I did not think in terms of gender or feminism, not then, because I had no wider politics other than knowing I was working class. But I had noticed that the women were fewer and further apart on the shelves, and when I tried to read books ‘about’ literature (always a mistake), I couldn’t help noticing that the books were written by men about men who write. That didn’t worry me; I was in danger of drowning and nobody lost at sea worries about whether the spar they cling to is made of elm or oak.
