Ian Fleming
No, not James Bond, Ian Fleming. It was 1987 and I had (almost) all his books in my father’s library, all binded with his initials - which, not really by coincidence, were the same as mine. So those books felt like they were mine and Ian Fleming was the first of many authors I discovered there. I knew James Bond, at that time, but the whole mythos wasn’t really built inside me. Ian Fleming’s prose is unmistakeable - classy and very erotic. Ian Fleming whispers in my ears when I write about Peter Zarustica’s adventures.
Mary ‘Queenie’ Lyons - Soul Fever
It was 1990 and my personal heroine was going though hard times. We needed money, and my mum decided to sell my father’s record collection. This bald man came to the house to put a price on it and I didn’t want to let it go. My mother said I could choose one record, and I got this. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was too hard for me to go though his musical estate and choose one. The same records I used to listen with him, with big ass white headphones. So I picked to first one in the row and kept it to me. Never listened to it, until this day.