Just looked at mine and my GOD they are so dusty…

I HATED reading as a kid. I’m a perfectionist by nature and it frustrated me to no end when i couldn’t figure out what certain words meant. My parents reasoned that forcing the issue would only make me hate it even more, so they didn’t. They bought books for me instead and hoped I would pick one up of my own accord. Eventually, I did. It actually felt a lot better for me to do it that way, alone and in my own time, because no one could see or hear when I made a mistake.

My Dark Vanessa. Glad I read it, but I never will again.

When I was 8 one of my teachers promised me 100 house points if I could read all of HP in a month. I did it in two weeks.

For a single book, I got through Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrel in about 17 hours. I literally could not put it down.

I tore my way through just about king’s entire catalogue from ages 14-16 and loved most of them, but now that I’m an adult the way he writes about kids, and especially women or young girls, is quite off putting to me.

It was soooooo boring. The bit where she was butchering the guy like ‘you probably want me to stop talking about it because you’re disgusted with me’. No, I want you to stop talking because you are boring me to death.

A Certain Hunger. I got it for 50p at a charity shop and I still felt robbed.

I read it for the first time recently, and was stunned at how many events of the book I would be completely unsurprised to learn in a newspaper today.

It’s a potluck. Sometimes you get something really good (I picked up Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell without knowing ANYTHING about the book and adored it) and sometimes you get something really bad (picked up the Girl in Red because the cover looked cool and it was the worst book I read last year)