WHAT BOOK would novelist Sadie Jones take to a desert island? 

…are you reading now?

I’m reading My Name Is Lucy Barton, by Elizabeth Strout. Quite by accident I keep coming to Elizabeth Strout’s books after seeing the adaptations.

I read Olive Kitteridge after seeing the wonderful mini-series with Frances McDormand, and now I’m reading this one, having seen Laura Linney play Lucy Barton on stage brilliantly.

It’s a funny way to come to a book, but also enjoyable, because, as a writer, I’m fascinated by the process and the effect of dramatisation on literary stories.

. . . would you take to a desert island?

I imagine I would need comfort and company if I were reading, all alone, on a desert island, so I think I would take something long and entertaining, with as many characters as possible. Maybe Middlemarch, Nicholas Nickleby or Vanity Fair.

I like the idea of Dickens, particularly, because he is so conversational and inspires a sense of recognition. Whether his characters are behaving well or badly, and however dark the stories get, it’s still Dickens and you feel safe with him.

. . . first gave you the reading bug?

As a child, there were certain books I would read with a torch after I was supposed to be asleep.

I remember listening for my parents on the stairs checking to see the lights were out, and how exciting a new battery was. As it ran down, the light would get more and more orange, then dim, and I would hit the torch against the mattress to try to rejuvenate it.

The most memorable of my torchlight books were the Narnia series, A Little Princess, The Secret Garden and, oddly strong in my memory, Heidi Grows Up, which actually was pretty awful but had these amazing Fifties illustrations of Heidi and the Alps. I’ve never forgotten them, or got over my as-yet-unfulfilled longing for dirndl.

. . . left you cold?

There are a lot of books I’ve felt disappointed or underwhelmed by — too many, in fact — but there are very few I’ve actually thrown across the room.

One I did, years ago, was The Bonfire Of The Vanities, which I just loathed and thought was trash, and another, slightly more recently, was Eat Pray Love. A good friend had thrown it across the room, which made me want to read it — it sounded great, and Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED Talk was wonderful.

It was so bizarre; one minute I was reading, the next — bang — it was hitting the wall. I suppose I’d rather a book of mine was violently thrown than just put down and forgotten about.

Weirdly, the film is absolutely terrible but doesn’t annoy me at all — I like it.

The Snakes by Sadie Jones, is published by Vintage, £8.99.