Where The Wild Things Are, has always had a special place in my heart. It's the first book I can ever recall reading -looking at the pictures? -, and I think that was before I could walk! My parents were big on reading, and always buying books for us kids.
I then graduated to the Mr Men series, loving all of those, and a little later, I distinctly remember enjoying Charlie and The Great Glass Elevator even more than Charlie and The Chocolate Factory,
However, my innocence was shattered when, at age eleven, immersed in a YA novel I was reading as part of a charity read-a-thon, my elder brother, who caught Dad's gambling bug early and used to drag me into the school library and bet his friends that I could read faster than they could, said "That's cheating, why don't you read a proper book?," and threw me The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, by Agatha Christie.
From that moment on, I devoured almost every one of my parent's novels, including the 'to be kept out of reach of impressionable young children' secret stash of erotic Sidney Sheldon's, a lot of crime fiction, and Roald Dahl's adult works.