Over the past few months I’ve been meaning, and largely failing, to share some details of myself and my writing on this blog. It’s hard to find the time, what with writing so much to get the books done, and the time demands of two very lovely children. But more than that, it’s also hard to think of a way to do so that feels like it might be actually interesting for people to read. So I’ve come up with this: Ten books that shaped my life. Feel free to judge if it is interesting or not!

Books have been important to me for as long as I can remember. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a young child, and I still have to pinch myself sometimes when I realise I actually am one now. But over my life certain books have had a particular impact. And my idea is that revealing those books, and why they’re important might help readers to understand a little more about me and where I’m coming from. I’m also hoping that readers might be encouraged to leave replies saying what books have been important for them. So I’d be thrilled if there are any comments (and it doesn’t have to be ten books, it took me ages to come up with this list!). Plus it would give me some very handy reading recommendations (my kindle is charged and ready…)

I thought about putting them in rank order – but decided it make more sense to put them in rough date order. So beginning with what I read when I was young, and moving though to more recent reads. So without further ado – the ten books that shaped me (or nine books and a film).

Tintin and Asterix – All of them

Billions of blue blistering barnacles. Tintin and Asterix were my bridge from comics to books. OK, I also read Enid Blyton, Biggles, Arthur Ransome, Willard Price, Jeeves and Wooster – and plenty more, but looking back, it was Tintin and Asterix that I remember most fondly. I loved both series. I began reading them before I understood that there was more to them that just a funny story. Asterix is rich in ancient history, Tintin in politics, geography and religion. If I occasionally get an answer right when watching the ludicrously difficult game show University Challenge, it’s usually because of something half-remembered from summer days sitting in a corner with a Tintin or an Asterix book.

Blood Orange by Sam Llewellyn

I bet you won’t have heard of this one. It has one review on Amazon (two words – “good read”). It’s a slim, fast-plotted little novel from the 1980s about a man who races fast catamarans. It makes this list completely by accident, it had a defining impact upon me only because I read it so much, which in turn happened simply because it hung around in my room, when I was far less proactive in finding new things to read. I don’t know how this book got there – perhaps someone gave it to me, perhaps I borrowed it from a library and never returned it – but it was there, the subject matter appealed, so I read it over and over. And then I read it some more. Looking back it’s obvious why it spoke to me. It’s about the sea, and adventures, and danger. The plot includes the area where I was then growing up, in the muddy estuaries and brown sea of the UK’s east coast. The protagonist lives on England’s much more affluent South Coast, but came to my part of the world to buy a boat – and he was highly disparaging about my part of the world and the people who live there – just as I was then. Is it any coincidence I then went to live on the bluer, fresher waters of the South Coast, just a few miles from where this book is set? Probably…

Secret Water, by Arthur Ransome

He’s more known for Swallows & Amazons, and the awkward name he gave to one of the girls in his stories (Titty, which made me cringe even when I was eleven years old, but apparently was based on a real person with that name). But I identified most with Secret Water. The main reason for this is the book is actually set a few miles from where I lived, in the muddy, marshy, near-deserted mixture of islands and tidal basins known locally as Walton Backwaters (but Hamford Water on real maps of the area). In the book, a gang of kids in boats get dumped there for a few weeks one summer and told to sail around, camp, and generally explore it. And of course they come across smugglers, mysteries, chart new routes around the islands…
As a kid I so wanted to be dumped there in the same way.
To be fair, my parents were keen members of a dinghy sailing club nearby and did a brilliant job getting me involved. In particular my dad, brother, myself and a few friends made up a gang of obsessive windsurfers. When the wind was in a particular direction, and the tide high, we used to go to the backwaters and sail there. I would read and re-read Secret Water, marveling that a real author must have been to this place and known it well, just like I did.

In a weird coincidence, years later I did actually find smugglers in Ransome’s Secret Water. I was camping with friends on the edge of Hamford Water. In the middle of the night, a boat came and unloaded (probably) bales of marijuana. Unlike the heroes of the story, I didn’t race to tell the police. By then I was a teenager – the simple black and white world of children’s stories had kind of blurred by that stage. Drug smugglers weren’t necessarily bad any more, and in the films I was watching then they were pretty cool (too much Quentin Tarantino). Anyway, I couldn’t go to the police, I was a teenager, rough camping with friends on a summer night – I was blitzed on cider.

Shogun, Tai Pan & Whirlwind, by James Clavell

I discovered James Clavell’s door-stopper novels about ‘the East’ in my teens. They are truly amazing books, and probably the first really long books I ever read. I think my mum was into them at the time, hence they, like Blood Orange, appeared around the house and I picked them up. Shogun tells the story of a sixteenth century British seafarer who is shipwrecked in Japan, learns the language, and comes to play a part in the internal politics and warfare there, a rich and complex world that barely anyone in the West even knew existed. And I certainly didn’t. Tai Pan tells what happens a few hundred years later as powerful, ambitious men struggled to establish Hong Kong as the world’s most important trading hub. Whirlwind is less well known, but maybe my favourite. It’s the story of three weeks in Iran – the three weeks of the Islamic revolution when religious fanatics took over the country, killing, imprisoning and expelling anyone who didn’t fit with their view of the world. It focuses on how a western helicopter rental firm tries to react, pulling out its British and American pilots, even those who have lived there so long they have Iranian families.

The books are totally immersive. You really feel like you’re living in the culture and time that you’re reading about. And when you stop reading – come up for air – I remember how my real life at the time, living by then in rural Suffolk, always seemed so colourless and bland by comparison.

I’m pretty sure it’s due to James Clavell that I decided to make my heroes in The Wave at Hanging Rock the owners of a firm of helicopters. That just seemed like the coolest thing ever. Maybe I would even have been a pilot myself. If I wasn’t scared of flying.

The Beach, by Alex Garland

I read Alex Garland’s coming-of-age-in-Thailand classic as I was coming-of-age on a flight to Thailand. And I wasn’t the only one. It seemed everyone else on the plane was reading it too (This sparked an ambition of mine. One day I want to be on a plane and notice that someone is reading one of my books…) I was going there to teach English, not backpacking, or in search of a mystical secret beach, and I probably credit James Clavell for sparking my interest in the Far East. I taught with my then girlfriend in the strange, tropical-industrial area of Sri Racha (where the famous sauce comes from). I wouldn’t honestly say the book is a classic, but it came out just at the right time for me, and I think Garland captures the spirit of youthfulness and yearning for adventure pretty well. I also love that in the book, unlike the film version, his hero doesn’t get the girl.

The Magus, by John Fowles

I read this book a few years after my time overseas teaching English, but if I had read it before, I’m quite sure it would have made me want to teach abroad. It tells the story of Nicolas, a love-bored young man (as opposed to love-sick – he’s tired of a girlfriend in England and wants to escape her) who becomes a teacher on the island of Crete. Once he’s there, he’s befriended by a bizarre, rich old man. Which is curious for the reader, but the real kick is this. Every time our hero goes to visit the man, he gets glimpses of the stunningly beautiful girl who seems to live in his grounds, or work for him, or is somehow connected – we never know quite what, or why. But just as it drives Nicolas crazy, so it does for the reader (or at least for me). Nicolas becomes more and more desperate to find out about the girl, and just what the hell is going on. So does the reader.

I think it’s the first book I ever read where the plot becomes so twisted that there simply is no possible resolution. And even though Fowles revised the ending years after he published it, it still doesn’t really satisfy. There is no explanation that really explains the way Nicolas is hooked and played with.

Despite this, if I had to pick one book as my favourite ever, it’d have to be The Magus.

Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn

The first time I tried to read this I gave up after fifty pages or so. But as the hype around it grew I tried again, and this time I got to the first twist. Wow! I finally got it. But because by then I had aspirations of writing myself, I took away a very specific point. As an author you’re allowed to lie to your readers! Actually that’s not quite right. As an author writing a character the character can lie – because people do lie, all the time, to themselves, and to other people. About the little things and the big things. This single realisation probably did more to shape the plots of what I’ve written so far than any other thought (most of my books involve characters who are not entirely honest with themselves and the reader). So thank you Gillian Flynn for that!

Breath, by Tim Winton

When I first began thinking about writing seriously – by which I mean getting beyond 5000 words before giving up – I secretly dreampt I would one day make my name by writing the classic surfing novel. My ambitions were set back, about ten years ago, when I discovered someone already had. Breath is the story of a pair of Aussie kids who grow up by the ocean and are taught to surf huge waves by a cranky ex-pro. It’s dark and mean and twisted, and to my mind it’s undisputed the best surf novel ever written (there isn’t a huge amount of competition, but it would be unjust not to mention that Kem Nun comes close with Tapping the Source, and In Search of Captain Zero by Allan Weisbecker is another contender).
My first attempt at the genre was called An Eye for a Wave. It features an aging surf photographer travelling the world with the tour of surf competitions, just as the change from film to digital photography takes hold. As such it mirrors my experience joining Boards (a popular windsurfing magazine) and picking up a camera at a similar time. So far An Eye for a Wave is unpublished. I keep meaning to dust the manuscript off and try and fix it. But there’s a lot to fix.

Long Standing Ambition, By Jono Dunnett

A bit of a plug this one. Long Standing Ambition was written by my brother, and describes his journey sailing his windsurf board alone, around Great Britain. In truth it was more the expedition he undertook that influenced me, rather than the book itself (which he wrote when he finished), but he completed the journey while I was struggling to finish my first published book (The Wave at Hanging Rock). It was very much a case of, if he can do that, then surely I can write two thousand words from the comfort and safety of my house. The book is good though, it was shortlisted for Amazon’s rather prestigious Storyteller award, which has a £20,000 first prize (I entered mine too, and never heard a peep from them!)

Anything and Everything by Bill Bryson

Anything and Everything isn’t a title by Bryson, although it could be, I just mean anything he’s written. I love Bill Bryson’s books. I love the way he can make something so mundane – a middle aged man wandering about a bit – into something so gripping and page-turning. I love the way he sets up his jokes, a long paragraph carefully describing something, only to dismiss it with a two-word swipe at the end. For my relatively undistinguished career as a magazine journalist, I blatantly plagiarized Bryson’s style and techniques.

And finally, I’m going to add one film. In fact, if people enjoy this post, I might do the same with films

Das Boot

Not the cut-down, submarine-light version, but the full, five-hour epic of pings, depth charges and sweaty, swarthy, bearded men crouching in their leaky creaking boat (boot) as the North Atlantic and the Second World War raged overhead. I must have watched this film, in full, twenty times. Granted, that was largely because we had a Betamax video player, and only two Betamax films (this and Flash Gordon). But even so. To my mind very few films deserve the title epic. This is one of them.

[Note: Since writing this I’ve been told that Das Boot was originally a book – of course it was, I can be very stupid sometimes. I’ve now read the book and it’s good… But I’d still pick the film for the full submariner experience!]

Your turn! Please use the comments box to let me know what books have shaped your life, and why…

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