Tag Archives: Five Books That Changed My Life

Caroline Corcoran: Five Books That Changed my Life

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Nearly ten years ago, I started keeping a notebook of every book I read. It’s incredibly geeky, totally pointless (turns out no one has ever wanted to know what book I was reading at Christmas 2015) and I don’t care at all because I love it. 

five days missing , Caroline corcoran

I love being able to look back and see what I read when the Big Life Events happened (I literally have zero memory of the first book in there I read after giving birth. No idea what it is. Not even vaguely). It also means I can revisit and see sometimes what I didn’t see at the time: how the books I chose related to what was going on in my life at the time. Still, <changing> your life is a big ask. I believe books are up to the challenge though. Here are five that did it…

Dear Nobody, Bernie Doherty

Context: I was a very dramatic teenager. If I broke up with someone I went out with for two weeks, I listened to Lionel Richie on my walkman and wept. I kept endless diaries where I wrote my pretty mundane teenage existence into what I see now was the prototype of a novel. I was fascinated by – and still am fascinated by – the depiction of human emotion at its edges. Only one thing to do: seek out the true drama in fiction. I loved a book with heartbreak and chaos and teenagers suffering loss and pain and grief. God, I loved all of it. But I loved none of it like I loved Dear Nobody, where teenage Helen writes letters to the baby she is pregnant with. It was award-winning and groundbreaking and I must have read it fifty times, easily.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou

“What do you like reading?” asked my then English teacher. I had moved on from that mega nineties shelf of joy in WH Smith – Judy Blume, The Babysitters Club, Saddle Club, every other club you can imagine etc – but I hadn’t figured out yet where to go next. She was a teacher that stayed with you, that English teacher, because she was the first person I had met (barring my chief book buddy Vic) who loved books like I did. Vic and I nodded in wonder when she passed on a list of recommendations to us for real grown up books (I could recite that list even now; it was a holy grail for me) and over the next few years, I read them all. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings though, was the first and the best. I read it over and over, and I read everything else I could get my hands on by Maya Angelou, this incredible, life-changing woman. She was the first author who showed me what books could do: enunciate thoughts you didn’t know you had, make sense of the world by telling the most vivid truth and teach you about – not to mention transport you to – worlds so far away from your own. More than anything though, Maya Angelou made me fall in love with the unrivalled, crazy beauty of words.

The Handmaid’s Tale, Margaret Atwood

Somebody pointed out to me recently when I posted about writing this piece that when people speak of books that changed their lives, they usually quote books they read in their teens and early twenties and I think they are right. All but one in this list, I read before I turned 25. I suspect that’s because those years are when we are forming ourselves and books – as well as music and film – help us to do this. They show us who we are, who we want to be and what possibilities there are in the world. I would go on to read so much more Margaret Atwood (and to stare at her like she was a pop star heartthrob when I saw her being interviewed once) but this one got under my skin and kick started something in me. 

Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn

I think this was the first proper psychological thriller I read and the start of me uncovering – unbeknown to me at the time – the genre I would eventually write myself. Unreliable narrators, multiple points of view, twists… I adored the whole, all-encompassing experience and after Gone Girl, I read back-to-back psychological thrillers with barely a break for much else for years. Many were brilliant, but this was the masterclass. I still hold Gone Girl up as that holy grail and the most annoying thing: the book I would have <loved> to have written myself. Grrr.

Americanah, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Most of the time, my reading pattern is based on instinct: when I finish a book I know where I need to go next whether that’s a move to something gentler, contemporary, a classic, some short stories, something funny… Every now and again I read a book and all I know is that next I have to read <every single book that author has ever written>. It happened recently with Taylor Jenkins Reid after I read Daisy Jones and the Six, and I did the same with Tana French. But never has it been so mesmerising as it was in the summer of 2014 when I picked up a book I kept hearing about: Americanah. I barely came up for air. I’ve never read a love story like it; I’ve never felt such a strong sense of place, and I spent that summer hovering up everything else she had written. It tracked all the way back to Dear Nobody: I love reading (and writing) about human emotion, and nobody does it like the inimitable Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

Five Days Missing is out 17 February (Avon, Harper Collins)

Five Books That Changed Me By Yousra Imran, author of Hijab and Red Lipstick

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Roxy van der Post for Myosotis Film & Photography

Headscarves and Hymens by Mona El Tahawy

“The most subversive thing a woman can do is talk about her life as if it really matters.” This was the line in Headscarves and Hymens that gave me the affirmation I needed to use my passion for writing to talk about the subjects that mattered most to me and not to feel a sense of “shame” for writing openly about life experiences. This was the first time I read a book which spoke so closely to my own thoughts as a Muslim Arab feminist, and I was nodding along every page of the way. Headscarves and Hymens is feminist journalist Mona El Tahawy’s first non-fiction book, and an in-depth look at the multi-faceted injustices women face across the Middle East.

It’s Not About the Burqa by Mariam Khan

It’s Not About the Burqa is an anthology of essays written by a long list of female British Muslim writers including BBC journalist Saima Mir, Jeremy Vine on 5 co-presenter Salma-El Wardany and award-winning author Sufiya Ahmed. They write unabashedly about their own experiences and on a range of topics people think Muslim women aren’t interested in – sexuality, feminism, politics, the law and queerness to name a few. This is a life-changing read because it proves that Muslim women are not a monolithic and there is no “one type” of Muslim woman. It also proves that we are extremely successful and have made incredible contributions in British society. Everyone needs to read this book.

Two Women in One by Nawaal El Saadawi

As well as being a famous Egyptian feminist, Nawaal El Saadawi writes novels and her husband has translated most of them into English. She writes about everyday Egyptian women, including working class women and women in rural areas. My favourite novel of hers is Two Women in One, probably because I can resonate with the protagonist Bahiah. Bahiah is a medical student in Cairo who is trying her hardest to reconcile the two women she is: the quiet, studious, obedient Bahiah at home, and the shameless, strong Bahiah who wears trousers, stands with one leg up on her stool in the lab and experiences intimacy outside of wedlock. The book is set in the early ‘80s, yet little has changed for women in Egypt today.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

I read Little Women for the first time when Mum bought it for me as a gift when I was 11 years old, and until this day the part where Beth dies makes me blubber like a baby. Reading it again as an adult I can see that Alcott was a feminist – it wasn’t something that I digested as a young girl. If I was to do a postgraduate degree in feminist literature I would probably choose Little Women for my thesis, as there are just so many references to gender injustice. Marmi is a feminist and so is Jo March. I had thought Jo March was based on Alcott but I recently read Alcott had based Jo’s youngest sister Amy on herself.

The Mill on the Floss by George Elliot 

The Mill on the Floss was the 19th century novel I studied for my English Literature A-Level. It was a complete eye-opener, particularly as a teenager living in the Arab Gulf. I remember underlining so many passages in the book and telling my teacher that Victorian society was just like Qatari society; it was mad that the customs were so similar despite the 150-year gap! I could also see myself in the protagonist Maggie – the internal struggle between wanting to be pious and modest, but also be passionate and love and be loved. As an adult I now know I can be both – I don’t have to choose one or the other.

About the Author

Yousra S Imran is an English-Egyptian hybrid who works and lives in West Yorkshire. She has been writing from the moment she learned how to hold a pen and works full time in marketing and events in the education sector.
Yousra grew up between the UK and the Middle East and has a BA Hons in International Relations. She is passionate about women’s rights and gender justice. Yousra lives with her husband in Bradford, Yorkshire.