Madame Royale

“One of my favourite places to read was my elder brother’s bedroom. It was a tiny room with a bed, a chest-of-drawers, bookcases full of books, and shelves where he kept his seashells, butterflies, pressed wild flowers and microscope, because he was going to be a scientist. The room was on the ground floor, with a window you could climb out of, a brick floor, and a damp, earthy smell. There was a small old sofa, pale lavender colour, rather lumpy, with a folded eastern kaftan on it, very stringy and scratchy to sit on. I can still remember the exact comfortable feeling of getting settled and snugly in a corner of that old purple couch, ready for a good long read!”

—Joan Aiken (1924-2004)

I have loved her since I was eight or nine years old and lived in Oxford and discovered Dido on that one special store’s shelves, the covers depicting wolves, spooky trees, foggy British countryside. I received plenty of adventure-crammed stories from this author and characters I will never forget. The Cuckoo Tree will always be one of my favorites. I still have my old copy—apparently not from that one special store’s shelves, but lifted from the North Oxford library…