We all make mistakes in our youth. In retrospect, some of these episodes of misguided bravado will no doubt be the source of a certain pride, to be fondly recalled from the comfort of the rocking chair and punctuated by liberal swallows of Scotch. On the other hand, transgressions of a more damning variety, such as setting fire to the family pet or cultivating a questionable beard, are the sort of youthful folly that will no doubt haunt us to the grave. In particular, the literary endeavours of the precocious adolescent often inspire a kind of shame and nausea in later life sufficient to drive their author to take permanent refuge in the garden shed and engage in soothing chit chat with her begonias.

Fortunately, the majority of these nascent efforts remain confined to diaries and locked drawers, never to impinge upon the adult lives of their creators. Consider for a moment an alternative scenario, in which the fruits of these literary efforts somehow made it into general circulation. Furthermore, imagine that the content of these works was not concerned with wooing the next-door neighbour or giving insight into the fragile soul of their composer, but instead provided step-by-step instructions as to the best methods of committing mass murder. A moment of pity then, for William Powell.

In 1971, at the tender the age of nineteen, Powell conceived a hideous brainchild in the form of The Anarchist Cookbook. His monstrous literary birth would proceed to pursue him doggedly into his adult life, wreaking havoc with his conscience whilst merrily drooling. Powell insists that as the “misguided product of my adolescent anger at the prospect of being drafted and sent to Vietnam to fight in a war I did not believe in”, the work had fundamentally good intentions. However its contents – an assortment of recipes for the manufacture of bombs and hallucinogenic drugs, hastily cobbled together – speaks otherwise.

Even bona fide anarchists were unimpressed by Powell’s efforts. The anarchist association CrimethInc rejected the book as failing to “promote freedom and autonomy or challenge repressive power”. More to the point, it noted that the recipes themselves are “notoriously unreliable”. The FBI also had its say on the matter after putting together an investigative file on the work due to ts potentially harmful impact. They gave the book a public scathing, branding it “one of the crudest, low brow, paranoiac pieces of writing ever attempted”/

The author’s subsequent regrets relating to his work have been compounded by its association with a string of violent incidents. In 2007, a seventeen year old practical joker faced charges (subsequently dropped) under terrorism law for posessing of a copy of the book. More seriously, Ian Davidson and his son were found in possession of a copy when charged in 2010 with the manufacture of ricin in County Durham, whilst in 2013 a Karl Pierson – the perpetrator of a school shooting in Colorado – was also linked to the work.

As a result of its widespread condemnation as an accessory to terrorist violence, The Anarchist Cookbook was temporarily dropped by its publishers. In defence of what could be regarded as an act of censorship, they justified their decision with the questionable assertion that the work “served no social purpose” and therefore warranted removal from print. However, it was soon brought back into circulation, much to the consternation of Powell, who now possessed no copyright over his creation. A born-again Christian, over the course of his adult life he has engaged in repeated attempts to distance himself from his work and remove it from the public eye.

Despite the agonies of its author, the work is more popular than ever, its online availability and notorious reputation further embedding it in the popular consciousness. Like the ill-advised tattoo of a teenage crush, The Anarchist Cookbook is here to stay.