My choice in literature has always been an easy target for my friends, family, colleagues and even my English teachers. When my friends were sat in study periods with Game Of Thrones or Catch 22, I was sat across the table reading Looking For Alaska. However I believe that each “year 9 girl book” that I have read has had an extravagant impact on the last three years of my life; each in their own particular way. I wouldn’t have understood what it’s like to always be searching for more if it wasn’t for Margo Roth Spiegleman’s (Paper Towns) Tumblr AF soliloquies, or how closely I related to Charlie’s (The Perks Of Being A Wallflower) experiences with mental health, drugs and friendship, and I most certainly wouldn’t have been able to get over my own heartbreak if it wasn’t for the emotional rollercoaster (that does in fact come back down) that is The Fault In Our Stars. There are hundreds of books that I have read in the last three years, none of which make me any more or less of a dude.