One of the reasons why I love paper books is because of what I leave in them after or during reading them. My bookmark will be a train ticket, a note from my child, a postcard, a boarding pass, a receipt – I like that I can link the book to a specific moment in my life. My bookshelves overflow, so many books read and holding a little something that one day will evoke a memory. Books and moments, they thread through my adult life together. I imagine my children trying to unravel the clues, one day.

Yesterday I opened a book. I was curious, I couldn’t remember the ending. I found a prescription in it for folic acid, at page 27. It was a book I’d started reading in a doctor’s waiting room, I’d miscarried before I’d taken the prescription to the chemist. I could never finish that book.

Why am I telling you this?

Because I read ‘A Fucked Up Life In Books’ by Bookcunt. And ‘A Fucked Up Life In Books’ is just that, a memoir that recounts a key moment in the author’s life through the books she was reading at that time.

Bookcunt is a writer. She will ‘get’ why I can’t ever read that book that hides the folic acid prescription. But, mainly, she’s one of those writers who can evoke emotion by only giving the reader part of her. She holds back, she is protected, yet sometimes what she doesn’t say has just as much impact as her stunning words.

Bookcunt is anonymous. It’s not that she’s hiding, it’s more that there’s not a need to know who she is. Her anonymity perhaps makes her brave. This is a brave memoir, it is a flash into her mind, it reveals her heart. I hope her identity isn’t discovered, I love that she’s all about words and books. Bookcunt swears, she’s crude, she makes me laugh.

I read ‘A Fucked Up Life In Books’ in one sitting. I read it again a few days later. Both times I cried at ‘Flight of Dragons’, as her dad showed her the true magic of books. I became angry during ‘Goosebumps’, at a child overhearing words that can break. I read how abusive adults can be, I fell a little bit in love with her dad. I learned that Bookcunt is worth forty camels and that once she read a book during sex. I smiled at how often she attracts nutters and I loved why she hid under her desk at work. Her words made me feel that little bit more normal. Adventures, misadventures, loneliness and love, I think that this memoir is truly unforgettable.

But, the final chapter might actually have broken my heart.

‘A Fucked Up Life In Books’ is a glimpse into a beautiful mind.This memoir isn’t about a controversial blogger who says ‘cunt’ a lot. This is about a real person, a lass who is never late, who shouldn’t be crossed, about someone who is fiercely loyal. I like her, I get her, I’d love her to read ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ to me. But, mainly, I love that it has inspired me to buy and keep a book journal, the first entry will be all about Bookcunt.

I highly recommend this memoir to you all.