As a teenage kid I read lots. It was my escape in a busy household. We didn’t have much money and I remember a lot of tension. My dad was laid off during the big recession of the early 80’s—Maggie Thatcher’s Britain, which seemed to threaten every working class family in the nation. We had our black and white TV—but kids’ TV was rare and if dad was in, the TV was HIS!!!
I look at my dad now and laugh, because even though his 3 grandkids that live with him have a TV in their rooms, they still get to choose the program, more often than not! I think it simply means less to him these days and goodness knows my dad has mellowed with age. He probably doesn’t realize it, but now I have his temper!!
So books were my escape.
I remember reading the Silver Brumby series by Elaine Mitchell. I looked for these books for my daughter, but can’t find them anywhere. All about horses in the Australian Blue mountains. They were so good I’d start the beginning again the moment I finished the end--I’d read them twelve, twenty times in a row.
Then I read all the James Herriot books, Richards Adams, Harper Lee, Stephen Donaldson, David Eddings and finally my granny’s Mills & Boons. I was such an angel child the librarian assumed they were just for granny—but she’d share with me :D
I think I probably learned more about sex from those stories than from all the sex education classes in school!! But the message was always, that sex was between consenting, committed adults (committed to each other, not insane).
I think I was thirteen. How old would your child be before you let them read a sexy romance???