The 10 Books That Helped Make Me Who I Am

There is something deeply revealing about the books we carry with us. Not necessarily the books we think we should name — the respectable classics sitting neatly on a bookshelf, chosen because they sound impressive in polite conversation. I mean the books that got beneath our skin. The ones we discovered at exactly the right — or perhaps completely wrong — moment in our lives. The books that disturbed us. Comforted us. Made us feel less alone. Made us question everything.

When I look back at the books that have influenced me most, I realise my choices are probably just as quirky and unconventional as I am. There are stories about addiction and alienation, rebellion, violence and dystopian futures. Stories about children becoming monsters, monsters becoming something almost human, and outsiders desperately trying to find somewhere they belong. Perhaps it is no surprise that these books helped shape the writer I eventually became.

1. Junky — William S. Burroughs (1953)

Burroughs opened a door into a world that felt raw, detached and brutally honest. Junky taught me that stories do not always have to be beautiful. Sometimes they need to be uncomfortable. Sometimes the truth is found in the darkest corners of human experience. This was one journey I took with Bill — and came back to tell my own story in Not Anymore.

2. Naked Lunch — William S. Burroughs (1959)

Strange. Fragmented. Surreal. Disturbing. And absolutely unforgettable. Naked Lunch challenged everything I thought storytelling was supposed to be. It taught me that literature can be chaotic, bizarre, and make absolutely no effort to make you comfortable. And perhaps that is one of the reasons I loved it.

3. Ham on Rye — Charles Bukowski (1982)

Bukowski understood outsiders. Ham on Rye is uncomfortable, bleak, funny and painfully human. It taught me that you could write about damaged people without trying to save them. You could simply allow them to exist.

4. Factotum — Charles Bukowski (1975)

Henry Chinaski moves through jobs, relationships and life itself with a kind of reckless detachment. He doesn't fit. And frankly, neither did I. There was something strangely comforting about discovering characters who didn't belong anywhere in particular. It reminded me that sometimes being an outsider is not a weakness — sometimes it becomes part of who you are.

5. The Outsiders — S.E. Hinton (1967)

Perhaps one of the most important books I read growing up. The Outsiders taught me about belonging, loyalty, friendship and the invisible lines society draws between people. It taught me empathy. It taught me that every person has a story. And perhaps most importantly, that the people society labels as outsiders are often simply trying to survive. Stay gold. I still use this phrase today — stay gold, Ponyboy. This is where I search for the sunset wherever I go.

6. A Clockwork Orange — Anthony Burgess (1962)

A Clockwork Orange forced me to think about morality in ways I had never considered before. What makes someone good? Can goodness truly exist if someone has no choice? These were enormous questions hiding inside a dark and brutal story. The language itself fascinated me too — Burgess created something strange and unfamiliar, forcing the reader to adapt to the world rather than the other way around. Language can shape a world.

7. Fahrenheit 451 — Ray Bradbury (1953)

Fahrenheit 451 is not simply about burning books. It is about knowledge, freedom, thought, and what happens when people stop questioning the world around them. For someone who has always found refuge inside stories, the idea of a world without books feels like a nightmare. This book reminded me why stories matter. Because sometimes stories are dangerous — and sometimes that is exactly why they need to survive.

8. Lord of the Flies — William Golding (1954)

Lord of the Flies showed how quickly civilisation can disappear when the structures holding people together begin to collapse. It frightened me because it felt believable. The darkness was not coming from outside — it was already inside them. Perhaps this was one of the first books that made me realise how fascinated I was by the darker side of human nature. The monster is not always hiding in the woods. Sometimes the monster is us.

9. Christine — Stephen King (1983)

Stephen King took something familiar — a car, a stunning beautiful car — and transformed it into something terrifying. Beneath the horror was a story about obsession, loneliness, friendship and the darker side of desire. What stayed with me most was King's ability to make the impossible feel believable. He taught me that horror does not need to be tucked away in a haunted house. Sometimes it can be waiting in your driveway. In my case, it can be anywhere … out there.

10. Cabal — Clive Barker (1988)

Clive Barker understood something that has always fascinated me: sometimes the monsters are not the villains. Cabal takes us into the world of Midian — a hidden sanctuary for creatures who have been rejected, hunted and feared by humanity. Barker blurred the lines between monsters and humans, good and evil, beauty and horror. And that has stayed with me. Perhaps it is one of the reasons I have always been drawn towards outsiders, folklore and the supernatural. Because sometimes the monster standing in the darkness is not the thing we should fear. Sometimes the real monsters are standing in the light.

So, What Do These Books Say About Me?

Probably quite a lot. Looking back at this collection, there is a clear pattern. I was drawn to outsiders, rebels, broken people, monsters — people who didn't fit neatly into society. Stories that questioned authority. Stories that explored the darkness hiding beneath civilisation. And stories that reminded us that the most frightening things are often not supernatural at all.

Perhaps these books helped create the writer I am today — the writer who loves haunted landscapes, forgotten folklore, dark secrets and the uncomfortable places where reality begins to unravel. They taught me that stories do not need to be safe or comfortable. They do not even need to give us all the answers. Sometimes a story simply needs to leave a mark. And these books certainly left theirs on me.

Looking at this list now, I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised that I became a gothic writer. After all, I have been following the strange ones, the outsiders and the monsters for most of my life. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

What books shaped you? I would love to know which stories stayed with you long after you turned the final page. Which books changed the way you see the world — or perhaps helped make you the wonderfully strange person you are today?