My earliest reading memory
I don’t have an individual book; what I have is a whole building. I grew up on a council estate in the East End of London and one of my earliest memories of books was my mum sending me and my siblings off to Whitechapel Library. Any children’s book I wanted! What an adventure!
My favourite book growing up
The Poldark novels by Winston Graham. I devoured this series about love, betrayal, class, revenge, the windswept sea lashing the rugged Cornish coastline. Nothing beats family drama.
The book that changed me as a teenager
Alice Walker’s The Color Purple. I was 17. I cried, I laughed, I shook my fist at the unfairness of life. But, ultimately, a young, poor Black woman can be triumphant.
The writer who changed my mind
Martina Cole during my early 20s. The first writer I knew who had the brass to write stories about the struggles and experiences of women who lived on council estates. She made me realise that someone with an accent like mine has a right to be heard just like anyone else in our society.
The book that made me want to be a writer
Not a book but, as a youngster, listening to my dad and his friends telling laugh-out-loud stories as they slammed down dominoes on a Friday evening – the voices they used to bring the characters alive. All these men left school before the age of 16, but that in no way stopped them from understanding how to tell a cracking story.
The author I came back to
I never really understood Shakespeare at school – only later in life did I come to appreciate the kick-ass Lady Macbeth. Scary, determined, a craving for power at any cost: hardcore doesn’t do her justice.
The book I reread
Wild Swans by Jung Chang. I found it on a guesthouse bookshelf on holiday in Tanzania. We must never forget the global stories of women across generations; their hardship and tenacity.
The book I could never read again
Anything by Jane Austen. I know, pure sacrilege. At school I enjoyed Pride and Prejudice, but looking back I felt I was force-fed what “good” literature was. No books by any Black authors were part of the curriculum, so for much of my 20s I only read Black female writers.
The book I discovered later in life
Killing Floor by Lee Child. Wow! Wow! Wow! The first Jack Reacher reminded me that books can be filled with breathless action, edge-of-the-seat cliffhangers, entertainment that made me reflect on important themes I care about.
The book I am currently reading
Empire of Pain by Patrick Radden Keefe, about the opioid crisis. I’m feeling angry and heartbroken. It shines a light on how making a profit has become king in our world, no matter how many millions of lives are shattered.
My comfort read
I’m a massive historical romance fangirl – proper bodice rippers. Anything by Julia Quinn, Meredith Duran or Lorraine Heath puts the happy back into my groove.
• Believe Me by Dreda Say Mitchell and Ryan Carter is published by Thomas & Mercer. To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
