Truthfully, Gilderoy didn't read much. For all he'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, he couldn't really see the point of learning if there was no reward - no way to use what he learned to become the best or the brightest. "Of course," he lied. He did, after all, produce books. Encouraging others to enjoy them was just good business sense. "Books truly can be all things to all people," he spouted. "Exciting, comforting, useful. It all depends on what you want. And what you read." Gilderoy assumed his books came under the categories of 'exciting' and 'useful' more than comforting.
Gilderoy laughed, delighted that Lydia assumed he had so many fans as to keep him permanently occupied. He did have a good number - he would hardly be a best-selling author if he didn't - but only the truly dedicated took time to write to him. (And, of course, his team filtered out anything that wasn't wholly flattering.) "It's so important to maintain that personal touch," he said. "Especially now that I'm back in Great Britain for a while. It's usually one rush book tour and then off to the wilds of whereever."