When I was a lad at school, the correct answer to the question, ‘what’s your favourite book?’ was, ‘The Hobbit’. It was not plausible that a 10-year-old boy could have trawled his way through Lord of the Rings and if you mentioned Enid Blyton you’d spend the rest of the afternoon standing in the corner.
Other acceptable answers included anything by Isaac Asimov. But I always said The Hobbit despite the fact that, to this day, I have not yet read a word of it. Because the truth was simply unsayable.