It was probably The Fault in Our Stars, a few years ago.
Most recently, Andrea Dworkin’s Intercourse. Books don’t often make me cry, though I regularly bawl during movies and especially at the theatre I thought it was a deeply defensive book: dishonest, pious and vengeful. I couldn’t understand the enthusiasm for John Williams’s Stoner. I can trace pretty much all my literary enthusiasms as an adult to those books. The books that have imprinted themselves on me the most are those I read and reread as a child: Goodnight Mister Tom by Michelle Magorian The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi The Castle in the Attic by Elizabeth Winthrop A Handful of Time by Kit Pearson and The Priests of Ferris by Maurice Gee. The book that had the greatest influence on me The Christmas Day Kitten by James Herriot is a book that sticks in my mind as an early favourite. I was lucky in my childhood: my mum was a children’s librarian when I was very young, so our house was always filled with books. I hope I’m not too lazy to attempt it some day. It doesn’t exist yet: a study of the harmonic patterns in classical astrology, part The Golden Bough, part Man and His Symbols, part From Ritual to Romance, part The Art of Memory.
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