My earliest reading memory
My childhood hero was Spot the dog. After a couple of read-throughs, I’d do my best to recreate his mischief. My first taste of real life being harsher than fiction – Spot got a grin and a mild telling-off, I got sent to my room for four hours.
My favourite book growing up
Far too few people have heard of The Phantom Tollbooth, a sharp and smart fantasy by Norton Juster. The best books to read as a child are the ones that take you away from the uncomfortable business of growing up, so you hardly notice the important life lessons they’re giving you. Our hero, Milo, gains a sense of purpose and learns about enjoying the moment and, reading it, I guess I did too.
The book that changed me as a teenager
Alan Bennett’s The Lady in the Van showed me that reading could be a pleasure, that not all books had to be analysed and scrutinised. Bennett is such a wonderful, natural writer; that first spark of “Maybe this is something I’d like to do one day” definitely came from him.
The book that made me want to be a writer
If Bennett gave me the spark, Bill Bryson was the accelerant. Reading Notes from a Small Island, in sixth form, I was impressed by how he could be knowledgable without lording it, funny without being a showoff, and self-deprecating in a way that feels believable rather than scrabbling for fake humility. Notes on a Small Island really got me to up my postcard game, and I guess my audience grew from there.
The book I came back to
Sometimes I imagine that if I had time, I’d reread the books I was force-fed at school to see whether I liked them a little more. One ex I’m glad I hooked up with again is Jane Austen’s Emma. Austen’s skewering of the niceties of society is unmatched, and Emma is possibly her finest example. The way she teases and manipulates her hapless heroine – and the reader alongside – is a masterclass in characterisation.
The book I reread
My favourite authors write with an acidic vim, and they don’t come with a pH much lower than Saki’s short stories. I read his Penguin Classics “best of” at school, and, as greatest hits go, it never misses. If you’ve not read him before, I prescribe Tobermory, Sredni Vashtar and Esmé.
The book I could never read again
George Orwell’s Animal Farm. The ending looms too large. The writing is brilliant and the story gripping, but I know I’d find myself wanting to change the plot, do anything to avoid where it’s actually going. It’s a bit like voting in an election, feeling powerless in the face of inevitable disaster. That terror of turning the last page – I couldn’t do it again.
The book I discovered later in life
I confess I’d always dismissed Agatha Christie’s work as light, meaningless Sunday-night TV fodder. Then I read the books. Totally incredible! Who knew? OK, everybody knew, except me. Complex, deftly plotted stories with whiplash twists and dramatic denouements. I have to admire anyone who can think up so many ways to kill off characters, and show absolutely no mercy – nobody is safe in an Agatha Christie.
The book I am currently reading
I’ve got a Kindle stuffed with self-published authors at the moment, as I’m currently judging the Kindle Storyteller award. I’m also tearing through Kit de Waal’s touching and powerful memoir Without Warning & Only Sometimes. Kit is a monumental talent, and this is a warm, human, painful and fascinating journey back to Birmingham in the 1960s and 70s.
My comfort read
I go back to David Sedaris again and again. Me Talk Pretty One Day is probably my favourite. He has a way of looking at life that sets him up as the beleaguered hero in a world of idiots, and, for my money, constructs the best sentences in the English language.
• Adam Kay is a judge of the 2022 Kindle Storyteller award. His latest book, Undoctored, is published by Orion (£22). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
