A Ladder to the Sky

by John Boyne

piping up now. ‘I’ve often wondered that myself,’ you said with a smile. ‘I don’t really know, if I’m honest with you. I only know that I enjoy reading them. And writing them.’ ‘So you are working on something new, then?’ asked Garrett, persistent little Garrett. ‘I said so, didn’t I?’ ‘No, you said that you never talk about work in progress.’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘But there is a work in progress, then? It’s just that it’s been such a long time since The Treehouse.’ Sitting next to me, I could feel you growing uncomfortable in your chair, and you took a long time to answer. ‘You’re the one writing the children’s book about the talking animals, aren’t you?’ you asked eventually. ‘It’s not a children’s book,’ replied Garrett. ‘The whole thing’s an allegory. It’s not the fact that the animals speak that matters, it’s what they have to say. Like in Animal Farm.’ ‘You’re comparing your work to Orwell’s?’ you asked, laughing now. ‘No, of course not,’ said Garrett, growing a little more flustered. ‘That’s not what I meant.’ ‘It’s what you implied,’ interrupted Maja. Garrett rolled his eyes and delivered a loud sigh. The two students had clashed several times in workshop and Maja seemed to take pleasure in bringing him down to earth. ‘Look, some novels take a long time to write,’ you said, getting back to the original question. ‘When it’s ready, it will be ready. Until