Childhood Favourites: Authors That Sparked My Love For Reading

 by Amazing Izekor

For as long as I can remember, I have been an avid reader. Growing up, reading was the only hobby of mine that truly stuck with me as I aged over the years. My reading interests have matured, as one would expect, and so too has my relationship with reading. As an English Literature student, I find that I do not simply read a book anymore. I read it, contemplate it, and determine its social significance. This is great and all, but my current relationship with books put in contrast with my childish ‘surface-level’ approach to reading, which did not have any regard for a story’s significance, seems to suggest that my previous emotional connection to books has been replaced by a more academic approach. As a result, I have noticed that I lack the enthusiasm that I used to exhibit toward reading. In order for my thoughts not to be misconceived, I would like to stress that reading is still something I greatly enjoy; however, when reminiscing on the past, it is clear that my childhood excitement has slowly decayed over the years, which is something I am sure a lot of people can relate to.

Recently, I thought back to my 8-year-old self, who would come home eager to read the new book in the Rainbow Magic series, that I had just gotten from the library. In retrospect, the plots of these stories were extremely predictable and fundamentally the same in every book. Yet my younger self imagined these books to be the greatest works of fiction to have ever graced humanity. This memory got me thinking – what other books did I adore at that age? Four authors immediately sprung to mind, an indication that their works were most memorable since they had left the greatest impression on me.  

First up was Jacqueline Wilson. I distinctly remember being in a Jacqueline Wilson fan club and wanting to write a letter to her, but my lack of knowledge on how to actually go about doing that barred that hope from actualising. Moreover, I desperately wanted to meet her, in person, at a book event: getting a signature would have been a dream come true. Unfortunately, this never came to pass, but I was not too upset as I recognised the improbability of that ever happening. This background information hopefully illustrates the magnitude of my love for Wilson’s books and will aid in your understanding of my devouring, so to speak, of her stories – always wanting to read more and more. As a result, I finished the Hetty Feather series extremely fast. Unbeknownst to me, at the time, the first three books were not the only ones in the series as three more were later published. I became aware of the fourth book, Diamond, a year after supposedly finishing the series, but I never managed to obtain a copy. This later resulted in also never reading the last two books in the full series (perhaps I ought to provide some closure to my younger self by reading them). After having read the Hetty Feather series, my Jacqueline Wilson reading spree continued. Opal Plumstead, however, brought my reading rampage to a halt. It was a staggering 520 pages long, which made reading it feel like an enormous feat to be accomplished (I haven’t changed my mind in that regard). Upon finishing the book, I decided to reward myself by reading all of Wilson’s books, excluding the ones which were not suitable for a younger readership.

Roald Dahl, of course, also made my shortlist of favourite authors. Although I thoroughly enjoyed his children’s books, one, in particular, stood out to me the most: Matilda. Matilda, the child genius, was an awe-inspiring character for me. I too wanted to possess Matilda’s superhuman intellect so I devised various means that would possibly help to achieve that goal. For example, I begged my mother to buy numerous SAT revision booklets, which she readily did. Fully convinced that the completion of 20+ booklets would boost my wisdom far beyond my years, I spent months relentlessly working through them. Whilst I did not attain superhuman brain power in the end, I did do quite well in my Year 6 SATs exam, so one could say that Dahl’s Matilda certainly acted as a noteworthy force of good in my life.

In the summer that followed my Year 6 exams, I read Boy, Tales of Childhood and Going Solo, both written by Roald Dahl. I diverged from my typical reading of children’s fiction and began exploring autobiographical texts as well.  Boy, Tales of Childhood was an entertaining read. I found the cruel punishments that the teachers subjected Dahl and his classmates to rather intriguing as they differed greatly from the procedures teachers follow nowadays. After reading that book, I excitedly told my teacher about how I had read an autobiography, and I remember her joking about how the government ought to bring back the cane, which prompted shock and horror instead of the laugh that she had expected. My early experience with autobiographies was not entirely positive, as I detested Dahl’s continuation of his autobiography in Going Solo. At the time, I was incredibly interested in war, particularly in the first and second world wars; however, Going Solo completely sucked all fascination on the topic from my system. I fail to remember why I disliked the book so much, but I do remember how I avoided reading books about war for a very long time after.

Like Dahl, David Walliams is also recognised as one of the UK’s leading children’s authors. Oddly, Gangsta Granny, Walliams’ most successful book was not my favourite. Do not be mistaken, it is definitely high on the list of my favourite David Walliams books, but even higher was another: Billionaire Boy.  In the story, Walliams successfully conveys important messages, whilst retaining humour. Touching and equally amusing, Billionaire Boy explores the ways in which money can affect a wealthy and famous individual and the actions of others toward said, individual. Although this subject matter may sound too complex for the mind of a primary schooler, who would probably rather read a fantasy story that lends itself more to the imagination, Walliams’ approach exemplifies that it is perfectly achievable to explore matters like this in children’s fiction. I think more children’s books should deal with more complicated issues, as it provokes thought and insightful comments on topics that are perhaps more relevant to our world than pirates and princesses. As Walliams demonstrates, humour is an effective technique that can present difficult themes (difficult by primary school standards) in a way that is digestible for a younger audience.

Last but not least is the country’s favourite: Horrid Henry. Francesca Simon similarly uses humour in her Horrid Henry’s stories minus the venture into deeper topics. Henry is simply a horrid boy – nothing more, nothing less. In addition to being a series of books, Horrid Henry is also a TV show, that I watched on CITV all the time growing up. Not sure of its whereabouts now, but I used to have a big bumper book of twenty short stories with jokes at the end (unfortunately, they are far too horrid to be shared on this platform). These stories illustrate Henry’s escapades which range from selling his younger brother, Peter, and buying him back for £1.50 to conspiring against a so-called ‘demon dinner lady’.  Failing to recognise the severity of Henry’s mischievousness, as a child, I often sided with Henry, believing he was always in the right and his parents were extremely unfair and unkind. Now, I have come to the realisation that it would be stressful, to say the least, to raise a child like Henry, who torments Peter more than can be justified as normal sibling rivalry.

I can confidently say that all of these authors helped to build a strong foundation for what later became a strong interest in reading. It has been rather entertaining looking back and immersing myself, once again, in the world of children’s literature. My relationship with reading has been a fantastic journey so far and I would definitely love to see how children’s fiction will evolve as the years go by, and, more importantly, see where my love for reading takes me in the future.