"My Child Doesn't Like Reading." Try True Stories Before You Give Up.

I said it myself for about two years. My child doesn’t like reading. I said it in the tone you use for a settled fact, like left-handedness.

It turned out to be wrong, though not in a way that makes a satisfying story. He didn’t discover a magical book. He just wasn’t interested in made-up people, and it took me an embarrassingly long time to hear what he’d been telling me.

Fiction asks for something extra

A novel needs a child to care about somebody who never existed. For a lot of kids that’s no trouble at all. For a certain sort of kid, mine included, there’s a small ongoing objection running underneath the whole thing: none of this happened.

A true story starts differently. Somebody actually did this. It’s not an invitation to imagine, it’s information, and for a child who prefers information that’s the entire difference.

Librarians and teachers have known this for decades. It took me until he was ten.

What else works in their favour

They’re short. One life, a few pages, finished. A thick book stops being intimidating when it’s really thirteen small ones.

Something happens. Battles, laboratories, ships, prisons, mistakes. Nobody has to be persuaded that it matters.

The people are worse than expected, which is the good part. Not born gifted. Not born brave. Usually a child with an odd obsession and a stretch of years where it clearly wasn’t working. Any kid who has been bad at something in public recognises them instantly.

Four things I check before buying

A picture on most pages. This is the first thing a reluctant reader scans for, and a wall of text loses before it starts.

Short chapters. Five pages, not twenty. Finishing something is most of the motivation.

Real quotes. Hearing someone’s actual words does something a summary can’t.

Something at the end that isn’t a quiz. A question to think about, not a comprehension check. The moment it smells like school you’ve lost.

Start with a name they’ve heard

There’s a temptation to go straight for the obscure and interesting person. Resist it for the first book.

A child who already knows the name has a door in. Once they’re inside, the ones they’ve never heard of become the good bit, and you’ll know it’s working when they tell you a fact you didn’t know at dinner, slightly smugly.

That’s the whole goal, really. Not finishing the book. Getting asked for the next one.

Ours are collections of short illustrated lives for ages 8 to 12, built to that checklist. You can see all three here.