My earliest reading memory
Learning how to read with Superman comic books on the floor of the barber’s shop my Dad went to every Saturday morning, when I was three. That same year, I branched out to Supergirl, Superdog and Superboy.
My favourite book growing up
The more appropriate was Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Like so many other girls, I identified with Jo and her temper and her unappreciated talent, despised Amy, grieved for Beth and was utterly indifferent to Meg and whatever conventional visions of happiness she had. My other favourite was A House Is Not a Home, the memoir of a New York madam, by Polly Adler. Despite the fact that I didn’t really grasp what the girls did in the evening I loved this book for its portrait of backstage life, as it were, and female solidarity. And I love that neither the librarian, nor my mother, took it out of my hands.
The book that changed me as a teenager
When I was between 13 and 14 I read most of Colette’s works, including Chéri. I can’t imagine any sane person recommending it to a 13-year-old girl in the suburbs of New York City but this book about the importance of love, the failure of love, the way in which people in love often manage to fail themselves as well as their beloveds, was not so much an eye-opener for me as a heart-opener. I understood from Colette that love was worth having and pursuing, even as one might have to pursue it knowing that it would not end well.
The writer who changed my mind
The book that changed my mind as a writer was Listening to Billie by Alice Adams, a novel of linked short stories. I read it and thought: “Oh, look what she has done, look what I can do.”
The book that made me want to be a writer
Probably every book I’ve read has made me want to be a writer; even if it’s terrible it just makes me want to be better. When I was a child working my way through the library stacks my great hope was to be a professional reader: I would read books, give some august council a book report and walk home with my paycheck. When I discovered that this was not an actual job in the actual world, I began to think that, second best, I might become a writer.
The book or author I came back to
The sentences of Henry James almost beat me to a pulp in my late teens. Now the brocade, the damask, the fluttering curtains and lowering glances are a joy to me every time – most particularly in The Wings of the Dove, one of the great dark comedies.
The book I reread
Persuasion by Jane Austen – contained, concise and brilliant.
The book I could never read again
The list of things and people to whom one should never return is long and for me the standout is JD Salinger’s A Catcher in the Rye, a book no one should ever read after the age of 18.
The book I discovered later in life
Kindred by Octavia Butler. I read very little science fiction and had no patience with movies such as The Creature from the Black Lagoon or even ET. I came across Butler’s work in the early 90s and both the substance and style illuminated the world for me.
The book I am currently reading
An old mystery by Ruth Rendell called A Judgement in Stone, in which a posh family is murdered by their housekeeper. When I am writing I only read mysteries and poetry. Jane Hirshfield’s Ledger is right next to Rendell on the nightstand.
My comfort read
Books of etiquette with an intelligent point of view, (Miss Manners!) and cookbooks. My four favourites are by the celebrated Edna Lewis, the seductive Yotam Ottolenghi, and the warm and insightful Michael Twitty and Nigella Lawson, who is God (if we’re lucky).
• In Love: A Memoir of Love and Loss is published by Granta. To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
