The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole by Sue Townsend. The entire series, really. Hilarious then and still hilarious now.

Otherwise the entire Goosebumps series by R.L. Stine.

They were what really solidified my love of books and reading.

I just finished reading Lapvona and hoped it would get better. When it got near the end I was (stupidly) still hopeful…then I reached the end and was like GOD DAMMIT.

A friend said to me that if she could read any book for the first time again, it would be Verity. I took that as quite the endorsement and read it. Good grief… the main character? What a wet fucking blanket she was. Hated her. Hated the writing. Hated the book. Won’t go near another CoHo book again.