I saw one of my all time favourite books converted to television this evening. An English tele-movie version of Gerald Durrell’s My Family and Other Animals, of course I stayed up to watch it… found it quite annoying.
None of the characters seemed as I had pictured in my mind from so many years of reading and re-reading the book, it all seemed to light-hearted and silly and pointless, there was none of the feeling of wonder and eye-opening experience I had always envisaged from my reading of his years on Corfu.
I’d only just re-read the book a few weeks ago, its one of my “comfort” books to recapture a happy mood, now I feel I need to read it again to wash a bad taste away. I wonder how old I was when I first read his books? I seem to remember reading “Rosy is my Relative” back in 1976 when I was in the UK, or is that just my imagination?
