I’ve always been a clichéd book girl. I always had a novel on the go at school, I’d forget to lay the table for dinner because I had my nose in the pages of whatever story I’d started and I always had a stash of Animal Ark books buried under my pillow ready to whip out when my mum thought I was asleep. My mum remembers me saying, aged seven after a particularly strenuous evening at Brownies, ‘Mummy, I’m not cut out for running, I’m cut out for sitting down and reading a good book.’
My bedrooms have always been crammed with more books than I could realistically keep and when I bought my flat this year my first thought was ‘finally, a room I can call a library‘ (Okay, it’s a large walk-in cupboard full of bookshelves, but it’s my library).
I tend to find something to love about every book I read. A lot of time is invested in a book… Why not find something to love about it? That being said I am critical of books that could harm others so if I have reviewed a book without realising the harmful content please do let me know. I’m not elitist when it comes to books… I love them, I love reading them, I own a shit ton of them and am constantly buying more. I’ve been told I have good taste, I’ve got a wide range of favourites, so I hope there’s something here for someone, somewhere.