My Year in Books 2024: March

Just one book on this month's list. It's been a busy few weeks, and I haven't had a lot of time for reading. It's a good book, though, and one I'd definitely recommend!

If you'd like to see my other reviews from this year so far, they're here: January, February

Miss Benson's Beetle by Rachel Joyce (2020)

I’ve really enjoyed the other books by Rachel Joyce that I’ve read, particularly (as will come as no surprise) The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. I was a little trepidatious about this one as it’s not set in the present day, and I’m not a massive fan of historical fiction. Okay, the 1950s isn’t the most historical you can get, so it wasn’t too much of a worry. The Miss Benson of the title is Margery Benson, a woman in her mid-forties who has led a pretty mundane and unfulfilling life. Margery works as a domestic science teacher, earning very little money and absolutely no respect from her colleagues or her students. Since she was a girl, Margery has dreamt of travelling to New Caledonia in search of a golden beetle that may or may not exist. One day, pushed to the edge, Margery walks out of her job, places an ad in the paper for an assistant, and starts making plans to go. Unfortunately, her advert doesn’t get the calibre of applicants she was hoping, and she somehow ends up boarding the ship with a younger woman called Enid Pretty, who is literally the antithesis of Margery. It’s not too much of a spoiler to say these two women will discover an unexpected friendship, and it’s also not a spoiler to say (in a book by Rachel Joyce) that this discovery will be both joyful and melancholy. But mostly joyful. The ending made me cry as well, as expected.

My Year in Books 2022: September

So, I didn't read as many books in September as I did in August, but I'm definitely back on track after a couple of months where I struggled to read anything for pleasure. Weirdly, everything I read this month was from the local library (despite me having far too many unread books of my own). I don't know if that's what's got me out of my slump this time. Whatever it is, I've read some good stuff this month (as well as a couple of less good things!).

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

The Inheritance of Solomon Farthing by Mary Paulson-Ellis (2019)

Another library book to start this month. As is a bit of a habit, I only skim-read the blurb first. I knew it was about a man called Solomon Farthing who makes a living tracking down inheritances, and that a WWI soldier would be a significant part of the plot. Haha… I wasn’t prepared for this book at all! And, as usual, I regret nothing! Solomon Farthing is an ‘Heir Hunter’ – he makes a shady living by tracking down long-lost next-of-kin for unclaimed estates (for a ‘finder’s fee’, of course). When he is asked to do a favour for a police officer of his acquaintance, Solomon finds himself tangled up in a mystery that goes back the WWI, and which will touch on his own life in very unexpected ways. The story is told across multiple timelines – Solomon’s ‘present day’ quest in Edinburgh and beyond (set in 2016), the story of a small band of soldiers seeing out the final days of the war in a French farmhouse (in 1918), and others that I won’t spoil here. I was sort of expecting this to be a straightforward mystery with some historical vignettes thrown in, but The Inheritance of Solomon Farthing isn’t like that at all. It’s off-beat and quirky, told with in a vivacious and ‘shaggy dog story’ style that is really quite charming. I loved the character of Solomon Farthing as well – a really memorable creation with a more complex backstory than you might expect. Definitely recommend this one.

84K by Claire North (2018)

The next book I read was another library book. I’d renewed this one a couple of times, and I didn’t want it to go overdue, so I thought I should crack on and read it quickly. Turns out, the library deadline wasn’t really relevant, as I genuinely couldn’t put this one down once I’d started it! I read it in a couple of sittings, because it was just that compelling! 84K is a dystopian tale, set in a near-future (and it’s terrifying how ‘near’ it feels) version of Britain. Privatization has given way to full-scale commodification – towns are sponsored by companies, health and care are run through insurance companies, and all of these companies are owned by other companies that are owned by The Company (who also own the prisons, tax service, etc.). A man who goes by the name of Theo Miller works in the Criminal Audit Office; his job is to assess crimes and work out the ‘indemnity’ due by the perpetrator. If the perpetrator can’t pay the indemnity, they face being sentenced to the ‘patty line’ – indentured labour to pay off the debt to society. This vision of the future is stark and, like all good dystopian fiction, the plot is kicked off by the protagonist realizing (à la Winston Smith) that he can’t be part of this system anymore. However, the storytelling style elevates 84K into a different league. It’s almost hypnotic in its fragmented, lyrical style, but still with a plot that’s an utter page-turner.

Quarter Past Two on a Wednesday Afternoon by Linda Newbery (2013)

Looks like it’s going to be a library-heavy month for me… this next one is also from my local library. Newbery’s novel is Anna and her sister Rose. At a quarter past two on a Wednesday afternoon in August, young Anna leaves the house to go to the shop. When she returns, her older sister Rose has disappeared without a trace. Twenty years later, Anna still doesn’t know what happened to her sister. As she reaches something of a turning point in her life (a relationship getting more serious, a new job offer), Anna begins to wonder if she’ll ever find out the truth. Quarter Past Two moves at a slow pace, but I’m not sure this always works to its advantage. There’s a lot about Anna’s relationship with her (in my opinion) rather unlikable boyfriend and his ex-wife, Ruth. This is interspersed with vignettes from Anna’s relationship with Rose, and from the aftermath of the disappearance. There are also some sections from another character’s perspective, but I’ll leave you to discover for yourself who that character is. In the end, though, the disappearance itself is remarkably easy for Anna to solve and a bit of an anti-climax. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy this one, but I found it difficult to really engage with the characters in any depth. Most of them make decisions and choices that are hard to understand, and their motivations aren’t always convincingly explained. It’s not a bad novel, but it isn’t mind-blowing either.

Little Sister by Gytha Lodge (2022)

It’s library books all the way down this month… I’ve read one of Lodge’s other novels before, She Lies in Wait, and I remember that I quite enjoyed it. I didn’t realize when I started Little Sister that the detective in She Lies in Wait (DCI Jonah Sheens) became a series character for Lodge, and so I was actually jumping back in at book No. 4! This isn’t too much of a problem – and I don’t think it would be a problem if you haven’t read any of the books in the series – as there are plenty of recaps to catch you up on the lives of the detective and his team, and there aren’t any spoilers for the previous three books. In Little Sister, Sheens is confronted by a teenager, Keely Lennox, emerging from the woods near a pub with blood on her hands and clothes. Keely, it transpires, was reported missing from her care home a few days earlier. Her younger sister Nina went missing at the same time, but Keely has turned up alone. As Sheens tries to find out what happened, it becomes clear that Keely is more interested in playing mind games than telling the police what happened to her sister. But as the detectives investigate, a story emerges that’s disturbing in ways you might not expect. I have to admit, I did see most of the ‘twists’ coming with this one, but Lodge is an excellent writer, and Little Sister is a gripping read.

The Man on Hackpen Hill by J.S. Monroe (2021)

Ah… it seems me run of great library books has come to a bit of an end with this next one. This isn’t going to be a strong recommendation, unfortunately. And I think I’m going to have to give a couple of spoilers in order to explain. So, this was another library book, and I did read the blurb this time. The Man on Hackpen Hill is described as a thriller. The story – as hinted in the blurb – is about crop circles. A particularly mysterious example is discovered on the eponymous hill in Wiltshire… but there’s a body in its centre. Some of the (generally very short) chapters are from the perspective of DI Silas Hart, who has responsibility for investigating the murder, and then investigating two subsequent crop circles/murders. Other chapters are told from the perspectives of Jim – a young man who works at Porton Down, who believes he can reveal the truth about the crop circles – and Bella – a young woman who has just started working at a newspaper after finishing university. Now, here comes the spoiler: this book isn’t really about crop circles and secret experiments at Porton Down. The big reveal is that this is a story about mental illness and, specifically, psychosis and antipsychotics. And it’s one of the most egregious depictions of psychosis I’ve read in a long time. Not only is the presentation of schizophrenia and its treatment utterly unrealistic, the idea of psychotic delusions is romanticized to an extent that’s almost distasteful.

The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce (2017)

Even though I didn’t really enjoy the last one, it’s another library book next! I’ve read (and enjoyed) two of Rachel Joyce’s other books – Perfect (the first one I read) and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (her debut novel and her most famous one) – so I had an idea of what I might be getting with The Music Shop. What I loved about the other two novels was the way Joyce combined an off-beat tale of eccentric and flawed, but ultimately hopeful, characters with a harder core, exploring themes of mental illness, grief and lost time. The Music Shop has a lot of this too. The story begins in 1988, in the music shop of vinyl-loving Frank. Frank is a typical Rachel Joyce character: an eccentric oddball with a sad backstory but a strong connection to other people, or rather to other people’s stories. Frank’s world is disrupted by Ilse Brauchmann, an enigmatic woman who faints outside his shop one day. In many ways, though, Frank and Ilse’s scenes are stolen by the setting and the glorious supporting cast of characters. Frank’s shop is on a vividly-evoked near-abandoned street (Unity Street) in a run-down city, alongside an undertaker, a tattoo parlour and a religious gift shop. Although there’s a cruel blow at the end of the book’s first half, The Music Shop doesn’t quite have the punch of Perfect or Harold Fry. But it’s still a moving, funny and compelling story, and the ending made me cry a little.

My Year in Books 2019: November

Bit of a busy month in November, so I didn't get much time for reading. Still, I've got a couple of reviews for this month.

This is the penultimate review post of the year. In case you're interested, the other posts from this year are here: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October. But here are my reviews for November...

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce (2012)

In February, I read Rachel Joyce’s Perfect and enjoyed it. I picked up The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry in a charity shop in Cleveleys this summer, and I thought I’d give it a go this month. Joyce’s slightly earlier (and perhaps more famous) novel is the story of Harold Fry. At the very beginning of the book, Harold receives a letter from Queenie Hennessey, a woman he worked with two decades earlier. Harold hasn’t seen Queenie in twenty years, but he discovers she is now in a hospice in Berwick-upon-Tweed. Harold tries to write a reply to Queenie’s letter, but he struggles to find the right words. When he sets out for the postbox, he finds he can’t bring himself to post his attempt, and so… he carries on walking. Joyce’s captivating novel tells the story of Harold’s walk, but it also a lot more. It’s a novel about grief and love (and, like the many people Harold meets along his way, the reader might initially misunderstand the nature of the grief and love behind the story). It’s also a novel about a story that has been resolutely not told for twenty years. When that story emerges, it’s a bit of a sucker punch, and I will admit to sobbing openly at some chapters. But the book is also very funny – and human, hopeful, heart-warming, and hard to put down. Although the setting is a little ‘unlikely’, the characters are surprisingly believable and sympathetic. I really recommend this one.

The Boy Who Fell by Jo Spain (2019)

My mum and I have been working our way through Jo Spain’s novels, ever since I stumbled upon her first DCI Tom Reynolds novel last Christmas. To be honest, I’m wondering why I had to ‘stumble’ on it, as Spain is a really talented writer, and the more I read of her work the more I wonder why I hadn’t seen more people shouting about her work! Anyway, my mum lent me the fourth and fifth books in the series, but I’ve decided to save The Darkest Place for my annual December getaway. The Boy Who Fell is the fifth book in the series – and I sort of suspect it may be the final instalment. And I think it might be my favourite! On the verge of a life-changing promotion, Tom Reynolds is asked by a colleague to look into an apparently open-and-shut case involving her cousin. A young man named Luke Connolly has been pushed to his death from the window of an abandoned house (with a tragic history). The local police already have a suspect in custody, and they believe they have more than enough evidence to secure a prosecution. DCI Reynolds is reluctant to push things – especially since that would leave him open to accusations of trying to cover things up for a colleague – but there’s just enough room for doubt. There’s a neat puzzle, plenty of clues, and a well-paced investigation here. It’s also a surprisingly warm book, with some lovely moments involving the detective’s team.

My Year in Books 2019: February

I've decided to carry this little blog series on for another month, keeping track of all the books I've read for pleasure in short 250-word reviews. I didn't get chance to read a huge amount this month - mostly because I had a lot of essays to mark, and a few books to read for work and radio projects. But still... here are my reviews for February...

(In case you're curious, here are the books I read this January.)

Perfect by Rachel Joyce (2013)

I picked this one up from a book sale shelf at the College of the Third Age when I was there to give a talk. Once again, it was an intriguing blurb that got me. I’m not familiar with Rachel Joyce’s other books, though I think I must have seen The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry advertised or reviewed, as the name rings a bell. Perfect tells the dual stories of Byron Hemmings, an eleven-year-old boy at private school in 1972, and Jim, an older man with OCD in the present day. Byron’s story begins with the boy’s concern at learning that two seconds are going to be added to ‘time’ (really, the atomic clock) in order to compensate for the leap year. Byron is so discomforted by the thought of the extra seconds, he accidentally sets in motion a chain of events. While the story unfolds slowly – and the events in the chain are pretty mundane on the whole – there is an ominous atmosphere that suggests we’re heading to a bad place. Byron and his best friend James come up with the idea of Operation Perfect, a plan to get things back on track and to save Byron’s troubled and fragile mother Diana from impending catastrophe. I enjoyed this one a lot, though I sometimes struggled to engage with the characters. The novel is peopled with ever-so-slightly larger-than-life creations, and some motivations and behaviours are a little arch. Overall, though, Perfect is a rather captivating – if somewhat sad – novel.

The Narrow Bed by Sophie Hannah (2016)

In my ongoing (frequently thwarted) quest to find the ultimate literary twist, I stumbled upon this blog post by Sophie Hannah, written as publicity for The Narrow Bed back in 2016. I very much like Hannah’s definition of a twist here, as it’s close to my own feelings about the difference between a ‘reveal’ and a ‘twist’. I’ve read nine of the books on the list already, and am planning to read the other six. But it seemed polite to begin with Hannah’s own book! The Narrow Bed is the tenth book in Hannah’s Spilling CID series – I read the second book in the series last month, but haven’t read any of the rest yet. The set-up of this one was very intriguing: a serial killer is targeting pairs of best friends, leaving little white books with the victims as a calling card. But when comedian Kim Tribbeck – a woman with no friends, let alone a BFF – gets one of the books, it looks like the police might be wrong about the pattern. Admittedly, this is a book with a ‘reveal’ and not a ‘twist’, but that’s not a problem for crime fiction. And I enjoyed everything about The Narrow Bed (especially the character of Kim)… except the reveal. There were plenty of clues, which I picked up on, but no way of working the mystery out, as the reveal is so incredibly complicated and far-fetched, the reader has no chance. Great writing – but a disappointing resolution to the mystery.