Time for another Fantasy with Friends discussion post! As ever, the prompts are hosted at Pages Unbound, and this week’s is about what got you interested in the genre:

Is there a particular fantasy that got you interested in the genre? Do you remember any of the earliest fantasy books you read?

Given that my mother’s a fantasy reader as well, I think fantasy stories were just stories to me, rather than thinking in terms of genre. Lots of the books I had as a kid were fantastical in some way, some more so than others; I read a lot of Enid Blyton’s work, for instance, where the Famous Five books are not fantasy, but she also wrote The Magic Faraway Tree. I know I had a box set of the Narnia books, too, with cover art that I personally prefer to all the others I’ve seen, but which hasn’t been reused (alas).

That said, I know that after I read The Hobbit, I pestered Mum for more like it, by which I think I meant fantasy (and she certainly took it to be so). She didn’t let me read The Lord of the Rings until I was a bit older, to make sure I would understand and properly appreciate it, but I have vivid memories of many of the fantasy books she lent me from her shelves. Raymond E. Feist’s Magician was definitely a major early player, along with David Eddings’ work. There’s a lot of nostalgia there, though I doubt I’d revisit David Eddings’ work now, being aware of his extensive child abuse directed at his adopted children. I can’t remember quite when I got A Wizard of Earthsea for Christmas, but probably somewhere around 10-11 years old.

I can’t quite picture where I started seeking out and choosing fantasy books of my own, either — probably in a small way I was doing that all along, but often following Mum’s suggestions and recommendations to help me choose. I know that by the time I was in my mid-teens, Mum and I were both reading Robin Hobb’s Farseer books, and visiting the Waterstones in town for their SF/F section (and to attend a reading and Q&A session by Robin Hobb). At the same time I was reading Neil Gaiman for myself for sure (sadly he’s also tainted his own legacy), Tad Williams, Sarah Zettel…

I can definitely remember when it started becoming more the other way round, too, which was probably most marked from when I was 18 or so: I’d discover the authors and get Mum interested, in my turn. I borrowed Scott Lynch’s The Lies of Locke Lamora from the library when I was at university, and persuaded her to read it. (No, I still haven’t read Republic of Thieves, though. Someday. If people don’t nag me.)

Overall, definitely heavily influenced by Mum’s taste in books, especially until I went off to university and spent more time browsing in bookshops on my own, exploring via library books and second-hand sales, etc.