My Year in Books 2024: November

I read some good books this month. Admittedly, it's still a short list, but they were all good one!

If you're curious, here are my posts from the rest of the year: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October

The Haunting of Alma Fielding by Kate Summerscale (2020)

I got this one out of the library in late October. My local library had a lovely display of spooky books set up for Halloween, which I completely ruined by checking several of them out (sorry!). Initially, I wasn’t going to get this one, as I felt like I’ve read quite a lot of non-fiction about hauntings. Also, although I enjoyed The Suspicions of Mr Whicher (the only other book by Summerscale that I’ve read), it didn’t set my world on fire. However, I did take a look at the blurb and it instantly reeled me in. This is a narrative non-fiction account of Nandor Fodor’s investigation into a poltergeist case in 1938. Alma Fielding is an ordinary woman from near Croydon who experiences a series of ‘paranormal’ incidents that she believes are hauntings. Fodor, in his role at the International Institute for Psychical Research, meets with Fielding and tries to work out the nature of the haunting. I am so glad I ignored my initial reservations and chose this book – I absolutely loved it. The way Summerscale contextualizes the haunting, not only in terms of the wider societal picture in the late 30s, but in terms of understandings and fashions in paranormal beliefs, was just wonderful. It made me think differently about poltergeists, to think about them in terms of class and geography – and there’s a beautiful line (I won’t ruin it) differentiating a poltergeist from other types of ghost that’s one of my favourite sentences of the year!

The Only One Left by Riley Sager (2023)

I got this book on the same library visit as the previous one, though it wasn’t part of the Halloween display. It probably could’ve been though, as it’s a nicely Gothic tale. It begins with a live-in carer called Kit being given a less-than-ideal assignment. In 1929 (the book is set in 1983), the Hope family were murdered in their cliff-top mansion. The only survivor was the seventeen-year-old daughter Lenora. Lenora was never charged with the murders, but the town has always believed that she was guilty. There’s even a Lizzie Borden-esque rhyme about her. A series of medical conditions have left Lenora bedridden and unable to speak, and Kit is called in to provide constant care to the seventy-one-year-old (possibly) murderess. Kit has her own darkness to deal with, which makes it hard for her to turn the job down. When she arrives at Hope’s End, she finds a decrepit 1920s mansion, complete with its own Danvers-like housekeeper, Mrs Baker. She also discovers that, although Lenora can’t speak, she can type, and she might just be ready to start typing out her story. This one has a lot of twists – some I saw coming, and some I didn’t. It’s a little reminiscent of The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, but told in a very different style and tone. I loved the atmosphere of this one, and it's difficult to not find yourself rooting for a character that you really don’t expect to like. And it’s a proper page-turner too.

Everyone on This Train is a Suspect by Benjamin Stevenson (2023)

Completed a hat-trick of library books with this next one. I checked this one out at the same time as The Haunting of Alma Fielding and The Only One Left, and I read it in the same weekend. I wasn’t convinced initially, as the cover looked a bit derivative of some notable celebrity mystery novels that aren’t really to my taste, but I was totally swayed by the blurb from Stuart Turton (which, if you’ve read the book, you’ll know is pretty funny). This is a knowing bit of meta-fiction – a murder mystery narrated by someone who keeps up a running commentary on his own narration, breaks the fourth wall, and openly points out genre conventions. The plot is that a group of crime writers gather on a luxury train in Australia for a literary festival with a twist (it’s on a train). When one of the writers is murdered, the others (particularly the narrator) try to investigate the crime (or cover it up maybe). The plot isn’t very original, and the clues are pretty clunky and obvious, but I did enjoy this one. The story is fun to read, though most of the twists are things you’ll have seen before. I didn’t realize till I started it that this is a sequel, so I think I will be going back to the first one at some point. The writing style was very engaging, and I liked the narrator (especially because he was never quite as reliable as he believed).

My Year in Books 2024: October

Well, I've not really improved my reading-for-fun streak this month. In my defence, I was really tied up with Halloween events this month, and I had a few books to read for review. I did start another novel, but I didn't finish it by the end of the month, so sadly today's post only has one title on it.

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, September

Coup de Grâce by Sofia Ajram (2024)

I got this in my Abominable Books box this month, and I was so intrigued by the premise that I jumped straight in. The book is about a man called Vicken who is travelling on Montreal’s Metro with the intention of ending his own life. He reaches a station at the end of the line, only to discover that there’s no exit and no trains leaving from the platform. The building that Vicken finds himself in is a labyrinthine, impossible space that defies logic. I was drawn to this idea, as I do enjoy a bit of impossible architecture. Some of the descriptions of the Metro station are dizzying and utterly bizarre, so I wasn’t disappointed in that aspect at all. To be honest, I wasn’t disappointed by anything in the book, though it’s certainly not subtle. It’s told through first-person narration, so a lot of it is about Vicken describing his state of mind to the reader. The subway station is a pretty obvious metaphor, though there are times when Vicken denies this is the case. However, the nature of the metaphor is a bit more elusive than you might expect, and there are certainly moments that will give the reader pause. Ajram uses a narrative technique in the final section of the book that I really enjoyed (though I won’t say what it is, as I don’t want to spoil it). The book resists a trite or placatory conclusion, and that really worked for me. Enjoyed this one.

My Year in Books 2024: September

Well, just one book on this month's list. Like last month, I seem to have been so busy with writing and research that I haven't had much time for reading for fun. Ah well. I'm sure I'll catch up.

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

Fellside by M.R. Carey (2016)

I loved The Girl With All the Gifts (who didn’t?), but somehow I missed Fellside when it came out. I might be late to the party, but I finally decided to put that right. Fellside is a long book, but I found myself quite immersed in it. It’s also not quite the story I was expecting. The story begins with Jess Moulson, a young woman who wakes up with horrific burns and no clear memories of how she got them. When she’s arrested and tried for starting a house fire in which a young boy died, Jess accepts that she’s done something terrible. Jess is convicted and sent to Fellside, a maximum security prison in Yorkshire. There’s something in Fellside – a ghost, I guess you could call it – that wants to speak to Jess, if she’ll listen to the message it has for her. I went into this one expecting the story to focus on the events that led up to the fire for which Jess was charged, but this turned out to be more of a side-plot. The real story is about what’s going on inside Fellside, and a drug operation run by the larger-than-life Harriet Grace. I’ll admit I worked out what was going on before the big reveal (specifically the one related to the ghost that’s speaking to Jess), and I did find some elements of the story to be a bit too drawn out. However, it’s very readable and at times I couldn’t put it down.

My Year in Books 2024: August

I only read two novels in August, as I was buried in writing for a new project I'm working on. That's my excuse anyway.

My reviews of the two books I read are below, but if you're interested, here are my reviews from the rest of the year so far: January, February, March, April, May, June, July

Looking Glass Sound by Catriona Ward (2023)

I ended up with two copies of this book. I got it out of the library, but then I discovered that it was included in my Abominable Book Club subscription box. Obviously a sign that I needed to read it! This one is a bit of a weird one, as the premise described in the blurb doesn’t really come into the story until a good chunk of the way through. The book actually starts with Wilder Harlow arriving with his parents at Whistler Bay, a town on the New England coast, to spend the summer. He meets two other teens – Harper and Nat – and they begin a holiday friendship. So far, so coming-of-age. And when the creepy local story of the Daggerman (a shadowy figure who supposedly stalks the town) rears its head, it feels like this might be a story we already know. However, that’s not quite what’s going on in Looking Glass Sound. The first signs are the little fragmentary chapters that intersperse sections of the narrative, and a couple of chapters that are told from an entirely different perspective. The storyline described in the blurb – that Wilder, as an older man, returns to Whistler Bay to write a book – doesn’t start until the second part of the narrative. I enjoyed the utter unreliability of the narrators in this one, and there are some really subtle clues that things aren’t as they seem. However, the introduction of a supernatural element was a step too far for my tastes.

The Suspect by Rob Rinder (2024)

The second book I read this month was another library book. I’ll admit I got this one out because I liked the look of the cover, although I’m a little wary of the fashion for celebrity-authored whodunnits at the moment. And The Suspect is a whodunnit, of course. The premise is that a daytime TV presenter is murdered live on air. All signs point to the show’s celebrity chef, who is arrested and charged with the murder. As the trial approaches, junior barrister Adam Green is tasked with getting some background on the people involved in the case, but he quickly discovers that things might not be what they seem. There was a lot to like about this one, particularly the depiction of the TV world (with some characters bearing uncanny resemblance to real celebrities). However, the mystery isn’t anything mind-blowing, and it’s quite easy to see what’s going on if you’re familiar with the genre. Another issue is that this one is a direct sequel to The Trial, Rinder’s debut novel, and it does spoiler some elements of the first book. You also probably do need to have read the first book to understand who all the characters are in Green’s chambers, as the book does assume prior knowledge. If you’re not familiar with how barristers chambers work, then you might get a bit lost in places. I enjoyed The Suspect, and it was an easy read, but I struggled a bit with getting to know the secondary characters.

My Year in Books 2024: July

Time for my mini-reviews of the books I read in July. Only two books on this month's list, I'm afraid, but in case you're interested, here are my review posts from the rest of the year so far: January, February, March, April, May, June

Death by Laura Thalassa (2021)

In May, I posted about the first three books in Laura Thalassa’s Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse erotic romance series. You may remember, it was a bit of a revelation for me (pun intended). I loved the first three books, particularly Famine, and I was planning to wait to read the final one. I didn’t actually wait that long in the end. Death is, as I expected, a bonkers thing of beauty. The final horseman – the one we’ve been told is the worst of the four, and a ‘dour asshole’ (quote from Famine) – arrives on earth to make the Last Judgement. But Death isn’t quite the creature we’ve been led to expect. Yes, he’s terrifying. But he’s also the embodiment of the concept of Death, so his very existence is intricately connected to life. He’s also really sexy, of course, but why wouldn’t he be? Death is at once foreboding, apocalyptic, noble, melancholy, lonely and horny. And when he meets Lazarus, a woman who for some reason cannot die, he begins (of course) to question his purpose. I loved this one – Death is surprisingly easy to fall in love with, for all his utter oddity. But my favourite thing was when a familiar trio turned up to try and thwart their brother’s plans. I genuinely gave a little squeal when Famine arrived with characteristic drama. Which was embarrassing, as I was reading the book on the tram at the time. I can’t explain it, but I genuinely love this series.

The House That Horror Built by Christina Henry (2024)

The next book was one of the novels included in a recent Abominable Books box. The blurb sounded right up my street. Harry is a single mum who gets a job cleaning for Javier Castillo, a reclusive horror film director who lives an isolated life in his Chicago mansion. The house is filled with horror memorabilia, including props from Castillo’s own films. However, there is also a cloud of mystery around the director’s retreat from Hollywood and the nature of the scandal that led to it. When Castillo encourages a more social relationship, inviting Harry and her son Gabe to dinner at his house, it starts to become clear that there may be another presence in the mansion, and Harry starts to become anxious about her and her son’s safety. The set-up for this one is really great, and the titular house is atmospheric and evocative. Harry is a well-drawn character, and her reasons for staying in a job that is both demanding and kinda creepy are plausible. However, the book runs out of steam in the final third, and the pacing starts to go off as we move towards the conclusion. The problem is that the mystery just can’t be sustained. Castillo’s retreat from Hollywood happened just a few years before the book begins, so it’s a matter of a simple internet search to uncover the scandal. From there, it’s fairly easy to work out what might be going on, and the book tumbles towards a rather abrupt ending.

My Year in Books 2024: June

Time for my list of the books I read for pleasure in June. It's not my longest list, but not my shortest either. And I really liked almost of all them!

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

A Very English Deceit by Malcolm Balen (2009)

We were on holiday for the first couple of weeks in June, and I read a few books while we were away. We were staying in various places around North Yorkshire, and one of the places we stayed was a Landmark Trust property, built in the 1760s, that had once belonged to William Aislabie. His father was John Aislabie, the Chancellor of the Exchequer who presided over the South Sea Bubble. There was a copy of Balen’s book in the cottage, so I felt like I had to read it! I loved this book for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it helped me feel immersed in eighteenth-century history and the background of the place we were staying. Secondly, and maybe more importantly, it’s a really fun read. The story of the rampant corruption, deception and fraud perpetrated during the South Sea Bubble is almost unbelievable (or, sadly, maybe it’s actually completely believable), and it requires you to understand a bit about the social and economic circumstances of the early eighteenth century (mostly in England, but you also need to understand a bit about Scotland and France). This isn’t a period of history most people know much about – it falls between the big ‘eras’ that people know from school or popular culture. Balen tells the story with energy and humour, carrying you along with the narrative, but also giving the right amount of background information. It’s a bit mind-blowing, but it also explains a lot about modern British politics and economics.

A Death at Fountains Abbey by Antonia Hodgson (2016)

I bought this on a whim in a charity shop in Ripon, just before we went to the Landmark Trust property. I spied the name ‘Aislabie’ in the blurb, and I vaguely remembered that was the surname of the man who built the cottage we were going to. Little did I know that I was about to get temporarily obsessed with Aislabie history! I read this alongside Balen’s book about the South Sea Bubble, which was a mad experience. Hodgson’s novel is a (fictional) murder mystery, set in the 1720s on the estate of John Aislabie, who’s a central character in the story. Hodgson does a great job of making Aislabie unsympathetic (because of his role in ruining so many lives), but also sympathetic (because he’s a human being, who lost his wife and child in a fire). I’m not usually a fan of historical fiction, but I definitely enjoyed this one. Reading a non-fiction book alongside it meant I could see how much research Hodgson had done, but she uses this lightly so it doesn’t bog the story down. This is actually the third book in a series about Thomas Hawkins, a roguish investigator (of sorts), and his girlfriend Kitty. Tom is employed by Aislabie to deal with death threats he’s received at his estate at Studley Royal. But then… things escalate and a body is found. Never mind the history, I absolutely fell in love with Tom and Kitty, and I want to read more of their adventures!

The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer by Joël Dicker (2018)

Hmmm… now something a bit different (and not in a good way). I actually started this one before I read the previous two books. It was a library book that I took on holiday, as it was supposed to be a gripping murder mystery. ‘Gripping’ is not the right word for this one. I struggled through about two-thirds of it while we were in Whitby, more out of stubbornness than anything else. The story’s premise is that, in 1994 four people are murdered in a small town. The police solve the crime, but twenty years later, a journalist (Stephanie Mailer) starts to reinvestigate the case. And then she goes missing, and the original detectives have to accept that they may have made a mistake. This is a premise that sounds like something I’d enjoy. However, the execution left a lot to be desired. The dialogue is incredibly stilted – almost amateurish. At first, I put this down to the fact that I was reading the book in translation, but I quickly became disabused of this. The characters’ motivations and behaviours didn’t make any sense, and the plot is a strange mixture of convoluted and shallow. I’m not even sure why I finished this one, as I found that I really didn’t care about finding out who did the murders and why (and the Stephanie Mailer storyline really wasn’t a central part of the plot in the end). This was a really frustrating book to read, and not one that I’d recommend.

The Sudden Appearance of Hope by Claire North (2016)

Another library book I took on holiday, but one that was a lot more enjoyable than the previous book. I’ve read a few of North’s books, so I had an idea what I was getting into with this one. Hope Arden, the main character and narrator, is a girl with a difference. People can’t remember her. That doesn’t mean she’s a bit bland and anonymous – they literally can’t remember her, and that includes her parents. People can spend time with Hope, get to know her, even be intimate with her, but as soon as she’s out of sight, she’s literally out of mind. As a young woman, Hope feels she has no choice but to turn to crime as a way to survive. Her ‘gift’ makes her very good at committing crimes, which is lucky because it stops her doing anything else with her life. Within a few years, Hope is a jet-setting, international thief, flitting from one glamorous location to another in search of bigger and better prizes (and, of course, survival). This brings her into contact with Perfection, a sinister, secretive high-end lifestyle app that’s aiming for market dominance in the creepiest possible way. What follows is partly a thriller (and a gripping one), and partly an exploration of identity and human connection. As with North’s other books, this one is pretty brutal in places, and heart-breaking in others. I think, of all her characters, I found Hope the most sympathetic and likable. I really enjoyed this one!

The Midnight Feast by Lucy Foley (2024)

I got really excited about this one, as I didn’t know it was coming out. I loved Foley’s first two mystery novels (though I didn’t enjoy the third quite as much). But what really excited me was that this is a book set at the Summer Solstice that was published in time for the Solstice. Publishing isn’t usually as seasonal as that! I read this one at Midsummer, of course. As with Foley’s first two novels, this is a murder mystery set at a fancy holiday resort. In this case, it’s a luxury woodland wellness retreat, run by Francesca Meadows and her architect husband Owen Dacre. The retreat is due to open at the Summer Solstice, with a grand gathering of rich guests, potential investors and (of course) social media influencers. Among the guests is Bella, a woman who looks the part but doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the guests. And among the staff are Eddie and Michelle, two locals who have decided to work at Francesca’s retreat, despite the fact that its construction and opening has mostly faced opposition from the local community. The story jumps back and forth between the events of the Solstice and its aftermath, when the police arrive to investigate a body on the beach. As with The Hunting Party and The Guest List, readers are left guessing as to the identity of the victim, as well as the culprit. I really enjoyed this one, and it was perfect to read at Midsummer.

My Year in Books 2024: May

I had quite a bit of my own writing to do this month, so I didn't read much for pleasure until towards the end of the month. I actually started the first book on this list at the beginning of May, but it took me a few weeks to read all of it, as I just couldn't find the time. In the final week of May, something very weird happened that meant I very quickly read three novels back-to-back, but more on that below!

In case you're interested, here are my reviews from the rest of the year so far: January, February, March, April

Close to Death by Anthony Horowitz (2024)

I started this month with the latest in a series that I’ve really enjoyed so far. Close to Death is the latest instalment in the Hawthorne and Horowitz series. The overall premise of the series is that the character ‘Anthony Horowitz’ has been tasked by his publisher to write books based on his escapades with former police officer Hawthorne. Together, they solve fiendishly complicated murders, with Horowitz playing Watson to Hawthorne’s Holmes. I’ve loved the meta-fictional fun of these books, with references to the ‘real’ author’s career scattered throughout. Close to Death is a little different to the other books in the series. In this one, rather than investigating a crime that has happened in the ‘present’, Horowitz decides to take another look at an old case on which Hawthorne advised the police. The murder is – supposedly – solved, with the culprit already identified. Horowitz’s task is to go through the case files and write it up as a narrative, but Hawthorne only gives him a little information at a time. I liked the set-up for the crime – it takes place in a small gated estate, with a cast of quirky characters. However, I’m not sure the formula works that well. The conceit (that Horowitz has to work things out as he goes along) doesn’t quite make sense, and the investigation keeps getting side-tracked by his determination to uncover the increasingly implausible secrets of Hawthorne’s identity. I enjoyed it, but it’s not as strong as the previous books in the series.

Pestilence by Laura Thalassa (2018)

Right… time for something a little unexpected. I stumbled upon a series of books by accident while I was looking up something else online. I’ve got a bit of a thing for representations of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in popular culture, and I was searching for a horror book that I vaguely remember having some cool horsemen in it. Instead, I stumbled on Thalassa’s series… of erotic dark romance novels. I can’t pretend I wasn’t intrigued… erotic Horsemen of the Apocalypse? This I have to see. (And disclaimer: I do not generally read either erotica or romance.) The first in the series was available to read for free on Amazon Prime, so I thought I’d read it for a bit of a laugh. I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. I genuinely couldn’t put Pestilence down. The apocalypse in it is horrible – the premise is that the horsemen arrived on earth a number of years earlier, laid waste to human technology, and then disappeared. Now, the first rider has returned, bringing with him a devastating plague to complete the destruction of humanity. A hardy band of survivors draw lots to see which of them is going to attempt to kill the horseman and save mankind, and young firefighter Sara draws the short straw. But the horseman can’t be killed, and in his anger at being attacked, he takes Sara prisoner. Things… erm… develop from there. It’s brutal, violent, funny, sexy and utterly weird. And I’m inexplicably hooked.

War by Laura Thalassa (2019)

So, obviously, the next book I read was War. Of course it was. I bought it the second I finished Pestilence. The premise is kind of similar to the first book. After Pestilence relinquished his role in the apocalypse, his brother War awoke and returned to earth. If anything, War’s attack on humanity is even more horrific than Pestilence’s, not least because this book is set in Palestine and Israel, giving it a truly unsettling quality (and the book doesn’t shy away from reminding us that the Horsemen of the Apocalypse may not be any worse than humanity itself). However, War is a different type of romance character. Where Pestilence was an otherworldly being who became fascinated by the human experiences being with Sara offered (he is a virgin when they meet, though obviously not by the end of the book), War is more the swaggering, sexually dominant alpha male type. When he meets Miriam (the female lead), he announces that she is his wife, and we have something almost along the lines of forced-to-marry-the-billionaire erotica, except with the added horrors of warfare in all its pitiless cruelty. And zombies. This one has a lot of zombies. The romance here was less to my taste, partly because of the ‘you’re my wife now’ plot and partly because of a pregnancy storyline that took things in a different direction. It turns out, if I’m reading about horny horsemen, I want it to stay horny and not get all domestic. Who knew?

Famine by Laura Thalassa (2020)

I’d seen a couple of reviews – and there are suggestions in the first two books along these lines as well – that said Famine is the least human of the four horsemen. Reviews referred to him as ‘a psycho’ and ‘sadistic’, the only one of the horsemen who is torturing humans for his own personal agenda, rather than a straightforward divine plan. I was fairly certain this one would end my love affair with this series, as that doesn’t sound romantic or erotic to me. Well, here comes another plot twist… I just couldn’t get enough of Famine. The third horseman has returned after the previous two have left the scene to be all cosy with their new families, but the book doesn’t begin with his return. Instead, we’re several years into Famine’s destruction of the world. And his destruction is certainly crueller and more sadistic than anything that has come before. He seems to really be enjoying himself. Step forward Ana, a young prostitute who, it turns out, has met Famine before. The reveal of Ana’s previous encounter with the horseman, and the explanation for Famine’s particular brand of sadism, is beautiful, heartbreaking and devastatingly human. Their relationship is funnier and sweeter than in the other two books, and it manages to be both a slower burn and way hotter than in the previous two books. Turns out, when it comes to agents of divine destruction, I’m a sucker for a broken pretty boy with a thing for supernatural plants.

My Year in Books 2024: April

I didn't think I'd read much this month until I sat down to write this post. It feels like I haven't had any time for reading for pleasure, but it turns out I did read six novels. Who knew?

Reviews of the six books I read in April are below, but in case you're curious, here are my posts from the rest of the year: January, February, March

Martin Harbottle's Appreciation of Time by Dominic Utton (2014)

The first book I read this month was a library book (of course!). It’s got quite a simple premise: a tabloid journalist called Dan is frustrated by constant delays and disruptions on his daily commute, so he decides to start writing emails to the Managing Director of the train company (the eponymous Martin Harbottle). His intention is that the emails he sends will take up as much Martin’s time as Dan has lost through delays to his journey. But then, Martin Harbottle starts to respond to the emails and a weird correspondence begins. I enjoyed this book on the whole, but it did have some slightly irritating qualities. The positives: the character of Martin Harbottle is very charming, and his emails to Dan are both funny and surprisingly touching. The format of the book (entirely told through the emails) is something I enjoyed a lot. The negatives: Dan is not a likeable character in the slightest. His attempts at humour are grating, and he lacks self-awareness about how his behaviour impacts on those around him. While Martin does attempt to gently correct some Dan’s worst tendencies, this doesn’t get through to him in any meaningful way. There’s a whole load of background about the demise of the News of the World (or a fictionalized version), Dan’s wife’s post-natal depression, and Dan’s grief for his father, that doesn’t really go anyway. In the end, I found myself gleefully hoping that Dan’s trains would be delayed even further, just to annoy him.

Final Cut by S.J. Watson (2020)

I got sucked in by the blurb of this one, even though it’s a genre that I’m trying to avoid at the moment. A filmmaker called Alex travels to a small Yorkshire seaside town called Blackwood Bay to make a documentary. Alex wants to make a film about the town itself, which is a ‘ghost town’ due to economic decline and diminishing tourism, but her production company push her to investigate the town’s darker secrets, particularly the story of a teenage girl who’s gone missing. Alex (who, in case you hadn’t guessed, has dark secrets of her own) knows that there have been a couple of girls who’ve gone missing from Blackwood Bay over the past decade, and one of them (a girl called Daisy) is believed to have killed herself. Given that Watson is best-known for Before I Go to Sleep, it wasn’t a surprise to find memory issues being part of the plot in this one as well. This time, it’s fugue states and dissociation, and as with the previous book, you have to suspend a bit of disbelief about whether memory really does work in such a neat and narratologically convenient way. The story that’s revealed about Blackwood Bay isn’t mind-blowing, and some of the reveals are easy to guess. My favourite part of the book was the setting, and I enjoyed the moments when Blackwood Bay itself became the main character. Overall, an easy and enjoyable enough read but not the most exciting book I’ve read.

The Spoiler by Annalena McAfee (2011)

Not sure why journalism ended up being a mini-theme this month, but here’s the second book I read about nefarious Fleet Street journalists (although the first one wasn’t explicitly about Fleet Street, of course). McAfee’s novel juxtaposes two different types of journalism – and two different types of journalist – both of which are now a thing of the past. The main story is set in 1997, in the final days of print’s supremacy (there’s a subplot about the rise of a newspaper’s website that’s rather entertaining). Tamara Sim works for The Monitor, a respectable broadsheet, but finds herself stuck writing fluff pieces for the paper’s gossip and lifestyle section. Out of the blue, she is asked to write a 4000-word article about veteran correspondent, Honor Tait, whose stellar career has included reporting on (among many other things) Nuremberg and the Korean War. Tait is very reluctant to engage with Sim, and Sim is comedically out of her depth talking to Tait. This is interspersed with drafts of Tait’s own attempt to reformulate her memoirs, which hint at the possibility of another side to the feted journalist’s life and work. The pace is a bit slow, and the humour is uneven, but there’s something quite engaging about Sim and Tait. The ending is pretty clever too, though I won’t give anything away about that. Reading the book in 2024 is interesting too, as you’re looking at a 2011 take on a 1997 take on journalism through mid-2020s eyes, which is oddly fascinating.

The Long Weekend by Gilly Macmillan (2022)

Another psychological thriller now, and I chose this one because I’m a sucker for the ‘cottage in a remote location’ setting. Three couples are due to stay at Dark Fell Barn, a holiday cottage on a remote farm, for a get-away. On the first night, only the wives arrive at the cottage, as their husbands have all been delayed for different reasons. When they get there, a gift is waiting for them – a bottle of champagne, with a card warning them that one of their husbands is about to be murdered. Cue storms, stumbling around looking for mobile reception, running down an uneven country track in the dark, and generally distrusting one and another (and the absent husbands). A fourth figure – Edie – looms large over the story, though she is not at the cottage with the others. The women’s husbands have all been friends since school, and Edie has been an integral part of their group since then. They were a bit in love with her, but it was Rob who Edie chose. The story takes place after Rob’s tragic death, with Edie staying away from the group in her grief. But is she somehow behind the sinister gift? Does she blame someone in the group for Rob’s death? This one is a quick and easy read. There are a few surprises, a few games being played with first-person narration, and a few red herrings, but ultimately it doesn’t go much further than that. I enjoyed it well enough though.

The Last Murder at the End of the World by Stuart Turton (2024)

I got this one as soon as it came out, because I absolutely loved Turton’s debut novel (The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle) and because the premise looked intriguing. The story is set after the apocalypse (or maybe during, if things don’t go to plan). Humanity has been nearly eradicated by a mysterious fog filled with dangerous flesh-eating insects. The last few survivors have made it to an island, protected by a shield that can keep the fog at bay. The island is run by ‘Elders’, three scientists who are desperately working on a solution, and inhabited by villagers, who maintain a highly regulated lifestyle under the command of the Elders, aided by an AI (a sort of post-apocalyptic Siri). Or so it would seem… All this is thrown into question when Niema, the leading scientist on the island is murdered, and her death causes the island’s security system to begin to shut down. On top of that, everyone’s memories of the event have been erased. One of the villagers, Emory, is tasked with solving the murder, and she has just 107 hours to work out what has happened or the shield will drop and the fog will engulf the island. But as Emory tries to work things out, she discovers far far more than she bargained for – the truth about the island, the Elders and even the villagers themselves is much more complicated than she could have imagined. I really enjoyed this one, and I couldn’t put it down!

My Throat an Open Grave by Tori Bovalino (2024)

This was the last book I read this month, and I finished it just at the beginning of May. I thought it would be a good one to read as Beltane began. And it was, but I have mixed feelings about it. I got the novel in my Abominable Books horror subscription box, and it had all the hallmarks of folk horror. The protagonist is Leah, who lives in small-town Winston, Pennsylvania. Leah tries to be good, going to church and school, and taking care of her baby brother Owen. The girls in the town know that if they aren’t good, then they will be taken by the Lord of the Wood (as others have been). But Leah is tired of being good – and she harbours a secret – so one night she asks the Lord of the Wood to take her baby brother away. (And yes, this is all as Labyrinth-y as it sounds, which is only lightly lampshaded.) The town turn against Leah and demand that she retrieves her brother… and this is where I started to have mixed feelings. It turns out, it’s not actually folk horror. The bigoty of the town is painted with such heavy-handed stokes, and there is absolutely no menace at all to the Lord of the Wood or his domain. And when you find out how sexy and sweet the Lord of the Wood is, you realise this book belongs to a very different genre. It’s an okay read – but it isn’t horror.

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 2024: February

Time for this month's list, but it's not a very long with this time. I read two novels for pleasure in February, but I guess that's better than none.

My reviews for this month are below, and if you're interested my other post from this year is here: January

The House in the Pines by Ana Reyes (2023)

This month began with a library book, and one with (surprise, surprise) an intriguing premise. Maya lives in Boston with her boyfriend, but one night she sees a video that brings back memories of a traumatic event from her past, so she travels back to her hometown to make sense of it all. That might sound a bit pedestrian, but there are some things you should probably know. The traumatic event was that Maya’s best friend Aubrey dropped down dead without explanation, after talking to Maya’s boyfriend Frank. And the video that she saw was of the same thing happening to another girl… and Maya recognized the man she was talking to as Frank. Another important thing to know is that Maya is going through benzodiazepine withdrawal at the start of the story, and she’s self-medicating with alcohol. Maya returns to her mother’s house to try and make sense of these events and her own unreliable memories, and to prove that Frank had something to do with Aubrey’s death. By doing this, Maya also reconnects with her family history and rediscovers the book that her Guatemalan father was writing at the time of his death (which happened before Maya was born). There’s quite a lot going on here, and some parts of the book are really compelling. I’m not sure the Frank storyline was really for me, though, as for all the intrigue, the explanation was a bit simplistic and far-fetched. Maya’s family relationships and background were much more engaging.

The Paris Apartment by Lucy Foley (2022)

I really enjoyed Foley’s previous novels The Hunting Party and The Guest List, so I was looking forward to this one. Sadly, I’m not sure it quite lived up to its promise. The book is (funnily enough) set in a weird old apartment building in Paris. Jess – a woman with a rather messy lifestyle – arrives at the building to stay with her half-brother Ben. But when she gets to Ben’s apartment, he’s nowhere to be seen. After a while, Jess starts to suspect that something bad has happened to Ben. The book is actually told through multiple perspectives, so we learn more about the other inhabitants of the apartment block, as well as their relationships with Ben. Unfortunately, the big reveals that are to come are quite obvious early on, so it becomes a case of waiting to see when Jess will catch up. I enjoyed the setting – which I expected to, given the author’s previous work – but the characters were quite difficult to deal with. It wasn’t so much that they were unlikeable, though they all were, but rather that I struggled to understand the motivations for their behaviours. The final explanation put some of the weird behaviour into perspective, but there were multiple minor weirdnesses that were never quite explained. It felt a bit like the characters had to behave oddly in order to keep the mystery going. If they’d all just tried to behave normally, Jess would have figured out what happened to Ben a lot sooner.

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.

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.

My Year in Books 2023: December

And so, it's my final book review post of the year. Just in time for New Year's Eve. My December lists are usually a bit longer than the ones for other months, as I have a little bit more time for reading for pleasure in the second half of December. That said, I think this post is a bit shorter than last year's December post, and it might not be the longest one from 2023. It's very festive though...

My reviews of the books I read in December are below, but here are links to my posts from the rest of the year: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November

Yule Island by Johana Gustawsson (2023)

I didn’t really get much time for reading at the beginning of the month, but we were on holiday after that and I took a massive pile of books away with me (most of them with a Christmas or winter theme). The first one I read was Yule Island, which not only had a winter theme but also a small, isolated island setting (and I’m always a sucker for those). Emma Lindahl is an art expert who is asked to value a collection belonging to one of Sweden’s richest families. She travels to the family’s mansion on the island of Storholmen, the site of a grisly unsolved murder nine years before. But then another body is found on the island, and the case seems to have a connection to the earlier murder. Detective Karl Rosén arrives to investigate, and all sorts of secrets start to come to light. This one was told by multiple narrators, and Gustawsson plays a couple of narrative tricks that I enjoyed. There are a lot of big surprises, and the fast pace of the story means that these feel like they come thick and fast. I guessed some, but others were a shock. I think I would have liked more sense of the setting, but there’s plenty of Scandinavian mythology here that appealed. The detective also turns out to be one of the most intriguing characters, which is normally a no-no but Gustawsson makes it work. Overall, a nicely atmospheric thriller that’ll keep you guessing.

Daisy Darker by Alice Feeney (2022)

I saved the next book for when we were away, because it’s set in Cornwall. Also, even though it’s not got a specifically Christmas setting, it was marketed as a Christie-esque locked room mystery, which I always find festive. The story is narrated by the eponymous Daisy, who has arrived in Cornwall with her family to celebrate Nana’s 80th birthday. The Darker family don’t spend very much time together, and so it’s not the warmest of reunions. And then the murders begin… Nana’s body is discovered in the kitchen, and she’s not going to be the only victim. Someone is picking off the Darker family, one by one, but there’s no way a stranger can have got into the house. There are two timelines here – the present-day storyline with the murders, and flashbacks to the past, where Daisy narrates her childhood and some background to her family. Something is definitely not right with the Darkers. This book is a lot of fun, particularly as the Christie inspiration is played with openly. I have to admit that I didn’t guess where it was going, because Feeney isn’t averse to breaking a few of the rules (okay, one MASSIVE rule) of classic detective fiction. I enjoyed it though. It’s wonderfully atmospheric, with a great sense of place. And the rule-breaking does allow for a satisfying (if a little eyebrow-raising) conclusion that makes everything that’s come before make sense – I guarantee you’ll be flicking back to confirm something when you reach the reveal!

The Other Mrs Walker by Mary Paulson-Ellis (2016)

I read (and really enjoyed) The Inheritance of Solomon Farthing a couple of years ago, but it’s taken me a while to go back and read Paulson-Ellis’s first novel. Like Solomon Farthing, the novel involves ‘heir-hunters’, people who track down the relatives of people who die intestate or without identification. The story starts with an elderly woman dying in these circumstances at Christmas in Edinburgh (yes – it’s another Christmas setting!). Enter Margaret Penny, who returns to Edinburgh that New Year and reluctantly moves back in with her mother. Margaret has no real plans or ideas about how to support herself, so she falls into the role of ‘heir-hunter’, tasked with finding out the truth about the dead woman. I enjoyed this one, but it was very similar in structure and storytelling to Solomon Farthing, and this was a tiny bit frustrating. For those expecting a straightforward detective story, the idiosyncratic storytelling might be even more frustrating, but fortunately I knew what to expect (and am not strictly wedded to genre!). As well as Margaret’s investigation, we have chapters set in the past, revealing things to the reader that the investigator will never find out. The life (lives) that unfolds before our eyes is filled with darkness and pain, but there’s something compelling about the story, for all its grim narrative of abuse, betrayal and trauma. I got quite immersed in this one, though maybe not as much as with Solomon Farthing. I’m definitely going to read Paulson-Ellis’s third novel though.

The Last Snow by Stina Jackson (2021)

This is another one I saved for when we were away. You can probably guess why from the title. Jackson’s book is set in a small, isolated Swedish town called Ödesmark. The town is haemorrhaging inhabitants, but Liv Björnlund stubbornly remains, living with her imposing father Vidar and her son Simon. Liv is close-lipped about why she has chosen to stay, but some people in the town believe that her father has a fortune hidden away in his house. Regardless of this, Vidar makes his family live a frugal (even impoverished) life, and Liv works at a filling station. Along with this story is that of Liam, a man desperate to provide a stable life for his daughter, and his brother Gabriel. There are also flashbacks to things that happened in the past, though it’s not clear until the end how these different narratives will come together. I found Liv quite a difficult character to get to know. Liam was, on the surface, a little more sympathetic, though we know he’s made some bad choices in his life. The book is very atmospheric, though this is much more to do with the claustrophobic bleakness of Liv and Liam’s lives than the physical setting itself. Weirdly, the winter setting isn’t as prominent as I’d expected, but there’s quite a bit about the situation in Ödesmark, particularly around land ownership and tenancy. This one is definitely a slow burn, but you sort of get sucked into it and can’t put it down.

The Christmas Appeal by Janice Hallett (2023)

I’ve really enjoyed all of Janice Hallett’s books so far, so I had to read this one. It’s a novella that brings back some of the characters from The Appeal (her amazing debut novel) for a somewhat light-hearted Christmas story. This is such a bonkers idea – like a TV Christmas Special but for a book. So, the Fairway Players (the amateur dramatic group from the earlier book) have decided to stage a one-night only pantomime to raise money for the church roof. As before, the story is told through emails and other documents that have been sent to former law students Femi and Charlotte (who are now qualified lawyers) by their old mentor. All we know is that something is going to go terribly wrong at the performance of the play, and that this will involve a ‘Dead Santa’. It was good fun to revisit some of the characters from the first book, and I was surprised to find how attached I was to Femi and Charlotte after meeting them in The Appeal. I also really like Hallett’s idiosyncratic storytelling techniques, and in her other books there’s always that sense that the story isn’t quite what you think. The Christmas Appeal is a lot lighter and fluffier than Hallett’s other novels. The humour is more prominent and heavy-handed (farcical in places), and the puzzle is far less cryptic and opaque. It really is just a bit of Christmassy fun for fans of The Appeal, and that’s not a bad thing.

The Running Grave by Robert Galbraith (2023)

I’m ending 2023 the way I ended 2022… reading the most recent Cormoran Strike novel. Last year, the last book I read was The Ink Black Heart, and this year it was The Running Grave. And, like last year, I pre-ordered this one, got it as soon as it came out, and then saved it for months so I could read it at Twixtmas. I have to say that, although the two are equally weighty, The Running Grave is a bit easier to read than The Ink Black Heart (the chat transcripts in that book took a bit of working through). It’s a return to a more conventional format, with a tighter timeline and a bit more action. Strike is asked to investigate the Universal Humanitarian Church by a worried father who believes the church is a cult. There’s some evidence to support his fears. Reluctantly, Strike agrees to let Robin go undercover and infiltrate the church and, as you can imagine, this proves to be rather dangerous. It’s a page-turner – as expected – and the mystery seems very convoluted but has a clear and satisfying explanation – as expected. I enjoyed it, probably more than The Ink Black Heart but less than Troubled Blood. The only thing I’ll say is that we probably are going to have to see something happen between Strike and Robin soon, as there’s only so much longer the will-they-won’t-they thing can work. I’m just worried the author will resolve it by killing one of them off.