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: November

Just one book on this month's list. Oops. Like last month, it was a bit of a busy time, so I guess that's my excuse!

In case you're interested, here are my reviews from the rest of this year: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October

The Death of Mrs Westaway by Ruth Ware (2018)

This book was a library book, and it looked so interesting that I started it the day I checked it out (which almost never happens!). I’ve read one of Ware’s other books – One by One – and I quite enjoyed that one, so I had a rough idea what to expect. The thing that appealed to me most with this one was the setting: a creepy and dilapidated house in Cornwall. Hal Westaway is a young woman eking out a living reading tarot cards on Brighton Pier after the death of her mother. She receives a letter from a solicitor informing her that her grandmother, Hester Mary Westaway, has died and left Hal an inheritance. The problem is… Hal’s grandmother wasn’t called Hester. Hal decides to risk a bit of deception and, instead of letting the solicitor know they’ve made an error, she travels to Cornwall in the hope of passing herself off as an heir. What she finds at Mrs Westaway’s crumbling old mansion is a dysfunctional family with Agatha Christie levels of secrets and resentments, and a Mrs Danvers-esque housekeeper (it is Cornwall, after all). Hal is out of her depth. For all her claims of being good at cold reading, she misses various hints that would help her avoid trouble, and she frequently gives herself away by forgetting her cover story. The final revelations are quite easy to guess, and some of the characters are kinda OTT, but you cannot fault the eeriness and atmosphere of this one.

My Year in Books 2023: October

Okay, so it's a very short post today. 31 Days of Halloween doesn't always leave much time for reading. That said, I did read one book, and it was a very good one!

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

Ghostwritten by Ronald Malfi (2022)

There was a lot going on this month, so I knew I wouldn’t get chance to do a lot of reading. But I was keen that any reading I did was right for the season. And I think I made a very good choice! I got Ghostwritten in one of my Abominable Books boxes, and it’s been sitting on my to-read pile since then, just waiting for the right time! It’s a collection of four (almost) standalone novellas, each focused on a book or story that is cursed in some way: an unpublished manuscript, an old book that needs to be delivered to a new owner, a book created by a lonely child, and a choose-your-own-adventure game. I knew that the subject matter would be to my taste, but I was really taken with Malfi’s writing. Although the novellas differ a little in terms of their tone, there’s a distinct style and voice that I found really enjoyable. I was completely immersed in each one, and so I couldn’t pick a favourite (though some of the descriptions of places in The Dark Brothers’ Last Ride were just perfect). I say these are ‘almost’ standalone, as they are set in the same ‘universe’. There’s a very subtle overarching narrative that links them, and I really enjoyed the light touch Malfi uses to create this. There are tiny hints to another story that isn’t told in any of the novellas that was beautifully intriguing and sinister. Overall, this is perfect Halloween reading!

My Year in Books 2023: September

I read a few books this month, mostly from the library. I have to admit, it was a bit of disappointing month when it came to reading, as most of the books I read didn't quite live up to expectations. There was one stand-out though, so that was nice.

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

What She Saw Last Night by M.J. Cross (2019)

The first book I read this month was a library book. I checked this one out because I’m a sucker for a train mystery, though I was acutely aware from the design that this was likely to be more of a psychological thriller than a whodunnit (I know we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but that font and layout is very genre-specific). According to the blurb, the premise is that a woman called Jenny boards a sleeper train to Scotland. During the night, another passenger is killed and Jenny discovers the body. She alerts the guards, and also lets them know that there’s no sign of the woman’s young daughter. But it turns out… there’s no record of the little girl being on the train. The woman didn’t book for a child to travel with her, and there’s CCTV evidence to show that she boarded alone. Did Jenny imagine the child? or is there something more sinister going on? The set-up is great, but sadly this book really doesn’t deliver what you might expect. It’s actually neither a psychological thriller nor a whodunnit. It’s an action thriller, with much of the second half devoted to chases, violent confrontations and increasingly convoluted and far-fetched organized crime plots. The puzzle of the unidentified dead woman and the mysterious missing child is resolved early on, and the rest of the story focuses on Jenny’s plan to reveal and take down the bad guys. This one was a bit of a disappointment.

Worst Idea Ever by Jane Fallon (2021)

Another library book… and another book I judged by its cover, which I thought looked pretty jaunty. It’s not my genre of choice, but I thought I’d give it a go. The book is about Georgia, a relatively content woman in her 40s who lives with her husband Nick and teenaged twins, and who writes and illustrates children’s books. Georgia’s best friend is Lydia, who is single and very pretty, but lives an unfulfilled life and posts too many aspirational pictures on Instagram. Lydia is a talented artist and writer – indeed, Georgia believes Lydia is far more talented than her – but she’s had no professional success with her work. When Lydia decides to sell some of her art online, Georgia decides to set up a fake Twitter account to praise her and give her some confidence to keep going. Unfortunately, Lydia quickly becomes ‘friends’ with ‘Patricia’ (the fake account) and starts to talk about Georgia. When Lydia reveals a secret about Georgia’s marriage, everything becomes a lot less fun. This one was a lot less fluffy than I thought it would be. Georgia and Lydia’s friendship is a longstanding one, but it’s more complex than you might imagine. Lydia’s parents died when she was young, and Georgia’s family became a surrogate family for her as she was grieving. Although we’re focused on the who-said-what-on-Twitter antics of the present day, there’s a much sadder story underneath about a friendship forged in trauma that was never quite as solid as it seemed.

Wrong Place Wrong Time by Gillian McAllister (2022)

I bought this one in the supermarket on impulse, which isn’t something I’ve done much recently. It looked intriguing, though I’m not sure that instinct has been steering me right this month. The book begins with the protagonist Jen waiting up for her teenaged son Todd to come home after a night out. But something very bad happens. She sees a man approach Todd and then, without warning, her son pulls a knife out and stabs the stranger to death. In the immediate aftermath, Jen is bewildered and her husband Kelly is angry. Todd won’t explain why he did what he did, but no one can deny that he did do it. You’d be forgiven for thinking this book is going to be a mother’s journey into understanding her son’s secret life of crime, or a We-Need-to-Talk-About-Todd exploration of nature/nurture and the creation of a criminal. It’s neither of those things. Because, when Jen wakes up the morning after the arrest, it’s actually the morning before the arrest. Todd is still at home and apparently happy, with no indication of what’s to come. Yes! This is a time-loop mystery novel! And a really good one! Each time Jen wakes up, she’s moved further back in time, allowing her to work out exactly where the root cause of Todd’s crime lies. McAllister does an admirable job of planting backward clues, and the whole thing has a really satisfying resolution. And then it has a tiny epilogue that is awesome. Loved it!

The Satsuma Complex by Bob Mortimer (2022)

And back to my library books… this one is the debut novel by Bob Mortimer, and so I just had to read it. The blurb promised a ‘noirish’ story with the absurd and surrealist humour we might expect from the author. The protagonist is Gary, a rather mundane man who works for a solicitor’s. Gary meets a girl in a pub one day, but she leaves before he can get her name. Gary is quite taken with the girl, but the only thing he knows about her is the title of the book she was reading: The Satsuma Complex. When he discovers that his friend Brendan has disappeared, and that the police believe he’s the last person to see Brendan alive, Gary gets drawn into a rather convoluted mystery, which sees him attempt to track down ‘Satsuma’ and work out what has happened to his friend. There are mystery USB sticks, dodgy policemen and some odd conversations with squirrels as he does so. I really did want to love this one, as I’m a long-time fan of Bob Mortimer’s comedy, but it all fell a bit flat for me. It was absolutely fine, but I guess I was expecting something more than ‘fine’ with this one. The novel form doesn’t really fit with Mortimer’s usual style of comedic storytelling, so it all felt kind of watered down, and the plot was a bit lacklustre. I enjoyed it, but I didn’t love it. And I guess I wanted to love it.

The Heights by Louise Candlish (2021)

And another library book! I’ve read a couple of Candlish’s other books, so I had a good idea what I was going to get with this one. The book is initially narrated by Ellen, a woman who has signed up for a memoir-writing class for victims of violent crime (and so her narration contains stylistic elements of memoir). Ellen’s world has been upturned at the start of the book because, while working at a client’s property, she spots someone in the window of a neighbouring building and recognizes him. But it doesn’t make any sense, because not only has the young man in question been dead for a couple of years, Ellen was the one who killed him. Obviously, this isn’t possible, so part of the book’s storyline is about explaining how Kieran, the young man in question, can be walking around when he’s meant to be dead. More importantly, it’s also about explaining what happened in the past that took Ellen to the point of wanting to kill a teenager. The second part of the book switches perspectives, so that we now see things from Ellen’s husband’s POV. I think that might have been my favourite bit of the story, as I enjoyed the way we revisited incidents from the first part, but with a very different take. Overall, the story is quite compelling and there are a few surprises, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as the author’s other books as it’s just not quite as gripping.

My Year in Books 2023: August

I didn't get a huge amount of time for reading in the first couple of weeks of the month, but I had a few days booked off for my birthday and I planned to spend most of that time reading (partly because I was a bit poorly on my birthday so couldn't be bothered going anywhere). In the end, I read three novels this month. It's a bit weird, as I read two of them over the course of a day and a half, and then the other one much later in the month. So, in a way, it doesn't feel like I read very much at all!

If you're interested, here are my posts from the rest of the year so far... January, February, March, April, May, June, July

The Twist of a Knife by Anthony Horowitz (2023)

You may have noticed from previous posts that I’m quite a fan of Anthony Horowitz’s mystery novels. I bought the fourth Hawthorne and Horowitz novel just before Christmas, but, as is my habit, I’ve been saving it for a treat. I decided to read it on my birthday, which means this is a borderline tradition, as I read Moonflower Murders (the book that cemented my love of Horowitz’s mystery novels) on my birthday a couple of years ago. If you’ve read Moonflower Murders, you’ll know that there’s a very special reason why someone born in August would enjoy reading it on their birthday. The Twist of a Knife doesn’t have that particular connection, but it does have a Christie-esque theatre-based mystery featuring the fictional character Anthony Horowitz. This time, Tony is preparing for the opening night of his play Mindgame, determined that he is not writing any more books about former detective Hawthorne – and he’s certainly not getting embroiled in solving any more mysteries with him. But, for all his determination, there is (of course!) a murder on the opening night. Theatre critic Harriet Thorsby is stabbed shortly after publishing a scathing review of Mindgame, and the police arrest Tony for the murder. And there’s only one man he knows who can clear his name… I enjoyed The Twist of a Knife greatly, though I’m not sure it’s the most intricate mystery in the series. It’s still a very fun read though, and apparently there will be more to come!

Girls of Little Hope by Dale Halvorsen and Sam Beckbessinger (2023)

The next book I read this month was one of the novels in my most recent Abominable Books subscription box. The cover was pretty cool, and the blurb looked like it might be up my street, so I thought I’d give this one a go next. The book is set in 1996, in a small California town called Little Hope. Three best friends, Donna, Kat and Rae, decide to kill some time by investigating some of the weird stories about their town (rumours of a lost mine, and a decade-old tragedy). They go out into the woods and find a strange cave… but only Donna and Rae return alive, and neither of them have any real memory of what happened. Kat’s mother, Marybeth, is frantic to find out what happened to her daughter, and there are extracts from Kat’s diary to help the reader understand more about life in Little Hope. HOWEVER… this is a horror novel, not a mystery novel, and so while the set-up might make us think it’s going to go in one direction, it’s a bait-and-switch. That is not the direction we’re going to travel at all. It’s probably best that I stop there, as anything else would be a spoiler. Suffice to say, you need to expect the unexpected with this one, and try to remember the genre you’re reading! I enjoyed this one – the writing is engaging and immersive, and the story is intriguing. It’s got a surprisingly charming ending too, which was unexpected!

The Murder Box by Olivia Kiernan (2021)

I got The Murder Box out of the library recently. Although it’s a police procedural, rather than a whodunnit, the blurb looked like it might be up my street. Detective Chief Superintendent Frankie Sheehan is sent a murder mystery game as, she believes, a birthday present. When she looks at the game properly though, she realizes its victim bears a creepy resemblance to a real missing person, a young woman called Lydia Callin who has just been reported missing by her flatmate. Frankie and her team investigate, and they’re drawn into the world of the ‘murder mystery game’ players. The team are also investigating a missing celebrity, Teddy Dolan, who disappeared a couple of months earlier. It’s clear early on that these cases are connected. There’s a lot to like about the premise of this one, but if I’m honest the execution didn’t quite live up to the promise. Ultimately, this is a fairly standard police procedural, with the ‘Murder Box’ stuff just window-dressing. The connections between the cases are made explicit from the start, and the focus shifts to the methods of investigation from then on (as you might expect from a police procedural). That said, there’s still a bit of mystery and a few surprises in store, and the good pacing means that it’s not a boring book to read. I don’t want this to seem like an overly negative review, as I knew from the start that it was not written in a genre I particularly enjoy!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!