No-one ever asks you what was the first book you bought? It’s always records (am really showing my age here) but seldom books. Of course I can’t actually remember the first book I bought. But books have always been around. I was extremely lucky to be surrounded by books from a young age. My parents are incredibly intelligent and well-educated people and my Mum in particular has always been an avid reader. Dad reads a bit more since retirement and in any case we’re not sure he is eligible to get books from the library as there’s the small matter of the unreturned Reggie Perrin book he has had since 1984…*
Books have always been an enormous part of my life and have now become my bread and butter as I have worked for a number of different publishers and a bookshop since I left University. Ergo I now proudly boast an enormous collection of books, many of which I didn’t have to pay for or got hefty discounts on.
I remember as a child lying in bed looking at the shelves of my parents’ books which were kept in my room (I’m guessing every other bookshelf in the house was hemorrhaging books so they had to use mine) and making up plots for the ‘grown up’ books that I was yet to discover: The Diary of Samuel Pepys (his surname pronounced ‘peppies’ in my mind), Lord of the Rings (I decided that was written by J.R.Tokking?), that Shakespeare book looks a bit big, not sure I’ll bother with that one. I decided to learn Latin from the weighty tome on my shelf. I think I learnt the word ‘via’ and that was as far as it went.
As a child I devoured books, they were my drug I couldn’t get enough. Every Saturday I was taken to the town library to get my fix. I think I was allowed four or five books which I had usually read by Sunday afternoon. Then there was the long stretch, my cold turkey, until the following Saturday when I could get some more. Astrid Lindgren’s Bullerby Children, Orlando the marmalade cat and Brambly Hedge were among my favourites. I never ‘got’ Dr Seuss and remembering being hugely disappointed one weekend when I’d squandered my school library choice of only one book on the dreary ‘Horton hears a whoo’.
At infant school as part of our varied and taxing timetable we had activities. This meant you could go and play in the sandpit or water trough or, if the weather was inclement, indoor play such as playing in the Wendy house. I saw all this as boring and pointless. I never played Mummies and Daddies in the Wendy house. Instead, I used my leisure time to either read more books in the library or to write my own! Yes, as a precocious six year old I harangued my teacher (Mrs Bridge) into giving me my own special exercise book so I could write my own book. The chronicles of the ‘Cat Family’ eventually spanned three separate exercise books. They’re still knocking around somewhere. Maybe I’ll send them to a publisher.
Junior school bought new excitement with the Wise Owl book club. A system where you could purchase stickers for 10p and save them up in a special card to exchange for a shiny new book. This was also the era my peers and I discovered Judy Blume and I used to sneak some of the more adult themed titles from my sister’s shelf.
Other favourites I remember from childhood were: The Munch Bunch and The Garden Gang series, Mr Men (Mum hated us reading these), Beatrix Potter, Russell Hoban’s ‘Frances’ books, The Mog books, The Giant Jam Sandwich, Flossie Teacake, Grimble, The Fib, Goodnight Mister Tom. Ann of Green Gables bored me and I abhorred Enid Blyton.
Secondary School English lessons were uninspiring as we waded through books I had usually read many years before. I also didn’t see the value in reading out loud to the class. Sorry can’t be arsed. Out of school I traded my pocket money for books I did want to read. Even if it was the Sweet Valley Twins series.
English was always my best subject at school so it was inevitable that my University degree would be in English Literature. Towards the end of my degree I started to mentally compile a list of books I could read ‘for fun’ once the degree was finished. This ended up being a huge amount of chick lit to rest my addled brain tempered with a fair bit of Irvine Welsh. I also discovered Jonathan Coe and rediscovered Ian McEwan. Had a brief flirtation with Martin Amis and a soft spot for Lisa Jewell. I rarely make time to read ‘the classics’ anymore.
I can’t just have one favourite book of all time so my joint favourites are The Handmaids Tale by Margaret Attwood and The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi. Recent favourites have included Room, The Post Birthday World, We Need To Talk About Kevin, Time Traveller’s Wife, Louise Wener’s Different For Girls, One Day, The Emperor’s Children, What I Loved... I tactically avoid the latest blockbusters and you can jolly well keep Harry Potter. And I still haven’t finished Shantaram after carrying it round about 8 different countries.
I also own an enormous amount of cookery books, a.k.a food porn. I can count on one hand the number of dishes I have actually made from these books but I do enjoy thumbing through them for inspiration. Or, usually just looking at the pictures when I am on a diet and feeling hungry. Nigella’s Domestic Goddess one is especially good for this purpose.
I am now the member of a book group which is good as it is challenging me to read outside of what I usually pick. The first book was crime/thriller which I have always emphatically steered away from.
E-books scare the bejesus out of me. It took me long enough to get a DVD player. I know they are the way forward but they are just not for me. No thank you. I’d probably still be using an abacus in lieu of a calculator and two yoghurt pots and some string rather than a mobile phone if I could get away with it.
(* I realise this anecdote would be so much better if it was an unreturned George Orwell book…)
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