Another book read as a teen; if I looked at it today it would probably seem like a parody of itself (not that I wasn't laughing at it when I was 13). My parents had to clean out five years worth of questionable books and publications from the back of my closet, along with my second string of stuffed animals and dolls, after I moved 450 miles away. Springing to mind now is a lovely memory from those teen years. My wide reading habits (true crime, sexuality, psychology, occult, horror, medicine, religions, along with other less "inappropriate" publications) apparently raised some eyebrows at my local library branch. One of the librarians felt the need to call my mom; the concerned staffer asked my mother whether she knew what kind of books I was checking out. My mom said no, and that she didn't want to. After I found out about that, I would sometimes simply walk out of the building with the books I wanted, without performing the required transaction, and would return them at night via the after hours book drop. Good thing I wasn't a "troubled" youth, I'm sure that if I were ever suspected of anything heinous this misguided lady would have jumped up with a juicy, cherry picked list of my interest infractions. I love you, Mom.