I was around seventeen when my mom (stepmom) gave me a crate of books she had had in storage. Among them were most of Marian Keyes work.
I accepted the crate with a large smile, starry eyes and scrunched shoulders.
I read every available Marian Keyes book in record time and then read them all again, and again, and again! I was hooked.
These books came to me at just the right time. Funny, how often books tend to find their way into your life just when you need them.
I was about to be eighteen, I had left school at this point and was suffering from some sudden and severe anxiety. I had choices to make about my future and felt utterly terrified.
Marian Keyes is a brilliant, insightful, hilarious writer and she truly is never, ever disappointing.
I started with Watermelon, a witty, funny and heartwarming piece of fiction.
The story follows Claire, a average woman, whose arsehole husband decided to leave her on the day she gives birth!
She finds herself back home in the bosom of her large, loud and loving Irish family and she manages to recover from the shock, gracefully lift herself up and be better!
The family, the laughs, the bright luminous green cover, did my soul a world of good. Even though I wasn’t in the same situation as Claire, by far, I found myself connecting with her.
I found her sorry story reassuring. I found her recovery and strength motivating. I found myself utterly INLOVE with Marian Keyes and that still stands today.
Side note: I’m currently reading her latest novel – Grown Ups and my God it’s GOOD (as always)
That little gifted crate of dusty books had sparked a wild, passionate, obsessive love for reading within me and quite like my feelings for the lovely Marian, it’s never gone away.
I would go on to steal my next book, or as I say, to save myself the shame, I’m still currently just borrowing the book – about a year later. Oops.
I should state that I no longer steal books – I buy them with hard earned money – or request them for ever possible gift giving lift event, but we’ll get to this part of my story in due time.
xx – M.