Aside from reading the distinctly un-joyful newspaper, and I no longer even do that every day, I rarely read anything nowadays other than that which is intended to bring pleasure. I regularly reject recommendations (usually by one of those people who admit only to picking up something they consider highbrow rather than what most of us actually read), I’ve put aside the research books which supported the writing of my novel*, and abandoned altogether the hard-going canon of so-called literary masterpieces.One of life’s best little luxuries is to find a new-to-me author whose writing I like. And it’s a bigger luxury to find that she’s written not only the book I’m reading, but several others too. Shortly before our recent holiday in Devon and whilst partaking of one of my favourite activities – drinking coffee with a good friend – the conversation turned to books and knowing that friend L…