My earliest reading memory My mother read to me every night before bed, but by the time I was about three I had begun to focus less on the illustrations and more on the words themselves. Soon afterwards I was reading alone, regularly bringing home four library books a week.

My favourite book growing up As a child, I loved Alison Goudge’s The Little White Horse. Its blend of history and gothic fantasy made a lasting impression on me. It is grounded and enchanting, unsettling without ever becoming truly terrifying. It sparked my lifelong enthusiasm for historical fiction and later became a much-loved book for my own children.

The book that changed me as a teenager In truth, every book had an effect on me because I read constantly. I greatly admired Rudyard Kipling, before moving towards historical fiction, particularly the novels of Georgette Heyer. I read all of Jane Austen at a young age and came to appreciate her restraint, clarity and exactness. To me, she remains the greatest writer in the English language.

The writer who changed my mind EP Thompson’s The Making of the English Working Class offers a radical history of how working-class identity emerged. Reading it as a young woman was a revelation. It showed me why history matters, and how much energy and conviction a brilliant historian can bring to a subject. It has remained a guide for my own writing, proving that forgotten histories can be uncovered and told.

The book that made me want to be a writer While researching my PhD, I read more than 100 of the most widely read novels of the 18th century: Don Quixote, Clarissa, Gulliver’s Travels, Moll Flanders and many others. It was an ideal apprenticeship for a novelist. I did not simply read them; I studied them closely, learning about plot, character, pacing and form. More than anything, I learned about the art of fiction at the moment when the novel itself was taking shape.

The book I came back to I did not fully appreciate Charles Dickens until later in life. Now I see him as one of the supreme writers of expansive, ambitious novels. Dombey and Son is among my favourites. Its intense sentimentality around a delicate, beautiful child sits alongside the story of a ruthless man determined to rise in society. It is vivid, surprising and endlessly compelling.

The book I reread Great writing can make any experience feel meaningful, while a fine novel can carry us into another world and another era. I return to Iris Murdoch’s The Sea, the Sea whenever I need consolation. It is far removed from my own life, yet deeply concerned with the desire to possess someone you love, even while knowing that such possession is impossible. It explores vanity, greed, liberation and the recognition of true friendship. At the same time, it is an absorbing tale about a talkative, self-important theatre director living in retirement by the sea.

The book I discovered later in life I came to Molly Keane, the Anglo-Irish novelist of the years between the wars, only recently. On the surface, her books offer irresistible portraits of the eccentric and privileged Anglo-Irish world. Yet beneath the wit and glamour, each novel understands the injustice on which that society rests. One of my favourites is Good Behaviour, about two charming siblings devoted to hunting, their vast estate, their horses and dogs, and their father, whom they call “The Sir”. It is a marvellous vision of a vanished world, created with immense warmth and style.