If you ask me who my favorite author is, I’d say Tamora Pierce without a second thought. I can tell you when I first discovered her books (fourth grade), where I found them (I can picture the exact shelf I found Wild Magic at that library book sale), why I loved them (medieval female heroines!), and why I love Tamora Pierce (I call her Tammy in my infatuated mind). Sure, I have backup favorite authors for when I need to sound smart at college interviews and for talking with friends who like to read other genres, but Tamora Pierce was my first author love.
And therefore, I didn’t realize that there were flaws in my favorite author’s writing style or character development until I stumbled upon The Reviews – as in, any review that doesn’t speak well of her works. I like to think that Tammy’s books are perfection, but these are books that I’ve read over and over again throughout the years, so my ability to truly analyze her works may be debatable.
That’s when I noticed that I tend to clutch onto the title of “favorite author” like a security blanket, something that I can fall back on in awkward breaks in conversations and moments of soul-searching. I fall back on my favorite author when I need to define myself. I do the same thing with my favorite color, my favorite musician and favorite band, my favorite food, et cetera. Even when I don’t have just one favorite thing, I spend more time than I need to just trying to think of something so that I can say, “This is who I am! This is what I like!”
Having a favorite author (or a favorite anything) gives me a sense of security and stability, and even though I might like other things more than my favorites, I’d like to think that my favorites make me who I am today after many years of self-discovery. I’m the type of person who needs a strong sense of self (possibly typical of an INFP) and shouting out Tamora Pierce’s name makes me happy and confident.
Do you have a favorite author? What’s your take on having favorites?