I have always loved books. My late mother’s copy of the Diary of St Faustina, dog-eared and crammed with prayers and devotional cards, is cherished on my bedside table. The last thing my father wrote was a dedication to my daughters on the title page of Sixty Saints for Girls. It was a book he had planned to give them since they were babies. He also gave a breviary to my nephew, who has recently rediscovered his Catholic faith. The gift of a book can go a long way, as it is something that contains great ideas in a distinct, long-lasting form.