Vicky Ewan: Younger son's passion speaks volumes for the appeal of books

As a self-confessed bookworm myself, I am always glad to spot one of my children reading. Of course, with screens of various sizes competing for their attention in later years, this is a rarer observation with the elder offspring - though they do still indulge, they assure me; just not as often as I would like.

The opposite is true with our younger son, an avid book feaster who can devour entire novels in one sitting, given half the chance. As my own interests were declared long ago, he is aware that I fully empathise with his love of books and can be induced to turn a blind eye should I suspect that his bedside light has been burning a little longer than was agreed; his obvious affinity with the literary arts (if that is how his choice of reading material can be described) is a salve to my maternal soul, and I am determined to nurture it for as long as I can.

Family history having set a precedent, I am all too aware that, once he is attending secondary school, with myriad distractions vying for his attention, this simple pastime may lose its easy appeal - never forgotten, but shelved (if you’ll excuse the expression) in favour of more interactive or sociable pursuits, particularly once we finally acquiesce and furnish him with his first phone.

I am resolved to hold out with this capitulation as long as I can, but peer pressure is a powerful force, and I am loath to think he would suffer or be ridiculed for lacking this prized device; albeit reluctantly, I acknowledge that he would be at a genuine disadvantage in time. But that is a worry for another day.

My son recently discovered new fuel to feed his book-loving fire, to his delight. A multiple-volume series is what he is inevitably drawn to, consoled as he is by the assurance that once he has turned the final page of his present book, another is poised to take its place.

I was fascinated when I laid eyes on the first in this latest series: it was immediately visually striking, with front, back and spine covers styled in a solid block of colour, the front adorned with simple illustrations and a beautifully-fonted title, each embellishment embossed in shiny black ink.

Publishers saw fit to imbue the outside edges of each page with a shade identical to that used on the covers; the colourful result snares the eye. Each sequel has its own bright tone, and when gracing a bookshelf, the entire series makes for an attractive display.

The stories themselves are similarly captivating: set in a quaint English boarding school (though penned by a modern-day author), the series is comfortingly reminiscent of the tales that so absorbed me as a child, with their quirky teachers, rambunctious heroines, and the fascinating tuck boxes that featured so alluringly in the inevitable midnight feasts.

The characters peopling the books currently captivating my son are, naturally, contemporarily slanted in a clever effort to establish their relevance with 21st-century readers, and the concepts and views are more self-aware than of old, to align themselves with today’s audience.

Nevertheless, my nostalgia is gently roused by the content, and I rarely resist his pleas for another chapter when we share a book at bedtime.

My son was recommended the first in the series on a visit to a bookshop in a neighbouring town, and his appetite was sufficiently whetted to lead him to purchase the next two during a visit to his sister's, when holiday spending money was jangling pleasantly in his pocket.

I was thrilled that his interest was maintained - even more so when the remainder of the books appeared on his wish-list at Christmas. Although none awaited him under the tree, his birthday was sufficiently close that I thought the next three titles in the sequence would be a safe bet - and, thankfully, I was right on the nose.

He made short work of the fourth book, and dived headlong into the fifth. It won’t be long before the sixth has also been digested; thank goodness, then, for birthday money, World Book Day tokens, and the perfect bookshop gift card from his Godmother, for a visit to another sister this weekend is looming promisingly. I just hope whatever he procures lasts for the duration of the journey home.