at school. Not only that, but I remember the context and how I felt about them at the time and how I feel about them now. There are many that I re-read as an adult as I thought that perhaps I didn't fully appreciate them at the time. But they have stayed with me all of my life.

Atherton has included her own life and introduction to the literature, so in part this is autobiographical. As a pupil she studied the same books. She became an English teacher in a secondary school and gives anecdotal instances of interactions with her students. But the emphasis is on the books and why they are important, as displayed by the organisation of the chapters: each is a theme very pertinent to our modern lives. With chapter titles such as 'On gaining a voice', 'On not fitting in', 'On power, gender and control', 'On not being enough' and 'On seeing things differently' it is easy to see why these classics are still as important today as they ever were.

The author is keen to point out that these works serve to act as 'mirrors to the world', to start discussion, expand our minds and not tell us what to do or think. There is a real love of literature and learning here and I can almost hear her taking a lesson, such is the detail of the analysis. Current, readable, essential. So the next time some kind of expert questions why our children should be reading Dickens, Steinbeck or Bronte, show them this book. You know we're right.

4.5* rounded up

Thanks to NetGalley for providing me with a copy of Reading Lessons for honest review.

Thoroughly enjoyed this book from start to finish. Atherton has a very engaging writing style and an infectious enthusiasm for literature. I haven't read the majority of the books discussed and originally intended just to read the parts that were relevant to me but I ended up racing through the whole thing! I found myself much more interested in picking up some of these books which I had discounted almost entirely because of their place on the school curriculum. Enjoyed Atherton's takes on the texts themselves and on approaches to teaching them (even though I do not teach myself).

This book is a love letter to literature and comes at such a timely moment as we see universities reducing their offerings of courses in the humanities - essentially, downgrading the value of an arts education over anything STEM related. Carol Atherton beautifully sums up the value and power of the word, specifically, through the teaching of English at school. If anyone is in any doubt as to the significance of studying English as a subject in the future, this beautifully written book will be enough to convince even the most factually driven mind that there is much to value and protect.

I wish Carol Atherton had been my teacher at school - goodness, I would go back right now to have her lead me through any (or all!) of the books that she so knowledgeably discusses in Reading Lessons’. I have read all but a handful of the texts that she discusses, but she made me think and develop my opinions many times. Modernising the Canon to reflect the modern world is something which is slowly evolving: as Atherton points out, considerable time and money is invested by schools in to the necessary resources for GCSE and A level teaching, so an overnight transformation is not practicable. However, what I felt Atherton demonstrated was how the Canon (with all its acknowledged faults) could be taught in ways which are relevant and appropriate for the education and future of today’s youth.

This book should be included on reading lists for those wishing to train as an English teacher - I explain expect it will become a modern classic on how to teach. Furthermore, the final section provides copious notes and suggestions of further reading/watching opportunities to provide breadth and depth to each of these rich, classic novels. Whether you are a reader for pleasure, educator or student, this book has so much to offer and would be the perfect place to start learning more about specific novels. You can read this from cover to cover (and should, it has so much to offer), but it would also work by dipping into specific chapters which relate to a text of interest.

You cannot read this book without reflecting on the enduring value of literature to question, inform and challenge in perpetum. AI will, no doubt, make areas of the modern world unrecognisable as it replaces human endeavour in many ways. I get the sense from Atherton’s book, that Literature, to be fully instructive and informative, will always require a human mind to read, respond and reflect on it.

Bravo!! A timely piece of writing which is accessible and masterfully instructive without being didactic. The tone is reflective and intimate as you are swept along through the annals of time - literary speaking!

Dedicating each chapter to a classic text from the GCSE/A-level English Literature curriculum, Atherton draws on her teaching (and life!) experience to explore their enduring relevance inside and outside of the classroom.

This is a total nostalgia trip, with many of the reflections delivered with fondness. At the same time, it is a bold, rallying cry in defence of the value of an arts education and the teaching profession - and I really appreciated how Atherton doesn’t shy away from confronting the challenges.

If you love books or education, this is one worth picking up - or pressing into the hands of an influential teacher.

Thank you to Penguin and netgalley for the proof!

An English teacher’s 30 year career leads her to reflect on the lessons set texts have taught not just her pupils but the teacher too over her years’ teaching. Not always at the time of teaching, sometimes the significance doesn’t always become apparent until years later when life is at a particular moment, but the importance of books to our development is huge.
Carol Atherton uses specific examples of novels, poems and plays, still commonly used as set texts today to set out what lessons they can teach anyone. She is obviously a conscientious teacher and some concepts may not have been covered by your own teachers, but equally, as adults you wonder why something had not occurred to you at the time, but also times change. You don’t have to have been taught at school all the titles covered but all are useful vessels which demonstrate life lessons to all.
An interesting and informative thoughtful insight.

Thanks to Netgalley and Penguin Group for letting me share my honest opinions of this eBook.

I liked the sentiment of this book more than the book itself. Reading Lessons: The Books We Read at School, the Conversations They Spark and Why They Matter is making a stand for literature. The 15 books chosen are suited for a school syllabus and diverse in the themes and issues they cover. The book discussion is mixed with Carol Atherton’s experience as a teacher in a variety of schools in England and some personal biography. What Atherton shares is relevant to the discussion, where sometimes I was not sure it was needed but appreciated its warm and friendly nature.

There is a lot here that I have taken away with me, and I wanted to like it more than I did. I enjoyed the first three chapters the most. Here, I came away with a lot of new and interesting information that made me think about those books differently. The remainder were enjoyable but it didn’t seem as complete as the first three, or maybe I was distracted by the book chapters that started with ‘on …. ‘, which didn’t make sense to me but I could see that they were more like prompts of what to expect in that chapter.

Regardless, there were several times I was wishing Atherton had been my school teacher, the teaching methods she shared made the books jump to life that would show the relevant of it to a young mind.

This book is perfect for a conversation starter, especially for parents of young people who are reading these books and want to share this experience with them.

What I like the most about this read is how Atherton left me with the impression that books, fiction and reading are still relevant and should not be under estimated in how they help us to see a point of view we are not familiar with.

I'm always fascinated by books about books. I thought this would be a particularly interesting one as it has been written by an English teacher, with years of experience in secondary education. I really enjoyed the way the chapters are based on themes for instance 'on not fitting in' or 'on behaving badly' and then that theme is matched with books that are currently on the UK curriculum or used to be or could be considered as wider reading.

The chapters have reflections on the author's own life, so are a memoir of a sort. But mostly they are about the books taught in school. I don't really remember what I read in school - certainly not the books covered in this book. My love of reading came about mostly after school had finished and not because of what I had studied at school. I wish I had had an English teacher who had read so widely and understood the themes in books so well, whilst I was at school. Surely this must be inspirational?

You do not need to have read all of the books featured in this book to enjoy the narrative. I had read some, but probably a minority. Nevertheless I enjoyed reading about all of the books mentioned. Some will no doubt join my 'to be read' pile. Others, perhaps not. It is a shame that teachers such as Carol Atherton do not have the freedom or resources to add the books they wish to their lessons. This message came across quite strongly.

I loved this book and having read it once, I think it is the sort of book I would happily dip into again and again. Many thanks to NetGalley for an early copy in exchange for an honest review.