By 11 years old, I was reading Rosemary Rogers, then my aunt loaned me a bunch of her Barbara Cartlands and Harlequins (Janet Dailey and Charlotte Lamb were the most memorable of that batch). By 12, I was reading Stephen King and books for the school's Book Club, including TKaM and Michener. By 13, when I was finally earning my own cash via babysitting, I was buying my own Silhouette Desires (a lot spicier than my aunt's romances), when I first read Elizabeth Lowell and Sandra Brown.

Looking back, I read a lot of horror. But also my mom's old Victoria Holts and pretty much anything she had around -- a lot of those big family saga books like Evergreen that were big at the end of the 1970s. Before sixth grade I had gone through all the Nancy Drew and Mom's old Cherry Ames, as well as Paul Zindel and all the Judy Blume and Patricia Danziger books. I can't remember when I read Go Ask Alice. I know I was pretty young. Oh, and Norma Klein! I read all of her stuff.

Did anyone outside of the Chicago area read a book called Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up? Everyone I knew in the '70s was reading that book.

I'm from Chicago but I'm pretty sure John R Powers is famous all over the place. They made Black Patent Leather Shoes into a musical. I wish they'd make a movie of The Unoriginal Sinner and the Ice Cream God.

I had a huge Victoria Holt/Jean Plaidy habit once I got a library card. Before that, it was catch as catch can. Porn started at 8. I finally tried to get in trouble for it at 11, but it turns out my father really didn't care if I read Playboy at that age. Although their porn novels did magically disappear around that time. Halloo, too late.

Mythology was my parent-sponsored entree into fantasy. My mother probably still regrets that. My father gave me my first SF at 11 or so, and then that was over. I was also raiding my mother's spy thrillers and black lit collection from about 8 on.

Victoria Holts and pretty much anything she had around -- a lot of those big family saga books like Evergreen that were big at the end of the 1970s.

AKA Jean Plaidy and Phillipa Carr, too. And lordy, God is an Englishman, Penmarric and their ilk. Madeleine Brent, Charlotte Armstrong, and everything Mary Stewart ever wrote. I liked Barbara Michaels, long before she wrote Amelia Peabody and became Elizabeth Peters. Andre Norton was my gate to SF.

Oh, Barbara Michaels, yes! There was another one, too, not Victoria Holt, but she wrote sort of English women in jeopardy stuff. Dorothy Eden! Mom had lots of Mary Stewart, but I never got into those.

There was one other author, too, and I can't remember her name, damn it.

Phyllis A. Whitney!

OH MY GOD YES. Thank you!

It was bothering me too, Amy. Now help me think of the Jane or Joan person who wrote gothics, british, sort of family saga-ish things?

And DuMaurier--again, practically everything she ever wrote. Apparently I didn't read anything written by a man for about ten years!