My mother was an avid reader who took myself and my younger brother to the local library once a week from an early age. From the Janet and John books at school, through the Ladybird books, various illustrated books then somehow a jump to the magic world of "proper" books with occasional or no pictures. The Famous Five, Secret Seven, Just William, Biggles, even Billy Bunter though I didn't enjoy that so much. Beatrix Potter? I wasn't too keen on that kind of thing, similarly The Wind in the Willows, though it was a few years before I learned that it was called anthropomorphism. Yet I enjoyed cartoons with the same theme of animals in clothes doing human things. Paradoxical, or what?
I particularly remember "Swallows and Amazons" thinking how could their parents let kids loose in a boat without an older person about to supervise them? Surely they would all drown? Obviously, they didn't. In the last year or so at primary school we were allowed to take books from the Book Cupboard. Some of them were Time-Life type books with colourful photography of wildlife and exotic places with adult levels of language, but plenty of other stuff for our reading age. In the final year we had to write a mini review of each one, a bit more than "I enjoyed that", before we were allowed to take another one.
There were comics, and when visiting my grandparents during school holidays there was a stack of Readers Digests going back years to wade through.
The Hornblower series, Jules Verne, George Orwell, even Dickens, which showed me that even older writers were still vey readable. Then I discovered modern Science Fiction. We went to live in the Middle East for a year, in a place with no English Language TV so in the afternoons when everyone retired to their air conditioned bedrooms due to the heat, myself and my brother would read to the accompaniment of the rumbling air con. We got through a lot of books from the local library that year. Our fate was sealed.
Ever since, dear reader, I've been a reader.