I was always so excited to start a new book when I was a boy. In particular, I remember sitting in bed and trying to keep my eyes open, battling off sleep to finish another chapter of Roald Dahl’s The Witches. I read all of his books, but it was always that one which I used to read with devotion. I would pore over the pages and carefully put my bookmark in and save the next thrilling chapter until the next night. It was an experience I couldn’t wait to continue but didn’t want to end. The  ...