Juno Dawson: ‘The Secret History by Donna Tartt is a deeply vibey novel’ | Books

My earliest reading memory
The first book I read in one go was George’s Marvellous Medicine by Roald Dahl. Problematic or not, it made me howl with laughter.

My favourite book growing up
Room 13 by Robert Swindells. For one thing it’s about a year 6 class trip from Bradford, near where I’m from, but mostly it’s a surprisingly scary vampire novel. The ending is delightfully violent and features a pointy stick of rock: genius.

The book that changed me as a teenager
I was 19 when I read Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin. A friend sent me a copy just before I moved to Brighton, and I couldn’t believe that LGBTQ+ characters could be protagonists. We weren’t sidekicks or supporting roles. My friend told me Brighton was our equivalent of San Francisco and she was so right – life was about to begin.

The writer who changed my mind
Rukmini Iyer legitimately transformed my life with her Roasting Tin books. I learned what flavours go together well and also that cooking doesn’t need to be neat and tidy. You just need a big tin and an oven. And cumin. Always cumin.

The book that made me want to be a writer
Noughts & Crosses by Malorie Blackman. Writing under the YA umbrella frees you to cross genres. This novel is dystopian and romantic, but also manages to be one of the most searing explorations of race and extremism. Moreover, Malorie taught me to keep it pacy; young readers won’t tolerate boring books.

The book I came back to
I abandoned The Handmaid’s Tale when I was in my early 20s. Couldn’t get into it, sorry. I returned to it ahead of the TV version and I’m so glad I did. Margaret Atwood’s best idea, if not her best novel. Controversially, I prefer Oryx and Crake. Perhaps my favourite novel of all time.

The book I reread
Clockwork by Philip Pullman is a skinny masterpiece. It’s 90 pages long and there isn’t a wasted word. I reread it a lot to remind myself of how to keep things as tight and ingenious as I can.

The book I could never read again
Dark Matter by Michelle Paver is terrifying. The only novel to really get under my skin and infiltrate my nightmares.

The book I discovered later in life
I came to Donna Tartt’s The Secret History with some trepidation in my 30s. Its cult following is, well, cult-like, and hype can be absolutely stifling. In this instance, the acclaim is entirely justified. It’s a deeply vibey novel.

The book I am currently reading
Penance by Eliza Clark. I was instantly taken by her debut, Boy Parts, and, while Penance is very different, I’ve realised that Clark understands precisely how vicious, how complicated, young women can be. They’re sweet and sour, feminine, horror novels.

My comfort read
I truly think the first novel in Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games series is a perfect book. I’ve read it about four times. Is it original? No, not especially, but what’s not to love? It riffs on Greek mythology; it’s a satire of reality TV; it tears along at a ferocious pace, and made me sob like a baby. Now I want to read it again.

My earliest reading memory
The first book I read in one go was George’s Marvellous Medicine by Roald Dahl. Problematic or not, it made me howl with laughter.

My favourite book growing up
Room 13 by Robert Swindells. For one thing it’s about a year 6 class trip from Bradford, near where I’m from, but mostly it’s a surprisingly scary vampire novel. The ending is delightfully violent and features a pointy stick of rock: genius.

The book that changed me as a teenager
I was 19 when I read Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin. A friend sent me a copy just before I moved to Brighton, and I couldn’t believe that LGBTQ+ characters could be protagonists. We weren’t sidekicks or supporting roles. My friend told me Brighton was our equivalent of San Francisco and she was so right – life was about to begin.

The writer who changed my mind
Rukmini Iyer legitimately transformed my life with her Roasting Tin books. I learned what flavours go together well and also that cooking doesn’t need to be neat and tidy. You just need a big tin and an oven. And cumin. Always cumin.

The book that made me want to be a writer
Noughts & Crosses by Malorie Blackman. Writing under the YA umbrella frees you to cross genres. This novel is dystopian and romantic, but also manages to be one of the most searing explorations of race and extremism. Moreover, Malorie taught me to keep it pacy; young readers won’t tolerate boring books.

The book I came back to
I abandoned The Handmaid’s Tale when I was in my early 20s. Couldn’t get into it, sorry. I returned to it ahead of the TV version and I’m so glad I did. Margaret Atwood’s best idea, if not her best novel. Controversially, I prefer Oryx and Crake. Perhaps my favourite novel of all time.

The book I reread
Clockwork by Philip Pullman is a skinny masterpiece. It’s 90 pages long and there isn’t a wasted word. I reread it a lot to remind myself of how to keep things as tight and ingenious as I can.

The book I could never read again
Dark Matter by Michelle Paver is terrifying. The only novel to really get under my skin and infiltrate my nightmares.

The book I discovered later in life
I came to Donna Tartt’s The Secret History with some trepidation in my 30s. Its cult following is, well, cult-like, and hype can be absolutely stifling. In this instance, the acclaim is entirely justified. It’s a deeply vibey novel.

The book I am currently reading
Penance by Eliza Clark. I was instantly taken by her debut, Boy Parts, and, while Penance is very different, I’ve realised that Clark understands precisely how vicious, how complicated, young women can be. They’re sweet and sour, feminine, horror novels.

My comfort read
I truly think the first novel in Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games series is a perfect book. I’ve read it about four times. Is it original? No, not especially, but what’s not to love? It riffs on Greek mythology; it’s a satire of reality TV; it tears along at a ferocious pace, and made me sob like a baby. Now I want to read it again.