Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts

Saturday 3 February 2024

My Year in Books 2024: January

A new year and a new set of book review posts. I read quite a bit in December, but actually I've been struggling a bit with reading for fun again. I've got plenty of books on my to-read pile, but I've been find it hard to find the time and the concentration for reading them all. I'm hoping this will get better as the year goes on though.

That said, I did read two amazing books in January!

The Mysterious Case of the Alperton Angels by Janice Hallett (2023)


I’ve absolutely loved all of Janice Hallett’s books, so I was definitely looking forward to this one. I got this one out of the library on a recent visit, and as I had a day off I decided to read it all in one go. Like Hallett’s other books, this one has a quirky narrative format and tricksy storytelling style. It’s not quite as tricksy as The Appeal and The Twyford Code, and so it’s slightly easier to work out what you’re looking for and where the clues are in this one. The story is about a true crime writer, Amanda Bailey, who is tasked by her publisher with looking into the case of the Alperton Angels, a cult who committed mass suicide seventeen years ago. The so-called Alperton Angels had planned to sacrifice a baby prior to their deaths, but this plan was thwarted and the baby – along with its teenaged parents – were removed from the scene. No one knows what happened to the baby afterwards, but now that it will be reaching eighteen years of age, Amanda thinks this might be the angle she needs for her book. Unfortunately, an old colleague/rival, Oliver Menzies, is also writing a book on the case, so Amanda has to try and stay one step ahead of him. Of course, this being a book by Janice Hallett, things aren’t quite what they seem. I really enjoyed this one, though it didn’t quite beat The Twyford Code for me. Very engrossing story though!

Five Minds by Guy Morpuss (2021)


I read Morpuss’s second novel Black Lake Manor at the end of 2022/beginning of 2023, and really enjoyed it. I don’t know why it took me so long to read his debut novel, but I’m glad I have done now. The story is set in the near future when an undefined totalitarian regime has stepped in to control overpopulation and depletion of resources. Human beings now have a choice of how to live: be a worker (live your life as normal, but work for it), be an android (have your consciousness downloaded into an artificial body with a lifespan of 80 years), be a hedonist (enjoy your life without having to work, but only with a lifespan of 42 years), or join a commune (five minds inhabiting one body, enjoying 5 lifespans). This is the story of a commune made up of Alex, Kate, Mike, Sierra and Ben, who are each conscious for 4 hours a day, controlling the body that they all share. So far, so Black Mirror. But Five Minds is actually so much more intriguing (and the mind-bendy sci-fi context is very light-touch). It’s a mystery novel told through multiple narrators who can never co-exist or communicate with one another. Someone is trying to kill off members of the commune, and it’s possible one of the members is a traitor – but how can they ever work out the truth, if they each only get four hours at a time? This is such a good book – highly recommended.

Saturday 20 January 2024

Review: Fantastically Great Women Who Changed the World – The Musical (Kenny Wax Family Entertainment and MAST Mayflower Studios)

Thursday 7 December 2023
The Lowry, Salford

On Thursday 7th December, I was at The Lowry for the press night of Fantastically Great Women Who Changed the World, a musical based on the picture book by Kate Pankhurst. The radio version of this review will be going out on Hannah's Bookshelf on North Manchester FM on Saturday 20th January, but here’s the blog version…


Fantastically Great Women Who Changed the World has been adapted from the picture book of the same name by Kate Pankhurst, with the stage adaptation by Chris Bush, music by Miranda Cooper and Jennifer Decilveo, and lyrics by Chris Bush and Miranda Cooper. It’s a one-act show, with four of the cast taking on multiple roles.

The framing narrative introduces us to Jade (Georgia Grant-Anderson), a young girl who wanders away from a school trip to a museum and finds herself in the ‘Gallery of Greats’, a section of the museum that’s off-limits to visitors. Actually, it’s not strictly true to say Jade wanders off – she’s actually left behind by her teachers and classmates, kicking off the show’s underlying storyline about self-discovery and self-worth.

As she wonders why no one ever pays her any attention, Jade is interrupted by the arrival of the first ‘Fantastically Great Women’: Amelia Earhart (Leah Vassell), Gertrude Ederle (Chlöe Hart) and Sacagawea (Elena Breschi), who perform an energetic number about finding where you want to go in life (the theme being the reason for the particular grouping of these three women). After this, Jade is immersed fully in the ‘Gallery of Greats’, meeting a parade of figures from history, including Frida Kahlo, Emmeline Pankhurst, Marie Curie, Jane Austen, Mary Anning, Mary Seacole and Rosa Parks, all played by Vassell, Hart, Breschi and Jennifer Caldwell.

The overall design of the show captures something of the picture book quality of its source. Joanna Scotcher’s costume and set design are bold and colourful, often using a single colour for a character. Outfits also make clear visual reference to the lives and careers of the women: Gertrude Ederle, the first woman to swim the English Channel, is wearing a bathing suit, for instance, and Frida Kahlo is wearing a flower crown similar to those depicted in her self-portraits. Props are big and eye-catching, with an almost cartoonish quality to them that makes them more like symbols than real objects.

Elena Breschi, photo credit Pamela Raith Photography

But it’s not just about the visuals here. The performance style is similarly bold and colourful, with energetic – almost frenetic – dance routines (choreographed by Danielle ‘Rhimes’ Lecointe) that see the performers climbing, jumping and moving the set around, disappearing through doors and reemerging as different characters.

In the middle of this is Jade, who is dressed in a notably grey school uniform. Jade typically begins each new number as a static observer, sometimes at the sidelines, sometimes caught up in the middle of the whirlwind. She often looks confused by the appearance of a new group of ‘Greats’, asking questions or ducking to get out of the way of whatever high-energy ensemble has burst from the doors. Without fail, though, she gets drawn into the performance, joining in the dance and taking inspiration from the words of the song and the careers of the women.

Georgia Grant-Anderson, photo credit Pamela Raith Photography

It feels as though Jade is imagined as an avatar for the audience (or, at least, for its younger members). She speaks of feeling overlooked and ignored, and of wanting to find her own path in life. Although there are some specific details about her home life given, her story is generic enough for the audience to identify with her situation. So, when the ‘Great Women’ speak to Jade, giving her lessons on how to find her path in life, they are also speaking to the audience, offering inspirational stories to younger viewers (girls, of course, but there’s no reason why boys shouldn’t take inspiration from the stories as well) who might be having the same self-doubts as Jade.

The message of the show is really not subtle, but then again that should be pretty clear from the title! However, just because the message is transparent doesn’t mean that the overall show lacks depth or subtlety.

As someone who is considerably older than the target audience for Pankhurst’s book, but someone with a background in both academic research and public engagement, I was very curious to see just how ‘deep’ the historical content of the show would go. And, I have to say, I was very impressed.

The songs that introduce these figures from history are all – as you might imagine – the length of a standard musical number. And that’s not a lot of time to cover, not only the salient facts of a woman’s career, but also the context in which she lived and the impact her work had on subsequent generations (how she ‘Changed the World’). And yet, that is exactly what the songs manage to do, and all in a format and language that will be accessible to school-age children.

The songs cover aspects of discrimination – sexism, as you might imagine, but also racism and classism – as well as introducing some of the more personal challenges the individual women faced. Frida Kahlo, for instance, introduces her song by explaining the physical disabilities she had as a result of childhood polio and the bus accident that left her seriously injured as a young woman. She speaks of how this prevented her from following her original ambitions, and how she turned to painting during her recovery. It’s heavy stuff, and it’s hard not to feel some of the pain in Breschi’s powerful performance, which is at turns uplifting and defiant.

But I really have to say something about Emmeline Pankhurst – surely the most memorable appearance in the show.

Jennifer Caldwell, photo credit Pamela Raith Photography

Emmeline Pankhurst (Jennifer Caldwell) is played here as a military general. Taking inspiration from the phrase ‘soldiers in petticoats’, which appears in the ‘Sister Suffragette’ song in Mary Poppins and is repeated in Fantastically Great Women, the show ditches the petticoats and just has its suffragettes appear as soldiers, in purple combat trousers, military jackets and fringed epaulettes. Caldwell’s Emmeline (with, perhaps, a deeper Lancashire accent than the historic Emmeline would have had, though its nice to have a nod to her northern roots) captures the militancy of the suffragette movement, as well as the imposing, formidable reputation of its founder. Her performance is way more confrontational than any of the others in the show, with Caldwell taking a handheld mic from her pocket and rapping at one point, but it’s hard to argue with what she’s saying. By the end of the song, the audience is fired up and ready to follow her, shouting ‘Deeds Not Words’ whenever she gestures. It’s a stylization, but a really original one that evokes, rather than straightforwardly depicts, the unnerving force behind the WSPU and the suffragette cause.

Two other quite different highlights for me were the song ‘Mary, Mary and Marie’, which imagines Mary Anning (Hart), Mary Seacole (Vassell) and Marie Curie (Breschi) as a trio of superheroes, led by the mysterious Agent Fifi (aka WWII secret agent and spy-trainer Marie Christine Chilver, played by Caldwell). ‘Zany’ is probably the vibe here, with physical comedy and silly costumes giving way to some more down-to-earth commentary on the obstacles faced by the women during their lifetimes. It’s very good fun, and I loved the inclusion of Agent Fifi, probably one of the show’s lesser-known historical figures (and, to be honest, still appropriately enigmatic by the end of the show!).

Leah Vassell, Georgia Grant-Anderson, photo credit Pamela Raith Photography

Towards the end of the show, we have the most moving and reflective number, which serves as a reminder that, while some battles can be won, others tragically can’t. Jade meets Rosa Parks (Vassell) who is dressed in less stylized clothing and is seated on a bench. They speak about structural inequalities, particularly relating to racial inequalities and discrimination, and then Parks introduces another young girl. It is Anne Frank, played by Millie Kiss (who has not appeared as any of the other ‘Great Women’). The song that follows, ‘World of Colour’, is sung by Parks to her two young companions, and it successfully negotiates trauma and resilience with a tone that is both poignant and beautiful.

Overall, Fantastically Great Women Who Changed the World is a very fun show that will certainly capture the imagination, if not inspire, audience members of all ages. Younger viewers will enjoy seeing the historical figures they’ve encountered in school lessons or Kate Pankhurst’s original book brought to life on stage with vivid colours and vibrant performances. But older viewers will also find a lot to enjoy, and I suspect there were quite a few people planning to Google ‘Agent Fifi’ after the show I saw.

But, most importantly for a musical, the songs are catchy, the dances and costumes memorable, and the finale infectiously upbeat. It’s a very fun night out – for all ages. This one is a strong recommendation from me.

Fantastically Great Women Who Changed the World was on at The Lowry on 5th December-7th January, as part of a national tour. For upcoming tour dates and more information about the show, please visit the show's website.

Tuesday 1 August 2023

My Year in Books 2023: July

Time for my July post about what I've been reading for fun recently. It's been a busy old time, but there are still four books on this month's list, so that's not too bad!

In case you're curious, here are my posts from the rest of the year so far: January, February, March, April, May, June

And here are the books I read in July...

The Twyford Code by Janice Hallett (2022)


I’ve been saving this one for a treat, as I read Hallett’s novel The Appeal last year and absolutely loved it. I deliberately didn’t read anything about The Twyford Code beforehand, as a lot of the fun of The Appeal was going into it without any expectations, and I was hoping that would be the case with Hallett’s next novel. Like The Appeal, The Twyford Code uses an unconventional but very engaging storytelling technique. Here, the narration is presented to the reader as a series of transcripts of audio recordings made by a man named Steven Smith who has recently been released from prison. Steven recalls an incident – a mystery, really – that happened when he was at school, and his recordings narrate his determined quest to solve the puzzle. The mystery revolves around the eponymous code – a puzzle allegedly buried in the books of children’s author Edith Twyford. While Twyford’s work has fallen out of favour for its outdated views and style (and the comparison with Enid Blyton isn’t subtle), some people believe that her books contain coded messages that, if deciphered, will lead to… well… that depends on who you’re listening to. Steven has realized that what happened in his childhood has a connection to the Twyford Code, and so his audio recordings describe his attempt to solve the puzzle. I’m being very circumspect, because there’s a lot more going on here than you might think. And it’s wonderful, so I don’t want to spoil it in any way!

Bournville by Jonathan Coe (2022)


The blurb for Bournville intrigued me, as it promised a sweeping look at Britain in the second half of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first, but through the prism of a single family in a single location. The setting is the model village of Bournville, which sits on the edge of Birmingham and was created by the Cadbury family to house workers at their chocolate factory. Because I didn’t know much about the book before I started reading it, I wasn’t quite prepared for the format the story takes – though I very much enjoyed the format! The story follows the family of Mary, who we first meet in a prologue set in 2020, as a grandmother who communicates with her family via Skype at the outbreak of the COVID lockdown. We then go back to 1945 to see Mary as a child at VE day, before dipping in and out of Mary’s life over the ensuing decades, dropping in on her family at key moments (e.g. the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, the 1966 World Cup). Mary isn’t the protagonist as such, as we see very little from her perspective. Instead, we see snippets of the lives of her nearest and dearest, and the effects of social change (both big and small) on them. What I loved about the book is the ordinariness of the lives depicted. There are no huge twists here, but rather a poignant presentation of the beauty and significance in even the ‘smallest’ of lives.

The Brighton Mermaid by Dorothy Koomson (2018)


This is the first book by Dorothy Koomson that I’ve read, but it won’t be the last. I loved the way this book was written, and the narrative style was absolutely to my taste. However, it was the premise that grabbed me in the first instance, as I have a real soft spot for cold case stories. The cold case in The Brighton Mermaid dates to 1993, when two friends, Nell and Jude, discover the body of a young woman on Brighton beach. There are chapters set in the 1990s, which cover the immediate aftermath of the discovery, but also the disappearance of Jude shortly afterwards. We then switch to the present day (sort of) to see Nell as she approaches the twenty-fifth anniversary of the two incidents, obsessed with finally solving the two mysteries. I say ‘sort of’, because there are also some chapters set at other points in the intervening years, so you do need to pay attention to the date at the beginning of the chapter to follow the sequence of events. I’ll admit that there were elements of the solution that stretched credulity, but that really doesn’t matter here, as this is such a well-written book with such a compelling central character (and some intriguing secondary characters) that I could accept a few larger-than-life villains who are quite easy to spot. The narration of The Brighton Mermaid is fragmented by design, but there’s still a real sense of pace and momentum to the storytelling. Highly recommended.

The Sanctuary by Emma Haughton (2022)


Next up was another library book. I chose this one because it promised a locked room mystery in an unusual location. The blurb said that the story was about Zoey, a young woman who wakes up after a night of partying in New York to find herself in an unknown location, an isolated white building in the middle of a desert. The building seems to be completely deserted… and then the screaming starts. I have to be honest and say that this was a bit misleading. While all of that does happen, it’s in the first chapter, and by Chapter 2 all of these mysteries have been cleared up. Zoey isn’t in a deserted building, but in a rehab centre (admittedly it is in the middle of the desert). The mystery isn’t really the screaming, but rather it’s the reason why Zoey has ended up at an elite and expensive facility with no memory of the journey. There is a murder part way through the story, but this is just one part of the ‘what the hell is going on?’ storyline, rather than the only focus. This isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy The Sanctuary, just more that I was a little disappointed that it wasn’t actually a locked room mystery (an isolated location isn’t the same as a locked room). The story’s well-written, and I enjoyed the character of Zoey, who’s deliberately unlikeable but also strangely sympathetic, but it’s more of a thriller than a mystery in the end.

Sunday 9 July 2023

My Year in Books 2023: June

I'm a little late posting this one again, but here's my monthly post about the books I read for pleasure in June. It's not a massively long list this time, but there you go.

In case you're interested, here are my posts from previous months this year: January, February, March, April, May

The Charmed Life of Alex Moore by Molly Flatt (2018)


I’ve had this book out of the library for a while, but I’ve finally found time to read it. As always, I went into this one with no real expectations, except that it looked like slightly gentler fare than I usually read (and, to be honest, I based that simply on the cover). While I wouldn’t say I was completely surprised by the novel, it certainly went in a very different direction than I was anticipating. The book’s central character is Alex – who goes by her middle name, her first name being Dorothy. When the story (and if you’ve read the book, you’ll know how charged that word is!) begins, Alex is a few months into a major change of direction in her life. She recently quit her job, started an online wellbeing company, and – according to her nearest and dearest – changed her personality and outlook. Alex is riding high on a new-found confidence and assertiveness, but a series of strange things happen that threaten to undermine her happiness. She’s the victim of a mugging, and then an unsettling visitor to her company’s office throws a shadow over her success. But are these things connected? As I said, Flatt’s novel heads off on a journey that you probably won’t see coming. It’s a little bit more speculative than the cover and blurb would have you believe. Nevertheless, it’s told with a charm and warmth that will carry you through the fantastical elements to the real human story at its heart.

The Double Life of Daisy Hemmings by Joanna Nadin (2022)


The similarity of titles between the first two books this month was a complete accident! And they really are quite different! The Double Life of Daisy Hemmings is, in some ways, familiar fare. In 1988, seventeen-year-old Jason lives in a small town in Cornwall. He works in the pub run by his alcoholic father with his older sister who… let’s just say she finds her own entertainment. In the summer of 1988, a group of friends arrive to stay at a big house on a nearby island. These friends – Daisy, her twin sister Bea, Hal, Julian and Muriel – are older than Jason, wealthy, educated and impossibly glamorous. He instantly falls under the group’s spell, and instantly falls for Daisy herself. As I say, this is a familiar story, with shades of The Secret History and books of that type. What lifts Nadin’s novel into more original (more interesting) territory is that the 1988 chapters are only half the story. They are alternated with chapters set in 2018, as Daisy approaches her fiftieth birthday and engages a ghostwriter named James to work on her autobiography. James is – and this isn’t a spoiler, as it’s right there on the blurb – harbouring some secrets of his own, and the 2018 chapters allow us to see how the passage of time has affected and changed the group (or not). The big revelations are quite easy to spot (I guessed the big secret very early on), but this is still a fun and engaging read.

The Twilight Garden by Sara Nisha Adams (2023)


The next library book I read was chosen partly to for my radio show, and partly because it looked interesting. The Twilight Garden is set in London, specifically on a street called Eastbourne Road. 77 and 79 Eastbourne Road are neighbouring properties that share a communal garden. In autumn, when the book begins, the properties are inhabited by Winston and his boyfriend Lewis, and Bernice and her young son Seb. Winston and Bernice do not get on, and a particular bone of contention between the ‘warring neighbours’ is their shared garden. What we as readers learn quite quickly – and what Winston and Bernice will learn over time – is that the shared garden was once a community garden, open to the neighbourhood and a focal point of communal pride and sociability. As Winston and Bernice grudgingly come up with a way to share this space, their relationship with one another develops, but so too does their awareness of the importance of community. The Twilight Garden is an incredibly positive depiction of community, friendship and neighbourliness. The community garden at Eastbourne Road is a site for communal gatherings, but also mutual aid, wellbeing, culturally diverse celebrations (the first we see is a combined Diwali and Guy Fawkes Night fireworks display), and intergenerational friendships. It was where good neighbours didn’t just become good friends – they became family. And it may be up to Winston and Bernice to bring the community together again. A well-written and very readable book with a lot of heart.

Wednesday 21 June 2023

My Year in Books 2023: May

I'm a bit late posting this one, but here is my monthly blog post with mini-reviews of the books I read in May this year. There are only three this time. And wouldn't you know? They were all library books!

In case you're interested, here are my review posts for the rest of the year: January, February, March, April

The Last by Hanna Jameson (2019)


So I started the month (as I often do) with a library book. And this one had such an intriguing and original premise that I just couldn’t resist it. The Last takes place in a remote hotel in Switzerland… shortly after nuclear war has broken out and destroyed the world as we know it. Most of the guests and staff of L'Hotel Sixieme fled when news of the apocalypse broke – some even ended their own lives rather than draw out the inevitable. A small group, though, have chosen to stay, deciding that the hotel is as safe as anywhere else. One of the survivors is Jon Keller, an American historian who decides to document their experience in case anything of the human race survives. However, this is all derailed somewhat by the discovery of a body – a young girl has been murdered, and her killer could well be among the small group of survivors sheltering in the hotel. It’s like Z for Zachariah meets And Then There Were None! Okay, it turns out it’s not quite like that, but Jameson’s novel is certainly a compelling read and very much to my taste. I couldn’t help but notice the inspiration for L'Hotel Sixieme (it’s clearly modelled on the Cecil Hotel in Los Angeles, with the discovery of the girl’s body bearing grim similarities to the tragic death of Elisa Lam). But the story doesn’t quite go in the direction you might be expecting, and the denouement comes as quite a surprise!

Various Pets Alive and Dead by Marina Lewycka (2012)


Marina Lewycka’s A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian must rank among my favourite novels of all time. I also loved Two Caravans and We Are All Made of Glue, though the latter was a little bit more heavy-handed in its humour, which makes for something of a challenging read. I don’t know why it took me so long to read Various Pets Alive and Dead, but I’ve finally got around to it! It was a little bit of a surprise after the other three novels, but not necessarily in a bad way. The thing about this novel is that, compared to Lewycka’s earlier novels, it’s really rather gentle! The story revolves around Marcus Free and Doro Marchmont, radical left-wing activists who chose to raise their children in a commune. The novel is actually set years after the commune’s demise, when their daughter Clara is working as a secondary school teacher in Doncaster, and their son Serge (who’s told them he’s finishing up his PhD at Cambridge) has become an evil capitalist banker. Marcus and Doro are also raising the amazingly named Oolie-Anna (actually Ulyana), who has Down’s Syndrome and is the abandoned daughter of another commune member. The novel takes place during the 2008 financial crisis, with the family navigating the present, while remembering some of the things that happened in the commune to bring them to where they are now. It’s very readable, and really very charming, but it lacks the sucker-punch of some of Lewycka’s other writing.

The Keeper of Lost Things by Ruth Hogan (2016)


And next… another library book! I got this one out because last month I read another of Ruth Hogan’s books – Queenie Malone’s Paradise Hotel – and really enjoyed it. Even though it’s not my usual genre, I thought Hogan’s writing was so good that I wanted to read more of her work. The Keeper of Lost Things is the story of Anthony Peardew, a man who collects things that people have lost (a single glove, a child’s hair bobble). Anthony has lost something himself, you see, and this is his way to make up for this. I say this is Anthony’s story, but it’s really the story of Laura comes to work for Anthony and to whom he leaves his house and his collection when he dies. Anthony’s bequest comes with the condition that Laura must do everything she can to reunite the lost things with their owners, and in this she is helped by Freddy, Anthony’s attractive gardener, and Sunshine, a young woman with Down’s Syndrome who lives nearby. Intertwined is the story of Eunice and Bomber, but I won’t spoil that story too much or reveal how the two tales intersect (you’ll work that out as you read it!). The Keeper of Lost Things is definitely a bit of a lighter read that I would normally choose, but Hogan’s writing really is excellent. The central premise initially reminded me of Kate Atkinson’s Behind the Scenes at the Museum, but the story unfolds in quite a different (less painful) way.

Monday 1 May 2023

My Year in Books 2023: April

Well, this month's post is slightly longer than last month's. There are three books on this month's list! I'm quite pleased with that, as we've both been so ill I'm surprised I got chance to read anything at all!

My mini-reviews of the books I read in April are below, but in case you're interested, here are my posts for the rest of the year so far: January, February, March

Myst: The Book of Atrus by David Wingrove, Rand Miller and Robyn Miller (1995)


A while ago, me and my brother decided that we’d replay the Myst videogames together. We have very happy memories of playing the original Myst when it first came out in the 90s, and some vaguer memories of playing some (we’re not 100% sure which) of the sequels. We’ve been merrily (or should that be frustratedly?) working our way through the games, and we’re up to Uru: Ages Beyond Myst now. Sadly, we’ve had to put our weekly game sessions on hold in April due to illness. So this seemed like a good time to go full completist and read the novels! My brother read The Book of Atrus back in the 90s, but I’ve never read any of them before. If you know anything about the Myst games, then you might have guessed that the novels aren’t straightforward novelizations. Nothing as mundane as that! The Book of Atrus is more a prequel to the first game, which fills in a lot of the backstory and – much as I hate the word – lore that sits behind Myst. It’s a bit weird reading it several decades after first encountering the game, but I did enjoy the way it works as a parallel text to the game, and it’s very readable. Obviously, you don’t need to read the novel to understand the game itself, but it adds some interesting extra layers. It also adds some detail to Uru that perhaps would have been useful to us before we started that particular instalment!

Hag-Seed by Margaret Atwood (2016)


The next book I read this month was another library book. I’ve had this one checked out for ages, but somehow never seemed to get around to reading it. I got a bit of a nudge from the library, as I discovered this month that I’d renewed it the maximum number of times! I don’t know why it took me so long to get around to reading Hag-Seed because I generally really like Margaret Atwood’s writing (and I love a couple of her books), but I guess it just ended up buried in my to-read pile. I’m glad I dug it out though (at the library’s prompting), as I thoroughly enjoyed Hag-Seed. The story is a riff on Shakespeare’s The Tempest – partly a retelling, and partly an exploration of the themes of Shakespeare’s play. Felix Phillips is a theatre director who is ousted from his position as a director of a prestigious festival during preparations for a production of The Tempest. For twelve years, Felix lives in a (semi-)self-imposed exile, planning his revenge against the people who destroyed his career. He takes up a post teaching literature in a prison and devises a Shakespeare programme for inmates. The stage is then set for him to lure his enemies to his ‘island’ for a very special production of The Tempest. Hag-Seed is compelling and readable, with surprisingly sympathetic characters and some rather moving considerations on loss, revenge and imprisonment. I’m very glad it finally got to the top of my pile!

Queenie Malone's Paradise Hotel by Ruth Hogan (2019)


Another library book now… though not one that’s quite as overdue as the previous one! I’m not sure what led me to pick up Queenie Malone’s Paradise Hotel. Even a glance at the cover suggests it is not my usual sort of reading material, so it’s a bit of a mystery. However, I have to say I’m glad I picked it up. Yes – Hogan’s novel is absolutely not the sort of book I would normally read, but I actually really enjoyed it. The story is told across two different times and in two different voices. In the present day, we meet adult Tilda, a rather closed-off, even cold woman who had a difficult relationship with her mother. Tilda’s mother has died and we find the protagonist moving into her mother’s flat to sort through both the physical and psychological reminders of her childhood. These chapters are alternated with chapters about Tilly, a rather charming seven-year-old who lives with her mother after her father leaves for work. Essentially, the book is about Tilda’s task of reconciling her memories of childhood (including her stay at the eponymous Paradise Hotel with the larger-than-life Queenie) with revelations about what really happened – helped along by some diaries kept by her mother, and by her ability to see and speak to ghosts (something that I would normally find a bit annoying but actually works well here). It’s a story filled with warmth and – ultimately – forgiveness, but it steers on the right side of sentimental and saccharine.

Thursday 13 April 2023

My Year in Books 2023: March

This is a bit of a short post, I'm afraid (as well as being a bit late). March was a tough month for a number of reasons, and I had a couple of big things to read for work reasons. So there's only one title on this month's list - it's a good one though!

In case you're curious, here are my other two posts for this year so far: January, February

The Pursuit of William Abbey by Claire North (2019)


I’ve previously read and enjoyed a couple of Claire North books. I particularly liked The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August. William Abbey has similarities with Harry August, and there’s a passing comment that suggests they exist in the same ‘universe’. Nevertheless, this is a standalone story, rather than a sequel or crossover. The story begins with William Abbey as a listless young man in Victorian England. He trains as a doctor and ends up going to South Africa. There, he witnesses the lynching of a young boy called Langa. Abbey doesn’t intervene, and as a consequence is cursed by Langa’s mother. Forevermore, he will be followed by a ‘shadow’ of Langa, and whenever the shadow catches up with him, someone he loves will die. A significant element of the curse is that whenever Langa comes close, the doctor will be compelled to ‘truth-speaking’ – compulsively spilling the secrets of anyone who is around him at the time. Abbey is drafted into the secret service, as his ‘truth-speaking’ is a valuable tool in espionage, meets others who carry the same curse, and travels the world in an attempt to outrun Langa. It’s a fascinating premise, with North’s characteristic deceptively detached storytelling style. William Abbey is more direct in its social commentary than Harry August, particularly around empire and colonialism, and it’s more brutal in its violence. I probably did (just) prefer Harry August, but I’d still recommend William Abbey either as a standalone or as a companion to the earlier book.

Sunday 5 March 2023

My Year in Books 2023: February

Time for this month's book review post. And as is now usual, it's most library books with the occasional Abominable Books pick in the mix!

In case you're interested, here's my post from January. And here are the books I read in February...

The Nesting by C.J. Cooke (2020)


Another library book now! The Nesting begins with a woman called Lexi, who is recovering from a suicide attempt, breaking up with her boyfriend and finding herself homeless. Lexi’s background (and particularly her relationship to her mother) is troubled, and she is somewhat adrift in the world. Riding a train to London on her ex-boyfriend’s rail card, Lexi overhears a conversation: a woman named Sophie was planning to apply to be a nanny in Norway but has now decided not to send the application. Before you know it, Lexi has decided to swipe Sophie’s CV and application form and pose as an experienced nanny for a family living in Norway. This brief summary is actually only a description of the opening chapters of The Nesting, but it's what hooked me in to the story and its central character. What followed was a story that went in a bit of a different direction, but I can see it was important to understand Lexi’s backstory to follow her motivations in what comes. Lexi becomes Sophie and travels to Norway with Tom and his two daughters. Tom’s wife has recently died, and the house he was constructing for his family was destroyed in a storm. And there may well be a supernatural presence lingering around the tragedy-struck family. There is a lot going on in The Nesting (perhaps a bit too much), so it does feel like there are a few too many threads, but there’s a great sense of atmosphere and setting.

Platform Seven by Louise Doughty (2019)


And another library book – I’m still working my way through a big pile of them, so I think this might be the theme for a little bit longer. The next book I read this month goes to some incredibly dark (or rather bleak) territory, but it comes through it with an overall feeling of hope. I don’t usually give particular content warnings in these reviews (and I quite often recommend jumping into books without any preconceptions), but I think it’s probably best you know that this book is about someone who has committed suicide, and the opening chapters give a description of a specific method of suicide (albeit with a thought-provoking perspective rarely offered in fiction) that you might want to be prepared for. The eponymous ‘Platform Seven’ is a platform at Peterborough Railway Station, and the narrator of the book is Lisa, and the opening chapters describe a man jumping in front of a train at this platform. What follows is an incredibly moving and eye-opening account of the event and the aftermath, told in a detached way by our narrator, Lisa, who also died at Platform Seven (yes – the narrator of the book is a ghost). However, this is not a book that will leave you feeling bleak in the slightest. Heart-breaking as much of it is, Platform Seven is infused with a tangible sense of connectivity, hope and humanity. While the opening chapters are unsettlingly thought-provoking, the final chapters are almost breath-taking in their scope and message.

The Madness of Crowds by Louise Penny (2021)


I haven’t read any other books by Louise Penny, but I’ve been a bit intrigued by the blurbs for some of her Chief Inspector Gamache books. I know it’s a bit strange jumping in at the seventeenth (!) book in the series, but I was quite taken with the description of this one – and, it turns out, Penny’s series can be read out of order without you feeling too lost (and with minimal spoilers for the previous books). The Madness of Crowds is set in a small Quebec village (Three Pines, which is the setting for the series as a whole) that is emerging from lockdown at the ‘end of the pandemic’. I was interested to see that the book was written at the height of the COVID pandemic, and that Penny was imagining what might happen afterwards. In the novel – as in real life – the pandemic has given rise to sinister conspiracy theories, which are gaining adherents at a frightening rate. Professor Abigail Robinson is the figurehead for one of these conspiracies. A seemingly reasonable statistician who has drawn some horrifying conclusions from her data analysis. When Robinson arrives in Three Pines to give a lecture, it seems someone has murder in mind, and Gamache has to investigate while grappling with some inner demons of his own. I enjoyed the mystery in this one, and Gamache is quite an interesting detective figure, if a little holier-than-thou. I might have to go back to the beginning of the series now!

The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow (2019)


I have to admit I chose the next book because of the title – it was one of the library books I got out during Imbolc – and because of the design of the cover. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the blurb, but that’s typical of me, to be honest. Harrow’s novel is a historical fantasy, which isn’t my first choice of genre. That said, it’s quite a charming book in a lot of ways, so I am glad I stumbled on it and gave it a go. January Scaller is a young girl who lives with her ‘guardian’ – a rich man name Mr Locke – while her father is away working for their benefactor. In Mr Locke’s house, January is either ignored or bossed around. She misses her father, and she becomes fixated on the idea of finding ‘Doors’ (which she describes with the capital ‘D’) that will allow her to pass from one world or another. What follows is January’s coming-of-age story, as she discovers the truth about the Doors and, of course, the truth about herself and her parents. It’s a rather light read, which is occasionally a bit of a problem as it touches on some ‘real-life’ darkness (particularly relating to race and colonialism) and pulls its punches in places. It’s also quite slow-paced, which I think is fine for a coming-of-age narrative (though it might frustrate fans of more action-driven fantasy). All in all, a pleasant enough read, though not my usual cup of tea.

Reprieve by James Han Mattson (2021)


The next book I read was from one of my Abominable Book Club boxes this year. The book’s description looked intriguing: a group of people enter an escape room game/full-contact haunted house experience, but by the final room one of them has been murdered. I like escape rooms, I like Saw, I like (and I didn’t know this was a niche subgenre, but it is) horror novels that take place in haunted house attractions. So, this one looked like a good bet for me. And oh – it really was! I wasn’t prepared for the idiosyncratic storytelling style here. Reprieve is told in a fragmented style, which is both unsettling and utterly compelling. Although it begins with the incident – in which a man with a knife confronts a group of competitors in the final room of the game – the novel moves back and forward between witness statements and interviews, and character backstories. The latter go back way before the escape room game begins, to give a full picture of the lives of the central characters and their journey towards the climactic incident in Quigley House. Issues of race and sexuality run through these stories, and these are explored with nuance and complexity. However, there are also some can’t-tear-yourself-away depictions of the ‘horrors’ that confront the participants in the game, which are so well written you almost imagine yourself in the room with them. I really enjoyed this one, and I found myself completely immersed in the story and characters. Highly recommended!

Wednesday 8 February 2023

My Year in Books 2023: January

I'm posting this a little late, but it's time for the first of this year's blog posts with mini-reviews of the books I read for pleasure (so, not including the ones I read for review or research this month). I read six novels in January, almost all of which were library books. That became a bit of a trend in 2022, so let's see how long that carries on this year!

Here are the books I read in January...

White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi (2009)


Things got a bit jumbled at the beginning of the year. I started a book in December that I’d intended to finish in January, but then someone recalled a library book I’d borrowed so I had to set the first book to one side so I could return White is for Witching on time! Oyeyemi’s novel is a slim but incredibly rich book that’s part ghost story, part coming-of-age tale, and part allegory (with political themes that are explicit in places, and unsettlingly implicit in others). Miranda Silver is a teenager who suffers from pica – an eating disorder that causes suffers to crave things that aren’t food (in Miranda’s case, it’s chalk). Miranda lives in a house (the ‘Silver House’) in Dover that’s open as a Bed and Breakfast, with her father and twin brother, Eliot. Miranda and Eliot’s mother died when they were sixteen, causing Miranda to have a breakdown and spend several months in a clinic. When she returns, she becomes inextricably linked to the Silver House, which – as we find out from the novel’s prologue, is sentient and, as we find out from subsequent events, vilely xenophobic. The novel has two parts – one set before Miranda goes away to university, and one that takes place after she gets a place at Cambridge – and the storytelling style switches perspectives and styles to create a fragmented, but captivating, narrative. It’s not the most subtle book you’ll read, but I read this in a single sitting and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Black Lake Manor by Guy Morpuss (2022)


After I finished White is for Witching, I went back and finished the book I started in December. And I’m very glad I did! I got Black Lake Manor in one of my Abominable Book Club parcels late last year. It promised to be a ‘time-bending murder mystery’ like ‘Agatha Christie on steroids’. I think I prefer the first description to the second. The book’s protagonist is Ella Manning, a part-time constable with the RCMP who has to solve the murder of her childhood friend, billionaire Lincoln Shan, who has been killed in a locked room after a storm has cut off his mansion. Wait – rewind. This isn’t quite how the book pans out (although it sort of is). We don’t actually meet Ella Manning until a few chapters in. The first thing we read is a description of a shipwreck in 1804, off Vancouver Island. The next thing we read is a description of a party in 2025, at which a young Lincoln Shan exercises a peculiar power, the power to turn back time by several hours. And then we meet Ella! The murder mystery element of the novel is set in 2045, when Lincoln has grown rich as a result of his actions two decades earlier. He throws a party to show off a new innovation his company has created, but is found murdered in very strange circumstances that night. I can’t say much more without giving things away, so I’ll just say this is a strong recommendation!

Eight Detectives by Alex Pavesi (2020)


Eight Detectives
has an intriguing premise… Thirty years ago, Grant McAllister, a maths professor, wrote a collection of short stories to illustrate his thesis that there is a mathematical formula behind all mystery stories. Now living a reclusive life in the Mediterranean, he is tracked down by editor Julia Hart, whose publishing company is looking to release a new edition of McAllister’s stories. The book also has an intriguing format… the chapters alternate between scenes in which Grant and Julia discuss the stories and the stories themselves, so there’s seven detective stories (mostly in the Golden Age vein) and an eighth narrative that frames them. Before I started, I was expecting something like Italo Calvino’s If on a winter’s night a traveller… crossed with Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale. Perhaps it’s because I really like those two books, but I felt that Eight Detectives didn’t quite live up to its promise. The seven stories are definitely fun to read, and I enjoyed Grant’s elucidation of his ‘formula’ (it isn’t anything a mystery fan wouldn’t know, but it was fun to see it described in mathematical terms, and it does make you think about things a little differently). The disappointing bit, for me, was the framing narrative. Don’t get me wrong, the way the details are drip-fed is well done, but it was a little bit predictable in the end. Still, Pavesi’s writing style is very engaging and Eight Detectives is a fun read, so I think it’s still a recommendation.

Kingdomtide by Rye Curtis (2019)


I’ve built up quite the pile of library books, so I’m trying to make a dent in it this month. The next book I read was a book I borrowed ages ago, and I’m not sure I should keep renewing it! Like the last book I read, Kingdomtide also has an intriguing premise (not a coincidence, of course, as I’m generally drawn to books that are a bit off-beat or unexpected). The book begins with an older couple, Cloris Waldrip and her husband, taking a small plane over the Montana mountains. The plane crashes, killing Mr Waldrip and the pilot, and seventy-two-year-old Cloris is left stranded in the wilderness. The story then alternates between chapters (told from Cloris’s first-person perspective) about the older woman’s survival, which includes help from an unlikely source, and third-person chapters about Debra Lewis, an alcoholic park ranger who becomes fixated on finding Mrs Waldrip. Kingdomtide is incredibly readable and compelling – if a little strange and grim in places (I genuinely squirmed at the bits describing Lewis’s interactions with a search-and-rescue officer). Cloris’s narration is almost mesmerizing, and I really enjoyed the way we slowly learn about her pre-crash life, as well as her ‘present day’ tribulations in the wilderness. Lewis is somewhat less well-rounded, perhaps because we never get her narration of events, and so we never get to know her quite as intimately as we know Cloris, but she’s still a pretty memorable character. I was absolutely gripped from the start with this one.

The Searcher by Tana French (2021)


And it’s another library book now! I’m a huge fan of Tana French’s Dublin Murder Squad novels, a series that ran for six novels. Her two most recent books (The Wych Elm and The Searcher) are standalone novels that are, in many ways, quite different to the Dublin Murder Squad novels, in terms of both plot and style. They’re also quite different to one another, which seems to suggest that French is moving away from being a ‘series author’ and becoming a bit more eclectic in her output. That said, The Searcher is still a mystery novel, and it does bear some comparison with her earlier work. The main character is Cal Hooper, an American ex-police officer who has moved to a remote Irish village to enjoy some rural seclusion in his retirement. As he’s working on renovating the old house he’s bought, he’s approached by a kid called Trey, whose brother has gone missing. Word has got round that Cal used to be a detective, and so he is reluctantly drawn into the mystery of Trey’s brother’s disappearance. The story unfolds at a slow pace, and the mystery here is quite as intricate as some the Dublin novels (particularly In the Woods and The Likeness), but – as in French’s other work – there’s a real focus on character and relationships. In many ways, the real draw of this book is the developing relationship between Cal and Trey, and how this fits with the claustrophobic village in which they both live.

Home by Amanda Berriman (2018)


And another library book (though this one’s from a different library for a bit of variety)! Home has something of an unusual first-person narrator, in that Jesika is four years old.. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get through a whole book told by a four-year-old, and the first page had me doubting whether I could handle the style and vocabulary of Jesika’s narration. It’s amazing how quickly those doubts went away. I was sucked into Jesika’s story by about page 3! As you might imagine, Berriman tells the story by showing us how Jesika interprets events, relying on the adult reader to understand what is actually happening. And it’s not the most cheerful set of circumstances that we discern. Jesika lives in a rented flat with her mum and her baby brother. The landlord isn’t a very nice person, and the flat is in disrepair. Jesika’s mum and brother fall ill from breathing in mould, and the family is facing eviction. Jesika also makes a new friend, Paige, who is hiding an awful secret. It’s testament to Berriman’s writing that this isn’t trivialized or obscured by Jesika’s own concerns, like what games will be played at preschool and which of the local shopkeepers are her friend. Nevertheless, Jesika is the hero of the story, and the climactic events – in which she steps up to be a hero (within the limits of being four years old) – are incredibly moving and powerful.

Monday 2 January 2023

My Year in Books 2022: December

It's my final book review post of the year, and - as quite often happens with December - it's a long one. I took a lot of books away on holiday in December, and then I read quite a lot in the week between Christmas and New Year. As you'll see, my December habit of reading either festive books or murder mysteries was strong this year!

In case you're interested, here are my other posts from 2022: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November

Villager by Tom Cox (2022)


I’ve read a bit of publicity for Villager, so I knew it was Cox’s debut novel, his previous writing being non-fiction, memoir and short stories. I was a bit surprised when I started reading it, though, as it felt (at first) more like a collection of short stories, loosely linked by a sense of place. And, in some ways, that’s what Villager is. The place is a fictional Dartmoor village called Underhill. Each chapter is a snapshot of Underhill at a particular time (each is subtitled with a date, from past to present to future). Alternatively, each chapter is a standalone story about a particular resident of Underhill, told in first-person from multiple perspectives. Nevertheless, this is very much a novel. There’s an overarching story linking the stories together – that of the land itself and the way it is both changing and unchanging over time (and one of the narrators is the land itself) – but there’s also a very human story about the ways in which the lives of the various narrators intersect and coalesce around the life and music of folk musician R.J. McKendree. I really enjoyed the quirky way the stories gently and gradually came together, and I also really liked the different storytelling styles used to conjure the world of Underhill, particularly the use of diaries and (at one point) an online messageboard that was so convincing it made me laugh out loud. An idiosyncratic tale that really does justice to the landscape that has inspired it.

Violet by SJI Holliday (2019)


The next book was one I stumbled upon when I was researching content for my radio show, and it looked like it was right up my street. And, on the whole, it was. Violet takes place during a journey of the Trans-Siberian Express. Two women meet up and travel together, but one of them isn’t who she says she is. Intriguing. Holliday’s book begins with Violet finding herself alone in Beijing after falling out with her boyfriend in Thailand. She meets up with another solo traveller, Carrie, who was meant to be on the holiday of a lifetime with her best friend, but her travelling companion broke her leg shortly before they were meant to make the trip. Violet and Carrie agree to travel together, but – as I’ve said – one of them isn’t being honest about who she is. To be brutally honest, it is pretty obvious from the start which one of them isn’t being honest. Violet has strong shades of another book that I’m worried about mentioning for fear of spoilers (though at least one of the blurbs on the cover namechecks it), and once you have that in mind, you can work out exactly what’s going on. Nevertheless, the book makes up for the rather obvious plotline with some wonderfully evocative descriptions of the journey Carrie and Violet take through Mongolia and into Siberia. I particularly enjoyed the first half of the book, which really focuses on the way the two women’s relationship builds as they travel.

Don't Look Back by Ben Cheetham (2018)


I bought this one ages ago, but I saved it for our pre-Christmas holiday to Cornwall, as it’s set in Lizard (and that’s where we were going). Cheetham’s novel is about Adam Piper, a writer who, at the beginning, is living in London with his wife Ella and their twin sons Jacob and Henry. In the first chapter, a horrific accident kills Jacob and almost kills Henry, leaving Adam grief- and guilt-stricken. The next chapter picks up nine months later, when Ella spots a strange advert in the paper. A woman named Rozen Trehearne is looking for tenants for her house (Fenton House) in Lizard. Prospective tenants are asked to complete a questionnaire and, not only with the successful applicant secure tenancy of Fenton House, but they will also live their rent-free for the rest of their lives. Adam completes the questionnaire and is surprised to be offered an interview with Miss Trehearne. He’s even more surprised when his family is offered the tenancy. Is Miss Trehearne’s offer too good to be true? Well, yes, of course it is (otherwise it would have been a very short book). It’s not long after the Pipers move into Fenton House that strange (and quite unsettling) things start to happen. I have to say, the ultimate explanation stretches incredulity a bit, but (as with Violet) the book makes up for it with its description of location. I particularly liked the depiction of Lizard Village on the day of the Pipers’ interview – very memorable!

Stay Another Day by Juno Dawson (2021)


This next one is a book I talked about on my radio show last Christmas, but I didn’t get chance to read it for fun until this year. Stay Another Day (as the title might hint) is a Christmas book. The McAllister siblings (twins Fern and Rowan, and younger sister Willow) are back together in the family home for Christmas, but secrets under the surface are threatening to spill out all over the turkey. Fern and Rowan have been living away from home for the past year, and they’ve each returned with a new friend/partner and a new sense of their own identity. Willow has been at home, as she’s recovering from an eating disorder, and isn’t looking forward to a big family Christmas. What I enjoyed about this book is that it’s sort of the literary equivalent of a Christmas film – not the sort of thing I’d choose for most of the year, but just right for the festive season. Obviously, I’m reading as someone older than the target audience, but that really didn’t matter. There’s a lot for the forty-something reader to enjoy in Stay Another Day, as the affectionate (but gently critical) portrayal of the newly independent nineteen-year-old twins bursting back into the family home with their ‘adult’ identities will evoke plenty of nostalgia (and cringe) in those of us looking in the rear-view mirror (or is that just me?). Ultimately, the book is both joyous and honest about Christmas, and I really enjoyed it for that.

The Sentence is Death by Anthony Horowitz (2019)


I’m reading this series out of order, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I read A Line to Kill, the third in the series, back in May, and I really enjoyed it. This month, I read The Sentence is Death, which is the second in the series. (I still haven’t read the first one, by the way.) Have to say, I have no idea why it’s taken me so long to read this series. I fell in love with this book from the very first page – I think I liked it even more than A Line to Kill. The premise of the series is that ‘Anthony Horowitz’ (the fictionalized version of the author who serves as the series narrator) teams up with a former police officer called Hawthorne to solve puzzling crimes. The series is very meta – in the second book, ‘Anthony Horowitz’ is in the process of writing the first book in the series – and chock-full of references to Horowitz’s actual writing career. This book starts with a just beautiful description of filming of an episode of Foyle’s War that’s a treat for fans of the series (like me!). But, the series is more than just a gimmick. These are really good murder mysteries, with great clues and some wonderful red herrings. In this book, Hawthorne and Horowitz have to solve the baffling murder of a high-profile divorce lawyer. There are some very clever touches here, one of which made me shout out loud when realization hit. Highly recommended!

The Gift by Louise Jensen (2021)


This is one that I picked up on the charity bookshelf at my local supermarket. I’m not sure why I added it to my festive reading pile (as it was quite clear from the blurb that the titular ‘gift’ was definitely not a Christmas present). I think I just knew that I’d want a bit of a change of pace at some point during our holiday. Jensen’s novel is a domestic thriller. The protagonist is Jenna, a young woman who is given a heart transplant. Against all instructions, Jenna makes contact with the family of the donor, who she discovers was a woman called Callie. Jenna comes to believe that Callie’s death – supposedly the result of a car crash – wasn’t an accident at all, and that there’s something suspicious going on behind closed doors in the family, particularly with Callie’s sister Sophie. This was a pretty quick and easy read, but I don’t think it’s one that’ll stick with me. The pacing and style are just right for the genre, but the story itself is pretty overblown and implausible. Character behaviour and motivation is generally hard to swallow, and the overall plot relies on a fairly ‘out there’ theory and a hefty dose of clichĂ©. As a result, it’s quite difficult to really get behind Jenna’s story, or even to really connect with her as a character. It’s not a bad book by any means, and Jensen’s writing really isn’t bad. However, I’m not sure it was really for me.

Murder on the Christmas Express by Alexandra Benedict (2022)


This is a book I talked about on my radio show Christmas Special this year, but I wanted it to read it for fun as well. On the surface, this book looked like it was tailor-made for me. A locked room murder mystery set on a train that gets stuck in a snowstorm at Christmas? Sounds perfect. It also sounds a lot like a mash-up of Murder on the Orient Express and Mystery in White, so I was curious to know how Benedict managed the balance of homage and originality. Unfortunately, the book doesn’t really live up to its promise. The mystery here is the death of an influencer (and then a subsequent murder that I won’t spoiler here), who is a passenger on board a snowbound sleeper train to the Highlands. Fortunately, one of the other passengers is a recently retired police detective, Roz Parker, so at least there’s someone there who can manage the crime scene until help arrives. The problem, for me, was that the mystery is actually quite insipid. There are a few decent clues, but comparisons to Agatha Christie are overstated. The Christmas and train angles are also downplayed, as most of the interactions between passengers take place in the ‘Club Car’, which could just as easily be a bar. Overall, Murder on the Christmas Express focuses on personality, character and motive, rather than means (there’s a handwave of the ‘locked room’ element later on), and so the puzzle itself didn’t really work for me.

Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz (2016)


Back in August, I read Moonflower Murders, and loved it. I don’t know what it is with me reading Anthony Horowitz’s series out of order, but Moonflower Murders is actually the second book in a series, so I thought I should probably go back and read the first one. As with the Hawthorne and Horowitz books, there isn’t a massive problem with reading the series out of sequence, as the later books don’t have too many spoilers for earlier instalments, though if you’ve read Moonflower Murders then you’ll know what the case is in Magpie Murders. Susan Ryeland is an editor, working on the latest (and last) murder mystery novel by the somewhat difficult author Alan Conway. Susan reads the manuscript, but the final chapter is missing. Before she can get hold of it, the author is found dead. Conway’s death is ruled a suicide, but Susan begins to suspect there’s something fishy going on. As with Moonflower Murders, this is a story-within-a-story; the reader gets to read Conway’s manuscript in full as Susan reads it. Not only are we invited to solve the puzzle of Conway’s death, but we also have the puzzle of his novel to ponder as well. I fell in love with this novel – I think I enjoyed it even more than Moonflower Murders (though it’s a close thing). It’s such a perfect piece of mystery writing, with spot-on clues and a reveal that made me laugh out loud. Highly recommended, particularly for Agatha Christie fans.

Gifts by Laura Barnett (2021)


Time to switch from murder mysteries back to Christmas books. The next book I read was another one I talked about on last year’s radio show, but that I wanted to enjoy properly afterwards. I didn’t get chance to read this one last year, so I saved it for this Christmas instead. Gifts is set the year it was published, 2021, and it is quite direct about its context. The Christmas described is the first Christmas after lockdown, as people were tentatively trying to rediscover normality in the COVID19 pandemic. The book’s conceit is that twelve people are looking to buy the perfect Christmas present for someone in their life. Each chapter is a near-standalone short story, in which the gift-giver reflects on their relationship with the receiver, and the reasons why they are choosing them a gift. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the ‘gifts’ of the title aren’t really the main focus. While there are a couple of chapters that dwell a little more on the search for a specific item to be bought (and the shopping that takes place), the stories generally focus on far less materialistic concerns. It’s the relationships between people that matter here – whether it’s a newly divorced father and his teenage daughter, or a carer and her client, or old friends reunited and tentatively considering romance – Gifts offers a series of vignettes that underscore the need to recognize and value those arounds us. As such, it’s pretty much a quintessential Christmas book!

Troubled Blood by Robert Galbraith (2020)


Okay, so this wasn’t the plan at all. I bought The Ink Black Heart as soon as it came out (in fact I pre-ordered it), but then never quite got round to reading it. My plan was to read it in the week between Christmas and New Year. But then, feeling tired after an epic Boxing Day walk, I decided to watch the new TV adaptation of Troubled Blood. It was great – I love the Strike TV series – but it really hit me how much they’d had to cut out or streamline to fit the story into the TV format. I expected that, of course. The book’s over 900 pages long, so there was no way the whole thing would fit into the TV format (even with the extra episode this story has). It’s hard to explain, but I really missed the things that had been cut for TV, and before I knew it I’d decided to reread the book again. And I’m glad I did. It’s by far my favourite of the Strike novels – although I’ve thoroughly enjoyed all of them. The cold case storyline means that there’s a different sense of pace to this one, and the clues are expertly done. Even having read it before and watched the adaptation (so the killer was by no means a surprise), it was a joy to reread this one. It’s such a rich and complex murder mystery, and I actually felt sad when I finished it (for the second time!).

The Ink Black Heart by Robert Galbraith (2022)


After I finished my reread of Troubled Blood, I went straight into The Ink Black Heart. I read them both in under a week, so it’s safe to say I couldn’t put either of them down. The Ink Black Heart is even longer than Troubled Blood, but I’m in two minds as to whether it sustains its long length as well as its predecessor. It’s also a very different type of story from the rest of the series. Robin Ellacott is approached by the creator of a popular YouTube/Netflix cartoon, Edie Ledwell, who wants her to investigate the identity of a prolific and abusive internet troll. Robin turns the case down, but shortly afterwards Edie is murdered, and Robin (and Strike) are hired by other interested parties. The main reason this book feels different from the other Strike novels is that the reader is party to certain information that the detectives never see. The story is peppered with transcripts of chatlogs from an internet game, a fandom-produced response to Edie’s cartoon, which was co-created by the notorious troll at the centre of the case. Having a head-start on the detectives feels weird, and the world of anonymous trolling means there are some reveals that we would never have worked out, no matter how many clues we had. Nevertheless, this is a fun read – Galbraith (aka Rowling) paints an unsettlingly plausible online world, and the ultimate reveal of the murderer has a beautifully Christie-esque quality that I wouldn’t dream of spoiling.