Relearning to Read ebook now available

Eight months after the launch of the paperback of Relearning to Read: Adventures in Not-knowing, the ebook edition has hit the virtual shelves.

It’s been lovely and humbling to see responses to the book so far. Prospect magazine called it ‘a genius move… In 12 short chapters it rips up the rules about reading and reminds us about fiction’s greatest strength: that it lets you step out of your life and, if you’re brave, out of your safe literary spaces.’ The Big Issue said it is ‘a fascinating exploration of the reading process, what it can achieve and how it shapes us’. Meanwhile, in the cover story of The Times Literary Supplement earlier this year, Christy Edwall wrote: ‘What matters most to [Morgan], laudably, is creating the conditions in which her readers will “view reading as a more active, connected, and radical pastime.”’

There have been some wonderful endorsements from fellow international literature champions and authors, too. These include: superstar translator and author Anton Hur; novelist, translator, professor and former English PEN president Maureen Freely; leading Irish novelist and international literature critic Rónán Hession; and award-winning writer and podcaster Daisy Buchanan.

It’s also really encouraging to know that the paperback is nearly sold out and recently entered its second printing, with a new double cover featuring some of these responses.

The ebook edition adds a fifth book jacket to Relearning to Read’s wardrobe (well, sixth, if you count the rogue 200 copies printed the wrong colour that we gave away through Cheltenham Literature Festival and the Jhalak Foundation), joining the three versions of the paperback, and the special Renard Press Edition that dashed out of print ahead of the paperback release last year. Unlike its printed siblings, the ebook cover shows words highlighted, as on an ereader screen. It’s available from all the usual places, while the last remaining first editions of the paperback can still be snaffled direct from Renard Press.

Many thanks to everyone who has helped give the book such a warm welcome. In the coming weeks, I’ll be taking the incomprehension workshop that inspired it to Cambridge University and Belfast, with events planned in Cheltenham, Sandgate and Southwold later this year. Maybe I’ll see you there?

Hong Kong International Literary Festival

Two women sitting on chairs in front of a colorful backdrop with the text 'Inspiring Generations'. One woman holds two books, and the other holds a book and a notebook. A small table with two water bottles is in front of them.

Just a week after I returned from the Dibrugarh University International Literature Festival in Assam, India, I jetted off again, this time to take part in the 25th annual Hong Kong International Literary Festival.

My engagements there began with an intense schedule of school visits. Jetlag notwithstanding, I was picked up at 7.15am on my first morning by one of the festival’s brilliant team of volunteers, a committed network of writers and book lovers based in Hong Kong. Over the next three days, I Ubered around Hong Kong Island, delivering ten talks and incomprehension workshops at schools everywhere from the lofty heights of the Peak to Tai Po.

The institutions I visited were a mix of government-funded ‘public’ schools, international schools and English Schools Foundation schools. I was told I might experience quite a difference in response from place to place, particularly as English is a second-language for many students at the public schools.

In truth, though, enthusiasm and sparkiness were evident everywhere. At one girls’ school, where a teacher had warned me the students were often shy, my incomprehension workshop proved a riotous hit, with everything form the Epstein files to six-seven coming into the discussion. At another public school, a teacher who started off sitting to one side couldn’t help jumping up and joining in with great excitement. Afterwards, he told me with emotion that the session had taken him back to his student days and reminded him what he loves about literature.

A flat lay image displaying a thank you certificate addressed to Ann Morgan, a box labeled 'American School Hong Kong', a small notebook with sticky notes, and a gray folder with buttons, all arranged on a table.

As my books are for adults, I never usually do events for primary school children. Consequently, I was rather surprised to arrive at one school and find 60 ten-year-olds waiting for me. Apparently, the pupils there had looked at the speaker brochure and picked me out as someone they particularly wanted to hear from. I adapted my talk accordingly and we had a wonderful session about reading stories from around the world that finished with a forest of hands up to ask questions.

There was a similarly enthusiastic response at the literary festival, at which I did three events. I ran my incomprehension workshop with a small but engaged audience at the very cool Fringe Club. As ever, the discussion generated some mind-blowing responses, showing me new things in stories I have worked with many times before. Several participants shared afterwards that the workshop had allowed them to confront fears and vulnerabilities they had long held about their relationship to reading.

The next day, it was my privilege to chair a panel discussion with three translators at Hong Kong’s Goethe-Institut. Local German-English translator and novelist Nicholas Stephens, Chinese-English translator and novelist Jacqueline Leung and poet Dong Li, who translates between German, French, English and Chinese, shared their insights into their craft. The discussion was wide-ranging and lively, taking in everything from AI to authenticity, and it laid bare the extraordinary humanity and generosity that underpins human translation.

My final event at the festival (pictured at the top) was perhaps the most special of all: a conversation with Jennie Orchard, the editor of The Gifts of Reading for the Next Generation, to which I contributed an essay last year. Jennie was the reason I was in Hong Kong, as she had recommended me to festival director Laura Mannering. She graciously focused the discussion on my new book, and it was a treat to unpack some of the things that have unfolded over the 15 years since I started this blog in her company and in front of a warm and generous audience who bought up every last copy of Relearning to Read in the festival shop. The timing of the event was auspicious too: both our books had just been featured unexpectedly in an article on reading in the UK’s Times Literary Supplement, so it was wonderful to be in conversation in person as well as on the page.

My schedule being rather full, my time for literary exploring at the festival was limited. However, I did manage to attend a really interesting discussion with the Argentine-American writer Hernan Diaz, who spoke about how his career in academia had made him alive to the ‘viscosity’ of language and had very interesting things to say about his perspective on the stories countries tell about themselves: ‘What is a national history but a very hardened cliche?’ I also picked up some great recommendations for Hong Kong writers and was thrilled by an event featuring local authors Ysabelle Cheung, Kaitlin Chan and Karen Cheung talking about writing female experience.

I have a feeling this may prove the source for my next Book of the month. Watch this space…

Dibrugarh University International Literature Festival

Last week I returned to Dibrugarh in Assam, India, for the third year running to take part in the Dibrugarh University International Literature Festival (DUILF). It’s a long journey for me to get to this part of the world – this time complicated by a cancelled flight – but it’s always worth it and it has been my great privilege to be a part of this extraordinary event designed to bring literature to young people in this traditionally marginalised region since its inception.

This year, it was bigger and better than ever, featuring more than 140 writers from more than 25 countries. We were kept busy from morning to night, hurrying between stages and auditoriums, conversations with journalists and dignitaries, dinners and performances, all the while being royally entertained.

As I said in my speech at the closing ceremony (you can see me on the stage above, in between celebrated Indian writer Murzban Fali Shroff and trailblazing Egyptian publisher Sherif Bakr), there are many things that are special about what Dibrugarh University and the Foundation for Culture Arts and Literature do at this festival, but this year I was particularly struck by three things:

The warmth of the welcome At many festivals writers are brought in and out fairly smartly, with only a short time to interact and share ideas. In Dibrugarh, they are embraced. Because of the remoteness of the setting, all the international writers come for the whole four days, which allows for many conversations and develops a strong bond between participants, nurturing friendships old and new. I was particularly delighted to spend time with South African writer Shubnum Khan and Galician translator, interpreter and writer María Reimóndez, both of whom returned to the festival. It was also a great pleasure to meet Syrian writer Shahla Ujayli and Galician author Susana Sanches Arins, both of whose work I have featured on this blog.

What’s more, the enthusiasm of the audience members is incredibly moving. After the session I had with the German writer David Clémenceau, I found myself surrounded by students, many of whom had also come to my talks and workshops in previous years. One had even come from an exam with her mother to hear me. They told me how much the conversations and my work had meant to them, with several being kind enough to say they had found them lifechanging. For a writer, there are few experiences more precious than this.

The robustness of the discussion As a festival programmed by global south curators (led by the indefatigable Rahul Jain), DUILF looks through a different lens to many of the events I’m used to attending in the UK. I was reminded of this by the keynote speech at the opening ceremony from Talmiz Ahmad, former Indian ambassador to Saudi Arabia. He talked in strong terms about how recent global events may impact India: ‘Those of us with nations affiliated with the global south rejoice among ourselves that western hegemony is at an end. It has been with us for several centuries. It brought some good but mostly it harmed us… But we live in an age of unpredictability.’

Over the four days that followed, there were a number of fairly explosive, though always respectful, exchanges on everything from AI to military strategy. As the festival had made the Middle East and North Africa (or the Arab World) its focus, it was inevitable that many of the events shaping geopolitics received airtime. I was privileged to chair two sessions with the Arab writers, and found the discussion we had on identity and belonging especially moving. In particular, I was struck by Bahraini writer Leila Al Mutawa’s comments on the role of the sea in her identity. I look forward to reading her work when it becomes available in English.

The festival’s place in nurturing culture In my experience, there are two kinds of literary festival. Those that capitalise on culture and those that nurture it. Many are necessarily a blend of the two. DUILF is a rare example of a festival that is entirely about nurturing culture and connection. It is free to all comers and lays the foundations for many projects and collaborations that will doubtless go on to bear fruit. Indeed, it has already influenced my work: I describe an exchange in a workshop I ran there in 2024 in Relearning to Read. This year, the festival even produced its own anthology, and I was delighted to contribute a short story, and see my work published alongside pieces by writers including Shubnum Khan, Siphiwo Mahala and my hero Tété-Michel Kpomassie.

It was a truly joyful experience. I think the video below captures this. It was taken during my visit to Radio Gyanmalinee, the university’s community radio station. You can see the happiness on my face.

Thank you Dibrugarh – you are a shining beacon in the literary landscape! Already looking forward to next year…

Free incomprehension workshop taster

Good news! If you’ve been wanting to try my incomprehension workshop, your chance has come! I’ll be offering a virtual taster session and chatting to super reader, blogger and all-round translation champion Marina Sofia at 7.30pm (UK time) on Tuesday 20 January 2026.

Over the past few years I’ve run the workshop with readers of all ages from 10 upwards around the world, most recently for the fourth time at the Cheltenham Literature Festival (pictured above). The sessions are usually ticketed or run in-house for organisations, so this is a rare opportunity to try it from the comfort of your own home for free.

If you haven’t heard of the incomprehension workshop, it’s the basis of my new book, Relearning to Read: Adventures in Not-knowing. Prompted by the realisation that no-one can be an expert on all the world’s stories, it invites readers to play with how paying attention to what we don’t understand can help us read ourselves and our world better.

Playful, disruptive, warm and inclusive, this hour-long free event is for curious readers everywhere. Simply register here to join us: https://us02web.zoom.us/meeting/register/mvu2Yq8uRdCOZCinIaj_kA

My Trip to Greenland with Tété-Michel Kpomassie

As followers of this blog will know, my hero is Tété-Michel Kpomassie, the author of the landmark travel memoir An African in Greenland, translated by James Kirkup, which was my Togolese choice for my 2012 project to read a book from every country. After the book was rereleased as a Penguin Modern Classic in 2021, Kpomassie and I became friends. In the final chapter of my new book, Relearning to Read, I write that I hope I will one day travel to Greenland with him.

This summer, I got to do just that, spending two weeks travelling along the west coast of the world’s largest island, stopping at many of the places Kpomassie first visited sixty years ago, courtesy of the expedition cruise company Aurora Expeditions (known as AE Expeditions in the UK).

It was the trip of a lifetime and a huge privilege to experience such an extraordinary place in such exceptional company. In addition to countless illuminating discussions about Kpomassie’s inspirations, and views on everything from writing and family to travel and alcohol, I got to meet some of his friends, including a woman who was four years old when Kpomassie first visited Greenland in 1965 and stayed with her family.

This weekend, the UK’s Sunday Times newspaper published my account of our adventure in their Travel supplement, giving it the honour of making it the cover story. You can find the online version here. I hope it will be the first of several kinds of storytelling that come out of this amazing adventure.

*Give away* The Gifts of Reading for the Next Generation

Many of those I interact with about books through this project, both virtually and at my Incomprehension Workshops, are young people. Even now, all these years after I set out to read the world, I sometimes find my inbox flooded with messages from students whose teacher has asked them to write to me recommending a story. A while ago, I received a wonderful video from a young boy in Beijing advising me to read a book that explained why tomatoes can sometimes be quite dangerous.

Statistics bear out the enthusiasm for reading internationally that I’ve seen among the young: according to data compiled by Nielsen for the Booker Prize Foundation, ‘book buyers under the age of 35 account for almost half (48.2%) of all translated fiction purchases in the UK‘.

So it was a delight to be invited to contribute an essay to a new collection celebrating the importance and joy of reading for children and young people. The Gifts of Reading for the Next Generation is the second such anthology put together by editor Jennie Orchard. Like the first volume, The Gifts of Reading, it was inspired by an essay by the UK nature writer and scholar Robert Macfarlane, who wrote the foreword to this new collection.

Other contributors include such household names as William Boyd, Michael Morpurgo, Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai, Imtiaz Dharker and Horatio Clare, and all royalties go to Room to Read and U-Go. Founded by John Wood, these organisations promote literacy and education for girls and women. Indeed, U-Go’s aim is to fund the university education of 100,000 young women in the world’s lowest income countries.

We celebrated the UK publication of The Gifts of Reading for the Next Generation with a launch at London’s Daunt Bookshop. Also published in the US and Australia, the collection is widely available.

BUT I have one copy that I am happy to sign and send anywhere in the world. If you’d like it, simply message me or leave a comment below telling me about a book you gave or received that was important to you.

Looking forward to hearing your stories!

Photos © Amber Melody

RLF Collected podcast

One of the joyous things that has come out of this project is the way that I’m frequently invited to take part in discussions about writing and the ways stories travel. Often, these conversations take place at literary festivals or conferences, but they sometimes involve podcasts too.

Last year, I was asked to produce a new podcast for the Royal Literary Fund, a UK charity that has supported professional writers for more than 200 years and with which I’ve been involved since 2017. Over the preceding decade, the RLF had built a sound archive featuring recordings of hundreds of writers talking about the creative process, and the challenge and joys of putting words on the page. Now the team wanted a new format to bring this rich bank of material to a wider audience.

The Collected podcast is the result. Built around clips from the RLF archive, the episodes bring special guests into conversation with those recorded voices. Hosted by a brilliant team of presenters, including South Asia Speaks founder Sonia Faleiro, award-winning poet Julia Copus, and musician and crime writer Doug Johnstone, the conversations present a lively, funny, surprising and often moving account of what it means to be a writer in the early twenty-first century. The aim is to offer a more nuanced picture than we often see in the media, and it’s been wonderful to hear guests including Women’s Prize founder Kate Mosse, crime writer Howard Linskey, and visual artist and poet Ella Frears embracing the concept with warmth and frankness.

Although the writers RLF supports are UK-based, it’s been a joy to reflect my interest in international storytelling in the line-up too. Examples include discussions with Kerala-born novelist Deepa Anappara, who talks thought-provokingly about the gap between the expectations of mainstream anglophone publishers and the sort of writing that interests her, and Colin Grant, director of RLF’s WritersMosaic platform for writers of the global majority, who draws on his Caribbean heritage in his writing on race and migration.

Collected is available on all the usual platforms. I’d love to know what you think.

Sherborne Travel Writing Festival

I’m not a travel writer. At least, that’s what I’ve always thought. This year, however, I do seem to be spending quite a lot of time speaking, writing and thinking about travel. Not only am I preparing to cover the literary trip of a lifetime for a national newspaper later this summer (watch this space), but I’ve also taken the stage at two travel writing festivals.

The second of these was the Sherborne Travel Writing Festival, which took place earlier this month. Now in its third year, the three-day event in Dorset, UK, is the brainchild of Rory MacLean, who is celebrated for writing genre-busting books about moving across and beyond national borders. His debut, Stalin’s Nose: Across the Face of Europe, was published in 1992 and is still startlingly relevant (and very funny) today.

Much like MacLean’s work, the festival celebrates travel writing in the broadest sense. The traditional formula of the white European reporting on how he finds remote corners of the globe was not much in evidence in this year’s line up. Instead, the programme included an extraordinary range of speakers, from the brilliant Nandini Das, who held the audience captive with a talk on Britain’s first bungling attempts to forge diplomatic relations with the Mughal Empire, to Kapka Kassabova, who spoke movingly of the three months she spent living with Europe’s last moving pastoralists in the mountains of her native Bulgaria while researching her latest book Anima.

I was privileged to take the stage twice. I started off in the interviewee’s chair, spending a wonderful hour talking about Reading the World with journalist and fellow translation champion Rosie Goldsmith (you can see us pictured above). Ten years on from the launch of the first edition of that book, it was a pleasure to reflect back on the journey so far and look forward to the publication of Relearning to Read this September. Goldsmith is one of the best in the business when it comes to chairing literary discussions. If you’re a fan of book podcasts, the Slightly Foxed Podcast, which she hosts, is well worth a listen.

Then it was my turn to ask the questions. I was joined on stage by Xiaolu Guo, who I had the privilege of chairing at Cheltenham Literature Festival last year. An artist who has travelled in many senses (across the world, between languages, between media, through books and across numerous periods of literary history), Guo is a fascinating writer and speaker. We focused on her memoir, My Battle of Hastings, which draws on a year she spent living in the British seaside town of Hastings, where William the Conqueror routed the Anglo-Saxons in 1066. But it was also great to touch on her new novel, Call Me Ishmaelle, a feminist retelling of Moby Dick.

Offstage, there were many similarly fascinating discussions. It was a joy to meet many enthusiastic readers and writers, and a testament to the warm welcome Rory MacLean and his team offer that so many authors from the first two editions of the festival were also in attendance. The weekend was crowned by the announcement of a new annual travel writing prize attached to the festival, the Sherborne Prize for Travel Writing, which will be awarded for the first time next year to a published British or European author whose work encourages understanding between peoples and across societies. Given the breadth and creativity of the team’s vision of travel writing, it’s exciting to think of what this new award might do to broaden the field. And I wonder if in future years the organisers might be persuaded to expand the remit even further to include works published in English from all over the world.

In my experience, there are two kinds of literary festival – those that capitalise on culture and those that nurture it. Sherborne Travel Writing Festival is firmly in the second camp. I left fizzing with ideas and thrilled by new connections. It will be exciting to see where the festival takes us next.

Picture: courtesy of Rosie Goldsmith.

Dublin Book Festival

Last weekend, I had the privilege of being part of the line-up at Dublin Book Festival, an annual celebration of all things literary in Ireland’s capital. My event was a discussion of reading the world with Literature Ireland director Sinéad Mac Aodha (pictured with me above), who helped launch Crossing Over at Hodges Figgis last year. But I was lucky to attend several other things thanks to the Literature Ireland team, who took me under their wing for the weekend.

The first of these was the launch of Your Own Dark Shadow: A Selection of Lost Irish Horror Stories at the Gutter Bookshop.

I don’t consider myself a horror fan, but I was intrigued by what editor Jack Fennell said in his speech about how horror is a way of articulating the sense that something is wrong in the world and helping people to feel less alone in this. My fiction bears hallmarks of this, so I am intrigued to see how this plays out in the collection.

I was also deeply impressed by the ethos of the collection’s publisher, Tramp Press, one of a number of indie houses making strides in Ireland. Their submission window is open now, so if you live outside North America and are looking for somewhere to place work, I would recommend checking them out.

The next day I attended an event on short stories with Jan Carson and Mary Costello (pictured above). In the queue outside I was delighted to bump into debut novelist Alan Murrin, with whom I did an event earlier this year. His recommendation of Mary Costello’s story ‘The Choc-Ice Woman’ was so enthusiastic that I lost no time in buying a copy of her latest collection.

The discussion in the event was illuminating and wide-ranging. Jan Carson talked about how word counts were coming down for many journals and competitions. ‘Watch yourself if you’re always writing to fit others’ requirements,’ she said. She explained that the way into stories for her is through concepts, and gave a brilliant example in the shape a story in her latest collection that was commissioned to explore how Northern Ireland is seen in the wake of Brexit. She had approached the subject by envisaging a baby drifting down a river separating the land of two farmer brothers who don’t get on.

Meanwhile, Mary Costello said that for her the spur to writing comes from thinking about the interior lives of her characters. It will often be physical exercise, whether walking or hoovering, that shakes problems loose in her work.

Next up was an event on the essay, chaired by Brendan Barrington, founder editor of The Dublin Review. I found this very inspiring. Over the hour-long discussion, in which panellists shared some of their favourite pieces from the publication, I was struck by the enthusiasm of these writers for this somewhat enigmatic form, and by their openness to people writing in several genres. ‘If you’re a serious writer and you don’t write an essay occasionally, you’re missing a trick,’ said Barrington at one point. I took this as a challenge. Watch this space.

My event was towards the end of the afternoon and it was wonderful to be greeted by an enthusiastic audience, featuring several familiar faces, among them author Rónán Hession, Africa Institute in Ireland programme director Adekunle Gomez and Lyndsey Fineran, who created my literary explorer role at Cheltenham Literature Festival and is now artistic director of the Auckland Writers Festival.

The discussions afterwards were particularly heartwarming. So many readers shared insights about how reading internationally connected to their experience, and I left with a list of book recommendations. I was also particularly delighted to make the acquaintance of translator Signe Lyng, who brings many of Ireland’s most well-known writers’ work into Danish. She subsequently sent me a list of Danish recommendations. I think I feel a book of the month coming on…

I left Dublin inspired and encouraged. What I’d shared in was an event founded on the belief that storytelling is valuable, not for the money it makes but because of the connections it forges – something that I hope also drives my work.

Irish writing has always had an important place on the international stage, and is perhaps enjoying a particularly powerful moment. At Dublin Book Festival, it was not hard to see why.

Relearning to Read: Adventures in Not-Knowing

A new book? I hear you cry.

Yes! And it’s one that you’ve helped me write. Relearning to Read: Adventures in Not-Knowing is my second non-fiction book and it draws on a new approach to reading that I’ve developed over the twelve years of writing this blog.

Among the many challenges I had to face when I set out to read a book from every country in 2012 – how to fit all the reading in? how to get books from every country? what even is a country? – was the fact that the way I used to read wasn’t going to work. I was in the habit of being clever about books – using context and knowledge to draw out rich insights and make connections. That had worked really well for me for the first thirty years of my life, when I spent most of my time reading books from a world I knew. As a literature student, I really enjoyed researching the texts on my courses, and using criticism and history to help unlock their secrets.

But in 2012, with an average of 1.87 days to read and review each book I was covering that year, there was no time to do any extra reading. Many of the titles came from cultures of which I knew nothing, and were based on belief systems, mores, events and assumptions that were mysteries to me. But there was no way for me to familiarise myself with any of this and adopt the authoritative, knowledgeable tone I had strived for at university. I had to be open about my ignorance and accept that there was a lot I didn’t understand.

What started as a necessity became a revelation. I discovered that embracing not-knowing, adopting openness and humility, and learning to hold questions in my mind was hugely enriching. Not only did it teach me a lot about myself but it enabled me to build much more meaningful connections with books, people and the world. This has led to many of the exchanges and friendships I established over the years through this blog (like my correspondence with living legend Tété-Michel Kpomassie, who I met in Paris last month – that’s us pictured above). And it has shaped the way I write and think about books – on this blog and elsewhere.

Back in 2021, to explore this approach to reading further, I launched my Incomprehension Workshop. A few months later, to celebrate this blog’s ten-year anniversary, I offered a free virtual session and was delighted to have so many takers that I had to run two to accommodate everyone. Since then, I have run the workshop with readers around the world, most recently in Assam, India. Playing with not-knowing in the company of fellow enthusiastic readers has been a great source of inspiration for me, and a brilliant chance to test and hone a lot of the ideas that inform my new book.

Relearning to Read: Adventures in Not-Knowing is about reimaging the way we read by embracing not-knowing, questioning, humility and curiosity. Each chapter takes a different text likely to be outside the comfort zone of most English-language readers and uses this to play with different questions – what is authenticity? what makes something funny? how does censorship affect reading? and what makes us like a book in the first place? Some of the wonderful readers and writers I’ve encountered over the past twelve years make an appearance, including my hero Tété-Michel. And I also share how reading has shaped my life and rewritten me.

Relearning to Read is out worldwide in English in September 2025. BUT you can preorder it now. Indeed, my publisher Renard Press has made a wonderful offer: the first 100 orders through the Renard Press website will receive a signed, special-edition copy for the price of a standard paperback, shipped ANYWHERE in the world. That’s not all. If you preorder a Renard Press Edition of Relearning to Read, you can also get a Renard Press Edition of my second novel, Crossing Over, half price. Just put both in your basket and enter the coupon code RELEARNING at the checkout, and your collectors’ copies will wing their way to you in September 2025.

Thank you.