To contribute to the nostalgic book talk, I quite liked Harry Potter when they began to arrive. It became a bit of the fad, but I enjoyed being 'with it' while it lasted. Earlier, of course, there had been Narnia, and a few classics, like the Illiad and the Odyssey. Also a collection of standard fairy tales and some of the main Viking tales. I also had a few Bible doses (treated a bit like a vitamin, taken now and then in small doses for general education) here and there, but there was never really any pressure. I had a little book that was essentially a children's highlight reel of the Bible, which I quite liked. On reflection, it's hardly a wonder that I proved to be fertile ground for Narnia...
And, of course, a generous helping of Astrid Lindgren's main works, with about thrice my bodyweight of Donald Duck comics.
The funny thing is, I gave Lord of the Rings a go, since I really liked The Hobbit, but it never clicked, it and I, not until my late teens. It just never got rolling, there was always another long and stodgy bump in the road. 'Chapter 9, in which the party nearly sets off, but Sam forgets to notify the milkman and Pippin sing a 3-page song about bread'. I can appreciate that sort of slow, meandering story now, but it was a bit much for a mediocre nine-year-old. The Hobbit got going and back home again in the time it took Mr. Frodo to change his underpants, it felt like.
Of course, later came the films. I really liked them and knew I ought not to. Deciding to like them anyway was a choice I still remember making.
About the only poetry I read were the Tales of Ensign Stål, which I still have around and read now and then. Not always popular to mention in public, I learned. A lot of teachers saw problematic, maybe nationalistic old war stories in it, but I still think that book beat the hell out of 'Sune has an arguement with his parents and gets lost in the woods like an idiot' and the other such class-mandated material.