From Young Adult to Postcolonial? | My Reading Journey

"There is no reason why the same man should like the same books at eighteen and at forty-eight."

- Ezra Pound

In celebration of the last day of June (seriously, how quick did that go!), I've taken inspiration from the blog's quote of the month to think about how my reading tastes have changed over the years.

Primary school: 5-11 years old

Sadly, I can't remember what the first book I ever read or read independently was called. That would have been precious right? What I can remember is being read the Spot the Dog series every day before home-time by my favourite teacher, Tony. I was five then. I quickly began a 'healthy' appetite of reading as my literacy skills developed. I visited the local library every fortnight with my older sister and brother and together we would drag heavy bags of books back home.

As I read more, I fell in love with the writing, the world which the author created and the way the author used words to entice me into it. It was Jacqueline Wilson who first inspired me to become a writer at the age of ten. I know a lot of people say that she only writes about broken homes and relationships but coming from a background where I had a mother, a father, siblings, friends and knowing that I was loved, Jacqueline Wilson's stories made me appreciate what I had. It also prepared me for secondary school where I met people whose parents were separated or divorced. When Little Darlings (pictured above) came out in 2010, I went to a signing to finally meet and thank her.

I also became a fan of Daisy Meadows' Rainbow Magic stories. My favourite fairy was Ruby the Red Fairy and my gosh, I would squabble with my friends if they said they were 'her' too. You know that stage in a girl's life where she likes something pretty and becomes obsessed with anything related to it? Yeah, I went through that... Lastly I began the Harry Potter series and loved J.K. Rowling's brain. I'm still on Order of Phoenix however after my Bangladesh copy ripped in half but I've watched the movies except for the last. Please don't hate me; they're on my TBR pile. Honest.

Secondary School & College: 11-18 years old

My love for books was quickly apparent during English lessons and amongst my friends. I did go through a stupid phase in year 8 where I gave up reading for other things but in year 9, I frequented the school library so much that I became a library monitor, hooked my friends up and made the library our lunch-time crib. I remember when The Twilight Saga: New Moon movie came out that I became interested in young adult literature. I read Twilight and instantly became 'Team Edward'. In anticipation for the next movie, I began reading The Vampire Diaries series by L.J. Smith which was also having a tv show in it's name. That was all I needed to officially become a YA fan. Thanks to Goodreads, I can actually keep track of all the YA books I've ever read. Some of my favourite books/series are The Morganville Vampires (Rachel Caine), Shiver (Maggie Stiefvater), The Host (Stephenie Meyer), Graceling (Kristin Cashore) and I Am Number Four (Pittacus Lore). Before leaving school, I donated most of my YA books to the library but Becca Fitzpatrick's Hush Hush series (pictured above) was always pre-ordered on my dad's Amazon account and my sister said she would kill me if I even thought about giving them away.

I joined the book club in year 10 and read Pride and Prejudice for the first time. Mr Darcy is still as lovely in my head as he was then. As well as the classics, I was introduced to books about serious issues or real life events such as Purple Hibiscus (Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche), Chains (Laurie Halse) and Kite Runner. The latter will always hold a special place in my heart because Khaled Hosseini's novel showed me how I could confidently write about my own culture and religion.

Once I hit 16 I think this is when my 'reading for pleasure' began deteriorating. I didn't have as much time besides studying the chunky textbooks and slightly boring literature which all humanitarian students can relate to. Only Frankenstein stood out for me as a beautiful piece of writing by Mary Shelley. The situation became dire because I started reading Hunger Games during my A-level exams. It was such a thrilling read that I almost began to resist the oppressive system that was education.

University: 18+

After finishing my first year of university, I have to say that I'm more impressed with all that I've learnt as an English undergraduate than by the books I've studied. I only have two favourites which are Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe) and The Hours (Michael Cunningham). However I made two discoveries: I didn't like all the classics that were out there such as Beowulf, Heart of Darkness, Mrs Dalloway and I definitely enjoyed postcolonial and cultural books.

I've tailored my second year module choices around these discoveries and will hopefully be studying postcolonial literature, women's writing, the legend that is King Arthur and Victorian fiction next year. Studying at university has made me realise that there are so many books that I still have not read. Sometimes I regret reading all those YA books because after a few, the story becomes formulaic so you already know the plot but you're just waiting for the next romantic scene. I wish I had spent more time reading the classics or the less known authors' works on culture and race or even finished the Jane Austen series! But then I remind myself that YA literature hooked me into reading again after a reckless year. They were relatable because I was a teenager but they also inspired me to do more for myself and for that I will cherish my love of YA books. To prove it to myself, soon as university was over, I dove straight into Divergent (Veronica Roth). I was clearly starved of YA because I finished it in two days and wrote a review about it on here.

So, in response to Ezra Pound, I do think reading tastes change over time but they are influenced by the context we live in so our previous tastes ultimately don't leave us. In year 9, I needed a place to escape to and supernatural YA fiction was the perfect option but now I need to raise my awareness of the world and it's long history in order to empower myself and others around me. So I do that and occasionally indulge in a bit of teenage recklessness.

Share me your reading journey! Have you read any of the books I've mentioned?

Have your reading tastes changed or are you loyal to one genre? Let me know in the comments below!

Rima x



In Her Footsteps

I wanted to write this before I left for the airport because I knew I would be an emotional wreck when I returned home. However, I got busy so I'm now writing this as my dad drives us back home down the M4.

My mum is going to Bangladesh today for eight weeks and two days (yes, I'm counting) and she is leaving my eldest sister and me in charge of looking after the house and family. My dad has reassured us that we will be fine while she's gone but it's such a big responsibility.

When I first found out that she was going to Bangladesh, I was in denial and kept telling her, 'You're not going' to which she replied, 'Yes, I am!' But then I had to be practical and started learning how to cook typical Asian dishes once my exams were over. I knew cooking Asian foods would be my biggest obstacle because we're slowly approaching the month of Ramadan and my family (like most) seek comfort food after a day of fasting. Therefore, there were days when my mother shadowed me as I added the garlic or spices after which I would frantically wipe my hands on my apron to scribble this step on a piece of paper. Some days, however, she left me alone in the kitchen to prepare and cook three separate dishes. I'm telling you now that whipping up three individual pasta dishes is easier because the multi-tasking involved cooking curries almost killed me. Thankfully, my mum froze some dishes before she left so all I have to do is defrost them and they're ready to eat!

During the last few weeks, I have had to learn a lot. I've made many notes of recipes and mental reminders and I'm hoping I remember it all. Unfortunately, I have the worst memory ever so I'm praying my brain is screwed on tightly (FYI I did almost put a bottle of oil in the fridge).

There's so much my mum does for us that it would be futile to list (plus, many mothers do the same). That's why it's going to be really hard without her. I haven't stayed away from her for this long, none of my family have. I don't really know how I will cope. During the past few weeks I've wished several times that I could travel to the future when my mum has returned just so I could know how to manage things now. If I had my way, I wouldn't have let her go. My eldest sister was huffing about my mum going but it's easier to comfort someone else. I told her that mum needs a break, that she deserves time to herself. Then she says, 'this is how mum must feel whenever we go on residential' and I realise how true that is. Only difference is that she's going for eight weeks and not a week.

I don't why it's so hard to let go of you mother...

Who will plait your hair when your arms ache from fatigue?

Who will stir the "perfect" amount of sugar into your tea?

Who will clip your nails when you can no longer reach your toes?

Who will bother getting a bowl of Frosties and milk when you're craving a midnight snack?

I don't really do it because you can't. I do it because you did it for me.

I hadn't cried up until now. I was the only one besides my dad who would be available to go to the airport so I knew I was the last to say goodbye. It's so hectic in the airport and when she had to leave for immigration I panicked and started blubbering. My dad didn't let that go on for too long though thankfully because he urged us towards the airport exit. I don't know how the next few weeks will be. I don't know whether I will remember all the things my mum has said I should remember. I don't know whether I will be able to coordinate the things that happen in my family. All I do know is that I will try my best to act in my mother's footsteps.

After God, I devote my life to my mother and father. I try my best to help them, make them laugh, make them proud. It's only recently that my mother and I have become really close. Whenever we're laughing together about something, my younger sister often randomly says, 'amma (mum), lal afa (what she calls me) is your favourite daughter innit?' I always respond that I wasn't always her favourite. You can tell when you live in a big family such as mine whose your mother's favourite and a year ago it certainly wasn't me. But then I learnt how Islam teaches that 'Paradise lies beneath your mother's feet' and that transformed my attitude towards my mother.

I began to change the way I spoke to her. I reminded myself of that teaching whenever I felt like raising my voice. I realised that although it was my life, my parents were responsible for that life so they deserve to be respected irregardless of my rebelling hormones. Because of that teaching, I finally understood why in year 7 my friend was shocked that I had shouted at my mother. I also regretted the time I told my parents that I would visit them in the care home near our house because Islam taught to look after your parents in old age as they did for you. So I honour the upbringing they gave me and treat them with respect. I recognise the sacrifices my mother made to ensure that we were happy and sacrifice my time to revise or study to help her in return. Our relationship isn't perfect (whose is right?), we do argue sometimes but I'm practicing. I will always be practicing.

I don't ever want to be angry and impatient towards her because a mother's grief never goes unanswered. I remember once at an Islamic gathering, a student said how her friend was arguing with her mother and then when her mother asked for water, she refused to bring it because they had just argued and that would be awkward. Shortly after, her sister in law brought water but her mother had passed away. That story serves as a strong reminder whenever I feel too arrogant to forgive my mother or anyone. My mother on the other hand is amazing at forgiving people. She will be annoyed with you one second and offering you a plate of rice with meat the next. No amount of anger could equal to a mother's love.

My mother taught me to love, to laugh and to cry. She taught me how to sacrifice, how to give up, how to dream for something better. The next few weeks will be hard. They will put everything she taught me to the test. I just hope I do half as good a job as she does.

I hope I make her proud, walking in her footsteps.