I learnt to read very young, so I don’t remember reading specific books until I was about five. But I do remember my mother reading to me and the vividness of the red room, the fear Jane felt, all of it was so visceral. I’ve wanted to recapture that sensation ever since.
I think it might be why I write. I become horribly evangelical about books I love. In terms of consistent recommendations, it’s probably a tie between Alexander Trocchi’s and Jesse Ball’s .
They both reconfigured, not just how I think, but how I think about prose and what it can do. Lucus Rijneveld’s . I think Rijneveld’s a really special writer.
You see the real greats aging and dying and wonder who’s coming through the ranks to replace them – the answer is Rijneveld. He’s fearless. Keiran Goddard’s .
Keiran was a poet before he was a novelist, and line for line, I See Buildings is one of the most beautiful books I’ve read recently. Sarah Hall’s . The level of attention that Hall pays on a granular level is incredible, this is a book that you smell, see, feel.
I’ve tried and tried to get into Jane Austen, but I just can’t. I’m not a big fan of dialogue, so that might explain it. Maybe I’m just strange.
Rob Doyle. I seethe every time I read something he’s written because I want to have written it. I see it more as goading than inspiration maybe, his overall excellence is a provocation to try harder, go further.
Rachel Cusk has a similar effect, she writes with such clarity .