My earliest reading memory
I remember reading Jacqueline Wilson aloud to my mum in the car. I think it was The Illustrated Mum. My mum couldn’t believe it was a children’s book, and I felt so proud. I always found most children’s books overly virtuous and safe, but Wilson’s never were. I love her for that.
My favourite book growing up
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Spark. I read it again recently, having mostly forgotten it, and loved it just as much. It’s totally alive.
The book that changed me as a teenager
Blood and Guts in High School by Kathy Acker. I read it at university when I was nineteen. I’d never read anything like it. It expanded my mind by making me feel so many things all at once.
The writer who changed my mind
Gwendoline Riley, for repeatedly writing claustrophobic novels from the perspective of an enigmatic female protagonist. I internalised at some point that writers were supposed to leap from book to book showing off their huge range, but I find Riley’s approach far braver and more compelling.
The book that made me want to be a writer
The Whole Story and Other Stories by Ali Smith, particularly a story in the collection called Erosive. The structure is disordered, but the disorder is so considered. Reading it made writing feel like one of the most satisfying and playful things I could attempt to do.
The book I came back to
Água Viva by Clarice Lispector. When I first picked it up it seemed too hard, and I couldn’t make sense of it. I tried again some years later, having just put my baby down for a nap, and I’d read the whole thing by the time he woke up. It was a singular reading experience, totally out of body, and exactly what I’d needed in the moment.
The book I reread
Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? by Lorrie Moore. This novel fits every mood for me. At sentence-level it’s so enchanting and funny and chewy, but then it has this wise, melancholic mood hanging over it. And the characters are brilliant. Every time I revisit it, I find something new.
The book I could never read again
I did Wuthering Heights for A-level, and I didn’t mind it at the time. But I’ve no interest in reading it again. There are so many more books out there.
The book I discovered later in life
I just read I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. I had a lot of fun with it. It’s both more surreal and more predictable than I expected. I half-wish I’d read it as a teenager, but the total naivety of basically every character might be the best thing about it, and perhaps I’d have missed that years ago.
The book I am currently reading
Sail Away Land by Ben Pester. It’s weird and soulful. I love ending my days with it.
My comfort read
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. Some might argue this novel is too sad to be comforting, but I’d disagree. At its heart is a call for expansive love, and that to me is the ultimate balm. It’s funny, too.
• Saba Sams is longlisted for the Swansea University Dylan Thomas Prize 2026 for Gunk, out in paperback from Bloomsbury on 7 May (£9.99). To support the Guardian order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
