Things I Learned from Jacqueline Wilson

As a child, I lived for the words Jacqueline Wilson wrote—every single sentence jumped into my sense of self. Wilson taught me a lot about the world, but I didn’t realise that until I was recently standing in a bookshop, looking at a hardback copy of her latest work, and a whack of nostalgia hit me right in the chest.

I’ve done some research and it appears that I lived my Wilson Years between 1997 and 2002, when I was between 7 and 12 years old. I have clear memories of all of the books I read and, after my book shop visit, I thumbed back through a few to fulfill the weird nostalgic loneliness I had in my heart for Tracy Beaker, Ruby and Garnett, Treasure and India—my Wilson friends.

Below is a rundown of the real-life lessons I learned from Jacqueline Wilson, which I still use in daily life. Also, all of these covers have changed since I was a child and it’s so lovely to see the updates. Nick Sharatt’s illustrations are as amazing now as they were in 1997.

To finish reading this article, please visit Book Riot.

Say Goodbye to Summer with 5 Books About Bees

I’ve always loved bees. To my father’s chagrin, I got my first tattoo when I was 22 years old–a honey bee on the left side of my back. It hurt, but the moment I saw the bee in the mirror, I loved him.

The bee has now been with me for five years and to celebrate the anniversary, I popped by a tattoo studio in London and had him upgraded, adding colour, lengthening wings and overall making him a little more organic. I love the tattoo just as much as I did before, but now it’s brighter and looks more ‘complete’, for want of a better word.

When I was 20 (and 21), I went through a horrible few months of depression and anxiety. It was a rotten time that I hope never to re-live again. Every day was a battle to just get out of bed and get through the day. It was miserable. On my 21st birthday, a friend of mine gave me a little silver chain with a bee hanging from it. Bees, she told me, are hardworking, self sufficient, intelligent and strong. She said the moment she saw it, it reminded her of me.

To finish reading this piece, please visit Book Riot.

In Praise of the IKEA Billy Bookcase

I moved house recently. Or more specifically, I moved in with my boyfriend, and it’s the first time I’ve ever lived with a significant other. Neither of us drink, which makes us by necessity a little anti-social, and so we spend a lot of time in the microcosm of our apartment. I thought this would annoy me because I like my own space (as does he) but it’s been an easy transition. Frankly, we’re both very happy to sit there ignoring each other except to ask occasional questions like “D’you want tea?”

We knew we were going to have a problem moving books. I have collated an entire bookcase in the short two years I have lived in London, with the shelves each packed two books deep. My cheap Argos bookshelf fell apart as soon as I tried to move it so I had to wave that goodbye. To be fair, it was very over-stacked and I worked it much too hard. My partner has also accumulated quite the collection of books, and collects comics, meaning we had five large cardboard boxes of those to move also. Worse, I moved most stuff on foot because the new apartment was less than a ten minute walk from the old. I took some books on each of my walks and my muscles were really feeling it by the end.

To finish reading this piece, please visit Book Riot.