Andy Stanton's story about The Wasp Factory

One day, when I was a confused young 13-year-old (as opposed to the confused young 35-year-old I am today) I was travelling to school on the tube when I noticed a man sitting opposite me. He was reading an interesting-looking book. The cover was stark - mostly black - and the title set my imagination racing: 'The Wasp Factory'. It sounded cool and harsh and weird and I resolved to read it ASAP.

Later that day - that same day, mind - our English teacher came into the classroom with a stack of books which were not on the syllabus but which he said we should read to broaden our own horizons. Reading, he said, was not something to be confined to academic study. It wasn't a duty but a pleasure. Then he laid his selection of books out on the table. Amongst them was 'The Wasp Factory'. It seemed like a sign so I made a beeline for it (sorry, sorry, terrible pun).

And it was everything I was hoping for: Ultra-twisted, darkly funny, disturbing, sick and liberating. I was already a big reader but 'The Wasp Factory' opened me up to a whole new way of thinking. I felt like I'd found a new friend. A dangerous, unpredictable friend, yes. But sometimes we need to be challenged and shocked out of our normal belief systems.

'The Wasp Factory' was an essential part of my teenage years and helped me to re-think everything I thought I knew about books. Thank you Iain Banks. Thank you, English teacher. Thank you man sitting opposite me on the tube. You all conspired to help me become the strange individual I am today and I wouldn't have it any other way.