Can a character of a certain age appeal to people of all ages?

So here they are, two of my favourite books.

On the one hand, The Thursday Murder Club (I'm still only halfway through by the way, so no spoilers please!)...

And on the other, And the Mountains Echoed.

If I was looking for a reaction, (which of course I am ;-), I'd say one featured a bunch of creaky old-age pensioners (that's not my view btw, I love old people)... the other an array of different characters of all ages, but it starts with the story of the special bond between two young siblings, brother and sister, Abdullah and Pari.

So if you were 20 years old, with no responsibilities in life other than paying rent; no real experience of having your heart truly broken and stamped all over; no real career to speak of just yet; and no kids, would you (could you?) be interested in either of these stories?

I say yes.

But you know society. Society loves nothing more than to try and pigeon-hole people and fit them into little boxes. But some people aren't meant to stay in their box. They are meant to break free and live a little. Some even get a little delight at proving the 'pigeon-holers' wrong.

So how do you make any character, no matter their age, appeal to people of all ages?

Well, let's think about Elizabeth, one of the old-age pensioners in Richard Osman's The Thursday Murder Club, who lives at a posh retirement village where she and three of her friends have set up a weekly club to investigate unsolved murders. But when real-life murder occurs, that's when things get interesting.

What exactly is Elizabeth's appeal? Well, first of all, she's #mysterious with a past that hints of something like a spy. She's also #feisty and #clever and #wily (but not in a bad way). But best of all, she's ballsy (I'm choosing not to hashtag that one, for obvious reasons...). She's a rebel, who gets away with tricking people stupid enough to believe that old people have forgotten how to think for themselves, or how to misbehave.

The chapter where she tricks the police into believing she is a nun who has had her handbag stolen, just to get the female officer, PC Donna De Freitas, on board with the murder case had me laughing out loud. Why? Well an old friend of mine once described me as the biggest understated rebel ever - which is pretty spot on as it goes. I don't want to be pigeon-holed or told I can't do something by someone who doesn't even know, or understand, me. But my rebellious side comes out quietly, in the way that I think, and the path I tend to take (I always tend to take the hardest route possible to achieve my goal, not deliberately, but that's just how it seems to go). But - I'm also terribly British and hate causing a scene or offending anyone - so I absolutely love it when people just don't care and do something anyway (not in a rude way, but in a don't-care-kind-of-way). I'd love to impersonate a nun (if required) but I'd be too worried about getting arrested for impersonation. But that's the thing about Elizabeth. She doesn't care. She's also very loyal and kind, and visits her friend Penny, who has dementia, long after others have given up on her. But it's her comment to her friend's husband, John, that sums her up completely, when he reminds her she probably shouldn't be using her mobile phone in the nursing home, to which she replies, "Well, imagine if we only ever did what we were supposed to, John?" I love that brazen attitude. She's also funny. So when you line up all the adjectives that describe her in a row - #mysterious, #feisty, #clever, #wily, #rebel, ballsy (still not doing it), #funny, #loyal, #kind - then what is there NOT to love about the creaky old-age pensioner with a fantastic element of surprise about her?

As for Khaled Hosseini's beautiful ode to sibling love, he starts And The Mountains Echoed with a beautifully told fairy tale about the div - a huge, scary creature of gigantic proportions that takes children from their parents by visiting villages and asking parents to choose between their children. But it is that terrible choice that tortures the parent and leaves them guilt-ridden for life.

It is the background of this fairy tale that then leads into the story of Abdullah and his little sister Pari who travel on a journey across the desert in a tiny wagon with their father. The siblings, we learn, lost their mother after she died giving birth to Pari. Since then, their father has remarried, but it was seven-year-old Abdullah who took on the responsibility for caring for baby Pari after their mother died, waking up in the night to feed his baby sister and change her nappy.

Abdullah's loyalty to his sister is repaid, however, with bucket loads of love from Pari, with Hosseini writing, "Pari's hand quickly slipped into Abdullah's. She was looking up at him, her eyes liquid, and she was smiling her gap-toothed smile like no bad thing would ever befall her so long as he stood at her side."

But of course it does, because when they reach their destination, the unsuspecting brother has to stand by and watch helplessly as his father gives his beloved sister away to a stranger - breaking his heart and leaving a scar that stays for the remainder of his life.

With Hosseini's clever story set-up, and his beautiful, heart-wrenching description of the love between Abdullah and his baby sister, how could any reader not be drawn deeply into that story?

So why, you ask, am I talking about this?

Well, because my debut novel, Boom's Graffiti Boy, features a group of teenagers whose story - on the face of it - should not appeal to all age groups. But actually, I think it does (and as it goes, I've already road-tested my story on my 86-year-old neighbour who despite the swearing, uncomfortable scenes of domestic violence and the sex, still managed to give it a thumbs up).

What is it about my story that I think makes it appealing to people of all ages? Because like both the stories above, they have characters who are struggling and vulnerable, but who are funny and bright and want to fight back.

Boom, my teenage protagonist, has to sit by and helplessly watch as his stepdad beats the crap out of his mum every day. So scared of his stepdad, and so traumatised by the attacks, that when they are going on, he has to hide in his wardrobe with his music cranked so high it drowns out the noise of the attacks.

Luckily for Boom, he has an amazing set of friends to distract him... secondary school kids by day, graffiti crew by night. For Boom, graffiti provides an escape from what's going on at home. But it also gives him freedom - freedom to express himself, but more importantly, freedom to have a voice, in a world where he would otherwise not have one.

Ultimately, Boom's Graffiti Boy, is a tale of friendship and how it carries you through life. And how the decision to sink, or swim, is ours and ours alone.

Boom is #vulnerable and #scared. He's also #funny, #creative and #talented. As well as #superloyal, and a #fighter in a world where he doesn't really have any fight left.

Is that something a reader, of any age, could identify with?

I think so.