THERE WAS once a memorable confrontation in my geography class at school.
Miss was berating a young troublemaker about his atrocious performance. He was pretty miffed at her cheek, and decided to turn the tables on her.
"It's your job to put the knowledge in your head into mine," he said, pointing a fat finger at his own noggin. "You're the failure, cos I know nothing."
Accumulating knowledge does, alas, require a bit more effort than my colleague wished.
But for those of us who still know nothing in adulthood, and wish it weren't so but quake at the sight of all those books standing between us and the palace of wisdom, help is at hand.
Because what the London Review Of Books does is to hire people who do know stuff, and can write with wit and dash, to read the books you might not have time for, and explain them.
Like the addictive fortnightly paper it celebrates, this is erudition made entertaining. It's not quite the effortless cure for ignorance my old school friend wished for, but the poise of its experts, its graceful editing and its infectious mood of enthusiasm for knowing stuff mean it's almost as painless.
London Review of Books - A 25th Anniversary Anthology edited by Vanessa Coode is published by Profile Books priced £15.
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