This is possibly the first "adult" book that I ever read. The Last Vampire. Just the name rings loud gongs inside my nostalgia bone. 
 I started out by habitually reading Christopher Pike's middle grade series "Spooksville" while the rest of my peers were raving over Goosebumps (thinking back to it now, wtf were us 10 year olds doing reading books? I was told very clearly that us young people don't read enough!). At some point I made the jump over to his adult series (YA before YA was coined, I think), and... 
 I have no idea if this is a good book or not. I can't tell you if the characters are well rounded, the plot fully fleshed out, the prose sweet and succulent. I remember nothing. But that nothing is a fond nothing. It's a nothing that is probably a large part of what made me an author. I suspect that my writing is closely linked to these formative books more so than the authors I currently claim to be my favourites. 
 5 stars because nostalgia.