I’ve been nominated by the esteemed Prof. Jen Webb to nominate 7 books over the next seven days that CHANGED MY LIFE (sorry, I didn’t actually mean to shout there…) which made be scribble lists and walk and circles and sigh. There were too many. There were not enough. They weren’t clever… Then, dammit I thought about books that actually changed my direction – books that consumed me as much as I consumed them.
So, I take you back to 1992. I was in year 10 and I had a free hour because I had outright refused to study any maths subjects for my High School Certificate. Everyone else is in class, the sun beams down and I pick up the book I’ve nicked from my dad.
I lost myself, I was swallowed whole, the book had me by the throat, how could this man write like this?
I realise The English Patient had only just hit the shelves. I read it before it was famous, before it was a film, before all that followed. It was unlike anything I’d ever read. It did things with language and plot that made me tingle with delight.
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