11. Secondhand bookshop gem
Lord of the Flies is one of my favourite books, and this battered, fucked up copy is one of my favourite books (as in, the physical object). I came across it on a rickety stall in Camden market, where it was swept up by my friend and duly delivered to me for my birthday in December (my birthday is in August, but she’s usually about six months behind schedule). Everything from the frankly terrifying front cover to the barely-hanging-together feel and pencilled annotation endear me to the daft old thing.