I came to read West after reading Davies most recent book, [b:Clear|176443690|Clear|Carys Davies|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1686502013l/176443690.SY75.jpg|183066038], which I loved.

This is a compact book (149 pages) but Davies has packed it with emotions: grief, loneliness, greed, lust, and a man’s yearning to discover giant monsters in the unchartered wilderness beyond the Mississippi River.

Widower, Cy Bellman, leaves behind his ten year old daughter Bess in the care of his taciturn sister to follow his dream. We follow Cy as he faces the rigours of brutal winters and starvation, and Bess as she matures and faces her own dangers. She is lonely and vulnerable, following her father’s route on maps in the local ‘subscription’ library (obviously this town hadn’t a Carnegie Library).

It’s hard to convey in a few short sentences the power of the emotions portrayed in this slim volume. The sense of the great unknown, ‘where there be monsters’, is palpable. In our modern world of google maps it’s easy to forget how terrifying it must have been and how some men couldn’t resist the lure of the unknown.

This is a delightful picture book about friendship. Grace loves to visit Mr Milligan and his goat Charlie. They share food as they sit under the apple tree. But Charlie is old, and when he dies, Mr Milligan retreats into his house. Grace knows it’s up to her to help Mr Milligan come to terms with his loss, and begin to embrace life again.

The latest instalment follows on closely from the previous book, The Rising Tide. Vera is still grieving for the loss of a team member, when she is called to investigate the murder of a young man who works in a private care home for troubled teens. When one of the home’s residents, Chloe, goes missing, Vera, Joe and the new member of the team, Rosie, are in a race to find her, before the murderer does.

We are privy to Vera’s internal dialogue, which I loved: comments about the case, about her ‘bonny lad’ Joe, about her self-doubt and her need to work more collaboratively with her team, about the ghost of her father Hector who still haunts her. We also see a softer side to her, as she makes a new friend and invites her team home for a celebratory supper.

We learn more about Joe in this book: his Methodist upbringing, his conservative views and his obvious affection for Vera even as he chafes against her bossiness. At one point, he tells Rosie he thinks searching the hills for Chloe is a complete waste of time, but ‘our Vera’s always up for a jolly to the hills’!

Ann Cleeves has created a memorable character who is not static, and who develops with each new book. Vera’s love of the landscape is very present - something she shared with her father: ‘Vera was enjoying herself. Being outside, and breathing in this sharp, clean air with its scent of pine needles and ice…’

Our Vera, of course, can’t help but put herself at risk, and be present when the murderer is finally captured. She may be learning to share more with her team, but some things can never change!

A brilliant book to listen to as an audio. Chris Hammer has written a taut murder mystery, where the Australian landscape plays a vital role. The plot is complex and intriguing, and the characters well rounded. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to this book, and will continue to read the rest of the series.

A book about loss and coming to terms with it. Beautifully written, with descriptions of the natural landscape that immerse you in the salt air. Characters are fully fleshed out. Very short chapters that move between different characters, time and place, which gave me whiplash until I got used to it.
An outstanding accomplishment for a first book.

It’s hard to believe that this is a debut novel: also the first Dutch author to be longlisted for the Booker.

It is set in the summer of 1961 in the Netherlands and told from the perspective of Isabel, a single woman living in her familial home. She tended her mother through her illness, and now that she has died, Isabel is all alone.

Isabel had never know loneliness like that, one that arrived without the promise of leaving. There was no one now, no one to walk through the door unannounced, no one to open and close a drawer in the other room. Outside, meadows. Outside, land and more land. Isabel sat by the window with a cup of tea and was overcome. Terror rose up slow and thunderous: Mother had died so quickly, so easily, and Isabel had had no say in it. Her uncle might die, too, just as suddenly. The deed will go to Louis, and Louis might decide to marry, and Louis might decide he wanted her out - anything could happen at any given moment and she had no say in it, not in any of it. She belonged to the house in the sense that she had nothing else, no other life than the house, but the house, by itself, did not belong to her.

Aspects of this book worked for me; but it is not without its problems.

PROS: the author has portrayed coercive behaviour so well it made my skin crawl. For anyone who has experienced this in a relationship, be warned that this novel could be triggering. Why is this a PRO? Because historically books have portraying some of these behaviours as ‘sexy’ and ‘brooding’ - Heathcliff, I am looking at you! This is the reality, and it’s not pretty. Mel says, ‘You don’t understand how it feels. When someone else is taking you over, bit by bit. And you love them, but they’re your enemy. And they just think they’re entitled to every piece of you’.

Mel’s character is spot on: a single parent who is being pulled in so many different directions she hardly has time to think straight. Her struggle with feeling old and frumpy (at 40) is real and beautifully expressed: The women were beautiful and confident in a way Mel never remembered feeling. Perhaps she did once have skin like that - a smooth, blank, shiny canvas - and eyes that weren’t hooded with exhaustion’s slow droop…and perhaps she hadn’t always had to wear a bra, even under pyjamas. But she didn’t remember ever feeling it. It felt like these young women did…They all. Just looked so good. She didn’t remember that. She remembered unironic ugly sandals, cheesecloth sundresses and denim overalls.

CONS: The plot - it’s not strong, and it’s not believable. It’s hard to pinpoint what the problem is, but I felt it finishes with a whimper.

Mel’s rather creepy infatuation with her neighbour who looks a lot like an abusive boyfriend from her past is, well, creepy!

So, a mixed bag for me. Perhaps if I was 20 years younger it would appeal more - maybe I am just the wrong demographic for this book.

I am writing this review the day after the US election results…. So thank you Sandie for bring some light into the world as it goes to hell in a handbag. It soothes the soul to return to Botswana and its acacia trees and the company of Precious Ramotswe, Grace Makutsi (97 per cent in the final examinations of the Botswana Secretarial College) and their family, friends and clients.

Often I find the ‘mysteries’ in this series secondary to the ethical and philosophical questions raised and discussed. However, this was a good mystery: a successful hotel suddenly finds itself in trouble; scorpions found in hotel rooms; food poisoning incidents and items disappearing. As Mma Ramotswe herself falls victim to food poisoning, Grace must continue the investigation on her own. She must temper her usual jumping to conclusions, and remember the advice given by Clovis Andersen in The Principles of Private Detection, their business’s bible: ‘The obvious conclusion about somebody is often the wrong one’.

As always, McCall Smith peppers his book with precious pearls of wisdom. Mama Ramotswe ponders:

…sometimes an ordinary transaction, such as the purchase of a few pairs of socks, could turn into rather a long conversation if one was not careful. But was that a failing: In a world in which people seemed to have less and less time for others, she was not sure that exchanging views was something to be discouraged. A few kind words, a few remarks about this and that, could make a village of a city - and that was no bad thing, she felt.

And later, when she considers her first marriage to that nasty piece of work, Note Mokoti, ‘she had forgiven him and told him that there was no hate in her heart because she knew that you only lengthened the shadow of a bad marriage if you withheld forgiveness and nurtured hate’.

However, even Precious can reach her limits, and when she does ‘something within [her] snapped. She was not sure what it was, but it made the same sound that an elastic band makes when it is stretched to breaking point. Perhaps, she thought we have invisible elastic bands within us, and these are the things that control our temper. Perhaps this is the sound they make when we are goaded beyond endurance and they snap’.

This review contains an overload of quotes, but I found so much in this book that I wanted to share and be able to return to. So I finish with yet another quote, this time about Precious’s father. I too was lucky enough to have a wonder father, so this passage made me a little teary….

Not a day went past but that she thought of her father, and of how he had supported and encouraged her in all that she did. If she closed her eyes, she could hear him; she could hear him calling her ‘My Precious’ as he always did, and the memory brought tears, not so much of sadness - for he had been gone a long time now - but of pride and joy that Obed Ramotswe had been her father. To be the daughter of such a man, she felt, was the greatest possible good fortune, especially when there are so many other, lesser men of whom one might have been the daughter, had things been different.’ Amen to that.

Satisfactory conclusions are reached, mysteries are resolved and peace is restored (if only the real world could so easily find such peace).

At a mere 98 pages, this novella is best read in a single sitting. It is a gentle meditation on mother and daughter relationships; what is said, what is left unsaid. It has a melancholy about it, a sense of missed opportunities for the women to have formed a closer bond.

The characters have no names (a recent trend in literature that is starting to grate, I must say) and there is no dialogue; conversations are described in the text. I come from generations of Anglo-Irish, so the issues that are alluded to in regards to Asian sensibilities did not resonate with me. Having said that, I think this familial tension between mothers and daughters is universal!

I found one glaring error in the text: the daughter reminisces about a storm that cut the power when she and her partner were moving house. They found candles to illuminate the darkened rooms and then her partner put on the record player and ‘danced slowly and achingly’ - how did he manage to turn the record player on if there was no power? Why didn’t someone pick this up before publication?

Error aside, there was something rather lovely about this book: gentle, unhurried, meditative.

This is easily my least favourite book in this series which I have, up to this point, loved. It is overly long at 368 pages, and that would not be a problem except that not a lot really happens and there is a decided dip in the middle of the book, where it just drags. Definitely too much gazing at art, analysing art and talking about art. Without being able to see the art in question, it wears very thin very quickly.

I think part of the problem is our beloved Armand Gamache has retired with his long-suffering wife to the idyll that is Three Pines. That doesn’t leave much scope for him to be involved in an active investigation, so instead he feels impelled to help his friend Clara find her missing husband. Not the most riveting of plots, and as the book approached the conclusion it got more and more convoluting and it totally lost me for a while.

I do hope that this is just a glitch - Louise Penny is usually so reliable. Let’s hope the next instalment picks up the pace again. Although having Gamache retired could be a major stumbling block.

If you look for a narrative, a plot, a cohesive time-line in your fiction, then this book is probably not for you.

It begins simply enough, in 1917 with John, a young soldier lying on a battlefield after an explosion, unable to feel his legs. He loses himself in memories: memories of childhood and his great love. But then the book starts to digress, from place to place and time to time. Are these vignettes related? There is a tenuous link but I found myself losing interest as the book gave short, sharp, ‘quotable quotes’ which didn’t seem to have anything to do with any plot.

It’s a book that has garnered many five star reviews (not to mention being short-listed for the 2024 Booker Prize). For me, it made me feel slightly dim, like I was missing the point.

I believe Anne Michaels is a poet - perhaps this would have been more successful if presented as a series of separate poems - as a ‘novel’, I found it occasionally lyrical, but on the whole, totally impenetrable.

I very much enjoyed the first book in this series; the second book a little less, and this third instalment a little less again!

Although I love the three fiesty woman who star in this book (particularly Judith Potts, a fearless septuagenarian), that wasn’t enough for me to enjoy the book. It felt very much like a colour-by-number painting: superficial and formulaic. There were too many suspects, all of whom could have a possible motive, and we spent a lot of time with Suzie jumping to conclusions, Becky hiding behind Suzie and Judith firing questions at suspects left, right and centre. It felt disjointed and the pace was irregular. I had to suspend my disbelief a few too many times for comfort.

However, any book that champions women who are normally overlooked, I.e. of a certain age; of a certain ethnic background or made invisible by their husband’s job, still gets my vote. So, although this book was not Thorogood’s finest hour, I hope the next instalment rallies and returns to the originality of the first.

Clear takes place in 1842, on a tiny, remote island off the north coast of Scotland. Ivar has lived here his entire life, and is now the sole occupant of the island, aside from his elderly horse, a blind cow and some wayward sheep. He has grown accustomed to his simple life where the elements dictate his daily routines.

His quietude is disturbed when he discovers a man unconscious on the beach. He takes him to his home and tends his wounds. Although they have no shared language, the two men begin to find ways to communicate and build a fragile relationship.

Unknown to Ivar, John Ferguson has been sent to the island to evict him so the island can be turned to grazing land for sheep. As they spend more time together, John finds himself drawn to Ivar and cannot find a way to tell him of his true reason for being on the island.

The trauma of these Clearances, which began in the Lowlands in the mid eighteenth century and continued into the second half of the nineteenth in the Highlands and Islands is movingly described by Davies as a ‘vast emptying-out - a long, grey and never-ending procession of tiny figures snaking their way like a river through the country’, leaving behind low houses with ‘roofless hearths open to the rain and the wind and the ghosts of the departed while sheep nosed between the stonework, quietly grazing’.

In a scant 146 pages, Davies gifts us a tender story that explores not only the end of a way of life, but the power of words and how we can touch each other, even when we don’t share a common language. She takes the story in an unexpected direction, exploring what constitutes a family, and what a family can be. Clear is full of hope.

When we first meet eleven year old Astrid she is living in a rhubarb shed in her mother’s back garden. Although she obviously loves Astrid, her mother has forbidden her from leaving the shed, until she’s ‘old enough’. Astrid years to see the stars, and mix with other children. Her mother home-schools her, feeds her well, has her on an exercise regime so she remains fit - but tells Astrid that the outside world is dangerous, and she is keeping her safe.

That is until the night a stranger with wings unlocks the shed and takes Astrid to London Overhead: a secret city in the sky above London. Here she learns about the Librae - people with wings who live in London Overhead - and discovers that she is a Librae and will soon grow wings herself. Did her mother know this? Is this why she kept her locked away? And if so, why?

The author has done a fabulous job of creating a believable world in the sky with wonderful details that bring it to life. I can almost believe that it exists up there and if I look closely enough, it will be revealed. Astrid is a sympathetic character - her reactions ring true and the reader will find themselves on her side. She is thrilled to finally meet children her own age, and make friends. She loves attending the ancient Librae school, Starminster (St. Paul’s Cathedral) which has echos of Hogwarts about it - but is not a copy; it is an original!

But just as Astrid starts to find her feet in this new world, she hears rumours of children disappearing, and fears that all is not as it first appears in London Overhead. Was her mother right to keep her safe and away from outside dangers? However, Astrid and her best friend Pent are not prepared to let other children be abducted, and work together to solve the mystery.

This book has it all: there’s magic, mystery, and adventure, all happening in a world that draws the reader in and will lead them to wanting more. I do hope Megan Hopkins intends to continue Astrid’s adventures in further books.

Highly Recommended for ages 8+.

Exquisite illustrations support Jackie Morris’ original folk tales that celebrate music, musicians and the natural world. It was a delight to dip into this collection before falling asleep and dreaming of snow and gentle bears and music that brings peace and joy.

What a lovely book this is! Nicholls has written a story that will resonate with anyone who is still bruised from a previous relationship and is unsure whether they are ready to begin again, or prefer to continue living their lonely (but it’s not that bad, right?) life. Sometimes the advantages of a solo life seem to far outweigh the supposed advantages of being in a relationship. Combining this with an epic walk across the English landscape is a marriage made in heaven!

Marnie, 38 years old and Michael, 42, find themselves thrown together by their mutual friend Cleo on a group walk for the weekend. By the end of three days, the rest of the party has peeled away, leaving Michael and Marnie to continue the walk together. As they face predictably unreliable English weather together, and tackle blisters and slippery slopes, they discover that they actually enjoy each others company. As each day dawns, and Marnie should return to London, she finds an excuse to continue the walk with Michael, who plans to complete the famous British coast-to-coast walk. Michael initially wants to walk alone, but then realizes that he in fact prefers Marnie’s company to being alone.

Nicholls is a master of dialogue, both external and internal, and this book is no exception. I found myself laughing out loud on more than one occasion, but also quite teary at others. I raced through to the end, as I wanted to know how it works out for these two lovely people; people you would love to meet in a pub and get to know over a pint of two.

Jojo Moyes describes this book as ’tender, wise and joyful’ - I couldn’t agree more.

Highly recommended.

I got to page 271, of 419 and decided I wasn’t wasting any more of my precious time on this book. It is way too long, and I found I just didn’t really care about the mystery. The usual banter between Hawthorne and Horowitz isn’t zinging in this book, because they spend virtually no time together. And I came across a really obvious error, that shouldn’t have slipped past the keeper: at the scene of the second death, while Hawthorne is looking at the body still in situ, the police officer informs him that the victim had taken an overdose of sleeping pills, and ’there was about a quarter of a bottle of Scotch in his bloodstream’. How could they possibly know that before the pathologist had run all their tests? Anyone who watches crime tv or reads crime novels knows they are forever waiting for the toxicology results after the autopsy - this body was barely cold and still where it was found!
I felt this was written in a hurry, and the results are not great. Disappointing.

This should be read by everyone. It is heartbreaking that the situation in Palestine is still not resolved, and the lives of children are still being destroyed. It is impossible to not be moved by this book.

This is the second collaboration between Christopher Cheng and Lucia Masciullo, the first being The Imagineer. There is an obvious understanding between author and illustrator: the text and pictures have a beautiful symbiotic relationship.

Mr Singer lives alone in his home named Dragon Hall, which is a ‘fractured old house with a wiggly sign’. He is grumpy and crotchety and never smiles; his home is grey, and so is he. ‘But it wasn’t always this way.’ When Mrs Singer was alive, the house was always full of laughter and the smell of freshly baked cake.

This is a lovely picture book that gently explores the impact of grief, and how it can remove the colour from someone’s world. Lucia uses this metaphor by creating the early illustrations in shades of grey. As the young boy Evan makes his way back into Mr Singer’s life, he brings the colour back into his world, both metaphorically and literally, and the pages become brighter and full of colour. Lucia’s hand drawn illustrations, with gentle pastel colours, sympathetically reflect Christopher’s poetic words.

Dragon Folding celebrates friendship, intergenerational relationships and the importance of a supportive community to the wellbeing of all its members.

‘Every good story is a love story’. Ferris is all about love; love of family and friends; the love of a dog, and a love of words. DiCamillo celebrates them all in this delightful middle-grade book.

It’s the summer holidays before Ferris starts year 5, and there’s a lot happening in her world. Her little sister, Pinky, is determined to become an outlaw; her beloved grandmother Charisse is feeling poorly, and is being visited by a ghost; her uncle Ted is living in the basement after leaving Aunt Shirley and there are raccoons in the attic. Thank goodness she can rely on her shaggy dog Boomer, who has ‘a gentle soul’ and her oldest friend Billy Jackson.

I particularly fell in love with Charisse. She has some of the best lines in the book: some so true it hurts. Ferris asks her what she fears most, she answers ‘Indignities’. ‘I don’t understand’ said Ferris. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’ said Charisse. ‘I’m so pleased that you don’t understand.’ Another time she tells Ferris to ‘go run with Billy Jackson. You wouldn’t believe how much of your life you spend not getting to run’.

I believe that DiCamillo is the only writer who could get away with quoting Bede in a children’s book and carry it off. This is a delightful book about a girl and her family and the messy stuff of life.

I love this book, and highly recommend it for readers aged 9 years and over.

Osman has bravely ventured away from our beloved residents of Coopers Chase Retirement Village, and introduces us to his new team of sleuths: Amy, Steve and Rosie. Amy works in private security, and lives for danger and adventure. Steve is her father-in-law, a retired policeman who has settled into village life, loves his weekly quiz nights at the local pub and is grieving for his wife Debbie. Rosie is a famous crime novelist (of a certain age), who was indiscreet about a dangerous Russian mobster in her latest novel and has been receiving death threats. As Rosie points out, ‘if you have any sort of personality, someone will eventually want to kill you’!

The plot revolves around Instagram influencers, money laundering and hitmen/women. It moves at a very fast pace, with a lot of characters introduced in the first chapters, which I found a little confusing until I sorted them all out in my head! There are double crosses, and then counter-double crosses, and the body count is high! Many of the support characters, who are career criminals, have no qualms about killing anyone who causes them grief; it may be regrettable, but such is life! Life is cheap to these guys.

As in the beloved [b:The Thursday Murder Club|46000520|The Thursday Murder Club (Thursday Murder Club, #1)|Richard Osman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1582287822l/46000520.SY75.jpg|70861405] series, the dialogue is snappy and there are many laugh-out-loud moments, which are tempered by some truisms, particularly about ageing and loneliness. Rosie thinks, ‘It’s funny, across a lifetime, the people you pick up. It’s often the most unexpected ones who stick around. There are friendships forged in fire, which end up disappearing like smoke, and other casual, nodding friendships, which will stay with you for the rest of your life’.

Osman has served us another cracker of a book: fast paced with lots of twists and turns to keep you guessing until the final reveal. We Solve Murders is a perfect first book, introducing strong characters that we will all want to spend more time with in future books.

Highly recommended.

‘Grief was a hole I walked around during the day and fell into at night.’

Freya and her friend Miri set out to swim in every British tidal bool in a year. This challenge is Freya’s way of trying to process the untimely death of her younger brother Tom.

Freya’s grief is raw and visceral. She is angry and self-absorbed, struggling with guilt and barely considering how other members of the family are coping with their grief, particularly her mother and Tom’s twin sister Emma. She throws herself into casual sex and binge drinking and doesn’t hold back from revealing her ugly behaviour. This memoir is searingly honest and sometimes hard to read.

However, Freya’s escapes into wild swimming, in all seasons, are not only a release for her, but also for the reader. I am not a swimmer, but her descriptions of the freedom and release she feels when immersed in water made me want to find my swimmers and hit the closest sea-pool. It is obviously addictive, but in a good way!

Nature writing is experiencing a renaissance, more than likely because most of us live our lives far removed from nature and all it has to offer us. Bromley describes wild places so the reader feels they are right there with her: ‘We started swimming in our woolly hats as the weather cooled and the days shortened. Peeling bark fell from the silver birches like half-stripped wallpaper and the sycamore’s winged seeds helicopter to the ground. There was a smell in the air that I forget about, then remember each October. It’s damp, mushroomy and rotten. The decaying nectar of autumn.’

Traveling with Bromley as she navigates her grief can be gruelling at times, but her writing is compelling and lyrical, and I salute her bravery in sharing her journey with us.

This is a cute little book that uses life in the Shire as a guide to ‘a long and happy life’. There is nothing new here, (we all know that sleeping more, eating better and spending time in a forest are good for us) however I enjoyed the parallels made by Smith between Middle Earth and modern day life.

If you are interested in the world that Tolkien created, and where his inspiration came from, then you will find this book informative. For example, Smith posits that Tolkien’s emphasise on food and the joy of eating was a result of spending months ‘in the barren wastelands of the trenches during WWI’ existing on a ‘few thin slices of bread and cheese and boiled vegetables allotted daily’.

He makes comparisons between the characters in the books and the modern world, in one instance suggesting oil and coal companies ‘are just like the corrupted wizard Saruman who cuts down Fangorn Forest to fuel the twisted machines he’s built inside the black walls of Isengard’. Well, he won’t get any argument from me about that!

Smith notes that there is not one single mention of the word ‘God’ in his books, and that is one of the reasons that they are so popular - ‘despite the complex mythopoeia Tolkien didn’t try to impose a theology upon the reader’, in spite of the fact that Tolkien was himself a devout Catholic.

The book is peppered with footnotes that expand on the text, often informing the reader about what happens to characters in the future (or what has happened in the long past), which I found fascinating as I haven’t read further than [b:The Lord of the Rings|33|The Lord of the Rings (Middle Earth, #2-4)|J.R.R. Tolkien|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1566425108l/33.SX50.jpg|3462456] and [b:The Hobbit|5907|The Hobbit (The Lord of the Rings, #0)|J.R.R. Tolkien|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1546071216l/5907.SY75.jpg|1540236].

Like so many self-help books it suffers from being too simplistic, however, on the flip side, much of what Smith says holds a kernel of truth within.

I enjoyed losing myself for a couple of hours in the world of Middle Earth, envisioning an idealised world where we could all live like Hobbits in the Shire.

I surprised myself by how much I enjoyed this book. I am not a swimmer; never have been. But Libby Page made me understand the lure and appeal of the pool. So much so that I am considering taking the plunge (when the weather warms!).

But enough about me! Basically The Lido is about the fight to save the local lido (outdoor swimming pool) from closure. This fight draws 86 year old Rosemary and 20 something Kate into an unlikely alliance, that develops into an unexpected friendship.

As the date of the threatened closure draws nearer, we learn in flashback about both the women’s lives. Rosemary has swum at the Brixton pool since she was a toddler. We learn about her husband George and how they first met at the age of sixteen. We learn about their life together: the joy of setting up their first home where ’they took great pleasure in mixing up their books: his Dickens cheek to cheek with her Bronte’, and their shared sadness, a ‘sadness that sat in the corners of the rooms and was dislodged every now and then with a surge of emotion billowing like dust’.

Kate’s low self-esteem and panic attacks have had a crippling effect on her life. Her ‘Panic’ is personified, ‘as she swims she is aware of it there watching, but she feels safe. You can’t get me here, she thinks". When she does have a panic attack while shopping, she slumps to the floor: ‘This is what it looks like to see a person crumple. You think that bones and skin are suitable scaffolding for a person, but when a person is crumpling you realise that we are not built of strong enough stuff. Being human can be like being a cobweb in a storm’.

Watching how their growing friendship helps these woman flourish is a total joy. You cannot help but cheer them on as they draw members of the local community into fighting for their beloved lido: you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Page may be a young writer, but she has nailed how ageing, and its associated changes, feels. Rosemary ‘wishes that there were some kind of recognition for all [this] information she has amassed in her life. If she emptied her mind of all the stored numbers and names and streets then perhaps she could learn something useful, like a new language or how to knit.’ On another occasion she looks at her swimming costumes and is surprised by the size on the label. She was always slim. She feels like a slim young woman wearing a fat old lady’s clothes’.

Page has just released a sequel: The Lifeline which I can’t wait to read.

The Lido is a total joy: uplifting, charming and full of compassion. Highly recommended.

Outstanding picture book introducing young children to the workings of the Kew Gardens. Each page is packed with interesting facts and the illustrations perfectly support the written text, while also providing more visual information. Children can pore over these pictures and discover more. As an adult having just visited the Kew Gardens recently, I loved this book! It introduced me to all the work that the Gardens do that is ‘behind the scenes’, but vitally important to the preservation of so many ‘at risk’ species.
I would highly recommend this book to all public libraries and primary school libraries. It would make a perfect gift for any child who loves to explore the natural world.

Absolutely gorgeous.

A perfect story about a little girl who takes on all the worries of her world and is determined to fix them, with the help of her dog, Runt.

I cannot recommend this highly enough for primary school aged readers. In fact, I would recommend this book for all ages!

I found myself totally engrossed in the audio edition of this book. Highly recommended for lovers of bookshops, books, Emily Bronte, did I mention books? There’s a magical element to the story which I loved, and female characters who must overcome the restrictions of their time to forge a path of their own.

I didn’t enjoy this as much as his previous books. I found the illustrations not as engaging and the text too drawn out. It could have lost a good third of the bulk and been better for it (in my opinion).
I did, however, love the sentiment behind its creation.

It was a bitter-sweet experience to read this 18th instalment of Winspear’s wonderful Maisie Dobbs series. as it is her last.
From the first book, I felt an affinity with Miss Dobbs, and a yearning to be a little bit more like her: her empathy, patience and grace are well worth aspiring to. Throughout this series, we have travelled beside her through war, and loss and grief, and then hope. Winspear has used this series to explore many issues, particularly to do with the trauma inflicted by war, and the long term effects after the war is over. She has led me to further related reading: a sure sign that a book is not only engaging, but draws you to seek more knowledge.
Winspear has done a wonderful job of bringing all our favourite characters into this final book, and sharing with us, her readers, what is in store for them all.
I was fortunate enough to be in the UK when this book was released, and purchased a hardback copy in Cambridge: this is a book that I will not be giving away. It’s a fitting memento of my time in England.
CODA: If you are new to Maisie Dobbs, don’t start with this book! It is a series that benefits from being read in order to fully appreciate the character development and changes in society that often drive the narrative.

I made a few attempts at reading this book, but found Lynch’s writing style impenetrable. I was determined to read it, so turned to the audio edition, where text style becomes irrelevant - it may be a problem for the narrator, but not for the listener!

Prophet Song is harrowing. As we watch the insidious rise of totalitarianism, I kept screaming at Eilish to leave; leave before it’s too late. But the creeping inevitability that she will stay is apparent as she attempts to overlook what is happening; trying to convince her children (and herself) that the situation will be short-lived and all blow over.

There are echos here of A Handmaid’s Tale and, of course, 1984. But it’s the direct parallel to what is happening now around the world that make it feel immediate. How many mothers are, at this very moment in time, facing the awful decisions that Eilish faces? If nothing else, this book can’t help but move the reader to feel a growing empathy for the rising number of refugees fleeing their war-torn countries.

Not for the faint-hearted. This novel is brutal and unforgettable.

Thank you Dr Kate for another gorgeous novel portraying a strong woman, overcoming HUGE adversities to follow her own path, and rescue her lover in the process, against enormous odds, including some very powerful Gods!

As is the case since time immemorial, our female protagonist’s life is not her own, but controlled by a man, in Psykhe’s case a tyrannical father. ‘I was only a woman. I had to do as my father commanded, regardless of my own wishes. He had the right to kill me or sell me into slavery if I displeased him. Deep inside me, a flame of defiance burned.’

I loved all the herbology and witchy elements to the story - women’s secret business (and power). I ached for Psykhe as she struggled to master the magic of reading: ‘So many marks I did not know, so many words to learn….I was determined to master this strange magical art, meaning hidden within marks of ink.’

My only quibble with the book is I found the ending rushed. The tasks set by Venus were near-impossible and enormously demanding - in my opinion, they needed more space to breath and help the reader feel Psykhe’s physical and emotional pain.

I am not familiar with the original myth of Psykhe and Eros, so I read this novel with no prior knowledge. I was totally immersed in Psykhe’s world, Kate has the ability to transport the reader to other times and places with her vivid descriptions of sights, sounds and smells.

Highly recommended.

Only a writer as talented as Greene could bring so much to a slim volume of only 157 pages - and this is, according to his Preface, merely a novelisation of his original screen-script.
The setting: Vienna, at the end of the Second World War
The narrator: Calloway: a Scotland Yard detective
Main Players: Rollo Martin: writer of pulp Westerns, old friend of…..
Harry Lime: old friend of Rollo Martin, killed in an accident before Martin arrives in Vienna to visit him
Anna Schmidt: poor actress; Harry Lime’s ‘girl’.

In a few sentences, Greene shows us the sad remains of Vienna: ’the smashed dreary city…divided up in zones among the four powers; the Russians, the British, the American, the French zones, regions marked only by notice boards’. Vienna is now ‘simply a city of undignified ruins which turned that February into great glaciers of snow and ice’. A Vienna once famous for its coffee houses, now serving ersatz coffee.

Rollo Martin is naive; he hero worshiped Lime ‘for twenty years, since the first meeting in a grim school corridor with a cracked bell ringing for prayers’ and cannot believe Calloway’s story of Lime being ’the worst racketeer who ever made a dirty living in this city’. He also doesn’t believe that Lime’s death was an accident, and sets out to clear his name, and find his murderer.

So Calloway lets Martin investigate Lime’s death, knowing that an amateur can often illicit more information that a police officer. Half way through the novel, we are finally introduced to ’the third man’, and Greene’s clever twist in his tale.

As an aside, Greene is famous for being a convert to Catholoicism and although this book is not considered one of his ‘Catholic’ novels, the religion gets quite a few mentions, including a reference to the obscure Jansenist movement, a theological movement active in France during the 17th and 18th century.

Now it’s time to find a copy of the film staring Orson Welles and Joseph Cotten, which, according to the Preface, has a different ending to the book.

Thoroughly enjoyable police procedural - the first in a series featuring Inspector Blue from Oban. I bought this book while staying in Oban, so that makes it extra special. I love the very detailed taster notes of all the single-malts he tries during this case! But seriously, Martin takes a hard look at the abuse of power by those who think they are above the law, both now and historically. A cracking good plot, that I will not forget in a hurry.

Marina Sigh is a doctor who has turned her back on treating patients after a traumatic accident during a caesarian and now works as a lab researcher for a large Pharmaceutical company. Dr Annick Swenson has been working for years in the Brazilian Rio Negro, developing a drug that could extent a woman’s fertility indefinitely. However she has failed to report her progress to the company and they send Marina’s colleague Anders Eckman to Brazil to get an update. He does not return. Dr Swenson sends a brief letter informing that Anders died of a ‘fever’ and his body buried. Marina is sent to follow in Anders footsteps and discover how he died and clarify Swenson’s research results.
Dr Swenson is working in an extremely remote area in the rainforest, living amongst a tribe who have had virtually no contact with the outside world and speak only their own language. The only access is by boat.
Patchett’s descriptions of the heat, the bugs, the rain, the snakes, the bugs, (did I mention the bugs), and the constant fear of being bitten by something that at the very least could make you very very sick and at the worst kill you in a very short space of time, is visceral.
But this book, like so many of Patchett’s, is about so much more: guilt and how it can cripple you; and love and all its permutations because ‘in this life, we love who we love’; it’s as simple, and complicated as that.
This book is so different to anything else I have ever read; I will never forget it. Highly recommended.

I found this rather underwhelming I am sorry to say. Tearle’s choice of ‘curious tidbits’ were way too obscure for me. I am familiar with some of the more famous authors, but others would only be known to academics familiar with obscure literary figures.
The book also really needs a table of contents; however the Index is very thorough!

Another extraordinary historic novel from Kristin Hannah. I recently read [b:The Women|127305853|The Women|Kristin Hannah|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1689788358l/127305853.SY75.jpg|161751839] which is stunning, so went in search of her older titles.
The Nightingale is set in France during World War 2, told from the perspectives of two sisters. One stays in her small village with her daughter and the other joins the French resistance.
I listened to the audio book which was excellent - particularly with the French pronunciations!
The details that Hannah describes make this book an almost visceral experience. The choices these woman must make are heartbreaking. This may be fiction, but we know that many, many women faced similar circumstances during not only WW2 but all wars.
So many books about war celebrate men’s bravery; Hannah reveals the true bravery of women whose stories are not celebrated enough.
An unforgettable book, full of strong women who the reader will never forget.
Highly recommended.

Another excellent instalment of the Brock and Kolla series by Aussie author Barry Maitland, set in London. His sense of place is, as always, perfect.
Brock and Kolla and called in to investigate the murder of two young girls and uncover the bones of three bodies nearby. These bodies date back to the Brixton riots over twenty years ago.
Are the two cases linked?
Maitland has again written a tightly plotted page-turner, with enough twists and turns to keep the reader engrossed, without losing them along the way.
Highly recommended.

I wanted to like this book more. I found it basically a series of essays with the common thread being countries visited that have a strong belief in Paradise, and an afterlife. Many of these societies are troubled, either by political divide or supreme poverty and despotic leaders.
Will I remember this book in a few months’ time? Probably not, which is why I’m only rating it 4 stars. However, Iyer had some thought provoking moments, which I will share here:

‘Nothing can live up to the scenes that memory softens and gilds.’
‘The older I got the more I began to feel that almost everything that had happened to me, good or bad, seemed to have come out of nowhere. As Leonard Cohen put it in one of his final songs, we’re “none of us deserving the cruelty or the grace”.’
‘Troubled places often look to writers in the hope that imagination can see beyond the divisions that ideologies enforce; the writer’s job, after all, is to dismantle the very notion of an Other by showing how your hurts belong to me, as my hopes do to you.’
‘North Korea was terrifying to me because its people really did know so little of the outside world; it’s always easiest to launch a nuclear missile against an abstraction.’

And I love how he takes his eighty year old mother out to dinner every Sunday night, and as we nibbled on lentil curries, she threw open wide the magic doors of her girlhood. How I would love to hear my children speak of me in this way!

I am really enjoying this series from Ann Cleeves. It has a different feel to Vera and Shetland. Although, like those two fabulous series, the location is an integral part of the books. In this case, it’s set around Greystone, a small fishing village on the Devon Coast, where storms abound and superstitions run rife.

Jem Rosco, a celebrity adventurer and local legend suddenly appears in the pub one stormy night, mysteriously announcing he’s staying in town while waiting ‘for a friend’. No one thinks much of him disappearing again, until his body is discovered in a dinghy, anchored off Scully Cove.

DI Matthew Venn is an interesting character. His upbringing within a religious sect know as the Barum Brethren has left its emotional scars. His relationship with his mother is strained since he left the Brethren and chose a male partner. When he is called in to investigate Rosco’s murder, he is distracted by memories of visiting Greystone as a child where many members of the Brethren live.

The Raging Storm is very atmospheric. The violent storms create a sense of isolation, both metaphoric and in reality, as fallen trees block access to and from the village and cut off communication. Venn and his team start to uncover a labyrinth of secrets and lies, and find their own lives in danger. As always, Cleeves has her plot well in hand, and the resolution is unexpected, but believable. This is a great book to read on a rainy day, snuggled up with a hot cup of tea!

What’s the collective noun for tea ladies? A cosy of tea ladies, of course! It’s an absolute delight to again spend time with these wonderful characters: Hazel Bates, Irene Turnbuckle, Betty Dewsnap and Merl Perlman, as they put their heads together to not only solve a mystery, foil a plot that threatens national security but most importantly, fight to save their very livelihoods.

Hampson has again written a real page-turner. But what sets these books apart from the rest of the cosy crime genre is her eye for the changing cultural landscape of Sydney in 1966. The news reports more Australian boys dying in a war in Vietnam; there is continuing controversy over the building of the new Sydney Opera House and the country is about to convert to decimal currency, causing a lot of confusing.

However the seismic threat to our beloved tea ladies is the introduction of a machine called The Cafe-Bar which promises an end to tea breaks in the workplace: ‘thousands of Australian businesses can testify that with a Cafe-bar in the office, lengthy group tea breaks practically disappear…the Cafe-bar is always on duty and staff tend to have their tea when they want it and keep working while they have it’. Businesses couldn’t resist the appeal of this ‘saving’, but the reality is that the loss of the tea lady and a dedicated tea-break lead to a loss in morale and collegial support. It was a sad day in many workplaces when the tea lady was ‘let go’.

I loved the first Tea Ladies mystery, and I love the second even more! I am thrilled to hear that the third is in publication, as we speak!

Although this book is fiction, it doesn’t feel like it. Hannah has based her book on real women’s experiences in Vietnam and on their return to civilian life. It’s hard to read at times. The brutality of the war is hard, but harder still is the treatment meted out to those who returned from Vietnam to the States.

Frankie is a newly registered nurse, working night shift where she cares for a returned soldier who has tried to commit suicide. He mentions the care he received from a nurse at an Evac Hospital in Vietnam and how she got him through the loss of his leg. She ‘had never thought about nurses in Vietnam; the newspapers never mentioned any women. Certainly no one talked about any women at war’.

Her beloved brother Finlay enlisted 6 months ago, so she enlists too, believing that she will be kept far away from the actual fighting - how wrong she is! We journey with Frankie as she grows from a naive, patriotic girl to a woman who has seen way too much and loses her faith in her country. Friendships forged during war are fierce and strong-they can save your life, not only during the war, but on the return to ‘real life’ which proves to be as harrowing as Vietnam. As Frankie says ‘Thank God for girlfriends. In this crazy, chaotic, divided world that was run by men, you could count on the women’.

Frankie’s journey takes us through those turbulent years during the war, and the following years that it took for America to acknowledge the damage done to Veterans of the war: both physical and psychological. As she tries to access services for veterans, she is turned away again and again, told that ‘there were no women in Vietnam’. Finally in 1993 the Vietnam Women’s Memorial was dedicated in Washington, DC, acknowledging over 10,000 women who served in various roles in the Vietnam War.

Unforgettable: Highly recommended.

Thank you to the CBCA for the opportunity to review this book. See Readingtime.com.au for my full review.

Many thanks to CBCA for the opportunity to review this book. Read my full review at readingtime.com.au

The heartbreaking story about Bryce Courtenay’s youngest son Damon, who was born a haemophiliac. Not only did he have this terrible disease that made his life so difficult, but he become HIV positive from one of the thousands of transfusions he needed to keep him alive. He died from AIDS on April 1st, at only 23 years old.

This is a terribly sad story, and makes you feel so angry at a health system that allowed this to happen. In the US they had stopped accepting blood donations from the gay community as soon as they realised that AIDS was transferred by blood. In Australia the politicians, not wanting to upset the gay voters, waited another two years before finally testing blood donors, resulting in over 50% of haemophiliacs contracting the disease throughout the 1970’s/1980’s in Australia.

There is a lot of medical information about both Haemophilia and AIDS and the extraordinary cocktail of drugs that Damon had to take to stay alive. I certainly came away from this book more informed about both diseases.

Courtenay is understandably angry about a lot of things, particularly the lack of support from many sectors and individuals in the health system. As a parent, he has my enormous sympathy and empathy. However, on the whole, this book is marred by his voice. He does not come across as a particularly likeable person; I’m not sure whether to commend his honesty in portraying himself, or be outraged by some of his behaviours and views. He often comes across as a bit of a dick, to be honest!

This book would have been more effective if it had been written by Damon’s partner, Celeste, who appears to be an amazing individual - and certainly more likeable than Courtenay.

This is the extraordinary story of the women captured by the Japanese in 1942 and kept prisoners of war in various camps in Sumatra for over three years. Parts of this story were known to me - who hasn’t heard of Nurse Vivian Bullwinkel and her amazing survival of the Banka Island massacre? If you have seen the film Paradise Road directed by Bruce Beresford, then you will be familiar with the story of how they created an orchestra of voices to help raise morale.

This is a difficult book to read - how these women were treated is truly horrific - so many didn’t make it, due to starvation and disease.

Unfortunately, the book is marred by the dialogue - and there is a lot of dialogue. The author struggles to write realistic dialogue - no one would speak the way it is written in this book in the best of times, let alone under the conditions these women are surviving. It’s way too upbeat and always optimistic, as if the author were writing this for a younger audience and didn’t want to shock them with swearing or negative emotions. I would guarantee that these women swore like the proverbial sailor, and would have often lashed out at each other - it’s only human. But this is never ever conveyed in the book, and it suffers greatly from the lack of realism.

However, it is an amazing story that needs to be know, and for that I am glad that I read this book and learnt about these extraordinary women.

Reading was the only true form of joy and solace, the only intellectual freedom they still possessed and they cherished it like life itself.

Another fabulous wartime novel from Kate Thompson, featuring a library and its brave librarian. Her previous novel, [b:The Little Wartime Library|61237143|The Little Wartime Library|Kate Thompson|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1670914289l/61237143.SY75.jpg|94074671] is set in London during the war, and features the underground library at Bethnal Green. I highly recommend it!

The island of Jersey may be physically closer to France than to England but it is English soil. In June 1940 the German army invaded the island, occupying it until the island was liberated, a day after the offical Liberation Day of 8 May 1945. During those almost 5 years the small community learn to rely on their library, St Helier Public Library and its librarian, Grace La Mottee to provide them with blessed relief and escape from the deprivations of occupation.

It is well known that the Nazis burnt books. Grace is ordered to hand over any books they considered inappropriate, but like any good librarian, she hid them in her library, an action that could see her shot by the occupiers. Each chapter features a banned book and the reason for their being banned: Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens because it featured Jewish characters: anything by Ernest Hemingway, as he was considered a ‘corrupting foreign influence’; Emil and the Detectives by Erich Kastner because it was ‘contrary to the German spirit’ and many more.

To help raise spirits, Grace forms a book club: the Wartime Book Club. Each week she reads aloud to the many citizens who crowd into her library. Some of them have never read a book before; certainly never entertained the thought of reading poetry. This small act of kindness and solidarity is a lifeline, helping everyone forget for a couple of hours their hunger and worries. ‘It was the feeling of companionship, the collective act of reading, which had made them all feel as if their suffering were a shared endeavour. The sense that somehow, their literary gatherings were protecting them from the occupation. Nestled in the sanctuary of the library, words flowing over and around them, had kept real life at bay.’

Grace’s best friend Bea Rose is also defying the Nazis. She is a postal worker, and uses her access to the mail to remove poison pen letters written by disgruntled villagers revealing their neighbours’ ruling-breaking. She held the letters long enough to alert the accused person to destroy any evidence before delivering them to the head of the German Secret Field Police in Jersey. The war may have brought out the best in some people, but it also brought out the worst in others.

There are so many individuals in this book whose bravery is breathtaking. Simple people, acting in extraordinary ways. Thompson makes these people come to life.

There are copious notes at the end of the book which I recommend you read. They give you further information about the occupation. There are also book group questions; a reading list; recipes; further details about the real people that Thompson used for inspiration for her characters; places to visit on Jersey Island and a bibliography.

This is an engrossing historic novel, highlighting the story of ordinary people’s courage and resistance in a time of war. Unputdownable and highly recommended.

Please read my complete review of this book on Readingtime.com.au.
Thank you to CBCA for the opportunity to review this book.

At 212 pages of very large print, this book is more a novella than a novel.

Perhaps it lost something in its translation. I kept waiting for the book to ‘click’ for me, but it didn’t. However, there was a great line towards the end: Piety prevails only as long as it is expedient. - So true.

Please visit readingtime.com.au to read my full review of this delightful junior fiction book. Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to read and review this book.

This is Raynor Winn’s third book, following on from [b:The Salt Path|38085814|The Salt Path|Raynor Winn|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1520119402l/38085814.SY75.jpg|59753071] and [b:The Wild Silence|52185541|The Wild Silence|Raynor Winn|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1591234123l/52185541.SY75.jpg|73609508]. If you have read these previous books, you will be familiar with her story and her husband Moth’s struggle with corticobasal degeneration, a Parkinson’s-like disease. Moth’s health is declining, and they decide to walk the Cape Wrath Trail, over two hundred miles of tough terrain through Scotland’s remotest mountains and lochs. This may sound counter intuitive for a man who can barely walk in a straight line, but they discovered that long distance walking dramatically improved Moth’s symptoms in the past.

Winn beautifully describes the landscapes they traipse through - you can smell the heather, hear the waterfalls and feel the bites of the insistent midges!

The author doesn’t shy away from voicing her dismay at the effects of climate change on the landscape, and the impact that humans have had since time immemorial. In Scotland alone there is only one percent of the old forest remaining.

After completing The Cape Wrath Trail, they continue to walk through England, and can’t help but notice the lack of biodiversity around them as farmers turn to intensive monoculture farming. It’s easy to accuse Winn of being preachy as she observes the effects of climate change. But she and Moth are immersed in the landscape and the loss of habitat and wildlife is inescapable, and heartbreaking.

Landlines records one couple’s journey through an (at times) harsh landscape, battling not only the elements but their own physical limitations. Throughout it all, they rely on each other’s strengths, both physical and emotional. It is a portrait of a marriage that has withstood the worst that life can throw at it, and still they manage to share a look, and know what the other is thinking. It is a testament to the power of love, and the restorative power of walking!

I am methodically working my way through this series - it is an absolute joy. The previous instalment found Chief Inspector Armande Gamache and his right-hand man, Jean-Guy Beauvoir part ways in the most acrimonious of ways - it was heartbreaking.

We now find Inspector Isabelle Lacoste has taken over Beauvoir’s role, and the toxic powers that want to crush Gamache have destroyed his tight-knit homicide team, leaving him and Lacoste isolated within the Surete du Quebec.

Gamache receives a call for help from Myrna, the bookshop owner in Three Pines: her friend has gone missing and she fears the worst. Gamache and Lacoste discover that Myrna’s friend was in fact the last surviving Ouellet quintuplet, born at the height of the depression. She had hidden her true identity all her adult life. When she is discovered, murdered in her own home, Gamache wonders if her famous beginning has anything to do with her murder.

But while he investigates the murder, Gamache is also struggling to uncover who is behind the obvious corruption within the force, and what is their master plan. Can Gamache save Jean-Guy from his addiction?

There is so much to love about Penny’s writing; and I have to say any author who quotes [a:Julian of Norwich|156980|Julian of Norwich|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1244247893p2/156980.jpg]’s wonderful line: ‘All shall be well’ is fine by me! And who wouldn’t love to think that there are people like Gamache in the world, who ‘held unfashionable beliefs’? Who ‘believed that light would banish the shadows. That kindness was more powerful than cruelty, and that goodness existed, even in the most desperate places’?

This book is unputdownable. It’s perfectly paced, with the right balance between the personal stories of the characters that we have grown to love, the murder investigation and a race to uncover a plot that could see thousands of innocent people die.

Outstanding!

I randomly read number 8 in the series, [b:The Wench is Dead|1003488|The Wench is Dead (Inspector Morse #8)|Colin Dexter|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1343027194l/1003488.SY75.jpg|988983], which I really enjoyed, so I thought I’d go to the very beginning, and read book one. This was written in 1975, and it reminded me how awful the 70s were, particularly if you were female. Anyone who harks back to the ‘good old days’, should read this book - it’s like a slap in the face with a cold fish.

Women are objectified, and are treated appallingly by nearly all the men in the book, apart from our sainted Lewis! Morse is quite the lech, and very unappealing. He constantly makes advances to women who are young enough to be his daughter - yuck.

There is a conversation between a man and woman in bed together that positively took my breath away:

Man: Do you believe a young girl can get raped?
Woman: It must be jolly difficult for the man.
Man: Mm.
Woman: Have you ever raped a woman?
Man: I could rape you, any day of the week.
Woman: But I wouldn’t let you. I wouldn’t put up any resistance. Peter…..rape me again!

It was very difficult to get past the rampant misogyny in the book, but the plot was intriguing….until Dexter broke one of the cardinal sins of crime writing, by solving the crime with information not previously revealed to the reader - hurrump!

I’m not sure if I will read any more of the books - I think I’ll stick to the tv series!

As I did not finish this book, I have not rated it, as that wouldn’t be fair at all.
I am not a huge fan of the recent meta-fiction landslide. It’s all very clever, but does it make for an enjoyable book to read? Sometimes it does, but often it doesn’t. By page 70 I was beginning to lose the plot, so to speak!
One character (real or fictional, I cannot remember) explains the story as ‘an exploration of an author’s relationship with her protagonist, an examination of the tenuous line between belief and reality, imagination and self, and what happens when that line is crossed’. It just left me confused.
I loved Gentill’s Woman in the Library, and the Rowland Sinclair series, so I am hoping this is just a one-off exploration of this style of writing.

Well, how to respond to this book? I listened to the audio edition, so have no quotes to support my review. So I will keep it brief: I felt Funder projected way too much of her own bias into this ‘biography’ of Orwell’s first wife, Eileen O’Shaughnessy. How could she possibly know what went on between Orwell and Eileen, apart from the few details Eileen revealed in letters she wrote to her best friend? It’s way too much supposition. I also found the constant references made to Funder’s current life an interruption, rather than a worthy addition to the book. And why did she continue writing about Orwell after Eileen’s death - wasn’t the ‘biography’ supposed to be about Eileen? Isn’t Funder almost doing what she found so abhorrent in the first place: erasing Eileen to tell Orwell’s story.
I think if Funder had chosen to write this as fiction (because let’s face it, there is a lot of fiction between the covers of this book) I would not be feeling so cross!

Who can resist a story within a story? This is the 8th instalment in the Inspector Morse series, but it didn’t matter a jot that I haven’t read the previous books.

Morse finds himself bed bound in hospital after surgery for a perforated ulcer. To while away the time he reads an account of the murder of a young woman in 1859, her body found in a stretch of the Oxford Canal, and the conviction of two men who were subsequently hanged for the crime. He becomes convinced that the two men were, in fact, innocent of the murder of Joanna Franks. Although the crime ‘was done a long time ago, [ ] and done ill’, Morse feels duty-bound to uncover the truth.

He relies on the ever reliable Sergeant Lewis to do much of the legwork of his investigation, and is also ably assisted by Christine Greenaway, a librarian at The Bodleian, whose father is in the same ward as Morse. It’s a treat to read the dialogue between Morse and Lewis, and to see Morse realise what a treasure Lewis is to him, both as a colleague and as a friend.

My only complaint about this book is the constant referencing to all the very attractive (younger) women who seem to find Morse totally irresistible. Perhaps some wishful thinking on the author’s behalf? Even the crusty, Scottish ward matron falls under his spell (apparently).

But there is an undercurrent of sadness to Morse: he refers to being relieved that he doesn’t have to buy anyone a gift for Christmas, and received only a handful of Christmas cards. Christine Greenaway notes that ‘his eyes had held hers for a few seconds, but she had been conscious neither of their blueness nor of their authority: only their melancholy and their vulnerability’.

When this book was released, the mystery surrounding Morse’s first name was still that: a mystery, and it is referred to here, when he is asked what the ‘E’ stands for; his response is, as always ‘everyone calls me Morse’. It’s like being ‘in on the joke’, now that we all know what his first name is!

Morse’s dogged persistence in finding the truth results in an unexpected conclusion, one which I did not see coming. This is a very clever book, and it deserved winning the British Crime Writers’ Association Gold Dagger Award, for the best Crime novel of the year, in 1989.

This is Barbara Pym’s last novel, published only a few months before her death in 1980. I don’t think it’s her best novel, however it’s still a Pym novel, and that makes it well worth reading.

It’s set in the 1970s in a small English village, where time seems to have stopped somewhere in the 50s. Everyone knows everyone else’s business; village life revolves around the church, jumble sales and afternoon teas.

Emma Howick is an anthropologist: single and in her thirties. She takes up residence in her mother’s cottage in the village, thinking she will write an academic paper examining life in a small rural village. As Emma studies the villagers’ behaviour with her professional eye, it creates a sense of distance from the characters, making it difficult to connect emotionally with their lives.

However, Pym has such an eye for people and their foibles. She is sharply observant, but always with an underlying kindness. The vicar, Tom, who has lived with his sister Daphne for many years since his wife died, is suddenly left to his own care when Daphne decided to move away. There is much discussion amongst the village ladies about how will he possibly cope on his own? “It was a mistaken and old-fashioned concept, the helplessness of men, the kind that could only flourish in a village years behind the times”.

And Pym can be so damn funny! “Daphne realised that she hated flower arranging altogether. Sometimes she hated the church too, wasn’t sure that she even believed any more, though of course one didn’t talk about that kind of thing. And Christabel G. hadn’t told her what she was to do, just snubbed her and left her standing uselessly by a heap of greenery. Into Daphne’s mind came yet another Greek vignette, the memory of an old man on the seashore bashing an octopus against a stone…..”

It’s heartbreaking that we lost Pym way too early. Her insights into ordinary lives, quietly lived are unparalleled. Reading any of her books is always a treat.

This was pretty ordinary, I have to say. I found the characters one-dimensional and stereotyped. The author has done her research and there is a lot of detail about how to make a good bottle of riesling, which slowed down the pace of the narrative. In some ways there was too much happening: a tornado; a civil war re-enactment; the discovery of 30 year old human remains, and of course, the obligatory sexual frisson between two main characters. At over 300 pages, it’s way too long, but still manages to rush at the end, making for an unsatisfactory conclusion (in my opinion).

However, every now and then the author surprised me with something like this:

In the sweet, nostalgic memories of everyone who pines for the bygone days of small-town America, there is always a General Store. An old-fashioned place that doesn’t necessarily have what folks need, but it does have what they want - someone who remembers their brand of tobacco and the kind of motor oil they bought last time, and who asks to see pictures of the new baby or the wedding without being prompted. The inventory is never computerised because it’s erratic and, besides, no one computerises bloodworms or tomatoes fresh out of the garden of a local farmer. Our General Store had Thelma Johnson, who’d owned the place since God was a boy.

Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for an advance copy of this fabulous book. Please go to readingtime.com.au to read my full review.

I found all these stories exquisite. Blain can communicate such a sense of sadness and melancholy without being sentimental.
Many of these stories are about loss and grief: loss of a parent to alzheimers; the grief that comes with lost opportunities, lost hopes and dreams; loss of the world as we know it.

It is strange how often we long for life to move forward: I just have to get through this, we think, as though the past, with all its fears and fuck-ups and anxieties, can be completely left behind, neat, contained, never spilling over the line we imagine is waiting for us. And yet the past is always there, hovering at the edge, teasing us, reappearing when we least expect it, and then sliding away again, where it waits, the warmth of its breath reminding us that it still lives.

I listened to the audio version of this book, which was fabulous.
Set during the seige of Crete during the Second World War, we follow the story of two young Australian soldiers who are part of the allied forces sent to protect Crete from the Nazi invasion, and Alenka, a young woman who has lived all her life on the island.
The chash of cultures is highlighted, as are the myths and legends relating to the Greek culture. Teddy and Jack have an unlikely friendship. Teddy has little empathy or understand for others and is really only interested in his own needs and desires. Jack is a deep thinking, who loves poetry and music, and struggles with a speech impediment. They both, of course, fall in love with Alenka, but only blind Freddy could miss the perfect match between Alenka and Jack.
My only reservation about the book is the portrayal of Teddy’s sudden change from larrikin to outright bastard. I know they say that war changes people, but I thought this was a bit of a stretch.
However I loved the story and learning about Crete and its rich culture. This is a world war two story that I was not familiar with, and I love a book that broadens my knowledge, and keeps me thoroughly entertained at the same time.

You don’t need to be at death’s door to find this little book inspirational and charming. It has lots of simple ways to approach the often daunting task of getting rid of a life-time’s worth of STUFF!

Here are the quotes that resonated the most for me:

‘Life will become more pleasant and comfortable if we get rid of some of the abundance.’

‘Do not ever imagine that anyone will wish to schedule time off to take care of what you didn’t bother to take care of yourself. No matter how much they love you, don’t leave this burden to them.’

‘Sooner or later you will get your own infirmities, and then it is damn nice to be able to enjoy the things you can still manage to do without the burden of too many things to look after and too many messes to organise.’

‘That is [another] benefit of death cleaning: thinking more about how to reuse, recycle, and make your life simpler and a bit (or a lot) smaller. Living smaller is a relief. ‘

‘My vice is things. It took me a while to understand this, but you can enjoy all these things without owning them. Even though this may sometimes seem quite hard to do, training yourself to enjoy only looking at things, instead of buying them, is very nice and also a good practice. You really can’t take everything with you, so maybe it is better to not try to own it all.’

‘If you don’t like something, get rid of it’ (even if it’s a gift from your favourite aunt)!

So get cracking and start sorting through all your stuff - it’s liberating!

‘If only these walls could speak’ is often said about old buildings that have an ‘interesting’ history. The silk house is just such a home. Built in the 1760s for the apparently wealthy silk merchant Patrick Hollander and his wife Caroline, the book tells us of the Hollander household, and in particular, their maid Rowan Caswell. It also moves to the present day, where the building is now part of an exclusive boarding school. Thea Rust is starting her first term as a history teacher, and finds herself unsettled by the old building. On researching the house, she discovers that Rowan Caswell was accused of witchcraft, as so many women were if they knew how to use herbs to make medicine and help people. It was a dangerous time for ‘wise women’.

Nunn cleverly entwines these two narratives, and the reader sees echos of the house’s previous life impacting on the present. As Thea researches the history of Silk House, she begins to uncover a wrong that needs to be made right, so the ghosts of the past can be at peace.

The Silk House successfully combines history, mystery and ghost story to create a novel that is both unnerving and thoroughly entertaining.

I seem to be on a roll with books that have non-human narrators. After loving [b:Remarkably Bright Creatures|58733693|Remarkably Bright Creatures|Shelby Van Pelt|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1651600548l/58733693.SY75.jpg|90375164] which is narrated by a giant Pacific octopus, I was not at all deterred to discover the narrator of this book is a cheeky magpie named Tama (as in Tamagotchi).

It is set in Central Otago on the south island of New Zealand on a sheep station run by Rob and his wife Marnie. Marnie finds Tama as a helpless chick, fallen from his nest. She nurses him back to health, and he soon becomes a surrogate child for Marnie, who has recently had a miscarriage.

From the get-go, we sense a terrible tension between the couple. The farm is struggling, and when Rob takes comfort from too much booze, his mood darkens and he turns on Marnie. This is not an easy book to read; the domestic violence is truly terrifying, and I feared that Marnie would not survive.

Marnie shares videos and pictures of Tama on social media, and he soon becomes a social media sensation. His ability to mimic human voices gives Rob and Marnie an opportunity to make money through merchandise, tv appearances and fans visiting the farm.

But even as Tama’s fame grows, producing an income-stream for the couple, we can see Rob is not coping, and his moods become darker and more menacing. Tama keeps saying: ‘And I did not trust him and I was right not to trust him’ creating a tension that builds throughout the book, until it reaches its climax at the axeman’s carnival, a woodchopping competition that Rob is determined to win for the tenth year in a row.

I have heard this book being referred to as ‘rural New Zealand gothic’ which I think hits the nail on the head. It’s quite brutal in parts, as farm life surely would be, and if this had been a movie, I would have covered my eyes on several occasions!

Although this was not a comfortable book to read, it is certainly memorable. Chidgey’s previous books have won oodles of awards, and her skill as a storyteller shines brightly in this gothic tale told by an unforgettable magpie named Tama.

The title is misleading. I thought this little book was going to explore the life of the real Alice - Alice Liddell. But it doesn’t. It’s about Charles Dodgson’s enthusiasm for photography, at the time in its early infancy. There is a lot of technical information about the development of the first cameras, which I must confess I skimmed.
However, what information is shared by Winchester about Dodgson is interesting, particularly the details of life in the rarified world of Oxford in the 1800s. And Winchester does have a lovely turn of phrase, it must be said!
But the major disappointment is the lack of pictures to support the text. Instead the author describes the images, which is somewhat tedious. If this book had the relevant photos, it would have been four stars.

This is a delightful little monograph outlining the conception, development and publication of the classic [b:The Wind in the Willows|5659|The Wind in the Willows|Kenneth Grahame|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1630642716l/5659.SX50.jpg|1061285]. Although the author is Professor Emeritus in English and Children’s Literature at Cardiff University, this is not a heavy academic tome, but rather a generously illustrated, easy to read overview.

The Wind in the Willows began its life as a bedtime story for Grahame’s young son Alistair. Grahame was already well known for writing two ‘satirical, witty and ironic books of short stories about childhood’, and had a successful career in the bank, where it would appear he had plenty of time to write ‘(in the Bodleian Library there is a draft fragment of The Wind in the Willows written on Bank paper.)’

We learn about the famous people with whom he rubbed shoulders, and the two women who had an enormous influence on his writing. And the beautiful idylic landscapes that Grahame loved and spent time in, which become an intergral part of the book, are shown in photographs and artwork.

A tidbit of information that I learned is that Arthur Rackham’s illustrations for The Wind in the Willows in 1940 were the last of his career. (As a child I loved his illustrations). There are many suggestions as to who inspired the famous characters who populate the book, however the author suggests that in fact they are all based on different facets of Grahame himself. He never wrote an autobiography, although his publisher nagged him for years to do so. But, ‘perhaps he had already written it in the pages of The Wind in the Willows’.

The rather rocky road to publication is also of interest - isn’t it amazing that so many books that we now consider part of the canon appear to suffer from a similarly close shave with death (i.e. non-publication).

This slender volume is crammed full of colour photos, artworks, original hand-written pages, that add enormously to its enjoyment.

I loved the concept of this book: it is an ode to bookshops, authors, book talks and all things bookish. Initially I enjoyed the quirky characters and the Korean setting, so different to the usual English or American books that come my way.
However, the author became distracted by subjects that obviously concern them: corporate greed and workplace burn-out being two such concerns. And this is where it started to get very preachy; I felt I was being lectured, and the author was just venting their views, and I was a captive audience. So at page 172 I gave it up. Disappointing.

If ever there was a marriage made in heaven, it is this beautiful book being narrated by Merryl Streep. I have read reviews that called this book boring, complaining that nothing happens in it. Did I read the same book? Because the book I read had so much happening in it. Certainly no car chases, or grisly murders, but it brims with emotions; with joy, and sorrow, and grief and love.

Lara and Joe’s three grown daughters return to the family orchard to pick cherries. Covid has isolated them from the rest of the world, and the girls beg their mother to tell them about her time, on the stage, and her romance with Duke who became a famous film star.

The blurb describes this book as ‘a meditation on youthful love, married love, and the lives parents have led before their children were born.’ Perhaps this book resonates more with older readers, who know what it is to look back at youthful passions with no judgment and gentle kindness.

Lyrical and beautiful, highly recommended.

I know I’m a little late to the party, but I have finally read the first book in this very popular series.

During intermission a world-famous conductor is found dead at Venice’s opera house - the unmistakable bitter-almond odour of cyanide on his breath.

We meet Guido Brunetti, a commissario of the Venice police for the first time: He was a surprisingly neat man: tie carefully knotted, hair shorter than was the fashion; even his ears lay close to his head, as if reluctant to call attention to themselves. His clothing marked him as Italian. The cadence of his speech announced that he was Venetian. His eyes were all policeman.

As Brunetti moves through the city to pursue his investigation, Venice is revealed to us as an integral character in the book:

Venice had become a sleepy provincial town that virtually ceased to exist after nine or ten at night. During the summer months, she could remember her courtesan past and sparkle, as long as the tourists paid and the good weather held, but in the winter, she became a tired old crone, eager to crawl early to bed, leaving her deserted streets to cats and memories of the past.

There were moments of beauty in this book, but I found myself totally confused by the different narrators across time, with some characters changing their names. It all links together at the end, but I was unsure who was who as I read. There was little character development, so it was hard to feel for any of them, even though there were deep emotions being explored.
A bit of a disappointment for me, I’m afraid.

In Rome, a well known and controversial left-wing priest is found brutally murdered. Andy Chapman is an English foreign correspondent, who has been reporting from Italy for over eight years. When he discovers evidence during his investigation that implicates the Vatican in Father Vivaldi’s murder, he gives it to the investigating magistrate, Elena Fiorini, and they join forces to find the killers.

There was a lot to like about this book. The involvement of the Vatican takes us back to World War 2, Mussolini and the the black shirts, and the Ustashi in Yugoslavia. I knew nothing about the Ustashi’s concentration camp in Jasenovac, where tens of thousands of Orthodox Serbs, Jews and Gypsies were tortured and killed. Many of the leaders in the campaign of genocide were apparently Catholic priests and Franciscan friars. A dark history indeed.

As Andy and Elena draw closer to the truth, they find themselves up against people who will stop at nothing to stop them from revealing that truth.

I found the Italian setting intriguing, as their judicial system is so different to the English/Australian/American systems, all of which I am more familiar with.

The ubiquitous romance between Andy and Elena is predictable, and fidelity in relationships seems to be considered totally unnecessary. (Is the author trying to suggest that Italians do not value fidelity?) The two main characters didn’t particularly appeal to me, so although I found the book enjoyable enough, it didn’t rock my boat, so to speak! The ending, as is so often the case, feels rushed. However, I can see this book making a great film, with the settings in Rome, the Vatican, and the Italian countryside.

What a way to start the year. Karen Foxlee has written a beautifully moving story for children that should become an Australian classic.

It has a timelessness to it, and the setting could be any isolated country town in Australia (although Foxlee confesses that it is inspired by Mt. Isa).You can smell the eucalypt, hear the cockatoos and feel the summer heat.

Pip’s home life is no longer safe, since her mum’s boyfriend moved in. ‘Matt liked Pip in her room with the light off and the door closed so he could have her mum all to himself. He didn’t like any competition. Competition made him angry.’ In fact, a lot of things make Matt angry, and Pip’s mum has lost herself in trying to placate this angry man.

Sitting near her favourite waterhole at dusk, remembering her best friend Mika, Pip sees something that doesn’t belong. Something that she immediately knows needs her help to survive. So she takes ‘Little Fella’ home and hides him in her closet. Pip feels ‘protective of him, motherly, and that inflating pain ballooned inside her chest and the tears welled in her eyes’. As she learns to trust some new friends, the story behind Mika’s disappearance is revealed.

This novel has all the elements needed to create a perfect book: there is suspense and magic; sorrow and loss; friendship and adventure; and a baby dragon to draw all these elements together.

Highly recommended for readers aged 10-14 years old.

Burrangong, 1978: young Arjun is rescued from a surging river in flood by a motorbike rider. They ride to higher ground, where the rider is revealed to be Mrs Jean McLain, who was ‘old, far older than Arjun had realised’. They are stranded on an isolated lookout, and as they wait for rescue, Jean recounts her time as a signaller in France during the First World War.

Butterwood, April 1917: Jean works at the local post office. When she wins a national Morse code competition, the British army asks her to become a signaller in France. She is sixteen years old, told to say she is twenty-one.

Rouen, June 1917: Jean is part of a team of women working ten or twelve-hour shifts, receiving and sending messages for the army; messages that could mean life or death to hundreds of soldiers on the front. She’s told the ground rules: ‘No breaks to go to the loo, so don’t have a cuppa before you start, even to help keep you awake. Wet your pants if you have to, but don’t leave your post. If we’re bombed, don’t leave your post till you’re told to. If the kaiser or Santa Clause or the king walks through the door, don’t leave your post’.

Jean is sent to the trenches at the front, and involved in the disastrous Battle of Cambrai. The horror of the trenches is described unflinchingly. You can almost hear the constant sound of gunfire, men screaming and crying and the unavoidable stink of death. French does not mince her words when it comes to the ineptitude of the British Army command, and is particularly scathing of Winston Churchill’s decision to purchase faulty ammunition which resulted in significant loss of life.

It is shocking to learn that the British Government ordered the destruction of women workers’ records; partly to cover up their reliance on ‘woman’s’ work’ but more shockingly, so they didn’t have to pay them a war pension or contribute to their ongoing medical costs.

The book has a cracking pace, and had me on the edge of my seat. The harrowing conditions experienced by ordinary men and women is evocatively described. The senseless loss of life is palpable. Most readers will be incensed by the bungles perpetrated by those in command, bungles that cost so many lives.

There are so many fabulous books written for younger readers about both World Wars, but Secret Sparrow tells a story about the women at the front line - a story not often told.

The intended audience is readers aged 12 years and over, but I found it captivating, so recommend it for adult readers too!

I loved Julia’s first book [b:Phosphorescence: On Awe, Wonder and Things That Sustain You When the World Goes Dark|52541673|Phosphorescence On Awe, Wonder and Things That Sustain You When the World Goes Dark|Julia Baird|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1581416196l/52541673.SX50_SY75.jpg|73666224], giving it to everyone for Christmas the year it was published. So I was excited by the release of her new book exploring ‘how grace changes everything’. I attended her launch in Sydney and was deeply moved by her personal anecdotes relating to grace.

Grace is a slippery sucker - impossible to define. And although she tries, this book doesn’t have the cohesiveness of Phosphorescence, because its central premise is so elusive. There were moments when I was left wondering what the point of a particular story was, and where she was heading.

But there are many moments that resonated with me - Julia often mentions empathy, and she certainly has it in spades! She refers to John Koenig’s book [b:The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows|56897474|The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows|John Koenig|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1634748607l/56897474.SX50.jpg|67540172] and the word he coined: ‘sonder’. The definition of ‘sonder’ is

the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own…in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background…

our bodies, our misshapen, lumpy, wobbly, birth-marked, uneven, scarred, imperfect bodies are our vessels. If only we were more gracious towards them. They won’t last forever, they will eventually grow frail, we will miss the strength and vigour of our younger selves. But, for now, when alive, when upright, when walking through days with purpose, without pain, they are vessels for adventure, for sleep, for song, for dance, and a place where we experience joy.

This is not only a record of Will’s pilgrimage from Kent to Cornwall with his friend Ed. They literally ‘sing for their supper’, eschewing modern forms of earning money by becoming wandering minstrels. As Will says, journey-making is what our bodies and minds are made for.
What shines most brightly from this tale of travel is the random kindness of strangers. Will and Ed find themselves welcome at so many different tables in so many different homes. Food and conversations are shared - together with one or two pints! These conversations are not trivial. Here’s Will discussing the difference between ‘sacred’ and ‘holy’.

“Sacred” is from the latin Sacre, meaning set-apart, distant, unobtainable, while “holy” is from the Old English Halig, meaning complete, whole, healthy. Sacred is the impossibly distant star, while holy is the jug of fresh drinking water. Sacred is the sailor’s longing for home, while holy is his lover’s embrace when his ship finally returns.

My heart…
This is a sublime book, and lends itself well to an audio edition. The narrators, Marin Ireland and Michael Urie are perfect. Particularly Urie who voices Marcellus, the giant Pacific octopus.

Tova Sullivan works as the night cleaner at the Sowell Bay Aquarium. Her husband has recently died, and her eighteen year old son, Eric, mysteriously vanished on a boat over thirty years ago. Tova’s mantle of grief is heavy, and she finds solace in her job amongst the sea creatures. She speaks to them all, acknowledging them as she cleans their glass tanks.

Tova and Marcellus begin to form an understanding, and as their friendship develops, Marcellus starts to unravel the mystery surrounding Eric’s disappearance. Do not be deterred by the strangeness of one of the main protagonists being an octopus; trust me, it works.

It would be a hard heart that is not moved by this beautiful story about grief, unrequited love, friendship, mortality and the legacy we leave.

My favourite fiction book for 2023!

I thought I had read more in this series, but in fact had only read the first. I think it suffered from my lack of familiarity with the characters. My fault, not the author’s!
I do love the setting: Brighton and the time: 1960s.
For those who have read the rest of the series I am sure this book would have been a lot more enjoyable.

A great selection of well know authors write pithy little pieces about their favourite books. I learnt about new books to add to my to-be-read list, and revisited some of my own favourites. This is a great book that you can dip into whenever you have a moment.

Oh how I would have loved to discover this book when I was a child! Katherine Rundell has written a beautiful story populated by characters you want to know, sharing an adventure in a world you want to visit. It’s like Susan Cooper, mixed with J.R.R. Tolkien and with a dash of Philip Pullman.

Christopher Forrester has a way with animals. His mother did too, but she died nine years ago, ‘and his father had contracted, as if a weight had settled on him’. Christopher is waiting, hoping ‘that there was something more than that which he had so far seen’. Saving a baby griffin from drowning is only the beginning of his adventure.

Mal lives in Archipelago, and has learned how to fly. Her world is populated by creatures of myth and legend. But the glimourie is fading: the glimourie that all magical creatures depend on to live and thrive. How can she stop her world from disappearing?

When their worlds collide, Christopher and Mal join forces to stop the malignant power that is destroying the glimourie. Christopher knows their friendship is special, ‘that sometimes, if you are among the very lucky, a spark of understanding cuts like lightning across the space between two people’.

This book is perfect. It has wonderful creatures (and terrifying ones too), it has riddles (just like The Hobbit), it has wry humour and frightening obstacles for Mal and Christopher to overcome so they can save not only the Archipelago, but our world too. But the best thing about this book is the friendship that Mal and Christopher share - it’s the sort of friendship we all yearn for and if we’re lucky, might only get once in our lives, ‘but once is enough. You need it only once - so that you may know what your human heart is capable of’.

This is the best kids’ book I have read this year. Just brilliant.

Another beautiful, lyrical novel by David Almond, beautifully enhanced with illustrations by David Litchfield. It’s about grief, and loss, and love, and healing and ultimately, hope.

In the world of children’s literature, Alan Garner is looked upon as a god. I remember reading Owl Service as a child and loving it. So I was excited when I found this lovely edition of Elidor with illustrations by Charles Keeping for two dollars in an op shop.

It’s short - really short at 160 pages. So there is really very little room for character development or lengthy descriptions of the landscape. Originally published in 1965 it harks from a time when a lot more was left to the reader’s imagination.

We meet the four siblings as they are preparing to move house. This is post-war Manchester, where war damaged homes were being demolished and families moved to new housing estates. As they wander the abandoned streets Roland finds a football and kicks it through the stained glass window of an abandoned church. Haunting music lures them inside, where Roland finds himself transported to another world, where he meets Malebron.

If the above sounds sketchy, it’s because the book doesn’t really tell you much more. Roland finds his siblings in Elidor and they are given four treasures to protect and somehow save Elidor from an unnamed evil. They return to Manchester with the treasures, with no real course of action ahead. The treasures seem to generate a static electrical force of some sort, that plays havoc with the family television (twenty first children will be amazed by how difficult it was to get a television working ‘back in the day’) and other electrical appliances.

The book has some spooky moments, particularly when some ‘shadows’ appear to have followed them back from Elidor to Manchester in search of the treasures. However, for twenty-first century kids, this book will be too brief, with little explanation of why the children were given this task, and the resolution is so abrupt I thought I was missing some final pages!

Many children’s classics stand the test of time, but I am afraid that Elidor is not one of them.

This eighth instalment of the series sees Gamache and Beauvior investigating the brutal murder of a monk who was a member of the Gilbertine monks, an order that lives a cloistered, contemplative life in an abbey ‘as far from civilisation as they could get’.

Gregorian plainchant is at the core of this mystery, and I felt I should have been listening to it as I read! The ‘beautiful mystery’ of the title refers to the extraordinary effect listening to Gregorian chant has on the human body. Blood pressure drops, breathing becomes deeper and the brain starts to produce alpha waves.

This small community of two dozen monks have lived a simple and harmonious life for many years. But disharmony occurs when the choirmaster, Frere Mathieu, convinces them to release a recording of their singing, to raise much needed funds for the ageing monastic buildings. The funds are appreciated, but the relentless attention of the outside world is not. The community is divided.

Could this divide be responsible for the murder of Frere Mathieu? Who amongst these holy men could be responsible for the brutal murder of their choirmaster?

The unexpected arrival of Gamache’s superior and nemesis, Superintendent Francoeur, creates tension between Gamache and Beauvoir, and distracts them from the investigation at hand. Why has he insinuated himself into the investigation? And why is he creating a divide between the two officers?

I have read this series in order, so I must say I missed the village of Three Pines, where most of the other books are set, but unless we want all the residents to disappear under mysterious circumstances, our favourite members of the Quebec Surete must solve crimes in other locations! And what better location than an abbey on an isolated island, surrounded by fog?

Holly Ringland is the author of two of my favourite books: [b:The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart|35424630|The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart|Holly Ringland|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1507613604l/35424630.SY75.jpg|56800567] and [b:The Seven Skins of Esther Wilding|54540797|The Seven Skins of Esther Wilding|Holly Ringland|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1663320855l/54540797.SX50.jpg|85101224]. It is her first non-fiction book, exploring creativity and what stops us following our creative dreams.

Ringland uses her own rocky road to writing her first novel as an example of how our creativity can be sabotaged by external, and internal factors. The nine chapters discuss the negative influences and their kryptonite! For example: Fear + Play; Inner Critic + Inner Fan and Imposter Syndrome + You Belong Here. Each chapter finishes with some prompts that will lead the reader to explore more deeply, if they wish.

My copy of this book is littered with post-it notes. Ringland gives so many useful tips and tricks to move in the direction we truly want to go. She is not a Pollyanna about choosing to be creative, stating that it can be a very challenging journey. But overcoming these roadblocks will ultimately lead to a life lived with more joy.

This book is not just for reader in the creative arts, but for everyone who yearns to access their inner well of creativity and mine its resources.

Holly’s enthusiasm and zest for life is contagious, and the book constantly reinforces her primary message: you are allowed to experience joy as an integral part of your life.

The House that Joy Built does exactly what it’s sub-heading claims: it empowers the reader to explore the pleasure and power of giving themselves permission to create - with joy.

Outstanding audio version of this book. Jamaica Inn lends itself to being an audio version - it’s so dramatic! For a book written in the 1930s, I was surprised by how contemporary some of it felt. The sense of menace, particularly sexual, pervades the text. Mary Yellan is a wonderful character, and should be remembered for her courage and strength of character.
I am so glad I revisited this classic. I think it stands the test of time and highly recommend it for anyone looking for a rollicking good yarn, with strong characters and an unforgettable landscape.

Iris Turner has worked for the civil service for seventeen years as a lowly typist. At thirty five, she has led an extremely sheltered life, and likes nothing better than settling into her cosy home after work with a good book and her cat in her lap. But she surprises herself by answering an advertisement for a shorthand typist to work for an English speaker in the South of France.

Iris leaves behind dreary post-war 1950s London for the bucolic French Riviera. The landscape might be breathtaking, but the people she finds herself among are not all they seem. As she struggles to find her feet with her employer Hammond Brooke, the titular perfumer, she discovers a web of intrigue, not to mention an unexplored gift for interpreting the meaning behind aromas. This is hinted at from the beginning of the book, for example a friend who ‘smells of generosity and kindness’, ‘the smell of pure hostility’ from another character, and Iris being ‘hit by the peppery odour associated with friction and discord’.

The French Perfumer is Hampson’s second novel, written in 2017. I read her most recent book, [b:The Tea Ladies|64625125|The Tea Ladies|Amanda Hampson|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1670467565l/64625125.SY75.jpg|100001743], first. I can definitely see the development of her storytelling skills, but don’t let that deter you from reading this book. It’s full of colourful characters, and it kept me guessing right to the end.

Delightful.

Wilson’s debut novel is narrated by thirteen year old Morris Turner. He lives with his father Jude Turner, a police detective, and his older sister Lottie. It’s 1930 in Melbourne and a lot of people are doing it tough as the Great Depression takes hold of the country. Jude is assigned to investigate the murder of a young women, Catherine Fletcher, in his home town of Gemini. Morris and Lottie are not impressed that they have to move from bustling Melbourne to a small country town, even if it’s only for the duration of the investigation. Jude hasn’t been back to Gemini since he and his wife left many years ago. Morris and Lottie meet relatives for the first time; Jude’s brother and his wife, and their daughter Flo, who is Morris’s age.

Morris lost his mother when only a very young child, and wants to talk about her with his father, but whenever I talk about Mother, a shadow passes over his face and he turns away or leaves the room. I feel the words forming on my tongue, but I swallow them down. They go deep inside my body where they join together, packed tight into bricks made of the words I can’t say. He can’t talk about her and so I don’t talk about her.

The citizens of Gemini can’t believe one of their own is the murderer, and suspicion falls on the destitute folk who have built a shanty town on the outskirts of Gemini. But Morris, together with his cousin Flo and friend Sam think the murderer is much closer to home.

Choosing to have a young narrator is a brave move. It brought to mind To Kill a Mockingbird. Children often see more as they are overlooked by the adults around them. They also don’t have the prejudices and set ideas that can cloud an adult’s mind. Children are constantly underestimated by adults.

Wilson has brought to life a small Australian town, struggling with the financial crash and the murder of one of their own. I got a real sense of the townspeople’s fear as the world seemed to be imploding around them. Their suspicion of the people living in the camps is understandable - it’s always easier to blame a stranger for your troubles than to accept that everyone is struggling to some degree, and it’s a case of ‘there but for the grace of God go I’, as my mother used to say!

The book skilfully brings the murder investigation to a satisfactory close. Spending time in Gemini with his children makes Jude explore how he has dealt (or not) with his grief, and look at how he can help his children come to terms with the loss of their mother.

This is an accomplished first novel from Sean Wilson, and I look forward to reading more!

Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this delightful children’s book. Please go to Readingtime.com.au for my full review.

Joanna Nell has made a name for herself as a writer who explores characters who are entering their ‘twilight years’. Her books show us that getting older doesn’t mean ‘going gently into that good night’. Her characters embrace life, turning their backs on societal expectations and choosing adventures instead.

Dr Heather Winterbottom is no exception. She can’t wait to hang up her stethoscope, jump on a plane, and explore the Greek Islands. She can’t believe it when her husband of forty years and fellow GP Alan is instead looking forward to relaxing at home and growing his own vegetables. So Heather decides to ‘do a Shirley Valentine’ and goes to Greece alone.

This new book from Nell didn’t sing as much as her previous books. It’s hard to pinpoint, but part of the problem is it’s hard not to compare it to Shirley Valentine. Of course she meets a gorgeous single Greek man - I know it was necessary to drive the plot forward, but it felt so predictable.

And the resolution, when it came, felt to me very unlikely. I cannot believe that Alan would change so much. And is that the answer, when it is apparent that two people are so diametrically opposed, one of them has to change dramatically to suit the other? I know this is fiction, but I also know that the rate of divorce after retirement is high, due to this very fact.

So it just didn’t ring true for me, and this detracted from my overall enjoy of the book.

This book is in fact a prequel to a long running series. I haven’t read any of the other books, so it was a perfect way to begin.

Detective Kim Stone has been assigned a new team. Before they can even begin to assess each other, they are called to the scene of a most brutal murder. It’s soon apparent that the victim is someone no-one is going to miss, and there is no shortage of suspects with a solid motive to want to see him die, preferably painfully.

As the body count rises, Stone and her team start to see a common thread that links the victims, and leads them to a women’s shelter.

Although this book deal with domestic violence and child sexual abuse, Marsons does not dwell on the details. We discover that Stone is herself a survivor of abuse and the woefully inadequate child care system. This colours many of her responses and behaviour.

Stone is not a warm and fuzzy character. She rubs people up the wrong way, and has made many enemies within the police force. However, she is dedicated to her job and catching the perpetrator of these horrific murders.

Her team are a motley crew! DS Bryant is what is commonly known as a plodder. He isn’t particularly shiny and lacks ambition, but he has a strong track record for catching the bad guys, and is well respected within the force. On the other hand, DS Dawson is couch surfing, after a bust-up with his partner. He has a huge chip on his shoulder, and an inflated opinion of his own abilities. He is not well liked by previous co-workers and is fundamentally lazy. DC Stacey Wood passed the detective constable exam two weeks ago and has just moved into her own flat. She’s from a loving family and Nigerian community, but feels it’s time to stretch her wings and find her independence.

How this team find their feet, and the murderer, makes for a book that I couldn’t put down, and finished in just one day. The pace is perfect, and the character development nuanced. I can’t wait to read the rest of the series.

I love listening to this series. At over 900 pages, the books are getting just too big to handle! It was over 34 hours of listening, but didn’t feel like it.

Robin is sent undercover into a religious cult to try and persuade a client’s son to leave. It’s apparent that the cult is not the warm and fuzzy family that they like to project to the outside world. Robin witnesses and is soon subjected to near starvation, sexual coercion and torture, all in the name of their religion. I think a good edit of this part of the book could have made for a tighter story. It is also quite harrowing, so may not be for everyone.

As always, Robin and Cormoran dance around their mutual attraction - you have to read the book to find out where that leads!

I found this instalment a vast improvement on The Ink Black Heart, which was hard work to listen to as an audio.

What an absolute delight this book is! It’s a fabulous romp through 1930s Sydney, in the company of our feisty and indomitable Violet Kelly and her ‘family’ who live and work at the upscale brothel known as La Maison des Fleurs. I chortled all the way through, sometimes laughing out loud. It’s so refreshing to read a book that sings with banter and good humour.

When we first meet Violet she has been safely ensconced in La Maison des Fleurs for two years, and has just celebrated her 18th birthday. She loves working for Madame who has provided a safe and luxurious home for her girls. They are located in a well-heeled corner of Paddington, not far from the razor gangs of Darlinghurst and Kings Cross.

Violet has been showered with natural gifts: ‘those legs, the Folies Burgere smile’. But as Madame says, ‘Violet Kelly’s got gifts the mirror doesn’t reveal: she’s as shrewd as a brown snake….she’s picked up a bank manager’s tact, a pirate’s cunning and an alley cat’s knack for landing on her feet’.

When Madame is forced to hide a kidnapped girl by a former associate, Violet and her friends rally to rescue the girl and release Madame from her obligation to a notorious gangster. As they enter into a risky game of cat and mouse, we also learn about Violet’s sad past, and why she is estranged from her twin sister, Iris.

When you look at the hard times that is the setting for this book, you’d expect it to be depressing, but it’s anything but. Britton doesn’t shy away from the extreme poverty, cruelty and deprivation that many souls experienced at this time in Sydney, but she chooses to look for the light in the darkness. I galloped through this book, and sincerely hope that Britton will bless us with more adventures with Violet Kelly.

I think this book has been my favourite read for 2023!

Thank you to The Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. Please go to readingtime.com.au for my full review.

Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. Please go to readingtime.com.au to read my full review.

This is the fourth outing in the Bryant and May series. It sees our octogenarian detectives faced with a number of ‘impossible’ murders. There appears to be nothing to link all the victims apart from their being celebrities of questionable ethics who have fallen from grace in recent times. As May says to Bryant at the first murder scene: ‘I’m sure you must be very excited. On a purely investigative level this one’s right up your street. Impossible death, single point of entry, no motive, no suspects, and a single witness who reckons the culprit was a man on a horse.’

Apart from the ongoing investigations, the Peculiar Crimes Unit again find themselves under threat of being closed down by the powers that be. As you follow the arcane methods used, particularly by Arthur Bryant, it’s not surprising! There is also the added complication of John May’s grand-daughter joining their team as part of a new law enforcement training initiative. John feels particularly protective of April as he feels responsible for her mother’s death.

The joy of reading this series is to be found in the humour and the tidbits of knowledge that you didn’t know you wanted to know, until you read it! For example, this wonderful exchange between Bryant and May:

Bryant: I won’t remember the names of pop stars. I’d prefer to keep my memory filled with useful data.
May: But how useful is the data you store? You know precisely how many Thames crossings there are between Teddington Weir and the Tower of London…
Bryant: Of course, twenty-eight, everyone knows that…
May: and you told me why there are metal pinecones on top of half of the railings in London…
B: the Georgians adopted the pinecone as an architectural motif because it was the Roman symbol of hospitality, that’s common knowledge…
M. But it’s not, don’t you see? Most people we deal with don’t give a monkey’s fart about such architectural idiosyncrasies. Why should they? Such things have no relevance to their lives
B. Rubbish. The details of everyday living enrich us all.
M. But they’re not useful. The majority is more interested in finding aspirational rose models amongst celebrities…
B. Your utilitarian attitude is very taxing.

This is a series of essays, many previously published in magazines and newspapers, but brought together in this one volume. As each essay is complete in of itself, you can dip into this book as you please.

I found so much in this book: sometimes I felt a huge sense of the author reading my mind; other times she challenged some long held beliefs. But always I felt that I was in safe hands, as Woods is never judgemental or preachy. She is immensely honest and generous.

Here are some of my favourite quotes:

Fertile Ground (nourishing the inner life): ‘When first learning to meditate, we’re sent into a state of alarm. For most of us, stillness gives rise to dread. Yet in those times my imaginative world has been most alive. I’ve learned something that felt important: stillness is not a void; it’s a well.’

‘I suspect this paradoxical fear of and need for emptiness is why artists have always been such enthusiastic walkers….silent walking allows the mind to empty without the paralysing fear of stillness.’

‘So many in our world live in the midst of unspeakable pain, and as individuals we have no way of easing most of it. But it feels important to say that, despite this, we’re allowed to protect and nurture that which helps each us to live fully. Soon we’ll die, but right now we’re alive - let’s not waste that outrageous luck. We have a right to joy. ‘

An Element of Lightness (laughter as a creative force): ‘So what do I mean when I say laughter, as opposed to comedy, or even humour? The distinction is perhaps a fine one, but also to my mind important. What I’m talking about is something beyond, of possibility that comes when laughter enters a work of art, whether it’s manifest on the page or merely part of the writer’s process. For laughter is a sharp instrument, it turns out, capable of performing may crucial, even profound functions. ‘

The Paint Itself (the world inside the sentence): ‘The work of a writer, day to day, is in playing with sentences. Weighing and balancing them, interrogating them for precision. And the focus on subject matter and theme - those topics that become shorthand descriptors, like trauma or misogyny or aging - seems to miss the point of what art is really for. ‘

Reading Isn’t Shopping (why creativity needs disturbance): This particular essay really challenged me! Wood looks at the current expectation that works are only of value if they are ‘relatable’. And she argues that this is a result of ‘consumer culture’, where ‘every interaction is followed by a request for a star rating, a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. We’ve been slowly but thoroughly trained to see the world in terms of its capacity to please us…’ She goes on to interrogate the ‘deification of empathy’. She quotes Sarah Sentinels who writes that society must embrace ‘unknowable otherness’. Otherwise, if we rely on empathy; a sense of sameness to act ethically, what happens if we cannot find that sense of likeness? It’s easy to act ethically when we feel ‘they’ are just like ‘us’; the challenge is to still act ethically when ‘they’ are different to ‘us’.

On Gods and Ghosts (Catholicism, contradiction and creativity): having been raised in the Catholic tradition, a lot of what Wood says about her experience resonates with me! ‘If Catholicism formed my writing as definitively as it formed me, if it is one of my potent inner objects, my crystals, what might be the refractive glints coming off it?’
‘But maybe the most powerful gift my religious upbringing gave me was my ambivalence towards it, and the resulting ability to dwell in a place of tension and discomfort that will never be eased. ‘

Go to readingtime.com.au for my full review of this lovely picturebook.

This book was not what I was expecting and I confess I didn’t finish it. I was expecting more emphasis on nature and its healing properties, rather than a recounting of the author’s harrowing experience of ’the troubles’. I found it a bit repetitive to be honest.

McCall Smith has written another delightful instalment in this wonderful series. As always, it is full of gentle humour and sage advice. The ‘mysteries’ are almost a side-hustle, as the reader spends time with Precious Romotswe, Grace Makutsi, Mr J.L.B. Matekoni and the other characters we have grown to know and love over the previous twenty three books. And of course, Botswana, which is an integral part of this series. McCall Smith’s obvious love of this country shines as a constant.

I can’t help but notice that none of the characters in this book are attached to their phones. A large part of the appeal of these books is that people stop and listen to each other when they talk, and I mean really listen to each other - a skill that seems to be rapidly disappearing in our world as people can’t drag themselves away from their mobile phone screens.

Here’s a favourite paragraph:

She made her way out onto the veranda, her favourite spot at this time of day, when the sun sank slowly over the line of the horizon, that green line of distant acacia trees, and when small flocks of chattering birds darted across the sky, back to the trees that were to be their home for the night. She thought of this as a time of winding down, when the concerns of the workplace were put aside, and families came together to perform the domestic tasks that would put the day to bed. She often sat there with the children in the evening, before they went off to bed. They would tell her of the events of their day, of the issues that had arisen at school, of the passions and problems of their world - so small to outsiders, but so big to a child. And she would tell them of how she had spent her day, of how Mma Makutsi had said something amusing or of how Fanwell had told a funny story he had heard from one of his friends, or they would just sit and think about things in general, not needing to say anything to one another.

I listened to the Audible edition of Holly which was brilliant!

Well, this is a book that has polarised the reading world! And it’s not the actual plot that has caused all the hoo-ha-ha, but the fact that King has set his book in the darkest days of the Covid pandemic and voices his opinions regarding how it was managed (or not) by the then president of the USA - he of the orange comb-over. This is the sixth book featuring Holly Gibney, who is a know hypochondriac, so it’s no surprise that she is vaxed to the max, wears a mask all the time and is phobic about washing her hands. Her anti-vaxer mother’s death, due to Covid, only supports her actions. How you, the reader, feel about the pandemic will undoubtedly influence your response to this book.

How King can still manage to write an original story after all these years, and all these books, is extraordinary. What a mind! There is no supernatural element to this story, which actually makes it all the more horrific. The elderly Professors Rodney and Emily Harris, the perpetrators of the unspeakable acts in the book make me think of the German philosopher Hannah Arendt’s reaction after witnessing Adolf Eichmann’s trial: ‘Eichmann embodied “the dilemma between the unspeakable horror of the deeds and the undeniable ludicrousness of the man who perpetrated them.” His actions were defined not so much by thought, but by the absence of thought — convincing Arendt of the “banality of evil.”’ [https://philosophybreak.com/articles/hannah-arendt-on-standing-up-to-the-banality-of-evil/]

King knows how to pace a book - and Holly is a perfect example of a perfectly paced book. It’s not too long (hallelujah!) and he builds the suspense to the point where it’s almost painful! King says that Holly Gibney is his favourite character, and it shows. She’s feisty, she’s loyal (sometimes to a fault), she’s brave and she’s still learning about herself - you can see her character grow as the book progresses.

I loved Holly and was sorry when I got to the end. But be warned, it is not for the squeamish!

Too sad - I found this book so sad. It made me grieve for the lost wonders of our world.

I listened to the audio version of this book, which was outstanding. I loved everything about this novel and found myself totally immersed in the world of the pre-Raphaelites. But Kate Forsyth shows us this world from the women’s perspectives, which is like a breathe of fresh air.
Highly, highly recommended.

I’m sad to say this book lost me. I couldn’t work out who was narrating, or what exactly was happening.

Not a word is wasted in this lyrical meditation on one woman’s life choices. After attending a number of retreats at a Catholic nuns convent, the protagonist decides to stay and become a member of their community (although she doesn’t enter the order). Her name is never revealed. Her thoughts are recorded in diary-like entries.

The convent is located on the stark plains of the Monaro, part of the Snowy Mountains Region of NSW. The quiet rhythm of the monastic life is disrupted, firstly by a mouse plague, and then by the return of the skeletal remains of a nun who left decades before to minister overseas. She had gone missing, presumed murdered. Accompanying the bones is another nun who creates unrest in the community.

This is not a plot-driven book! It’s quiet and contemplative.

I found this book very moving. Wood explores one woman’s struggle to come to terms with the tension created by not believing in God, but taking refuge in a religious community. She considers questions about forgiveness, goodness and hope.

Our favourite retirement-village sleuths find themselves personally invested in finding out who murdered their dear friend Kuldesh Sharma, and why. Did he accidentally cross the wrong people; heroin dealers to be precise? Joyce, Ron, Ibrahim and Elizabeth are recovering from the festive season when they hear the terrible news. The ever-reliable Bogdan is on hand to provide assistance where needed and play chess with Elizabeth’s husband, Stephen.

Osman alternates his chapters between different character’s perspectives (in the third person) and Joyce’s diary entries (in the first). This works incredibly well, and is never confusing, which just goes to show how talented a writer he is.

Elizabeth is distracted from the investigation, the others can see she doesn’t have her heart in it. And they have also noticed Stephen isn’t out and about much lately. It’s not a plot spoiler to say that his alzheimers has gotten worse since the previous book, and Elizabeth is faced with making some heartbreaking decisions.

Elizabeth can fool herself no more, can keep Stephen to herself no longer. The day she knew must arrive is here. She has been losing him a paragraph at a time, but the chapter is done. And the book is close to its end.

Many thanks to the Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. My review can be found at readingtime.com.au.

Many thanks to Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this delightful book. My review can be found on readingtime.com.au.

Another cracker in this series by Louise Penny, set in the mysterious Quebec village of Three Pines: it may not be on any map, but a lot of people seem to die here!

This series is less about the crimes committed, and more about the development of the characters and their ongoing stories. They are why I come back to this series.

This instalment takes us into the ‘art world’. It may look all genteel and high-brow from the outside, but scratch the surface and it’s rife with greed and cut-throat behaviour. Clara’s art has been discovered and she is celebrating after her first solo show at the famed Musee in Montreal. When a woman’s body is discovered in Clara & Peter’s garden the following morning, Chief Inspector Armande Gamache, together with Jean Guy Beauvoir and Isabelle Lacoste return to Three Pines to investigate her brutal murder.

They uncover a world of lies, secrets and concealed emotions. Armande and Jean Guy are still recovering from injuries incurred several books ago. Jean Guy in particular is struggling, his marriage is in tatters and he has fallen for someone who would appear to be unattainable. When you have read all the series up to this point, you are invested in these characters, and at this point, I am very worried for our young Jean Guy.

This instalment is ultimately about hope; hope for redemption, hope for forgiveness and, in Ruth’s case, hope for the return of a lost companion.

Time spent with Amanda Gamache is always time well spent.

This is Stig Abell’s debut novel - he is a journalist by trade.

Jake Jackson is a high-flying detective in the city, until he discovers that his reclusive uncle has died and left him his property, located in the depths of the countryside. Jake’s marriage has imploded, and work is affecting his wellbeing, so he jumps at the opportunity to start a new life. Jake loves his new home, which has absolutely no creature comforts and did I mention how remote it is - Abell mentions its remoteness - a lot. The locals are eccentric, of course, but seem friendly enough. That is until a young woman’s bones are uncovered. The local police are more than happy to have Jake join their team as they investigate the apparent murder of a young woman decades ago. Members of the community make it apparent that they don’t appreciate Jake sticking his nose into their business.

What works in this book? Abell’s descriptions of the rural landscape are lovely. I like the many references to the cannon of crime fiction. Jake’s self-discovery adds an unusual element to the novel.

What doesn’t work? The ‘romance’ with the local vet. His descriptions of her are cringe-worthy - she sounds like a playboy pin-up and their dialogue is truly awful.
There are too many words, written in an overly elaborate way: ‘Loud sounds always appear perverse in the depths of the countryside, especially on a balmy, gentle evening, and this one jolts him utterly. He looks around. The noise returns, and he recognises the articulation of his own name.’

This is, as I said, a debut novel. I’ve given it a 3/5 and am interested in seeing if his next novel is more accomplished.

We find Chief Inspector Armand Gamache in Quebec City, spending time with his dear friend and mentor Emile Comeau. Both he and Jean-Guy Beauvoir, his second in command, are recovering from wounds, both physical and emotional. Throughout the book, how these wounds were inflicted is revealed in flashbacks.

When a notorious amateur archeologist is found murdered in the basement of The Literary and Historical Society’s Library, the Quebec police ask for Gamache’s assistance. The plot explores the tension between the Anglophone and Francophone residents of Quebec, and how this tension has, in the past, exploded into terrorism and violence. The Literary & Historical Society holds the English community’s records, their thoughts, their memories, their symbols. Penny’s descriptions of the library are written with obvious affection and warmth for all libraries: It was a room at once intimate and grand. It smelled of the past, of a time before computers, before information was ‘Googled’ and ‘blogged’. Before laptops and BlackBerries and all the other tools that mistook information for knowledge.

Meanwhile, Jean-Guy is also on leave and recovering. Gamache has asked him to spend time in our beloved village of Three Pines, looking into the murder they investigated in the previous book [b:The Brutal Telling|6449551|The Brutal Telling (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache, #5)|Louise Penny|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327952311l/6449551.SX50.jpg|6639657]. Gamache is concerned that the wrong man has been convicted. As always, it’s Gamache’s point of view that makes this series so rewarding. He ruminates on what makes his job so fascinating, and so difficult - How the same person could be both kind and cruel, compassionate and wretched. Unraveling a murder was more about getting to know the people than the evidence.

Penny has written a taut, complex and suspenseful novel, which is seeped with a deep sense of sadness and tragedy. The three storylines are resolved, some in unexpected ways. This is by far the best in this series - and they’ve all been outstanding! I highly recommend reading these books in order to fully appreciate the development of the characters.

Written in 1934, this is the first of Marsh’s Inspector Alleyn mysteries: she wrote 32 in total. It’s not brilliant - Marsh is feeling her way, and the ‘big reveal’ is quite ridiculous. However, you can see glimmers of brilliance in her writing. Her first description of Alleyn is an example:

Angela had time for a good long stare at her first detective. Alleyn did not resemble a plain-clothes policeman, she felt sure, nor was he in the romantic manner - white faced and gimlet eyed. He looked like one of her Uncle Hubert’s friends, the sort that they knew would ‘do’ for house-parties. He was very tall, and lean, his hair was dark, and his eyes grey, with corners that turned down. They looked as if they would smile easily, but his mouth didn’t. His hands and his voice are grand, thought Angela, and subconsciously she felt less miserable.

Fabulous world-building! T. Kingfisher has written an original fantasy that borrows familiar elements from fairy tales past, but brings us a totally new tale. Our heroine Marra is believable, and the friends she makes on her quest are memorable - especially Bonedog! The growing attraction between Marra and Fenris is expected, but does not dominate the plot. Marra’s quest to rescue her sister from the abusive prince Vorling is always front and centre of the story.

This book has strong female characters, whose lives are dictated by society expectations. How they disrupt that familiar narrative makes this book stand out from the crowd.

Highly recommended.

Thoroughly enjoyable. Sam Neill comes across as an everyman, constantly surprised by how wonderful his life has been (so far). He talks a lot about film-making and the people he has met along the way - he loves to name-drop! There are a few people with whom he didn’t get on, and he attempts to be as diplomatic as possible, but he appears to get on swimmingly with the majority of his co-stars. When it comes to his personal life, he is the soul of discretion, and reveals nothing about his partners.
Sam Neill appears to be an absolute gentleman, and I loved listening to him tell his story.

Too lovely to even try to review. Full of pathos, humour and whimsy. Loved it. Rather, I’ll share some favourite quotes and descriptions:

Bob had long given up on the notion of knowing anyone, or of being known. He communicated with the world partly by walking through it, but mainly by reading about it.

Bob liked Maria instantly. She seemed sly to the world’s foolishness, something like a cat’s attitude of critical doubtfulness, but she also beheld a cat’s disposition of: surprise me.

“Brighty has been married five times, Bob.”
“What do you think about that?” Brighty asked Bob.
“I think that’s a lot of times to be married,” Bob answered.
“I like a big party, is what it is,” said Brighty. “And I’ll take a wedding over a funeral any day of any week, it it’s all the same to you.”

Why do you read rather than live?

He felt uncomplicated love for such things as paper, and pencils, and pencils writing on paper, and erasers and scissors and staples, paper clips, the scent of books, and the words on the pages of the books. Sometimes he thought of the women and men who’d composed these documents sitting at their desks and aiming for the elusive bull’s-eye and almost always missing but sometimes not, and Bob was certain that a room filled with printed matter was a room that needed nothing.

“Don’t you like kids?”
“I don’t know any kids.”
“Maybe you don’t like the idea of them.”
“No, to be honest, I don’t. It’s a steep investment for a woman, with unreliable returns.”

“This work is not our strongest. It is not bad work, but it doesn’t have the power of our past labours. That power, which was once effortless, and which we wielded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, is now dimming, and there isn’t any vitamin or medicine I can find to remedy the lack. The watch winds down, Bob Comet, the pebbles of sand slip through the trim waist of the hourglass, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Melancholy is the wistful identification of time as thief, and it is rooted in memories of past love and success. Sorrow is a more hopeless proposition. Sorrow is the understanding you shall not get that which you crave and, perhaps, deserve, and it is rooted in, or encouraged by, excuse me, the death impulse."

Maria understood that part of ageing, at least for many of us, was to see how misshapen and imperfect our stories had to be. The passage of time bends us, it folds us up, and eventually, it tucks us right into the ground.

I am a huge fan of Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs series so was excited to see what she would do with another heroine. But I must admit I am a little disappointed in this book. Elinor White has quite similar experiences to my beloved Maisie, however, she is lacking the charm and whimsy that makes the Maisie books so appealing.

Elinor White finds herself working for the underground in Belgium during the First World War when she is just a slip of a girl. She proves to be courageous and quite fearless when the need arises. Her services are again called upon during the Second World War. After that war, she lives a quiet and solitary life in a Kentish village, until she finds herself drawn to the aid of her neighbours who are being bullied by a London gang.

I really wanted to like this book, but having read it only a few weeks ago, I am struggling to remember the plot, or the characters. Perhaps its just me - I hope so!

Many thanks to the Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to preview this book. I will share my review once it is published on Readingtime.com.

Andrew Wilson has written a novel that ‘explains’ Agatha Christie’s disappearance for ten days in the winter of 1926. He cleverly weaves the known facts through his book, making it a compelling read.

Agatha Christie is on a crowded London Underground platform when she feels a push from behind, causing her to lose her balance as the train is approaching. Just as suddenly she is pulled to safety. But the man who is her rescuer is, in fact, the personification of evil. She discovers that evil characters are not only in books, but are very real.

Agatha must use all the skills she has honed as a writer to outwit her adversary, who has no scruples and takes pleasure in making others suffer. There are some far fetched turns in the plot, but Wilson ties it all up neatly in the end, with an obvious segue to further adventures with Agatha Christie as a resourceful and capable solver of crime.

Exquisite as always. My favourite:

I did think, let’s go about this slowly.
This is important. This should take
some really deep thought. We should take
small thoughtful steps.

But, bless us, we didn’t.

Chaos had found Three Pines. It was bearing down upon them and all that was safe and warm and kind was about to be taken away. This is far and away the darkest of Penny’s books so far. She explores the dark heart that can be well hidden from view. Gamache’s second in command, Beauvoir remembers one of the first lessons Gamache taught him: What kills can’t be seen. It’s not a gun or knife or a fist. It’s an emotion. Rancid, spoiled.

When the body of an unknown man is discovered on the floor of Olivier’s beloved bistro in Three Pines, it’s soon apparent that Olivier has kept many secrets, not only from his partner Gabri, but from all his friends who think they know him so well. This is one of the many elements that makes Penny’s books shine so bright, her fearlessness in showing a character’s true self, flaws included. None of us is totally pure of heart, and we see these people in all their true colours.

But the darkness is leavened with wonderful glimpses of light, for example Gamache reminiscing about the end of the summer school holidays: The mix of sadness at the end of summer, and excitement to see his chums again. The new clothes, bought after a summer’s growth. The new pencils, sharpened over and over, and the smell of the shavings. And the new notebooks. Always strangely thrilling. Unmarred. No mistakes yet. All they held was promise and potential. So evocative!

This series is best read in order to fully appreciate the character development.

I loved Burial Rites, and am not averse to an immersive historical novel. And Devotion is truly immersive, and Kent’s writing is truly lyrical. However, I had difficulty with the plot, and the road she chose to travel with this story. I was also uncomfortable with the ‘devotion’ shown by Hanne towards her soulmate Thea. It felt more like obsession to me, together with possessiveness. And there was definitely a strong smell of ‘stalker’ in her behaviour.
I know a lot of readers loved this book, but for the above reasons it’s only three stars from me.

To truly enjoy this last instalment of the Ruth Galloway series, I strongly recommend reading the rest of the series first.

I approached this book with some trepidation as I knew it was to be the last in the series. I’ve loved all these books: Dr Ruth Galloway is such a real character, and I have loved reading about her many adventures, and rather complicated love life!

Set in June 2021, Covid is still having a huge impact on everyone’s lives. Our beloved Cathbad (everyone’s favourite druid) is suffering from long Covid and hasn’t returned to his usual exuberant self. DCI Nelson’s team are disrupted by members having to self isolate at home after being ‘pinged’ - it’s hard to believe it’s only two years ago.

When a human skeleton is discovered during a renovation of a local cafe, Nelson calls Ruth to assess their age. They are modern, and are identified as those belonging to Emily Pickering, a young archaeology student who went missing in the 1990s. Suspicion falls on her Cambridge tutor, and Cathbad who was also a member of her class.

As Nelson and his trusty team investigate, Ruth is struggling on two fronts: the announced closure of the Department of Archaeology at the University of North Norfolk, where she is the Head of Faculty, and the complicated relationship she has with Nelson, which has waxed and waned throughout the series. Ruth feels that she is at a moment in time where her life is going to change - but in what way? Will she move to London to be near her ageing dad, or will she and Nelson set up home in his hometown of Blackpool? Could she ever leave her beloved Norfolk?

Griffiths has some fun - having a go at Boris Johnson for ‘scrapping the A level and now closing university departments. He claims to be a classicist but he seems pretty anti-history, if you ask me’. She even has a gentle laugh at writers when Tanya wonders ‘why would anyone pay to listen to an author taking about their books? People are really weird’.

There is a deep affection for all the characters in this series, and Griffiths brings them all back for this last hurrah. She is definitely saying a fond farewell to them all, and I was torn between wanting to finish the book to find out how it all works out, and wanting to take my time because I know it’s the last time I’ll be hanging out with these characters, in beautiful Norfolk, which is itself a major character in the series.

Griffiths does not disappoint, tying up all the loose ends in the final chapters, and leaving this reader feeling bittersweet, knowing that there are no more adventures with these friends in Norfolk (unless Griffiths weakens to pressure and surprises us with a Christmas special, haha).

The blurb says this is a book you will devour! (Their exclamation mark.) I usually take blurbs with a grain of salt, however, in this instance, it speaks the truth! (My exclamation mark.) I really did devour this book.

Lenny Marks is thirty-seven. Her existence ‘was many things: simple, predictable and uneventful. It had taken considerable effort and time to get to this point and she was not planning on disrupting the perfectly good order of things’. She teaches at the local primary school and then returns to the sanctuary of her Tree House and the company of Friends repeats and solo scrabble games. Until she receives a letter from the Adult Parole Board of Victoria. Suddenly Lenny’s world begins to unravel.

When I began this book, I thought it was going to be yet another book about a quirky character somewhere on the spectrum, similar to [a:Gail Honeyman|14558709|Gail Honeyman|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1475252960p2/14558709.jpg]’s [b:Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine|31434883|Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine|Gail Honeyman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1493724347l/31434883.SY75.jpg|47327681] or [a:Graeme Simsion|1895943|Graeme Simsion|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1613778776p2/1895943.jpg]’s Don Tillman of [b:The Rosie Project|16181775|The Rosie Project (Don Tillman, #1)|Graeme Simsion|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1371651741l/16181775.SY75.jpg|22084678]. But it didn’t take me long to realise that Lenny’s quirkiness and social unawareness is due to trauma, specifically childhood trauma. She refers to herself as a ‘broken girl’. In flashback chapters, we are with eleven year old Lenny as she tries to survive in a home dominated by her step-father’s violence. When she hears his name spoken, it’s ‘like touching a battery to the tip of her tongue’.

Parts of this book are tough to read, and could be triggering for anyone who is a survivor of childhood abuse. However, Mayne has used a gentle hand and tempers these dark flashbacks with Lenny’s dawning awareness that perhaps she’s not to blame for her mother’s disappearance, and that she is, in fact, loveable.

It’s hard to believe this is Kerryn Mayne’s first novel. The pace is spot on, and the balance of dark and charm is perfect. It truly is a stunning debut novel.

It’s 1965 and the world of fashion is about to be turned on its head by a young English model appearing in a mini-dress at the Flemington Race Day. But before that happens, tea lady Hazel Bates sees a young women in the empty bond building across from her place of work, Empire Fashionwear, who appears to be in distress. When the police don’t seem to be interested, even after the bond building is set on fire, Hazel and her fellow tea ladies join forces to investigate. As they share tea and cake in the back lane adjoining their work places, Hazel, together with Betty (sweet but rather dotty), pipe-smoking Irene (with a shady past) and Merl (who’s son-in-law is a dodgy police officer) find themselves investigating not only arson, but murder.

Many readers won’t remember the invaluable tea lady of old. They were indispensable to the workplace, providing a much needed cuppa and a biscuit or two. They always remembered your name and how you liked your tea, and were a great source of gossip. However, Hazel believes that ‘discretion is the hallmark of a good tea lady’.

In the same vein as [a:Richard Osman|6173710|Richard Osman|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1635981852p2/6173710.jpg]’s [b:The Thursday Murder Club|46000520|The Thursday Murder Club (Thursday Murder Club, #1)|Richard Osman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1582287822l/46000520.SY75.jpg|70861405], The Tea Ladies introduces us to characters of a certain age, who are full of life and intelligence. These women could easily be overlooked and underestimated, but Hampson shows them to be a force to be reckoned with.

Hampson brings the Sydney rag trade of the 1960s to life, recreating the bustling back lanes of Surry Hills with a deft hand. She explores the rapid changes to fashion that was brought on by the sixties and the effect this had on those who worked in the industry, from the sewers and machinists to those who worked ‘upstairs’. I found myself totally immersed in Hazel’s world and was sorry to leave it. I hope we see more of Hazel and her intrepid fellow tea ladies, dispensing hot beverages and wisdom in equal measure.

I found this a tedious book to read, which is disappointing as it had been recommended to me by a number of readers.
The characters have no charm, it repeats itself constantly (if I heard about ’the rules’ one more time, I’d have screamed), and the translation leaves a lot to be desired. The same words were used again and again, for example ‘deadpan’ which was definitely not the right word in the context.
Not my cup of coffee at all.

Thank you to Australian Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book.

“Remembering must feel like walking on broken glass.”

Lisa Keller’s life is about to change forever. She’s dealing with the usual concerns of a Year 10 high school student: hanging out with her friends, keeping a low profile and experiencing first love. Then her father is diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease and given six months to live. And before he dies, he wants to share his story with his family.

Lisa’s father, Emil, is a Holocaust survivor, something he has never spoken about since he left Europe for a new life in Australia. As his illness progresses, he gathers his family together each Friday night to reveal more of the horrors he endured as a young Jewish boy in war-torn Czechoslovakia.

Chapters alternate between ‘Now’ which tells Lisa’s story, and ‘Then’, telling Emil’s. Lisa’s family is close, and together with her two older brothers and her mother, they rally to surround her father with love and a safe cocoon to tell his life story. It is refreshing to read a YA book where the family is close and loving.

Lisa has never revealed to her friends that she is Jewish, and she finds it almost impossible to reveal this to them now, let alone draw attention to herself by revealing her father’s terminal illness. She doesn’t want ‘everyone seeing through my skin to my breaking heart’. She can listen to other people’s sad stories for hours; she’s ‘okay with uncomfortable as long as it’s someone else’s uncomfortable’, but she cannot bear the thought of revealing her troubles with her friends.

As Emil’s health deteriorates, and more of his harrowing story is revealed, Lisa learns that keeping secrets is destructive, and that accepting help is not a weakness.

Zail has skilfully used a contemporary narrative (it’s set in 1982) to explore the horrors of the Holocaust. She doesn’t shy away from the brutality that Lisa’s father saw and experienced first hand, but it is never gratuitous. As fewer and fewer Survivors are left, it is essential that their stories are never forgotten, in the hope that history will not repeat itself. Emil’s story is based on Zail’s own father’s experiences.

Lists of further reading about the Holocaust and Motor Neurone Disease are included. As Holocaust education is now compulsory in most Australian State Schools, Inkflower would make a perfect addition to reading lists.
Walker books provide many resources for teachers and librarians: https://www.walkerbooks.com.au/book/9781760653736/

For a bit of fun, there is also a link to a Spotify playlist of Lisa’s favourite 1980s hits.

Inkflower is challenging, but also inspiring and ultimately, full of hope. I highly recommend it.

Recommended for ages 14+

I thoroughly enjoyed listening to Leslie Manville read this next instalment of the Susan Ryeland mysteries. She’s the perfect choice, particularly as she plays the character in the tv adaptation of Magpie Murders.
This is another ‘book within a book’ mystery, which is a little harder to follow as an audio as it would be in paper format, but it didn’t lose me.

This book sounds good in theory: set in a sleepy Shropshire village in 1940 that seems far removed from the realities of the war, DI Tom Tyler investigates the murder of a Land Army girl. Suspicion immediately falls on the German nationals in a nearby internment camp, but Tom feels the answer lies closer to home.
I’m finding it hard to pinpoint what is wrong with this book, but it just doesn’t feel ‘right’. Perhaps the characters reactions are not in keeping with the times? Certainly I found Tom Tyler’s behaviour unappealing - his marriage is struggling and we’re given a perfunctory explanation for this, but expected to sympathise with Tom when he easily falls into an affair with his ex-lover, who also is married (apparently unhappily, so that’s ok!). It didn’t sit right with me, or ring true for that matter.
There is also a rush at the end to tie up the loose ends, with characters dying unexpectedly (and unnecessarily in my view) just to move the plot forward.
Ultimately, this was an unsatisfying read for me.

Holly Ringland has bewitched me again. I finished The Seven Skins of Esther Wilding not wanting to leave the magical world she created.
She has woven a beautiful tapestry with threads of indigenous wisdom, Danish folklore and familial love, embellishing it with a respect for mythology and country. She explores the many ways grief can manifest itself, and how we can find grace in unexpected places.
I’m not going to give you a synopsis of the plot, I’m just going to strongly urge you to read this book.

Thank to to The Australian Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book.

There’s power in never being known because no one can use you against you.

Jade Nguyễn has struck a deal with her estranged father: spend the summer holidays with him in Vietnam and he will pay her university fees. He’s doing up a rundown French colonial house, preparing it to become an up-market bed and breakfast. So Jade and her younger sister Lily find themselves roped into helping him with the renovations.

It’s not long before Jade senses that things are not so normal about this house. Dead bugs appear each morning on her windowsill, she starts to suffer from sleep paralysis and Jade is soon confronted by not one, but two ghosts, one of whom does not have her best interests at heart.

Tran brings a lot of issues to the table in this book: ancestral trauma, the impact of colonialism, abandonment, and the struggle to find ‘home’. However, I feel she has tried to address too many themes, and horror was not the right choice of genre. Even the horror did not feel suitably horrific, although there is a sudden shift of tone at the conclusion of the book where I felt transposed into a modern-day slasher film.

There are a number of sentences that left me confused: ‘You don’t need to worry,’ Ba says eventually, removing a dropper from his pocket and squeezing tears into his eyes.’ Or how about a ghost, reaching into Jade’s body ‘driving deeper than a broken underwire bra’ for an interesting analogy? Or seeing a beautiful view, and wanting to ‘drain that beautiful sky through a fat straw’?

This is Tran’s debut novel, and some of these issues can be excused by inexperience, but I was totally baffled by the constant reference to hydrangeas. In my experience, a hydrangea is a bush, not a vine, but these hydrangeas seem to have a life of their own, climbing the crumbling walls. There are 74 references to hydrangeas – are they a metaphor for something?

Ultimately, She is a Haunting left me disappointed. I feel there are the bones here of a good YA novel dealing with acceptance, dislocation and finding home, seen from the perspective of a queer Viet-American, but the novel left me wanting more.

Hopefully, Tran’s next book will see her grow in confidence together with a clearer vision.

Yuck. I had to stop listening to this story. Too horrible for my taste. I’m a huge Stephen King fan, but I did not like this one little bit.

I’m having a wonderful time reading these books in order. Whenever I feel the world is getting too much, I pick up the next instalment of Chief Inspector Armand Gamache’s mysteries and I feel there is still hope for humanity.

This book is not set in our favourite village of Three Pines, but in the luxurious, and isolated, Manoir Bellechasse, where Armand and his wife Reine-Marie are celebrating their wedding anniversary. Of course, a murder takes place, and Armand leads his team with his usual kindness and big heart.

I won’t tell you more, however, as always, Penny’s writing elevates this book well above others in the genre. I leave you with an example:

Grief was dagger-shaped and sharp and pointed inward. It was made of fresh loss and old sorrow. Rendered and forged and sometimes polished. Irene Finney had taken her daughter’s death and to that sorrow she’d added a long life of entitlement and disappointment, of privilege and pride. And the dagger she’d fashioned was taking a brief break from slashing her insides, and was now pointed outward. At Armand Gamache.

Urgh! Couldn’t get past the second chapter. Too many exclamation marks!! Not for me.

I listened to the Audible audio edition, read by Claire Foy who struggled with handling an Australian accent - why didn’t they use an Aussie narrator, for goodness sake?
That being said, I found myself totally immersed in the world Kate Morton has created. You can smell the eucalypts, and feel the summer heat on your back.
Highly recommended.

As soon as someone cracks the spine, a book develops a character all its own. What impresses or concerns one reader is never the same as what impresses or concerns all others. So, each book, once read, will fall open at a different place. Each book. once read, I realised, will have told a slightly different story.
Pip Williams has done it again! This book is like catnip for anyone who loves books. It has it all: set in Oxford in the bindery of Oxford University Press, we enter a world of books and libraries and learning. Set at the outbreak of the First World War, we are privy to the impact this has on everyone; the majority of able-bodied men are suddenly gone to war, leaving the women to carry the load, both physical and emotional. The suffragette movement is in full swing, and women from all walks of life can see a different world emerging from the wreckage of the war.
Williams has again written an engrossing historic novel that I couldn’t put down - highly recommended.

Gave up at page 100. This started out well, with a great premise, but it proved to be a one-trick pony and I quickly grew bored. It felt like it was trying to be another Lincoln in the Bardo….but it’s not.

The Inquirers: they were a band of private detectives who lived beneath the streets of London in a labyrinth of twisted tunnels and ancient hallways, the entrance to which no one had every found.

Set in London 1958, this book takes us below the streets of familiar London to the mysterious underground world of the Inquirers. Marion Lane can’t believe her luck when she is offered a job in Miss Brickett’s Secondhand Books and Curiosities, little realising that she has, in fact, been offered an apprenticeship as an Inquirer. She loves this underground world, where she can escape her grandmother Dolores’ constant matchmaking. Marion is a complex character, dealing with the grief of losing her mother, and finding her feet in this new environment. She is determined to pass all her exams to become an Inquirer.

However, when a filing assistant is found brutally murdered, Marion’s mentor Frank is arrested on suspicion of her murder. Marion, together with her friends, must explore forbidden tunnels to uncover the true murderer.

Willberg has created a fascination underground world, full of menace, danger and fantastic gadgets. It’s hard not to draw comparisons with Harry Potter’s world, particularly when a map that reflects people’s movements is an integral part of the plot. But I think it’s an unfair comparison; Miss Brickett’s has enough unique features to stand on its own two feet.

I would have liked to have see more of the other mysteries that the agency investigates, but hopefully the next book will expand into that territory. Although this book looks like a cosy crime, it’s not; there are a number of rather nasty deaths (just to give you a heads-up).

I listened to the audiobook, narrated by Juliet Stevenson. At almost 22 hours of listening, it was an investment! But brilliantly read by Stevenson.

And I really liked it until it got pretty weird! She is a woman who overcomes the standard prejudices and expectations of the 1800s to become a botanist, and pursue, research into evolution, before anyone had heard of Darwin’s theory. Alma has a mind that lends itself to the pursuit of a scientific answer to everything in this world, and the next. However, when it comes to relationships, and sex, Alma is all at sea. And it’s disappointing to see her belittle all her achievements by proclaiming that she has finally got ’everything I’ve ever wanted, at long last’ when her dead husband’s gay lover ejaculates in her mouth! Really? Elizabeth Gilbert, you can do better than this!!!! Yep, like I said, pretty damn weird! All the feminists in the room are cringing right now. God knows, I sure am.

However, I always love a book that introduces me to a new word: ‘quim’, not that this is one I’ll be using in my day to day conversations (look it up!)

We are Wolves is set at the end of the Second World War. Eleven year old Liesl lives in East Prussia with her younger brother Otto and baby sister, Mia, together with her parents and grandparents. Her father is forced to enlist in the German army to fight the advancing Russian army. Liesl and her remaining family must flee that same advancing army. In the middle of a war zone and a blizzard, Liesl, Otto and Mia are separated from their family. Liesl has promised her mother she will look after her siblings, little realizing how challenging that will be.

Liesl is a wonderful character. She is determined to protect her brother and sister, and to find their mother. Even in the face of terrible adversity, she sees the positive; And, just like that, my heart feels a little spark of joy once more. Musicians. Babies with melted chocolate hair. Faithful horses. They are all treasure. But she is no Pollyanna, she also understands that sometimes you have to break the rules to survive. She has had to become a pragmatist at a very young age.

Nannestad has told the little known story of German children who found themselves separated from their families and living wild, foraging for food, sleeping rough and stealing food in the winter months. Known as Wolfskinder, these children overcame extraordinary deprivation to survive the harsh winters, and suspicious villagers who were prepared to hand them over to the Russian army for extra food. Trying to find food becomes all consuming as even the people who live in the villages and on the farms can be seen straggling across the meadows, searching desperately for a mushroom, a potato, a stalk of wheat that has lain unnoticed. If the world were a larder, East Prussia would be the top shelf where all the empty jars are stored.

The author has not flinched away from telling the reader of difficult and distressing events, but she has done it in a way that is perfectly age appropriate for the intended audience.

Special mention must be made of the beautiful illustrations by Martina Heiduczek that perfectly support the written text.

This is outstanding historic fiction suitable for readers aged 10 years and over.

I loved [b:The Left-Handed Booksellers of London|49867186|The Left-Handed Booksellers of London (Left-Handed Booksellers of London, #1)|Garth Nix|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1581368800l/49867186.SY75.jpg|67924695]. So I was super excited to be immersed again in Nix’s re-invented 1980s London, complete with left-handed booksellers who protect ordinary folk from mythical bad guys.
This next instalment disappoints on several levels. We see virtually nothing of the bookshops and the literary references that were so enjoyable in the first book are few and far between. The pacing is all over the place, it starts with a bang, then slows down to a crawl, then races to the finish. We are introduced to many new characters, but learn nothing about them, apart from what they wear (which is described in minute detail), what car they might be driving (again, so much information about different types of cars) or what weapon they are carrying. This level of detail added nothing to the story - in fact it bogged it down. Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:

The convoy back to London….was led by a Met Police Rover SD1-V8 with lights flashing; followed by Greene’s unmarked Jaguar XJ12; another Police Rover SD1; then Cousin Emilia’s astonishingly bright silver Range Rover, which Merlin explained had been custom outfitted for a Saudi sheik who then reneged on the deal, which explained its metallic silver finish, walnut panelling, camel leather seats with built-in heating, and armoured glass windows. If that wasn’t enough, there was a gold Ford Capri Mk3 full of booksellers following, and behind it a nondescript blue Ford Transit….; and bringing up the rear was a Met Police Triumph 2.5PI…

This is the second instalment in The Ghost Hunter Chronicles. I haven’t read the first book, [b:The House in the Woods|58033973|The House in the Woods (The Ghost Hunter Chronicles #1)|Yvette Fielding|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1625044752l/58033973.SY75.jpg|90949236], but that did not impact at all on my enjoyment of this volume.

I would have loved this series when I was a kid. There is a demand for kids’ books that are scary – in an appropriate way! Stephen King is way too mature for this age bracket (ages 11+) and many of the other books on the market aren’t scary enough. The Ripper of Whitechapel has a number of moments that are really frightening – and the readers who are attracted to this book will be thrilled by those moments.

Eve, Clovis and Tom live on the same housing estate (it’s set in the UK) and have grown up together. They’re now thirteen and still best friends. Eve lives with her eccentric uncle Rufus (where would we be without an eccentric uncle?) who includes the friends in his investigations of the paranormal. Because they successfully helped the authorities solve a previous investigation, they are invited to join a special branch of the police: the Society of Paranormal Investigations as trainee ghost hunters.

I love books where the young characters are treated by adults with respect. Eve, Clovis and Tom have proven their worth in the past, so Detective Inspector Rutherford has no hesitation in making them part of the team, under the guidance of Uncle Rufus.

A local school is being haunted by the ghosts of two young children, and it soon becomes apparent that they were the victims of the infamous Jack the Ripper. They cannot move on to their next ‘home’ because the malevolent ghost of Jack the Ripper has trapped them here on earth. To release the ghost children, the friends, together with Uncle Rufus, must send Jack on to his final resting place – and he is very reluctant to oblige!

I think Fielding has created a fabulous series for young readers who are looking for books that have characters with whom they can relate. She has given her characters backstories that have depth and she’s not afraid to include difficult issues. For example, Tom’s soldier dad has returned from Afghanistan a changed man, obviously suffering from PTSD. But Fielding doesn’t let this get in the way of her brilliantly paced narrative.

This was unputdownable! Highly recommended for readers aged 11+.

Thanks to Australian Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to preview this book.

What is the price of copper? This is the price of copper: a dead man. Every week. Month after month. Year after year.

Annie Clements has spent her whole life in the copper mining town of Calumet, Michigan. It’s a company town, owned by Calumet & Hecla Mining Company, and by 1913 it is a teaming metropolis of forty thousand residents, speaking over 30 different languages. Approximately 15,000 men worked Copper Country mines in 10–12 hour shifts in brutal and dangerous conditions. They were often first-generation immigrants from Croatia, Finland, Hungary, Poland, Italy, Slovenia, and more. As unskilled laborers, their employment options were limited. On average, one worker per week died in the mines. [https://bentley.umich.edu/news-events/magazine/the-copper-line/]

After yet another miner’s death, Annie rallies wives, mothers and daughters to convince their men to strike for better wages and safer work conditions. Annie’s husband Joe is unimpressed, particularly when he sees how strong his wife is, and how others are prepared to follow her.

The majority of characters and events in this book are true, and it’s impossible for a twenty first century reader to even imagine what life was like for these people. Unions were seen by many as trouble-makers; at funerals union members sat on one side of the church, non-members on the other. Homes were divided.

The daily peaceful marches, led by Annie Clements carrying an enormous American flag, were eventually met with brutal force; professional strike-breakers brought in by the general manager of C&H, James MacNaughton. The brutality shown towards women and children is truly horrific. The political machinations involved in this battle between the largest copper mining company in the world and poor, migrant workers wanting a fair deal, made my blood boil!

Where would we be without incredible leaders like Annie Clements? Russell wanted to tell the women’s stories, as so much is told from the male perspective. When asked if it is all worth while, Annie answers: ‘Maybe not for us. Maybe not even for anyone alive today. But we plant the seeds of justice, and justice will rise out of all this muck someday. I believe that. I believe in the future. I do. One day life will be better for the ones who come after us’.

Russell is the author of one of my favourite books, [b:The Sparrow|334176|The Sparrow (The Sparrow, #1)|Mary Doria Russell|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1230829367l/334176.SY75.jpg|3349153]. She has written another novel full of memorable characters, who face adversity with fortitude and grace. My review does not do this book justice - I can’t recommend it highly enough!

How can one writer convey so much in only 110 pages? Claire Keegan doesn’t waste a word. It’s almost like reading a poem.

Set in 1985 in a small Irish town, Bill Furlong is a busy man in the weeks leading up to Christmas. He has a comfortable life with his wife and five daughters, but something is disturbing his peace of mind; something he can’t quite put into words. ‘He was touching forty but didn’t feel himself to be getting anywhere or making any kind of headway and could not but sometimes wonder what the days were for.’ 

Keegan explores the complicity of ordinary folk in the shocking treatment of unwed mothers by the Catholic nuns at the local Magdalen laundry. The church has a stranglehold on the community, and no one is prepared to raise a hand to defend the defenceless. However, when Bill is faced with the reality of the brutal way these girls are treated, he choses to act, as ‘he found himself asking was there any point in being alive without helping one another? Was it possible to carry on along through all the years, the decades, through an entire life, without once being brave enough to go against what was there and yet call yourself a Christian, and face yourself in the mirror?’

Bill knows that there will be repercussions for his action, ‘but the worst that could have happened was already behind him; the thing not done, which could have been - which he would have had to live with for the rest of his life’. Keegan finishes the book on a hopeful note, where the reader is left with the sense that one small action, by one person, can indeed have a ripple effect.

In her Author’s Notes, Keegan records the shocking number of babies and children, not to mention young mothers, who died while incarcerated in Magdalen laundries. One report revealed that over nine thousand children died in eighteen of the institutions investigated. The Catholic Church, together with the Irish State, ran and financed these institutions.

Opportunity and refuge: the privilege of the migrant Australian. Our lifelong responsibility and debt to be repaid.
Opportunity and refuge: the entitlement of the white Australian. Your lifelong expectation.

Do not be lulled into thinking this novel is a cosy story about ‘old dears’ in a nursing home. It may be set in a leafy suburb of Sydney, but this book packs an unexpected punch.

The plot ranges over time and place, embracing topics as diverse as colonisation, racism, displacement, war crimes, sexism and consent. There are some deeply disturbing scenes in the book, particularly pertaining to the war in Sri Lanka, and many of the characters are trying to overcome deep trauma.

But although Chandran does not shy away from some awful truths, she tempers them with moments of shared compassion, friendship and a supporting community. I admit that my knowledge of the conflict in Sri Lanka was sketchy, and I now have a better grasp of the complexities of this harrowing war. The author weaves this history into her novel without the reader feeling like it’s a history lesson.

In the Author’s Note, she points out that ‘there are many forms of cultural erasure’ which include, among many other ways, the burning of books and libraries. In 1981, the Jaffna Library was burned by security forces. ‘It contained 97,000 books and historical and cultural records about the Tamil civilisation and its presence in Sri Lanka.’ Many texts were the only copies in existence and have been lost forever. As a book lover and a library lover, I find this action abhorrent and heartbreaking, and I know many other readers will feel the same.

Highly recommended.

Forget the forgetting. We seek to forget ourselves, to be surprised and to do something without knowing how or why. The way of life is wonderful. It is by abandonment.

This is not an easy book to read. It’s about a father who is obviously suffering from an extreme form of PTSD, who has removed his daughter from foster care and taken her to ’live wild’ in a nature preserve. He’s hyper paranoid that they are being watched, and teaches Caroline how to leave no trace of her movements.

As I read this book, all I could think about was how was this girl ever going to recover from this trauma. I thought the story was going to be more about returning to nature and turning their backs on a consumerist society, but it’s really about a very damaged man, who’s love for his daughter is very disturbing.

I believe it’s based on a true incident in Portland, Oregon - although no-one knows what happened to the father and daughter, so the author has made up the ending. I didn’t like the ending at all - it’s so obviously contrived.

I borrowed this from the library on the strength of a positive review in The Sydney Morning Herald. I’m so glad I didn’t waste any money on buying this turgid mess.
This is truly awful - I don’t want to remember any of it. Let’s just say there’s sex with minors, copious drug taking and alcohol consumption, police corruption and more pornography involving minors….it’s all so awful. Passages read like a schoolboy’s wet dream. Did I mention there was self-flagellation?
Do. Not. Read. This. Book.

This is a solid police procedural, featuring a heavily pregnant Detective Sergeant Kate Miles. She’s been up against all the usual prejudices: she’s a woman in a man’s world, she’s a woman with mixed-race heritage in a man’s world, and now she’s a very pregnant woman in a man’s world!
The Torrent is Dinuka McKenzie’s first novel, but it doesn’t show. It’s an accomplished crime novel, with well developed characters and a plot that kept me turning the pages.
I’m looking forward to the second book in the series which is due for release later in 2023.

This is the third instalment of the Three Pines series by Louise Penny. This series just gets better and better as Penny settles into her characters and their setting.

Another unusual death brings C.I. Armand Gamache of the Surete du Quebec and his team back to the idyllic village of Three Pines. Could the victim really have been scared to death while attending a seance? As Gamache and his team interview the witnesses and suspects, the joy de vivre of the community is over-shadowed by the looming presence of the old Hadley house on the hill, drawing inspiration, I think, from the Bates house in Psycho!

While Gamache leads his team in their investigation, there are enemies in the Police force who will stop at nothing to destroy him. He suspects that a member of his team is a traitor, feeding information back to his enemies in the Surete. But who can it be?

My book club’s theme this month was ‘Food in Crime novels’. The Three Pines books simply ooze food: I counted over ten detailed descriptions of the the food and beverages enjoyed by the characters in this instalment! My favourite was on page 201:

Gamache’s coq au vin filled the table with a rich, earthy aroma and an unexpected hint of maple. Delicate young beans and glazed baby carrots sat in their own white serving dish. A massive charbroiled steak smothered in panfried onions was placed in front of Beauvoir. A mound of frites sat in his serving dish. Beauvoir could have died happily right there and then, but he’d have missed the creme brûlée for dessert.

Coffee makes a sad man cheerful, a languorous man active, a cold man warm, a warm man glowing. It awakens mental powers thought to be dead, and when left in a sick room, it fills the room with a fragrance…The very smell of coffee terrorises death.

Never judge a book by its cover! This mass-market publication looks like a bit of rubbish, but in fact, I found it very entertaining.

The story is set in the historic Village Blend coffeehouse in West Village, Manhattan. Clare Cosi has returned to manage the coffee house after living for ten years in the suburbs to raise her daughter. When she discovers her assistant manager unconscious at the bottom of the stairs, she finds it hard to agree with the police’s assessment that it was an accident.

So she has to run her own investigation, of course. I know, it’s predictable, and the book is full of cliches, but there was something about it that I found appealing - maybe the coffee? And there is a lot of information about coffee; from the different coffee beans and how they are sourced, to the million and one different styles of coffee brewing. If you don’t like coffee - well, I’d give this book a miss. There are even coffee recipes at the end of the book!

‘A face is usually the first thing we notice about a person. It can signify gender, age, and ethnicity - all important components of an identity. It can also convey personality and help us communicate with one another. The infinite subtleties and variety of human expression comprise an emotional language of their own. So, when a face is obliterated, these key signifiers can disappear with it.’

The Facemaker tells the story of Harold Gillies, a surgeon determined to rebuild the faces of soldiers injured during the First World War. His pioneering plastic surgery changed the lives of so many soldiers whose futures, along with their faces, had been destroyed. Gillies assembled a unique group of doctors, nurses, dentists and artists who worked together as a team to restore these soldiers’ faces and their dignity.

‘From the moment that the first machine gun rang out over the Western Front, one thing was clear: Europe’s military technology had wildly surpassed its medical capabilities. Bullets tore through the air at terrifying speeds. Shells and mortar bombs exploded with a force that flung men around the battlefield like rag dolls. Ammunition containing magnesium fuses ignited when lodged in flesh. And a new threat, in the form of hot chunks of shrapnel, often covered in bacteria-laden mud, wrought terrible injuries on its victims. Bodies were battered, gouged, and hacked, but wounds to the face could be especially traumatic. Noses were blown off, jaws were shattered, tongues were torn out, and eyeballs were dislodged. In some cases, entire faces were obliterated. In the words of one battlefield nurse, “The science of healing stood baffled before the science of destroying.’

Heartstopper hits the sweet spot. Absolutely pitch-perfect for the intended audience.

This is a sweet book. The illustrations are deceptive: they appear, at first glance, simplistic and messy, but they are, in fact, detailed and utterly delightful.

There is no story as such, but it makes for a lovely series of ‘quotable quotes’ about friendship and believing in yourself.

If you are a fan of [b:The Little Prince|157993|The Little Prince|Antoine de Saint-Exupéry|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1367545443l/157993.SY75.jpg|2180358] or [b:Winnie-the-Pooh|99107|Winnie-the-Pooh (Winnie-the-Pooh, #1)|A.A. Milne|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1298440130l/99107.SY75.jpg|1225592] then you’ll love this.

Welcome to Dr. Siri Paiboun’s world! It’s 1976 and Laos has experienced ‘a quiet transition from what the president called ‘a bastardised version of America’ to a Marxist-Leninist state’. Septuagenarian Dr Siri Paiboun was looking forward to a quiet retirement, but the new regime has other ideas. Paiboun finds himself the country’s one and only coroner. ‘He was the first to confess to his lack of qualifications and enthusiasm for the job.’ Using a ‘couple of slightly charred French textbooks’, and ably assisted by his nurse, Dtui and Mr Geung, the previous incumbent’s assistant, he teaches himself the tricks of the trade.

It’s a normally quiet job, with few ‘customers’, until a Party leader’s wife is wheeled into the morgue. Did she die from an allergic reaction, or something more sinister? When two bodies, identified as Vietnamese soldiers, emerge from the muddy depths of a river, Siri discovers new found enthusiasm for his job. However, there are many eyes watching his every move, and his investigations are upsetting all the wrong people.

Dr. Siri Paiboun is wonderful company. He is compassionate and self deprecating, with a wry sense of humour. He also has conversations with the dead! As he explains to his friend, Civilai, ‘I see the spirits of the deceased. I have no control over when they come, or how they communicate with me. But it’s true.’ This supernatural element could be off-putting for some readers, however, I found it added an unexpected depth and poignancy to the story, as those who had been murdered help Siri find their murderer, letting them rest in peace. The limitations under which Siri must work make his job almost impossible. There are few resources available, even the camera film is in short supply. Running tests requires calling in favours from his friends. He certainly doesn’t have the resources we see on Silent Witness!

I thoroughly enjoyed The Coroner’s Lunch. Its sense of time and place sets it apart from other crime novels and its main character is a delight. I will definitely be spending more time in the company of Dr. Siri Paiboun and his friends.

Sigh…the village of Three Pines…don’t we all want to live there? ‘It had croissants and cafe au lait. It had steak frites and the New York Times. It had a bakery, a bistro, a B. & B., a general store. It had peace and stillness and laughter. It had great joy and great sadness and the ability to accept both and be content. It had companionship and kindness.’

This is the second murder that involves the good folk of Three Pines, and brings Chief Inspector Armand Gamache back to their village to investigate. He is welcomed with warmth and hospitality. And let’s face it, what’s not to like about Gamache? Though he was only in his early fifties there was an old world charm about Gamache, a courtesy and manner that spoke of a time past. His second in command, Beauvoir, quietly acknowledges to himself that Gamache was the best of them, the smartest and bravest and strongest because he was willing to go into his own head alone, and open all the doors there, and enter all the dark rooms. And make friends with what he found there. And he went into the dark, hidden rooms in the minds of others. The minds of killers. And he faced down whatever monsters came at him. He went places Beauvoir had never even dreamed existed.

CC de Poitiers was not liked, in fact, she was detested. So when she is bizarrely electrocuted at the annual curling tournament, surrounded by the entire village and no one saw it happen, there is no shortage of suspects who would have gladly finished her off! My only quibble with this book is the character of CC: she is grotesque, without any humanity or redeeming features. It’s very hard to care who killed her, as the world is a better place without her!

The setting is Christmas time, and the novel is filled with moments where the reader wishes they could join in; Christmas Eve traditions involving carols, midnight church and lashings of mouthwatering food and wine. Penny’s descriptions of these warm and convivial gatherings of the Three Pines community are in stark contrast to not only the prevailing weather, but the cold and bitter character of the victim. The weather is a character in its own right, impacting on everyone’s lives and movements.

Gamache has a team he trusts and relies upon. However, the return of Agent Yvette Nichol gives Gamache pause. He suspects that she may have been sent by his superiors to cause trouble, or worse. Is it to do with the Arnot case, which haunts Armand and about which we, the readers, know little, apart from its fallout leaving Gamache ostracised by his fellow members of the Surete du Quebec?

The books ends with a satisfying resolution, although several tantalising clues are left for the reader, letting us know that we will see the return of Gamache, but there is a dark cloud on his horizon.

Highly recommended!

Nope, this one is not for me. Too ugly.

How to review this extraordinary book? You will find it in the Science Fiction section of the library/bookshop but that is misleading. Yes, the plot entails time travel, spanning time from 1912 to 2401, but that is not the essence of this book. What is the essence of this novel? That humans, no matter what century they live in, experience the same emotions, and that some decisions made will reverberate through time.

The book is suffused with a sense of poignancy and melancholy. As it slips between its timelines the reader begins to see returning motifs: a maple tree in a forest; a violin player in a terminal; a quote from a book: ‘We knew it was coming’. How Mandel brings these parallel stories to a cohesive conclusion is surprising, and satisfying.

I highly recommend this book. Ignore the Science Fiction label; you won’t be disappointed!

One day Bookish will be an acceptable nationality for your passport. It is not about where you are born; it’s about which books you are living in.

This is the story of an addict! Robin Ince is addicted to books - seriously! I thought I love books - and I do - but this man cannot say no to any book!

As the pandemic starts to calm down, Ince sets himself the challenge of visiting a hundred independent bookshops in the UK, giving talks for no payment aside from tea, biscuits and cake, and sometimes a surprise gift from the bookshop owners of….you guessed it, a book!!

I’m not going to pretend that I know even a quarter of the references Ince makes to books, writers and general literary miscellany. I just soldiered on, hoping that some of the anecdotes will find a home in my memory via osmosis.

His love of books and booksellers in contagious and this book is, in fact, a homage to booksellers and their courage and fortitude in the face of the last three years of pandemic.

The tangible joy of leafing through unexpected books, the visual delight of seeing covers glinting under the lights, the friendly and exuberant advice on new books… as lockdowns ended all such things have made people feel the true worth of the physical bookshop.

Looking at the young browsers searching modern texts and old philosophy at the [book]stall, I feel nostalgic and a little melancholy. There is that late-teen fear and excitement of being able to become who you wanted to be, now that you are away from home and from your past. That distance brings a dizzying freedom - your sexuality, politics, piercings: so many possibilities.

This is not at all what it appears to be! The first two chapters are, indeed, about the swimmers who regular use an underground pool. When a crack appears in the floor of the pool, we are privy to all their reactions. The crack is a metaphor for an unexpected change in our lives, and how everyone responds differently: ‘…many of us remain anxious. Because the truth is, we don’t know what it is. Or what it means. Or if it has any meaning at all’.

One of the regulars at the pool is Alice, who (we learn later) has a rare form of dementia. The second part of the book follows Alice’s declining health. These chapters are terrifying, in the true sense of the word. It is beautifully written, and heartbreaking.

To call this book a novel is misleading. It contains two short novellas, loosely related. If you are looking for a feel-good read about swimmers, I would only read the first two chapters. I found the rest of the book harrowing and frightening, and find it difficult to recommend.

Let me begin my review by stating that I READ THE BOOK! As opposed to the many ‘reviews’ posted by people who have an opinion they wish to share about the author. My review is about THE BOOK!

I listened to the audio version, and it came in at just under 33 hours of listening - phew! So, my first response is - the author needs an editor with a strong hand to reign them in. This was unnecessarily long. As a lot of the book is made up of transcripts of online conversations and blogs, twitter feeds and #hashtags, it also does not lend itself to being a successful audio experience.

However, Galbraith [a:J K Rowling|23046153|J K Rowling|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png] has written another interesting and immersive book with the characters we care about. I think I can safely say that most readers are now very invested in what happens to Cormoran Strike and Robin Ellacott. It is their relationship that kept me going.

What is the average age of readers of this series? I wonder if this plot involving cartoons, online games and twitter trolls will engage with the demographic of the series’ readers? I think many will give up, to be honest. And it’s not an attractive world - populated by bullies, egotists and out-and-out nutters.

This is definitely not the best in the series. I hope the next book returns the series to its former glory!

Having thoroughly enjoyed the new tv series Three Pines, I felt impelled to explore the books on which it is based. So I started with this, the first in the series. Thankfully, the case investigated in Still Life, is not touched upon in the first season of the series.

When Jane Neal’s body is discovered in the woods it is at first assumed that she has been killed in a hunting accident. However, it soon becomes apparent that Jane has been murdered. A universally liked and admired retired teacher, Jane is an unlikely murder victim. As Chief Inspector Armande Gamache begins to interview the residents of Three Pines, he soon discovers that there are many secrets hiding behind the white picket fences.

What makes this book special? Louise Penny lets us hear each character’s thoughts. We start to see through their eyes, and particularly through the eyes of Gamache. He’s patient (sometimes to a fault according to his second in command, Inspector Jean Guy Beauvoir) and gives everyone his full attention. He notices everything. He is kind and he is empathetic. As he first examines Jane’s body, we learn that he always felt a pang when looking at the hands of the newly dead, imagining all the objects and people those hands had held. The food, the faces, the doorknobs. All the gesture they’d made to signal delight or sorrow. And the final gesture, surely, to ward off the blow that would kill. The most poignant were the hands of young people who would never absently brush a lock of gray hair from their own eyes.

Penny makes the reader slow down, and keep pace with Gamache’s quiet and calm approach to the investigation. He’s a thinker, and we are privy to his many ruminations. I found this meditation on death particularly moving:

Normally, death came at night, taking a person in their sleep, stopping their heart or tickling them awake, leading them to the bathroom with a splitting headache before pouncing and flooding their brain with blood. It waits in alleys and metro stops. After the sun goes down plugs are pulled by white-clad guardians and death is invited into an antiseptic room.

Funny, sad, absurd, compassionate, and ultimately uplifting.
My favourite quote:

Because to love someone ridiculous is to understand something deep and true about the world. That up close it makes no sense. Those of you who choose sensible people may feel secure, but I think you water your wine; the wonder of life is in its small absurdities, so easily overlooked. And if you have not shared somebody’s tilted view of the horizon (which is the actual world), tell me: what have you really seen?

Delightful love letter to reading and gifting of books. I’m a huge fan of Robert Macfarlane, and his generous spirit shines through in this essay. A must for all book lovers.

Set in India in 1921 The Widows of Malabar Hill gives a fascinating insight into the complexities of being an Indian woman with ambition at a time when women’s lives were dictated by society and by the men around them. Perveen Mistry is the first female lawyer in India and works with her respected father in his law firm in Bombay.

As a woman, she can access female clients who live in purdah (never leaving their homes, and having no contact with men). Perveen is tasked with interviewing the three widows of a wealthy Muslim who was a client of her father’s, to ensure they understand their legal rights after his death. She is dismayed to discover that they have been misled by an unscrupulous guardian. When a murder is committed, suspicion falls on the widows, and Perveen knows that she must discover what happened on Malabar Hill before an innocent woman is convicted of murder.

I learnt so much from reading this book: about India’s history and culture and struggle for independence. The Soho Crime edition also contains an interview with Sujata Massey, discussion questions suitable for book club, information about the Parsis and even selected recipes!

I found myself totally immersed in Perveen’s world and was sorry to finish the book. However, she features in another book: [b:The Satapur Moonstone|40545212|The Satapur Moonstone (Perveen Mistry, #2)|Sujata Massey|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1555100724l/40545212.SY75.jpg|62957695] which I look forward to reading.

‘How do we do it? How do we accept the unacceptable?’

This is the last book in the trilogy that began with the wonderful [b:The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry|13227454|The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (Harold Fry, #1)|Rachel Joyce|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1335816092l/13227454.SY75.jpg|18156927], one of my all-time favourite books.

Ten years have passed since Harold’s return from his adventure, and we now spend time with Harold’s wife Maureen as she makes her own pilgrimage to a place where she feels she may find some peace. Maureen is not like Harold: she’s prickly and doesn’t make friends easily. She’s enveloped by grief at the loss of their only child. She is struck that a person could be trapped in a version of themselves that was from another time, and completely miss the happiness that was staring them in the face.

Maureen’s journey is both physical and emotional. At the start of her trip she wished she could be the kind of person that can say something to make someone feel better, but she couldn’t find that fleeting moment of goodness. No one understood another’s grief or another’s joy. People were not see-through at all. We watch Maureen as she slowly learns to accept friendship and love and finds a way to accept the unacceptable.

I have to make a special mention of Joyce’s acknowledgement of librarians and booksellers who kept getting books to us, even when we were all locked inside. The gate-keepers of reading. Where would we be without you? Where indeed!!!

At only 126 pages, this is a novella and can be read easily in one sitting. If you want it to resonate, you need to have read [b:The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry|13227454|The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (Harold Fry, #1)|Rachel Joyce|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1335816092l/13227454.SY75.jpg|18156927] and [b:The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy|20890479|The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy (Harold Fry, #2)|Rachel Joyce|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1403202599l/20890479.SY75.jpg|39861474].

This historic mystery novel is an absolute corker! It’s set in 1927, onboard the magnificent RMS Aquitania, sailing from Britain to New York. Pepper Stark has always dreamed of this journey, finally being allowed to join her father, the Captain! Her mother died when she was a babe in arms, and her father has always kept her at arms length. She yearns for his love.

When the priceless Saffron Diamond is stolen, Pepper and her new found friends set out to solve the mystery. As they scurry through the myriad of passageways and traverse the different decks, the reader finds themselves immersed in the life of the ship. Without being didactic, Greenberg shows us the different lives lived by those passengers who aren’t travelling ‘first class’.

Greenberg has written a perfect mystery novel for readers in upper-primary school. Pepper Stark is a plucky heroine, who makes new friends without bias, and who is prepared to listen to them as they work together to solve the mystery. I’m looking forward to reading her next adventure, [b:The Detective’s Guide to New York City|62038189|The Detective’s Guide to New York City|Nicki Greenberg|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1661076648l/62038189.SY75.jpg|97796481].

I could not finish this book.
Too many references to American personalities and television shows - I had no idea who these people were and why they’d be such an influence on the character. ‘I’ve watched MSNBC religiously’, ‘You raised me on a complex diet of Chelsea Handler and Sarah Silverman’, ‘Number 45 had just happened’, ‘There was a framed poster of Kristen Wiig hanging above my bed’, ‘I was surer about the lyrics to the Debbie Downer jingle that I was of the national anthem’….and so it goes! I was totally lost, and obviously not the intended audience. Not to mention Saturday Night Live, which is not on most Australian’s ‘must watch’ list.
The author is Australian, and that confused me even further. Obviously she’s writing for an American audience, not an Australian one!

Thank you to the Australian Children’s Book council for the opportunity to review this book. Go to readtime.com.au for my full review.

I listened to the Audible edition, narrated by the author. It’s the perfect book to listen to as it doesn’t demand a lot of the reader.
I found the characters all a bit too stereotyped for my liking: saint-like dying woman whose advice is constantly quoted; potty-mouthed young woman who discovers she’s pregnatn; a woman who is a former spy but now uses her skills to run a home…all too predictable. And there are way too many issues that Bignell tries to cover in this one book.
However, if you put all these reservations aside, and just go along with the narrative, you’ll find yourself enjoying the ride.

Lots of fun! If you’re a fan of [a:Richard Osman|6173710|Richard Osman|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1635981852p2/6173710.jpg]’s [b:The Thursday Murder Club|46000520|The Thursday Murder Club (Thursday Murder Club, #1)|Richard Osman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1582287822l/46000520.SY75.jpg|70861405] then I guarantee you’ll enjoy this book.

Judith Potts is seventy-seven years old, lives blissfully alone, writes cryptic crosswords for The Times newspaper and swims naked in the Thames every evening. One night, she hears a gunshot come from her neighbour’s home and when his body is discovered with a bullet-hole through his head, she knows she was a witness to his murder. The police refuse to believe it’s a murder, so Judith decides to investigate herself. She’s soon joined by Becks, the vicar’s wife and Suzie, an outspoken dog-walker.

When another body is found, these three unlikely women find that when they combine their talents, they make quite the team, and Judith discovers that leading a solitary life is not all its cracked up to be. The evolving friendship between the three women is a joy to follow!

Yes, this does come under the umbrella of ‘cosy crimes’ - but don’t be deterred by that label, as this book is a rollicking good read. Robert Thorogood is the creator of Death in Paradise, so his crime credentials are sound!

Highly recommended!

To be lost in the wood is to be lost in time.

I was drawn to the sublime artwork on the cover, and then by the blurb that promised a dark tale, inspired by traditional English folklore.

The book starts slowly, and has a timelessness to it. It’s set in 1962, but feels much older. Eshwood Hall is isolated and feels as if it exists in another time. When thirteen year old Izzy first meets the titular Green Man in the forest, he appears to be benign, willing to help her solve some problems, but for each solution, the payment he requires becomes more exacting. There is a building menace, and as the story develops, it becomes very dark indeed - brutal and shocking.
This is not one for the kiddies.

According to the jacket, this is the first in a series of folk-horror books set in Northalbion, a mythical version of Northumberland. I’m not convinced that this book successfully fulfils its brief, but it has some memorable moments that warrant a three star rating.

I read this a few weeks ago, and have just now had a chance to review it. I struggled to remember how I felt about it, which indicates that I wasn’t ‘wowed’ by this book. I was also confused: it’s packaged for a YA audience, but I feel they would find the old-fashioned writing style off-putting. I also found the bouncing between dates unnecessarily confusing.

I was attracted by the fabulous cover, the setting of Prince Edward Island and the mining of traditional maritime myths and folk tales. However, in my opinion, writing a book in the twenty-first century based on the traditional tale of a female shapeshifter who has lured men to their watery deaths for centuries is treading a dangerous path and reinforces the age-old stereotype of a woman leading a man astray. What a missed opportunity to retell this myth without its gender bias! However, Beet MacNeill, our young heroine, is plucky and fights against the constraints and expectations of life as a girl in the 1950s.

The contents of this little book are not reflected in its packaging. Booksellers are shelving it with their children’s books, but it is not a book written for children. Nor is it a book with much to do with Christmas. It’s a potted history of Norway’s response to Hitler’s attempt to seize control of their country. In particular, it tells the story of King Haakon VII’s refusal to surrender and his leadership of a country and its people in their resistance against the mighty forces of the Nazi regime. For a little book, it packs in a lot of detail about the advancement of Hitler’s army across Europe. Wilson tends towards the didactic in regards to Hitler and his troops which I felt was unnecessary.

However, I didn’t know about the history behind the tree in Trafalgar Square, and I love that Norway has never forgotten the role that Britain played in protecting and supporting their king during the second world war.

Special mention must be made of the delightful illustrations by Alexis Bruchon.

Flights have been cancelled due to heavy snow, so Tom is driving from Belfast to collect his son Luke from his university lodgings in Sunderland (in North-east England) to bring him home for Christmas. It’s a slow and treacherous trip, where Tom’s only companion Is the voice of the satnav. In this liminal space, where ‘everything feels intensely strange as the present slips into the silent place where memory and consciousness filter into each other to make something new’, we follow Tom’s thoughts: thoughts about his father, his wife, his children, particularly his eldest son, Daniel.

Tom is a professional photography, and his musings on this art form are peppered throughout the narrative, which is written in a stream of consciousness style to great effect.

‘People don’t understand photographs. They think they always freeze the moment in time but the truth is that they set the moment free from it and what the camera has caught steps forever outside its onward roll. So it will always exist, always live just as it was in that precise second, with the same smile or scowl, the same colour of sky, the same fall of light and shade, the very same thought or pulse of the heart. It’s the most perfect thing that sets free the eternal in the sudden stillness of the camera’s click.’

During the Burma Campaign of the Second World War, a special unit was created: the Women’s Auxiliary Service (Burma) affectionally referred to as the Wasbies. These women, who were recruited from England, India and Australia served alongside the soldiers, running a mobile canteen that provided the soldiers with much needed tea, meals and supplies, always with a smile. They endured the same arduous conditions as the soldiers, often operating under enemy fire. They were the closest to the frontline of any servicewomen in the entire war (paraphrasing the Author’s Note). As Nunn says, ‘they are the forgotten women of the forgotten war’.

Five women join the Wasbies, looking for adventure and a way to contribute in a meaningful way to the war effort. Although they come from very different backgrounds, Bea, Plum, Bubbles, Joy and Lucy soon became the firmest of friends - more like sisters as they support each other through the most gruelling of conditions.

Fast forward to 1999 in London where we meet Olivia who is an assistant to an art dealer. She is sent to meet with Beatrix, an elderly widow who wishes to sell a sought-after piece of Japanese art, a netsuke that has been missing since it was stolen from an Oxford museum in 1976. Could this be the same netsuke or is it a replica? When Beatrix is invited to a New Year’s Eve party hosted by Plum in Ireland, she asks Olivia to join her. Bea hasn’t seen her friends since the end of the war, and memories are stirred and secrets are revealed after fifty years of silence.

Women from all walks of life were transformed by their war experiences, making them realise that they could be much more than ‘just a wife’. As Joy admits, “Is it terrible to admit that I’m not even sure sometimes that I want it to be over? I’ve no idea what I’ll do after this. I love being part of something here, not as a daughter or a wife, but as me.”

Nunn cleverly reveals what happened to the women in Burma, and the relevance of the precious fox-girl netsuke. It’s clear that Nunn has done her research, but it is seamlessly woven into the fabric of the story. I found The Last Reunion an engrossing read, with characters who display courage and determination in the face of appalling conditions, always supporting each other. Her descriptions of the men who survived the Burma Railway and the POW camps are particularly moving. They may have come home, but they were never the same again.

This is another great historic novel from Kayte Nunn - highly recommended.

When Chloe Hooper’s partner, Don Watson, is diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, she turns to
children’s literature to find a way to communicate to their two young sons the likelihood of their father’s imminent death. The book is addressed to their elder son, and she knows she must ‘find a way to talk with [him] about the shadows’.

Hooper finds that her quest in of itself helps her to cope with the fear of losing her partner. Applying her research skills is like a soothing balm. She discovers that many authors of children’s books faced the loss of a parent at a young age, and this early grief informs their writing.

There are a couple of moments in this memoir that felt out of place; where Hooper digresses to subjects she obviously feels passionate about. One example is suggesting that May Gibbs’ Banksia Men are ‘racist caricatures of Aborigines transposed onto banksia flowers, who constantly try to steal white, eucalyptus-nut children’. I totally agree with her in regard to our nations blindness to ‘the violence of the frontier’, but I think this is a bit of an over-reach!

Anna Walker’s monochrome watercolour wash illustrations support the text perfectly. Bedtime Story is a beautiful exploration of grief and familial love.

I read this book in a day! It’s got everything! The Russian mob; several murders; police corruption; art fraud and more!

Barry Maitland is an Australian author who lived for many years in London working as an architect. His knowledge of architecture and London makes the reader feel like they are with the characters as they traverse the busy city. I loved all the detail relating to art forgery and fraud and learnt a lot (but not enough to pick a forgery if needed!). I wasn’t familiar with the German artist Kurt Schwitters whose work play a pivotal role in the plot, so did some research to enlighten myself. I love a book that leads me down the proverbial rabbit hole and broadens my knowledge base.

DCI David Brock and DCI Kathy Kolla now work for different departments, and Maitland’s plot cleverly weaves together the different cases they are investigating. These characters are well developed, and although this is the fourteenth book in the series, it stands alone and doesn’t require the reader to be familiar with the earlier instalments.

A cracking pace makes this book a real page-turner. Highly recommended.

We meet Isaac Addy at his worst. He is in the depths of grief. In fact, he’s contemplating jumping off a bridge when he’s stopped by the sound of a blood curdling scream coming from the nearby woods. “All good kids’ stories start with a journey into the woods, but Isaac’s isn’t a story for children. He’s too old to be raised by wolves, too large to tumble down a rabbit hole, too jaded to be tempted into a gingerbread house. His happy ending has been and gone.” What (or should I say ‘who’) he discovers in the woods will lead him on a journey of healing.

Isaac and the Egg reveals the raw grief that comes from losing a soulmate. It made me cry, but it also made me laugh. It went in directions I wasn’t expecting. It’s honesty is dazzling. It is a truly magical book.

I know some people found this book annoying, but I just loved it. And I know a woman like Elizabeth Zott would not have been listened to in the 1960s, and certainly would not have been allowed free rein on television to voice her outrageous suggestion that women could do, and be, whatever they wanted, if they were given the same opportunities as men.

There is something very rewarding about seeing Elizabeth’s outspokenness being embraced by the housewives of America and starting a revolution. However, let’s not be too Pollyanna-esque - we know that this sort of outspokenness would have been shut down immediately. Let’s not forget that it’s only a few years after McCarthy made life so difficult for anyone who voiced dissension in America.

So this book is really a fantasy - but a rather delicious one! It’s also a love story between two misfits who find each other, but then lose each other too soon. So it’s an exploration of grief and it’s effect on how a life proceeds after great loss.

And it’s very, very funny.

So I suggest you put your reservations aside, and enjoy the ride - it’s well worth the price of admission!

I found this book a bit hit-and-miss. Some of it dragged along and there was a fair bit of repetition. However, there are plenty of moments where Kagge hits the sweet spot.

‘If you always choose the path of least resistance, the alternative that offers the fewest challenges will always take priority. Your choices will be predetermined and you will not only live un-freely, but also lead a dull life.’

‘A life spent sitting becomes less physical. We will start to experience the world in another way, namely, we won’t experience it - we won’t even sense our surroundings - in the way that is only possible when one walks…Existence will become more abstract.’

Thank you to the Australian Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. My review was originally published on Readingtime.com.au.

Thirteen year old Mia lives with her mother on an isolated bush block in the Pilbara. She dreams of becoming a vet like her mum and assists her whenever possible. They share their home with a menagerie of pets and recovering animals, and the three horses they use in their equine therapy sessions.

Her parents divorced a number of years ago, and her dad now lives in Perth with his new wife and their twins. Mia spends holidays with them and often Face-times. Her parents have an amicable relationship, and it’s refreshing to see a civilised divorce portrayed rather than the usual toxic and damaging divorces so often seen in books. Mia ‘feels grateful that her parents still get on okay’.

Seasonal cyclones are not unusual in the Pilbara, so when Mia’s mother is called out to help a mare with a complicated labour, they think she’ll only be gone a day at the most. However, Cyclone Veronica has other ideas! Mia finds herself alone as the cyclone intensifies and bears down on their property.

We learn that Mia suffers from anxiety, specifically climate anxiety, and has been seeing a counsellor who has taught her ‘ways to manage symptoms before they take hold’. She calls on these skills as she faces not only a cyclone, but a badly injured horse and rising flood-water, alone!

Mia may be facing a natural disaster, but she is also dealing with the usual concerns of a thirteen year old: do her friends still like her or are they falling under the spell of the new, fashionable girl at school? Will she be able to give her presentation to her English class without having an anxiety attack?

Readers will find Mia a relatable character, who is not fearless, but rather draws on her inner strength to overcome her fears so she can stay safe and save her beloved animals.

The book contains a detailed timeline of Cyclone Veronica’s impact on Australia, together with a list of resources if readers would like to explore more about the many issues raised by the story.

Teaching resources are available from the publisher and is recommended for ages 11 – 14.

The Through My Eyes series is a great way to introduce young readers to characters whose lives are impacted by conflict and natural disasters. More information about the series is here.

One does not read a No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency book with an expectation that there will be fast car chases, bloody murder or cynical detectives. Instead, one returns to the warm embrace of much-loved characters (even if Mma Makutsi can be a tad sharp)!

This is the twenty-third instalment of the series and there are no real surprises herein. In fact, there are no real crimes as such. Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi are dealing more with issues of the heart and unscrupulous business practices.

For me, it is the philosophical meanderings that make all the books in this series a delight. Here are a couple that particularly resonate with me:

As Mma Ramostswe waits on the telephone line for Mia Potokwani, she hears the sound of birdsong. ‘At first, she thought it was some form of interference, but then she recognised it for what it was: there was a bird on Mma Potokwani’s veranda, and it was singing to her. She smiled as she listened to the unexpected musical performance, and asked herself why the manufacturers of telephone equipment did not use birdsong rather than the frequently strident music they inflicted upon callers when they were asked to wait. If music was intended to calm people while they were being connected, then surely birdsong would do that more effectively.’

‘To have eliminated something negative - something like disloyalty - always left a person feeling more hopeful about the world. She felt better now. Each time you saw the good where you feared you would only see the bad, was a victory; a small victory, perhaps, and one that might appear to be dwarfed by surrounding defeats, but a victory nonetheless. And small victories counted, especially when you lined them up and thought about them warmly; they counted for a great deal.’

I love the ‘idea’ of this book, but my enjoyment was marred by a pervading sense of privilege that I find discomforting. But then, the reality is that it’s only from a position of privilege that a writer has the opportunity to spend the time exploring existential questions about surviving dark times.

As a whole, I found the book lacks cohesion, however, there are paragraphs that resonate, particularly May’s return to the comfort of children’s books: Philip Pullman’s [b:Northern Lights|70947|Northern Lights|Philip Pullman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327235223l/70947.SY75.jpg|1536771] and a favourite of mine, Lucy M. Boston’s [b:The Children of Green Knowe|377889|The Children of Green Knowe (Green Knowe, #1)|Lucy M. Boston|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1282757940l/377889.SX50.jpg|859023], where she asks ‘How is it that we can code so carefully the weight of loss, grief, time and continuity into our children’s books, but forget them so thoroughly ourselves?’

And there are other moments in this memoir where I thought ‘Ah, yes, I know this feeling too’. For example:

‘There are gaps in the mesh of the everyday world, and sometimes they open up and you fall through them into Somewhere Else. Somewhere Else runs at a different pace to the here and now, where everyone else carries on. Somewhere Else is where ghosts live, concealed from view and only glimpsed by people in the real world. Somewhere Else exists at a delay, so that you can’t quite keep pace. Perhaps I was already teetering on the brink of Somewhere Else anyway; but now I fell through, as simply and discreetly as dust sifting between the floorboards.

The Coast is a powerful historical novel that spans many turbulent years in Australia’s history, including the First World War and the Spanish Flu epidemic. But the common thread that binds the lives of the characters is leprosy, and the associated isolation, discrimination and fear.

Coast Hospital lazaret at Little Bay in Sydney was a real place, and the novel is based on Limprecht’s thorough research. The locale may have been idyllic, but the conditions were not, particularly for those suffering from leprosy. The Bible has not done the disease any favours, as Dr. Will Stenger reflects. Although less contagious than many of the other diseases treated at the main hospital, those suffering from leprosy were forcibly removed from their homes and communities and sent to live in lazarets such as Coast Hospital and Peel Island in Moreton Bay which were veritable prisons.

Using a number of narrators speaking in both first and third-person immerses the reader, making you relate personally to each of their stories. The story of Jack, a stolen generation Yuwaalaraay man who survives losing a leg during World War I, only to discover he has leprosy, is particularly moving. I found the chapters describing his time as a member of the Light Horse Brigade and the battle of Beersheba particularly harrowing. The treatment of returned Indigenous soldiers is not a proud moment in Australian history.

There are many poignant moments in the book, and many times when I felt angry and frustrated by the injustices experienced by the characters. Alice, who is only nine years old in 1910 when she is sent to the lazaret, grows up in the confines of the Hospital grounds and is feeling the constraints of her small world when Jack arrives in 1924. As their friendship blossoms into something deeper, Alice thinks ‘I had grown so used to pain, I did not know what to make of pleasure.’

The Coast explores many forms of isolation and discrimination, not only for those suffering from leprosy, but for Indigenous Australians and homosexuals. Anyone who feels nostalgia for the ‘good old days’ needs to read this novel to have some sense knocked into them! There was nothing particularly ‘good’ about the ‘old days’ unless you were white and wealthy! Harsh judgements were made of anyone who didn’t meet the constrained conformity of the times.

Meg Keneally says it all on the front cover: The Coast is ‘a compelling story of loss and liberty and the capacity of the human mind to transcend boundaries’.

For more information about the history of Coast Hospital, visit https://princehenryhospitalmuseum.org/

Thank you to The Australian Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book which was originally published on Readingtime.com.au.

I found reading this book exhausting! It’s exhausting because you walk in the shoes of Ben who is living with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), and OCD is exhausting!

Twelve year old Ben has moved to London from Essex and is starting at a new school; an anxious time for any kid, let alone one with OCD. His lucky number is four, and ‘The Thoughts’ tell him that as long as he does things in fours, everything, and everyone, will be ok. If he doesn’t, then something bad will happen (his dog will die, his mother will get sick), and it will all be his fault. Image trying to live your life with that sort of weight of responsibility on your shoulders. So, the bully in his head tells him Read sixteen more pages or Mum will leave, open and close the door four times or you’ll never make any friends, do the switches another sixty-four times or Dad will lose his job, touch the ceiling four times and you can make all these things not happen…

And as if that’s not enough for Ben to deal with, his mother is struggling with an alcohol addiction, his father leaves home and his older brother remains distant and surly. One of the most difficult issues I found with this book was the self-absorption of the parents, particularly the father, who just up and leaves without any explanation because ‘he can’t cope’ with the mother’s drinking. He makes no attempt to contact either of the children and leaves them with a mother who is barely functioning. I found this particularly disturbing, and I think some children would feel the same way.

But Ben’s world changes when he becomes friends with April, who makes him realise that maybe he doesn’t need to do what The Thoughts tell him to do. Together with guidance from a counsellor, Ben begins to see a way past the bully in his head. When April goes missing, Ben discovers that being brave is less about the ‘big, dramatic acts of bravery’ and more about ‘our own more private triumphs…challenging the fear in your head is the bravest thing you can do’.

I learnt so much about OCD from reading this book, and now have a much better understanding of how debilitating it can be. The author has seamlessly integrated this information into an engaging story about a boy finding his place in the world. Not only is When I See Blue utterly charming, but I feel it would make an excellent book for a class text.

I err on the side of caution regarding recommended reading age and suggest 12+ years.

Teachers’ resources are available from the publisher’s website

DI Harbinder Kaur is thrilled to be in charge of a Murder Investigation Team based in West Kensington; finally living in in a share house in London and no longer under her parent’s roof. She’s still finding her feet, and looking for ‘the right moment’ to come out to her team. She also wants to ‘show her colleagues that she may be a diminutive Sikh woman, but she enjoys a pint as much as the next Met detective’.

One of her team, DS Cassie Fitzherbert is at a school reunion where another ex-student, Garfield Rice, is found murdered. As Rice was an eminent MP, Harbinger is under pressure from above to find the murderer. Cassie can’t be involved in the investigation, but she has an uneasy feeling that one of her old school friends could be responsible.

Bleeding Heart Yard is a real place in London and even gets a mention in Dickens’ [b:Little Dorrit|31250|Little Dorrit|Charles Dickens|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1496619146l/31250.SY75.jpg|80851]! When a second ex-student, also an MP, is found murdered on the cobblestones of the Yard, Harbinder’s team concentrate their investigation on the ex-students who were members of The Group, as they called themselves back in 1998; and Cassie was a member of this group. Could their colleague be involved in these murders? And do they relate to the ‘accidental’ death of a student back in 1998? Is Cassie a murderer?

This is a straight forward police procedural, but we also see the development of Harbinder’s character, as she confidently leads the investigation, and also begins to find personal happiness. I look forward to more investigations with DI Harbinger Kaur.

It’s hard to believe that this book was published in 1928. It remains an engaging whodunit, featuring the inimitable Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot. Poirot is aboard the titular Blue Train, bound for the French Riviera, when an American heiress, Ruth Kettering, is discovered brutally murdered, and a priceless ruby neckless missing. The police assume the husband is responsible, as he will inherit her fortune, but Poirot has his doubts. He confers with another traveller on board, Miss Katherine Grey, who comes from St Mary Mead in Kent, which is not to be confused with Miss Marple’s St Mary Mead which is located in a fictional county. Katherine had spoken with Ruth the evening before, and Poirot can see that Katherine is a woman who notices things that others might not.

Christie skilfully creates characters who the reader can believe in. Katherine Grey is particularly well drawn; we’ve all know someone like Katherine who ‘has spent a great deal of her life listening, and those who have listened do not find it easy to talk; they keep their sorrows and joys to themselves and tell no one’.

This is the first book that features Poirot’s valet George, who Poirot thinks aloud to. I particularly enjoyed this analogy he uses to explain how he gathers his facts:

‘The squirrel, my good Georges, collects nuts. He stores them up in the autumn so that they may be of advantage to him later. To make a success of humanity, Georges, we must profit by the lessons of those below us in the animal kingdom. I have always done so. I have been the good dog following up the scent, and not taking my nose from the trail. And also, my good Georges, I have been the squirrel. I have stored away the little fact here, the little fact there. I go now to my store and I take out one particular nut, a nut that I stored away - let me see, seventeen years ago. You follow me, Georges?’

“I should hardly have thought, sir,” said George, “that nuts would have kept so long as that, though I know one can d0 wonders with preserving bottles.”

An easy book that gives the reader the highlights of Agatha Christie’s life and books. However, there are a number of glaring errors that are disappointing. These should have been picked up in the editing process, hence only three stars.

The little things that you could have done differently, that’s the stuff that haunts you.

Jane Harper loves to immerse her readers in a location, so it becomes an intrinsic element to the novel. In Exiles, we find ourselves in the deep heart of South Australian wine country, in the fictional town of Marralee.

Aaron Faulk has been asked by his friend Greg Racoe to be his son’s godfather and finds himself drawn into investigating two local cold cases. It’s a year since Kim Gillespie disappeared, leaving her baby alone in her pram at the Marralee Valley Annual Food and Wine Festival. She left not only her newborn, but also a teenage daughter and a grieving husband. Did she commit suicide? Her friends cannot believe she’d abandon her children. Or did something far more sinister happen to her? The other cold case happened five years earlier, and involved the hit-and-run of a popular member of the community, leaving a widow and son to grieve and question why no-one has ever been charged. Are the cases related?

Harper skilfully weaves the investigations of these cases together with an obvious building attraction between Aaron and local woman Gemma. They met once before in Melbourne and the mutual attraction was hard to ignore. Can Aaron ever see himself leaving his hard-earned position as a federal investigator in Melbourne?

This is the third and final book featuring Aaron Falk, so there is time spent with him as he explores his past decisions, and ponders the direction his life is taking. So the book is a slow burn, with a lot of small detail which made me feel like I was there, watching like the proverbial fly on the wall. I liked this detail, but some readers could find it a little slow and tedious.

. What happens to Kim Gillespie is very disturbing, and I feel the book requires a trigger-warning, however, that would give away the final reveal, so I’m torn!

Another cracking good book from our very own Jane Harper!

Jane Fonda’s message is clear and positive: getting older doesn’t have to be a steady decline into dotage!

She views life as being divided into three Acts: Act I, the first three decades; Act II, the middle three decades, and Act III, the final three decades.

She uses two metaphors to illustrate the different ways we can see our life span: one is an arch, where life begins with childhood on one side, the top of the arch representing mid-life and then a decline into infirmity; the other is a staircase, showing ‘our potential for upward progression toward wisdom, spiritual growth, and learning’. I know which diagram I aspire to!

Prime Time was written in 2011, so parts of it are now dated. I pretty much cherry-picked the bits I found inspiring and disregarded the rest. She is, after all, a white, privileged, wealthy woman who can afford to make many decisions the rest of us don’t have the luxury to make. However, there are some tips that can be embraced by us all, including a series of exercises in the Appendix which I personally have found very helpful.

Her message is simple: as we enter Act III of our lives, we don’t have to disappear and become obsolete. We can, in fact, continue to grow and lead a vibrant and relevant life, if we so choose. As she says, ‘death is a democratic inevitability for every one of us. In my opinion, there’s something worse than death, and that is never having fully lived’.

This book was recommended to me, and I’m so glad! I have always considered myself a good listener, but after reading this book, I’ve re-evaluated my self analysis and see that there is much room for improvement!

My copy of this book has so many post-it notes it looks like a rainbow. So I’m going to cheat a little here and share the quotes that resonated the most with me. Apologies for the length!

‘So begets the familiar scene of the twenty-first-century life - at cafes, and family dinner tables, rather than talking to one another, the phone is on the table as if a part of the place setting, taken up at intervals as casually as a knife or fork, implicitly signalling that the present company is not sufficiently engaging.’

’…it’s important to emphasize that hearing is not the same as listening, but rather its forerunner. Hearing is passive. Listening is active. ‘

‘Listening requires, more than anything, curiosity.’

’…everybody is interesting if you ask the right questions. If someone is dull or uninteresting, it’s on you. Researchers…found that when talking to inattentive listeners, speakers remembered less information and were less articulate in the information they conveyed. Conversely, they found that attentive listeners elicited more information. So if you’re barely listening to someone because you think that person is boring or not worth your time, you will actually make it so.’

Dick Bass, ‘was known for going on ambitious mountain climbing expeditions and talking about them, at length, to anyone within earshot, including a man who happened to be seated next to him on an airplane. For the duration of the cross-country flight, Bass went on about the treacherous peaks of McKinley and Everest and about the time he almost died in the Himalayas and his plan to climb Everest again. As they were about to land, Bass realized he hadn’t properly introduced himself. “That’s okay,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Neil Armstrong. Nice to meet you.”’

Sociologist Charles Derber at Boston College has been studying conversations, identifying two kinds of responses. ‘More common was the shift response, which directs attention away from the speaker and toward the respondent. Less common was the support response, which encourages elaboration from the speaker to help the respondent gain greater understanding. For example:
Sue: I watched this really good documentary about turtles last night
Bob: I’m not big on documentaries. I’m more of an action-film kind of guy. (shift response)
Sue: I watched this really good documentary about turtles last night.
Bob: Turtles? How did you happen to see that? Are you into turtles? (support response)’

‘Whether it’s your child, romantic partner, friend, colleague or employee who comes to you with a personal problem, if you ask open and honest questions and listen attentively to the answers, it communicates, “I’m interested in hearing more from you” and “Your feelings are valid.” If you jump in to fix advise, correct, or distract, you are communicating that the other person doesn’t have the ability to handle the situation: “You’re not going to get this without me.”’

‘While you may think you can tune out these kinds of things (televisions on in the background, ambient music constantly on), research consistently shows that you cannot. The ability to multitask is a delusion. Each input degrades your attention. Psychologist Daniel Kahneman memorably wrote, “The often used phrase ‘pay attention’ is apt: you dispose of a limited budget of attention that you can allocate to activities, and if you try to go beyond your budget, you will fail.”’

‘To be a good listener is to accept pauses and silences because filling them too soon, much less preemptively, prevents the speaker from communicating what they are perhaps struggling to say.’

‘Relationships most often fail due to neglect, and one of the principle kinds of neglect is not being attentive. ….listening is what unifies us as human beings.’

‘Anyone who has shared something personal and received a thoughtless or uncomprehending response knows how it makes your soul want to crawl back in its hiding place. Whether someone is confessing a misdeed, sharing a dream, revealing an anxiety, - that person is giving up a piece of themselves. And if you don’t handle it with care, the person will start to edit future conversations with you, knowing, “I can’t be real with this person.”’

In 1949 a sixteen year old girl finds herself pregnant after falling for a man who transpires to be married with a family. Her Catholic family are horrified and she is sent to Fairmile on Orcades Island near Seattle, a ‘home’ for ‘fallen women’ run by Catholic nuns. Conditions at Fairmile are nightmarish, as the girls are punished for the smallest misbehaviour (made to kneel on nettles in the freezing chapel for hours is an example of one punishment). The girls are given new names so they will never be able to find each other after they leave the home.

In 2013 Frankie, comes home to the island to start her new job as deputy sheriff and help her mother Diana as she puts the finishing touches to her restoration of The Fairmile Inn, a boutique hotel. When work on the garden is halted by the discovery of a tiny skeleton, and an elderly nun is discovered murdered in a nursing home, Frankie can’t stop herself from helping with the investigation, even though she hasn’t starting her new role yet.

Between 1945 and 1973 one and a half million babies were given up for adoption in the US. More often than not, young mothers were given no choice but to surrender their babies. There was no support from either their families or society in general. Churches played a major role in forcing these girls to surrender their babies to Christian couples who were married but unable to have their own children.

As women’s reproductive rights are again under threat, particularly in America, this novel is a timely reminder of the lasting trauma that can result from women not having access to birth control, sex eduction and safe abortion. It may be fiction, but it reflects a dark history that we never want to see repeated.

Listening to the audio edition, narrated by Seth Numrich was the perfect way to approach this large tome: at just over 24 hours of listening it’s a big investment - but well worth it!

I know many readers felt this book was too slow to start, but I must disagree. The time spent getting to know Charlie Reade, Mr. Bowditch and his wonderful dog named Radar means that when the ‘action’ starts to pick up, you, as a reader, are well and truly invested in what happens to them.

King has mined the world of fairy tales and used many familiar tropes. However, he has created a unique world where young Charlie must become a hero and lead others to defeat the ultimate monster. As always, King has created a young man who must learn to overcome his shortcomings and believe in himself so he can become the man he wants to be.

I was totally immersed in Fairy Tale and didn’t want it to end. I was sorry to say good-bye to Charlie and his ever-faithful dog Radar. Another outstanding adventure from the extraordinary pen of Stephen King - long may he reign!

‘Spys are like dogs. They cannot stand a closed door.’

What a delight to be back in the company of Elizabeth, Joyce, Ron and Ibrahim as they investigate the murder of a brilliant young journalist, Bethany Waites ten years ago. She was investigating a massive VAT fraud before she was murdered.

Elizabeth and her husband Stephen are kidnapped and she’s given an ultimatum that she can’t refuse….or can she? Osman has created a wonderful mix of new characters, some of whom become unexpected allies to our intrepid investigators. I challenge you not to fall in love with ex-KGB operative, Viktor Illyich!

This is a cosy crime novel, and is not ashamed to wear that label loud and proud. There is a gentle humour throughout, and a tinge of melancholy as our characters face old man time and question some of their past decisions. As Jack Mason, a professional crook realises, he’s made a lot of money in his life, but not many friends. After a lifetime in crime, he realises that ‘your henchmen are not real friends’. Elizabeth struggles to come to terms with Stephen’s worsening alzheimers’ symptoms and tries to hide his condition from the rest of the gang.

However, there are a number of laugh out loud moments. A favourite is Joyce asking Elizabeth if she’s ever been on television, to which Elizabeth replies, ‘I was once called to give evidence to the Defence Selection Committee, but, legally, they had to blur my face. And I was once in a hostage video’.

The secret to the success of this series is the obvious affection that our gang all feel for each other. As Ron, who was involved in militant union demonstrations in his younger days, says about them, last time he had ‘a gang of friends like these, they were being hospitalised by police riot shields at the Wapping print-workers’ strike. Happy days’.

Happy days indeed. The Bullet that Missed (very clever title which has two meanings that will become clear as you read) is utterly entertaining.

The Night Ship tells two stories, both from the perspective of a motherless child, both bound to the inhospitable seas and islands off the western coast of Australia, but separated by three centuries.

In 1629 young Mayken boards the Batavia, bound for Australia to live with a father she has never met. In 1989, after the death of his mother, Gil is sent to live with his cantankerous grandfather on a remote fishing island off the west coast of Australia.

There are parallels between these two narratives as both children battle monsters both real and imagined. Both Mayken and Gil are lost souls, looking for love and friendship. Both believe in a mythical monster who is responsible for the terrible events that have happened to them. Both value a talisman - a witch stone/hag stone given to Mayken on board the ship and, centuries later, given to Gil on Beacon Island. ‘If you look through the hole, you can see what is yet to come, or what has been already’.

Kidd has created two rich worlds, populated by characters who are fully realised. Mayken is precocious, curious and determined. If you are at all familiar with the fate of the Batavia, you know what is in store for Mayken and it adds a layer of pathos as you fall in love with her. Gil’s struggle to find a place where he can feel safe, both physically and emotionally, is equally heartbreaking.

The Night Ship is original historic fiction, lyrically written. Highly recommended.

This is a book about loving Benedict Cumberbatch - about totally obsessing about him: dreaming about him, re-watching all his shows, movies, interviews and gazing at his photos. And that’s ok - because this is a book about giving yourself permission to love whatever it is that you love, and not feeling ashamed, or embarrassed or feeling that you have to justify your passion.

Tabitha Carvan looks at her obsession from all different angles, interviews various academics and reads many books. Is her obsession healthy? Does she need to “grow up”? And the big reveal here is that women are not allowed to ‘have fun’ or ‘play’. We have been told since time began that our ‘leisure’ must be, in some way, productive or of benefit to someone else. Activities like ‘quilting bees, canning parties, knitting circles and book groups’ which are, according to author Brigid Schulte ‘the only kind of acceptable and industrious leisure time most women have ever known’. Men, on the other hand, can watch and/or play sport, go off on camping trips with their mates, without an ounce of guilt. They have no problem doing an activity for the sheer love of it. For women, Shulte says ‘there has never been a history or a culture of leisure or play, and, after childhood, women tend to lose play entirely’. How sad is that?

This book was a revelation! Carvan uses her own experience to explore how women have been hoodwinked into giving up their passions because society tells us we have to grow-up and act our age. Well, it’s time for us to embrace our ‘thing’, whether it’s a crush on a boy-band, or writing erotic fiction or loving Benedict Cumberbatch - if it gives you joy (and hurts no-one) then you go for it girl!

This is a fun murder-mystery, set in the leafy Sydney suburb of Annandale. Poppy McGowan is a researcher for an ABC TV kids’ programme. In the midst of renovating her tiny worker’s cottage, her builder discovers bones under her floor which puts the brakes on any further work until they are assessed: are they human, or are they historically significant?

Dr Julieanne Weaver, an archaeologist and political hopeful, is called in to assess the bones. Poppy and Juieanne have a history - and not in a good way! She declares the bones are significant and require further study and slaps a heritage order on the site, much to Poppy’s outrage.

When Julieanne is found murdered in Poppy’s house, Poppy and Juieanne’s very attractive former-boyfriend Tol are the prime suspects, so they join forces to uncover the true identity of the murderer. Is it someone from the far right-wing Australian Family Party, for which Julieanne was seeking preselection? Or someone from the Radiant Joy Church, who is backing the party?

Digging Up Dirt has enough red herrings, dirty politics and dubious church machinations to keep you guessing until the final reveal. If you are a resident of Sydney, you’ll enjoy recognising familiar locations and landmarks. Highly recommended.

Not for me I’m afraid. A thinly disguised addendum to Glenconner’s autobiography, [b:Lady in Waiting: My Extraordinary Life in the Shadow of the Crown|49945845|Lady in Waiting My Extraordinary Life in the Shadow of the Crown|Anne Glenconner|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1563783312l/49945845.SX50_SY75.jpg|72234785]. All the name dropping was grating, and her ownership of the island smacks too much of white entitlement and colonialism. The final straw was Lady Vee exclaiming how right it had been to ‘buy’ an education for one of the locals - yuck!
The writing was ordinary, and I’ve seen better plots on Death in Paradise. I didn’t even make it to page 100 - life is too short!

According to Literary Review, Dying in the Wool is ‘well plotted and atmospheric…Kate Shackleton joins [a:Jacqueline Winspear|5023|Jacqueline Winspear|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1272389408p2/5023.jpg]’s Maisie Dobbs’. I’m a huge fan of the Maisie Dobbs series, so couldn’t say no to this book.

Like Winspear’s series, our main character, Kate Shackleton, has lost her husband to the Great War, and finds herself embracing her innate ability to solve mysteries and taking on a paid commission to find a friend’s missing father. From the opening paragraph, we know that Kate is plucky: ‘I’m thirty-one years old, and hanging onto freedom by the skin of my teeth. Because I’m a widow my mother wants me back by her side. But I’ve tasted independence. I’m not about to drown in polite society all over again’.

The novel is set in a fictional Yorkshire mill town, Bridgestead, and in 1922 the mill is the centre of the residents’ world. Without the mill, the village would not exist. As the missing father in question, Joshua Braithwaite, is the Master of the Mill, his disappearance has repercussions for the whole village.

One of the joys of reading, in my mind, is learning about something new - in this case, the ins and outs of weaving. Many chapters begin with the definition of a weaving term, for example: ‘Twisting-in: joining the threads of an old warp to a new warp’ and ‘Roving: the combed tops from thick slivers of wool, from which barn is spun’. Kate is also a keen photographer, and we learn about the processes involved in taking a photo in 1922 - a lot more complex than it is today! And being a photographer is, as Kate says, ‘a pastime that changes a person’s outlook’.

Brody’s research imbues the novel with an authenticity that gives her writing a real sense of time and place. She has created an appealing, independent protagonist in Kate Shackleton, and I’m looking forward to joining her in more of her adventures.

Another beautiful and lyrical novel from Sarah Winman - poetic, magical, and extremely moving.

Billie Walker, Private Investigator, is hired by a wealthy client to find her husband, who has been missing for over two years. Her husband’s last letter was from Paris, so Billie and her able assistant Sam fly (in a most uncomfortable airplane) to London. But it’s not only Mrs. Montgomery’s husband that is missing. Billie has not heard from her own husband, Jack, since 1944 when he disappeared during the fighting in Warsaw. Will she find out Jack’s fate as she searches for Mr Montgomery?

Billie is well ahead of her time and her progressive ideas make her an appealing protagonist. She is, for example, outraged by the White Australia policy legislation, referring in particular to the dictation test that demanded immigrants to Australia pass a dictation test in a European language, thus excluding non-European immigrants. She has befriended an indigenous woman Shyla and refuses to treat her any differently to her other female friends, even if the staff at the Central Station Cafe sniff and refuse to acknowledge Shyla’s existence. And she has the audacity to wear trousers to the Hotel Ritz Paris where she is told she cannot enter the hotel:

‘I do apologise, Mademoiselle. It is illegal for a woman to
wear trousers in Paris without a police permit, you see. The
hotel policy applies even to Marlene Dietrich when she is at
the Ritz.’

The Ghosts of Paris has a wonderful mix of locations: post war Sydney, London and Paris and Moss uses these setting to illustrate how WW2 affected the world in different ways. The spectre of atrocities committed during the war and the hunt for war criminals looms large.

This is the second Billie Walker novel and Tara Moss has created a strong, independent female character who has overcome many obstacles to carve her own path. I can’t wait to share another adventure with Billie Walker.

Oh my lord, how to review this book? I’ll give it my best shot!

Did I understand this novel? Not really, but I approached it as I approach poetry, where I often don’t understand all the references and nuances, but I do grasp the atmosphere created by the writing. Treacle Walker took me back to a time when I would get totally lost and immersed in a book - the ‘real’ world disappearing. Rather than grasping to understand all, I went with the flow and when I finished the book (it’s very short, only 152 pages) I had to shake my head, blink a few times, and return to my mundane world. I can best describe it as a fusion of myth, magic and mystery.

Here are two quotes that give you an idea of the beautiful music (and humour) that is Garner’s prose.

It was a tune with wings, trampling things, tightened strings, boggarts and bogles and brags on their feet; the man in the oak, sickness and fever, that set in long, lasting sleep the whole great world with the sweetness of sound the bone did play.

Treacle Walker? Treacle Walker? Me know that pickthank psychopomp? I know him, so I do. I know him. Him with his pots for rags and his bag and his bone and his doddering nag and nookshotten cart and catchpenny oddments. Treacle Walker? I’d not trust that one’s arse with a fart

I was lucky enough to attend a literary lunch with Ann Cleeves last week and had my copy of this book signed by her. She is a delightful and generous speaker.

This is the tenth Vera Stanhope book and does not disappoint. The discovery of a man’s hanged body on Holy Island takes Vera and her team back fifty years and another death on Holy Island.

The Rising Tide may well be a murder mystery, but Cleeves elevates it well above a mere investigation into an untimely death. The suspects are all ‘of an age’ just as Vera is, and ‘she supposed that older people made fewer plans. They had less time to fill, no endless possibilities stretching into the future.’ She is also painfully aware that the past can still influence the present as she is haunted by her dead father Hector who ‘was always there, bullying her from the grave’.

Vera’s relationships with her team are complex: Joe, ‘her boy. Her favourite.’; and Holly, whose job is her life and who craves Vera’s attention and can see that Joe is her favourite. However, that doesn’t stop Vera from always getting her own way, even if it makes Joe grumpy because ‘she was the boss, and, really, she didn’t care’.

The Rising Tide is a classic murder mystery taking place in an isolated location, in this case Holy Island where the rising waters of the causeway make it inaccessible at certain times of the day. Northumberland locations are an integral part of the Vera series, and this particular setting is suitably atmospheric. This is yet another cracking great book from the delightful Ann Cleeves. Highly recommended.

I listened to the Audible version of Crow Lake and found myself totally immersed in the story of Kate’s life growing up in a small Canadian farming town with her siblings after the tragic loss of their parents.

It’s hard to believe this is a first novel as it’s so nuanced. Lawson skilfully explores family dynamics and how our perceptions as a child can cloud the reality; and how expectations and dreams for the future are not set in stone. Beautiful.

In his Author’s Note, Patrick Gale describes this novel as a ‘very loose retelling of the early life of the Cornish poet Charles Causley and his mother, Laura’. One of the joys of reading historic fiction is being introduced to people and events that you know nothing about. I’ve now fallen down the rabbit-hole of exploring Causley’s writings, and it’s a delightful rabbit-hole in which to find myself.

Laura is a poor Cornish girl who meets her husband Charles when they are both in service in 1916. Their life together is torn apart by the war: Charles returns from the front a changed man whose lungs are ruined and nerves are shattered. Tuberculosis takes him soon after, and Laura must make a life for herself and their young son, Charles.

Laura’s ‘fantasies were all about motherhood’. But, ‘nothing had prepared Laura for the deep comfort and satisfaction motherhood had brought her….the pleasure she took in Charles was so intense that she felt it almost indecent, a thing she needed to hide.’ She works relentlessly as a laundress to provide a safe and comfortable home for Charles. She is determined that her son will be given every opportunity, even though they are the working poor in a town where class is paramount.

Charles grows into a very private man and when war breaks out, takes the opportunity to leave the stultifying small village of Launceston, signing up for the navy as a coder. What he experiences during the war will affect him for the rest of his life.

Mother’s Boy is a story about love: mother-love, the love of a son for his mother, and love that, at the time, was a crime. It honestly explores the multi-faceted nature of love. Laura ‘had always hoped for a clever, special boy and he had grown into a clever, special man, which meant he could be prickly and difficult and knew exactly how best to wound her with his sharp tongue’.

Sometimes, Gale just swept me away with his ability to place me in the scene with the characters:

It was a perfect late summer evening, the light golden, swallows on the wing. She saw the train’s steam as it headed off and the second shrill of its whistle drew over her the Sunday evening sadness that the spell of evensong had briefly held at bay.

Thank you to the Australian Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this delightful picture book. My review was originally published on readingtime.com.au.

Barton and Heiduczek have previously collaborated on the popular books  What Do You Call Your Grandpa?,  What Do You Call Your Grandma?  and What Do You Do to Celebrate?

Their new collaboration is a delightfully inclusive picture book introducing young children to the many ways we say ‘I love you’ around the world.

Each bright double spread shows children going about their day, and saying ‘I love you’ in their native language (including Auslan). Heiduczek’s illustrations are full of movement and detail – perfect for little ones to pore over. I loved the different perspectives she uses, making the reader feel immersed in the pictures.

At the back of the book each language is listed with a brief background given. If I could, I would suggest a pronunciation guide be added for future editions.

How Do You Say I Love You would be a perfect addition for pre-school, primary school and public libraries, and would make a thoughtful gift.

Recommended for 4+ by the publisher, but I think it’s suitable for all ages!

I have to admit, I really quite enjoyed this! I don’t think this is for you if you’re not a fan of the monarchy, because aside from a fun whodunit, it’s a love letter to Queen Elizabeth II. Bennett obviously has a lot of respect and admiration for the Queen and it shines throughout this novel.

It would appear that Lilibet, as Prince Philip likes to call her, has a penchant for solving mysteries. She is immediately on the case (albeit surreptitiously) when the dead body of an overnight guest at Windsor Castle is discovered. Suggestions that it was death by autoerotique-asphyxiation are soon dismissed and MI5 are looking for Russian spies working undercover in the Castle, much to Philip’s displeasure! The Queen is ably assisted by her Assistant Private Secretary, Rozie Oshodil who proves to be invaluable in her investigate - and she is the epitome of discretion!

This book had me chuckling on many occasions. It’s worth reading just for the conversations between Philip and his Lilibet - very wry, but with deep affection.

As our world seems to descend into all sorts of horribleness, I found The Windsor Knot a gentle escape, with plenty of warm and fuzzies to keep the doom at bay.

Listening to the audiobook narrated by Jane Copland added to this very British experience!

I’m looking forward to reading the further adventures of Queen Elizabeth II and her resourceful Rozie - jolly good fun!

Many thanks to the Australian Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this excellent book. The original review was published on readingtime.com.au

Words have power.

Hero Jean Rodriguez is navigating the treacherous waters of her first year of high school. Her home is a loving one, where her dad has his UP days and his DOWN days. There’s no fuss made about his condition: just acceptance and love.

Hero and her best friend Jaz, who is fearless and outspoken, befriend a new boy at school, Aria, who is a mystery. He has kind eyes. And a sometimes-mischievous smile. But no words. None. It’s literally like someone pointed the remote at his mouth and pressed the mute button, and they become a dorky gang of three misfits.

Kids like Aria will always attract bullies like bees to the honey, and the resident school bully, referred to as ‘Rufus Doofus’ has set his sights on Aria. Readers will relate to the pain a bully can inflict, both physical and emotional.

Various fonts and font-sizes are used through the text to emphasise particular words and phrases. Chapters narrated by Aria have a mixture of English and Farsi letters scattered across the top of the page.

Aria slowly reveals his story, sharing with us his life in Iran; going to school and hanging out with his best friend Amir, before his family flee for their lives and eventually settle in Australia. It is a harrowing story but told in an age-appropriate way.

Master uses humour to tackle serious issues: mental health, bullying, grief and loss and the obstacles faced by refugees. I learnt many things about Persian culture from this novel, and young readers will absorb these nuggets of information which will feed their empathy for others.

Ultimately, No Words is about the healing power of love, friendship, and kindness. Highly recommended for readers 9+.

It would make an excellent class text and is particularly relevant in light of Australia’s refugee policies. The publisher provides Reading Notes: https://www.panmacmillan.com.au/9781760983529/

‘If we don’t talk about the monsters in this world, we won’t be ready for them when they jump out from under the bed.’

This is a classic thriller! I was totally engrossed from the get-go. The book is written from two perspectives: Kate, whose husband John is murdered, and Abby, whose husband Ray’s behaviour makes her think the worst.

Although set in a holiday town on the Victorian coast, this book feels as if it’s set in America. It’s hard to pinpoint why, but I think White was very much writing with an American audience in mind. Is this a problem? Only in so far as I found it hard to get a sense of place while reading and felt it was a lost opportunity to make more of the Australian landscape.

I don’t want to say too much for fear of giving away the plot. Let’s just say you will not be bored by The Wife and the Widow - it really is a page-turner!

It’s hard to feel positive about a book where the main character is ‘a special kind of dickhead’. And William Power really is exactly that. He has an ego the size of Uluru and absolutely no self-awareness. In other words, he is not pleasant company.
However, this third book in the series (I haven’t read any of the others) is rescued from being a total disaster by Gott’s ability to make you feel like you are in the tropics where the action is. Set during World War 2, Will Power is sent undercover to the tropical wilderness of northern Australia to investigate the murder of three soldiers. (I have to question why they’d send him in the first place, as he’s obviously an incompetent investigator.) The descriptions of the appalling conditions: constantly being wet due to monsoonal rain and humidity; sleeping in the mud, in the rain and the incessant whine of mosquitoes - I felt I was there too.
Power draws all the wrong conclusions, and his prejudices and snobbery are quite unappealing. Although competently written, I won’t be spending any more time with William Power.

Garner’s ability to see things, really see things, is extraordinary. Her observations about her surroundings, nature, the weather, relationships are always insightful and searingly honest.
In this third volume of her diaries, she reveals the disintegration of her marriage to V (who is, in fact, Murray Bail). I think I can say with confidence that most women will be able to relate to her struggles to retain her true self, at the same time as ‘keeping her man happy’. As women, we put up with so much bullsh*t don’t we?
These entries rang particularly true:

Letter about my book from a stranger, a woman in her forties: ‘My inability at times to protect myself, to establish my boundaries, to stand guardian at the gate of my own core, has possibly been the source of most of the pain I have experienced as a woman’

I wanted so much to be loved that I tried to turn myself into the sort of woman I thought I would have to be, in order to be loveable. In the process I falsified myself, lost part of my soul, made myself sick with swallowed rage.

What’s not to like? A story within a story all about writing a book about a murder in the Boston Public Library. Libraries; murders; literary references galore; and plenty of twists and turns to keep you guessing until the end.
This was a great book to listen to, with a different narrator reading the correspondence from the creepy Leo.

This is a heartbreakingly honest essay by Sarah Ferguson (ABC reporter) about her grief at the unexpected death of her mother. This will resonate with anyone who has lost a dear parent.

I am a huge fan of Alexander McCall Smith’s novels, particularly [b:The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency|7061|The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency (No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency #1)|Alexander McCall Smith|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1459953654l/7061.SY75.jpg|826298] which is an absolute delight. I’m afraid this series doesn’t particularly resonate with me. I read the first book, but can’t remember anything about it. So I thought I’d read the second book and give the series a chance. But again, I’ve almost totally forgotten what it was about - there are just no hooks to grab hold of. It’s a pleasant enough book to pass the time with, but there are so many great books about, I don’t feel my time has been well spent reading this one.

However, there was one paragraph that made me laugh out loud, and for that, I thank you very much Sandy!

Ulf looked up at the ceiling, which was painted in a light shade of green. Green was meant to be a restful colour, he thought, and that must be why Dr. Svensson had chosen it for his consulting-room ceiling. Presumably people looked up at his ceiling a lot, and he would want them to feel calmed. There were some ceilings that were definitely not calming, possibly because they said too much. A ceiling should not be strident, thought Ulf. The Sistine Chapel ceiling, for instance, said rather too much, beautiful though it may be in a Catholic sort of way. Ulf liked Protestant ceilings, which, as a rule, were less vocal.

I always finish an Anne Tyler book with a pervading sense of melancholy. Her stories follow multi-generations in a family, and illustrate that life is fleeting. Memory plays an important role in Tyler’s books and characters recall their pasts ’like someone wandering through an old house’.

I read [b:A Spool of Blue Thread|22501028|A Spool of Blue Thread|Anne Tyler|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1451435883l/22501028.SX50.jpg|41711673] recently, and it’s hard to avoid the similarities between the two books. But this is what Tyler does: interrogates the domestic life. As one character asks, “Oh, what makes a family not work?"

I found some of the characters, particularly Mercy, hard to love in French Braid. At first I was cheering her on, as she makes her own life away from her role as wife and mother. But I found her too selfish and quite cruel in how she goes about gaining her independence.

Although not a favourite Anne Tyler novel, French Braid shows that Tyler still knows how to gently reveal what makes a family, a family.

Where do I start? As a white, middle-class, middle-aged reader who’s heritage is solidly British, I don’t feel in a position to say too much.
This book is an unashamed howl of raw emotions. The horror of what happened to the original inhabitants of this land, and the generational reverberations of that damage are at the heart of this book. So it’s angry - very angry. And rightly so. This doesn’t make for an easy book to read. I couldn’t say I enjoyed it - but I appreciate that it needed to be written, and that I needed to read it.

A perfect book to listen to - I found myself immersed in the lives of the Whitshank family, through several generations. Like most families, ’they imagined they were special’. Tyler has an eye for the minutiae of family life and relationships: the good and the bad. All the shades of grey are revealed; everyone’s foibles. But Tyler does it all with such a gentle touch, and always with such honesty.

Who can’t relate to Abby bemoaning that ’the trouble with dying … is that you don’t get to see how everything turns out. You won’t know the ending.’ And her daughter’s reply, ‘But mum, there is no ending.’ To which Abby replies, ‘Well, I know that.’ And then the unspoken kicker: ‘In theory.’ Thank you Anne Tyler!

When I reached the end of the book, I felt I was leaving close friends.

Full of so much information. This is a book to keep, dipping into it for inspiration and Costa’s contagious positivity.

Thank you to The Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. This review was originally published on Readingtime.com.au

Note: This review contains spoilers from books 1 & 2)

Love. She needs to focus on love.

The Blood Traitor picks up where The Gilded Cage left off. We find our heroine, Kiva Corentine, back in the prison, Zalindov. She discovers an unexpected ally in the ex-quarrier, Cresta, who helps her through her withdrawal from addiction to angeldust. It seems like the end of the road for Kiva and Cresta as they are sent down to work in the tunnels, where life expectancy is six months at the most.

But of course, it would be a short book if they died in Zalindov wouldn’t it? Before we know it, they have escaped and join forces with all the other characters we have grown to love, as they are on a quest to recover four rings that will give them the power to overthrow Kiva’s wicked sister, Zuleeka.

The beating heart of this series has been Kiva and her strength and resourcefulness. Unfortunately, it falters in this book. Her constant self-pitying inner dialogue starts to grate, as does the way her beloved Jaren treats her – in fact I’d call his behaviour gaslighting. The story shifts from that of an independent female character who is led by her strong moral compass, to the story of a young woman who feels very sorry for herself (although says she wants nobody’s pity) and who’s primary concern is losing the love of a man. Having said that, I’m sure that the intended audience will find the romantic tension swoon-worthy.

Kiva has kept many secrets from Jaren, as she fears he will pity her when he discovers the hardships she has endured. However, she reveals all while under the influence of angeldust. I found this scene particularly disturbing – is this the only way Kiva could speak her truth to her beloved? By being drunk/drugged? Is this a message we want our impressionable girls to absorb?

The quest involves the usual obstacles that readers expect in a fantasy novel. There are unexpected alliances and betrayals and many battles fought before the conclusion is reached. At 439 pages, I felt the book could have benefited from some judicious editing.

I feel Noni missed an opportunity to make Kiva a female character who is not lead by her heart (and hormones); a young woman whose mind is not totally absorbed by her love-life; who doesn’t need a man to feel complete. There are moments where we see the return of the feisty Kiva we fell in love with. As she says to herself: She’d escaped Zalindov prison, not once, but twice. She’d overcome an angeldust addiction, pulled herself out of the deepest darkness, and found the will to continue living. She’s battled in a Jiirvan arena and killed a woman, the horror of the experience having scarred her – but it hadn’t broken her.

Although I have my own reservations (and let’s face it, I’m not the intended audience), I’m sure that teenage girls will love this last instalment of Noni’s incredibly popular trilogy.

Mature themes, including addiction and torture make this suitable for readers aged 14+ years.

Thank you Jacqueline Winspear for the gift of Maisie Dobbs. I always feel the world is a better place once I’ve spent some time with Maisie. She is an inspiration; I wish I could be as kind and thoughtful as Maisie is!

This is another cracking good mystery for Maisie to unravel - and the most confusing by far! However, as always, Maisie applies her well-honed skills to the puzzle and successfully finds the answers.

We’re still in the heart of WW2 and all that entails: rationing of food and petrol; blackout curtains; removal of street signage, air-raids and anxiety about loved-ones who are fighting. As the characters ‘just get on with it’, I couldn’t help but think of the world’s current situation with Covid, and how we have all embraced this attitude in the face of extraordinary times.

I love how Winspear uncovers unusual aspects in history, in this case the many women pilots who flew for the Air Transport Auxiliary in Britain, ferrying military aircraft between factories, repair units and airfields. She also explores the impact that American military servicemen arriving on British soil had on the locals, who couldn’t understand the American MPs insisting on segregating the coloured servicemen. It’s this sort of research that elevates the Maisie Dobbs series way above the other historic mysteries that are available on the bookshelves. Another writer of historic fiction, [a:Sarah Waters|25334|Sarah Waters|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1409248454p2/25334.jpg], describes these details as ‘poignant trivia’.


Again, Winspear has given her readers a fabulous mystery, with characters we have come to love over the previous sixteen novels. I can’t wait for the next instalment!

Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. My original review is published on readingtime.com.au.

Snuffy is a little dog who loves to sniff! When Snuffy goes on a trip to the beach with her human, Grum, he warns her …if that nuisance nose causes trouble again, there’ll be no more beach trips. Which means, of course, that Snuffy’s sniffing causes all sorts of dramas, until, that is, her sniffing saves the day.

Snuffy is a book that begs to be read aloud, just as the author Andrew Dittmer intended. The text is clear, sometimes swooping around the pages creating visual movement. Words that need emphasis are printed red.

The illustrations by Jenni Goodman are bold and colourful, with plenty of lovely details for the observant young reader. I love the movement and chaos created by Snuffy’s sniffing.

Andrew Dittmer and Jenni Goodman are a brother and sister team. I hope we see more collaborative books from them, as this is an absolute winner!

Snuffy is a delightful picture book. I can guarantee that it will become a firm favourite with its young audience, with children asking for it to be read to them again, and again!

Snuffy has been nominated for the Speech Pathology Australia Book of the Year (Three to Five Years) 2022.

Thank you to Better Reading for the opportunity to review this book.

Set in Ballarat, Victoria between the years 1939 and 1952, we follow the intertwining trials and tribulations of several families through these turbulent years. At the heart of the book, there is always Connie Starr, perched on an upper branch of her precious lemon tree, watching. An unusual child, she ‘ignores the pain of the enormous space between her and the other children’ and lives in a world of her own making.

These are difficult years, embracing the heartbreak brought by the Second World War, polio outbreaks and rationing. The women shine in this novel. They have to contend with the deprivations brought by the war, the fear of losing their sons and husbands to the war-machine and the daily grind of putting a meal on the table. It’s these women - their strength and fortitude in the face of immeasurable loss and tragedy - that make this book sing.

The writing is lyrical, and has a gentle flow that I found mesmerising. It’s a book that works particularly well if read over one or two sittings, so that the reader can settle into its cadence and appreciate the beauty of the prose.

Highly recommended.

Cracking good read!
Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book, which was originally published on https://readingtime.com.au/evacuation-road/.

There’s a point where the volume of wrong in the world can overwhelm you. And it’s then that fear wins. Evil wins, good is lost, and so are you. You can’t give in to the darkness that hovers if you want to stay sane. You need to keep smiling, trying, hoping, trusting. Loving. Because that’s what makes us human.

Be aware of the following trigger warnings for more sensitive readers: gun violence; assault; drug addiction; violent death (there’s a scene where they witness a passenger plane being shot down from the air and sections and parts, both metallic and horrifyingly not, rained down on the pale desert and bounced across the road).

Evacuation Road is a cracking good read!

Eva is on a geology school excursion in South America when the world’s banks collapse, money becomes scarce, and the world descends into chaos and anarchy. Her evacuation bus leaves without her, and together with two other students she barely knows, she has to find a way to catch it up, and board the last plane destined for home. (The reader will have to suspend disbelief here, because I don’t believe any teacher would leave three of their students stranded in a foreign country!) They join forces with two young English students as they desperately try to find a way to traverse a continent where all the old rules have disappeared, and panic has taken over.

Character development has not been sacrificed for a fast plot. As Eva and her friends face obstacles, the reader observes them growing and discovering their strengths. There is a strong message that sticking together and supporting your friends is paramount – in this case, it can save your life!

An inconvenient crush adds a further complication to an already messy situation, but it’s also relatable to the intended young adult audience and is handled sweetly. When Brodie offers Eva friendship, her reaction is perfect: “Thanks Brodie.” I stumbled over his name. It was the first time I’d said it out loud. It felt delicious, and being with him in that moment seemed like Tim Tams dipped in Milo on a stormy night. Pretty cute, right?

HM Waugh uses her own travel experiences in South America to add a sense of authenticity. Her love of wild places is apparent in the descriptions of the landscape: The stars were so close and sharp, I felt I could touch them. A couple of times I tried, just to prove I was still on Earth, not wrapped in some jewel-studded black velvet dream among the galaxies.

The chapters are short, with many finishing on a cliff-hanger, ensuring the reader feels impelled to read ‘just one more chapter’. This book would be perfect for reluctant readers who think ‘reading is boring’. In fact, I think this would be an excellent class text. The Teaching Notes provide plenty of questions for discussion.

Highly recommended!

Reading Level as recommended by publisher: 13+ years

Indira Naidoo shares her journey as she struggles to come to terms with the suicide of her little sister. She finds solace and healing in nature and explores different areas of the natural world with friends who are experts in their fields.

This is a deeply personal and gentle meditation on grief and how one woman finds a way to heal by paying attention to the natural world around her: the wind, the stars, even the weeds that grow between the pavement cracks.

If you enjoyed Julia Baird’s [b:Phosphorescence: On Awe, Wonder and Things That Sustain You When the World Goes Dark|52541673|Phosphorescence On Awe, Wonder and Things That Sustain You When the World Goes Dark|Julia Baird|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1581416196l/52541673.SX50_SY75.jpg|73666224] and Leigh Sales’ [b:Any Ordinary Day: Blindsides, Resilience and What Happens After the Worst Day of Your Life|40637139|Any Ordinary Day Blindsides, Resilience and What Happens After the Worst Day of Your Life|Leigh Sales|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1529916228l/40637139.SY75.jpg|63141155] you will find Indira’s story equally moving.

Thank you to The Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. My original review was published on https://readingtime.com.au/seven-wherewithal-way/

Trouble is just adventure disguised.

Eleven-year-old Celeste is having her worst summer ever! She’s been sent to stay with her Gran and keep an eye on her pesky and immature little sister Esme. Celeste resents her parents going off having adventures, leaving her behind, being boring. She’s thrilled when her eccentric cousin Ferd appears from the sky in their flying bus and invites them to come to their magic home at Seven Wherewithal Way. How can she resist?

This is the first book I have read where the pronouns they/them are used for a character. It does take some getting used to, but it’s encouraging to see this inclusivity in a book aimed at young and impressionable readers. I hope that soon it will be so normal it won’t even rate a mention!

Celeste is looking for adventure, and Ferd certainly throws her into the deep end, fighting all manner of mythical and magical monsters on their mission to rescue Ferd’s dear friend the Leshy. First there are the poleviks, followed closely by the striga, rusalka, vodyanoi and ultimately Baba Yaga. It’s a veritable who’s who of folklore bad-guys! In fact, a glossary would be a welcome addition to this book.

Bound has certainly done her research and this book positively overflows with characters many readers will recognise from fairy tales, folklore, and myth. And herein lies a problem with the book: too many incidents with too many conflicts with too many monsters before the resolution. I feel this book could easily lose the middle third and be a tighter and more cohesive story. As it is, the characters lurch from one conflict to the next with barely a chapter-break. However, it picks up dramatically in the final chapters where the author suddenly finds her voice allowing the story a much better flow.

Celeste is a girl on the cusp of adulthood, hoping to find her inner strength and demonstrate her bravery. Her little sister, Esme, however, is a totally unappealing child who behaves more like a five-year-old than an eight-year-old, pouting and whining her way through the story. The constant (and I mean constant) nasty fights and bickering between the sisters is grating – I’m not sure if it’s intended to be amusing, but it’s not!

Celeste discovers at the end of her adventure that ‘bravery is not always how fast you can swing your arms or think up clever escapes. It is the way your heart responds, and how you follow it’.

Seven Wherewithal Way is the first book in a ‘portal fantasy series’. It ends with an obvious segue way to further adventures. It’s recommended for middle grade readers.

What could be better than reading Miriam Margolyes’ autobiography? Listening to her read her own story. Exquisite! So many laugh out loud moments, so much honesty.
Absolutely outstanding.

It would be easy to assume that Wicked Autumn is yet another cosy crime, set in an idyllic chocolate-box English village. I was pleasantly surprised to instead find a clever plot, with well drawn characters with unexpected depths.

Max Tudor is a former M15 agent, who had an epiphany,

‘his road-to-Damascus experience, and it came not with a blinding light, or a parting of the clouds by an unseen hand, but with a calm certainty. He thought: Life was running out like water cupped in his hands. What was he doing with his time?’

‘He saw a sky still and clear, bright with stars. A hint of approaching autumn hung in the air, giving the garden the smell of something just washed with cold rain. Beyond his range of vision, outside the village of Nether Monkslip, were green fields turning yellow as the earth continued its slow tilt away from the sun.’

Thank you to The Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book. My original review was published on https://readingtime.com.au/bear-and-rat/

‘Bear,’ said Rat. ‘I’ve been wondering. Will we always hold hands like this, even when we are old and wrinkly…’

So begins this warm and comforting picture book which reveals a friendship so strong, it will overcome all the obstacles life throws in its way, and even beyond. It celebrates the timeless nature of love.

The tender relationship between these two friends brought to mind another children’s classic about friendship: Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet. And just as we cannot imagine them without E. H. Shephard’s illustrations, so too do Stephen Michael King’s whimsical drawings perfectly reflect the heart of this book.

On my first reading, I thought it would make a lovely wedding present, as it represents a relationship that nurtures and supports each party. I then discovered that Christopher Cheng wrote this book for his wife Bini while she was receiving cancer treatment. The characters are based on their favourite animals. Christopher had not intended to publish the book, but after his wife sadly passed away, he realised the book could be helpful for children who are facing loss. It reminds us that we always carry our loved ones in our hearts.

Bear and Rat is a CBCA Notable Book for 2022 and was shortlisted for the 2022 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, Patricia Wrightson Prize.

Bear and Rat deserves to become a classic. Highly recommended.

I know my opinion is going to be unpopular, but I couldn’t finish this book. I was excited by its premise: to use Jane Austen’s novels as inspiration for an examination of a life. Unfortunately, there was way too much Jane Austen for me, and not enough of Ruth Wilson’s examined life. There is an assumed deep knowledge of all Austen’s books, which I do not possess so I found myself skimming more and more. The balance between academic research and memoir is too heavily weighed towards the academic for my liking.
This book is for the Austen fans only.

There is no shortage of true and harrowing accounts of The Holocaust, what more can be said? Lucy Adlington looks at this shocking time from a unique perspective: that of textiles and clothes. She demonstrates how ‘the Nazis understood the power of clothes as performance, demonstrated by their adoption of iconic uniforms at monumental public rallies. Uniforms are a classic example of using clothing to reinforce group pride and identity’. They were aware of the power of clothing and the significant wealth of the European textile industry, which was dominated by Jewish talent and capital.

Reading the insidious way that the Nazis turned European against Jewish European is a lesson in pure evil. How a comfortable, multiracial society could turn so quickly is a lesson that should never be forgotten. Families who had lived in harmony side by side for generations were now pitted against each other. There are many stories of courageous souls who put their lives at risk to protect Jews, but they are far outnumbered by those who saw an opportunity to profit from the situation, at best turning a blind eye, at worst, alerting the Nazis to Jewish hiding places.

Adlington introduces us to twenty-five women inmates of Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, who were selected to work in the Upper Tailoring Studio, a dedicated salon established by Hedwig Hoss, wife of the camp commandant. They designed, cut and sewed beautiful fashion for elite Nazi women, while the crematorium fires raged beside them.

This is not an easy read, the deprivations and cruelties meted out to the poor souls who found themselves in this hell-hole are unspeakable. But the story also speaks of the extraordinary courage and resilience of these women, whose skill with needle and thread proved to be their salvation.

Lucy Adlington has written several books exploring costume, clothing and textile history. Her research is meticulous, and if I had one criticism to offer, it’s the amount of detail she shares which can be overwhelming at times.

The book has an extensive Bibliography, Notes on Sources and thorough Index. Although this is a non-fiction book, it is written in an accessible style and sheds light on a chapter of The Holocaust not seen before.

I found this very hard going and gave it up at page 160 of 347 pages. It rambles about, with too many characters pontificating and nothing particularly shocking ever happening. Wimsey hasn’t even appeared yet! My reading experience wasn’t enhanced by trying to read a 1955 edition with the tiniest print imaginable.
The experience of female intellectuals fighting for their right to study and immerse themselves in the word of academia is, of course, interesting. But the forensic detail applied by Sayers was too much for me.
I’ve read plenty of the Queens of Crime, including several other Sayers, but I’m afraid to say this one defeated me.

This book is a love-letter to libraries, and all who work in them. It is based on the extraordinary true story of the Bethnal Green underground library, built over the tracks in the disused Bethnal Green tube station, after the original library was destroyed on the first day of the London blitz on September 7, 1940. Together with the library, there were thousands of bunk beds, a theatre, a nursery and a cafe. This was home to East Enders fleeing the horror above ground.

Thompson covers a lot of ground in this novel, including the heated arguments surrounding the role of libraries: should they only stock ‘quality’ books that will ‘educate and edify’, or should they provide books of a more popular nature? During the war years, what women (and it was nearly all women as the men were fighting) really wanted, was escapism. ‘Books were time machines, whisking women away from the crash and the horror of the war.’ We have seen the same trend during the pandemic, with readers choosing ‘escapist’ fiction to take them as far away from the current situation as possible.

The author has skilfully drawn this cramped, underground world with all its noise and aromas, full of memorable characters. The constant fear of death and destruction is palpable. And it’s the library that is the beating heart of the community, providing a safe place for everyone, young and old, rich or poor, educated or not. As Thompson writes in her Author’s Note: ‘A library is the only place you can go - from cradle to grave - that is free, safe, democratic and no one will try to flog you anything. It’s the heartbeat of a community, offering precious resources to people in need. It’s a place just to be, to dream and to escape - with books.’

Highly recommended for historic fiction lovers, book-lovers, and library lovers.

I gave up at one hundred pages. I found the main character unbelievable. Is she on the spectrum? Is she neurodiverse? Sometimes, it would appear! It seems to come and go! This read like a try-hard Eleanor Oliphant - and it failed for me.

This latest instalment in the adventures of Dr Ruth Galloway does not disappoint! This is the first book I’ve read that is set during the pandemic. It brought back so many memories of the initial reactions to this virus. ‘There won’t be a pandemic’, says Tanya. ‘It’s just the flu. People should take vitamin C tablets and stop complaining.’ Who doesn’t remember this sort of scepticism at the start of 2020?

Ruth finds herself pivoting to online teaching (Zoom anyone?) while trying to juggle her daughter, Kate’s lessons at home.

Nelson and his Serious Crimes team are investigating a series of suicides that are now looking rather suspicious, while practicing social distancing and wearing masks. We have adapted so quickly to this strange new world, it’s hard to believe that it has only been two years since Covid first reared its ugly head.

This is a series that needs to be read in order to fully appreciate the character development, and the references to past events. I must admit, there were a few too many convenient coincidences in this latest book, but I really didn’t care. It’s the company I come back for: Ruth and Nelson, the wonderful druid Cathbad (everyone’s favourite character!), Judy and Tanya. They are old friends, and it is heartwarming to spend some time with them, even if it is in lockdown!

A wonderful introduction to 25 ‘women poets, ramblers, and mavericks who shape how we see the natural world’. Some were know to me, many not. I now have a long list of women authors to further explore. This is a fabulous book to dip into when the mood strikes.

My favourite anecdote is about Mary Oliver and it goes like this:

Never without a notebook, Oliver cultivated her sense of wonder through her daily practice of rising early in the morning-a time she felt the soul most receptive to insights-and walking these beaches, ponds, and forests. As I follow in her footsteps, I remember a more furtive habit of hers. As she wanted no thought to go unrecorded, she would hide pencils on her rambles so she would always have one handy. For someone like me, who loves mudlarking, this is such an exciting opportunity that my eyes dart among nooks and crannies in trees and rocks, searching for a Mary Oliver pencil-something I would treasure forever. In combing, I discover other things-gossamer spiderwebs stretching between branches, fly agaric mushrooms with their white-speckled red cats, and solitude.

What a terrible mess we can make of our lives. There should be angel police to stop us at these dangerous moments, but there don’t seem to be. So all we’re left with, is whether we can forgive, be forgiven, and keep trying our best.

It is October 1966 and nineteen year old William Lavery is attending his graduation dinner from the Thames College of Embalming when news of the Aberfan landslide tragedy is delivered. Embalmers are needed and William volunteers. The landslide buried a school and surrounding houses. He arrives to total carnage, and is immediately thrown into the deep end. ‘Now listen William, the help we can give these people is not complicated. We do our job. We do it well, we do it quickly and we leave. We’re not priests, or friends or family. We’re embalmers. Keep your head down and your heart hard. That’s your kindness.’ What he witnesses that night will effect his life forever.

This book is ultimately a study of PTSD and the effect such trauma can have on a life. I felt the earlier ’trauma’ that William experiences when a chorister in Cambridge is underwhelming and someone at some point should have told him to get over himself!

I learnt a lot from this book: about embalming (which is rarely done in Australia) and about music and specifically singing in a choir. I recommend having a listen to a recording of Myfanwy and Miserere mei, preferably sung by a boy’s choir as they both play an important role in William’s story.

We are all familiar with the idiom ‘before you judge a person, walk a mile in their shoes’. Strangers on Country does exactly that. We view five first encounters and what follows through the eyes of an Indigenous person and a European person. We are then given the the facts as they have been recorded.
It’s impossible not to relate to both sides of the story. This is a brilliant book that should be read by all Australians, both young and old. It’s beautifully illustrated, and includes a map, glossary and notes on resources.
The most important skill we can hope to teach our children is empathy; this book is all about empathy and seeing a story from all perspectives. It would be an invaluable resource for the classroom and a worthy addition to all school libraries and children’s libraries.

This memoir ticked many boxes for me: it’s nature writing combined with a personal journey of recovery. Having just celebrated two years of sobriety myself, I could very much relate to Liptrot’s inner turmoil as she comes to terms with her past behaviour under the influence of alcohol and her realization that she could never drink again.
The best parts of this memoir, however, are her evocative descriptions of the harsh landscape of the Orkney Islands. I could feel the wild wind, I could hear the bird calls and taste the salt sea spray.

The Cane is an atmospheric, slow-burn thriller, set in the cane fields of Queensland in the early 1970s. When a teenaged girl goes missing, the town of Quala quickly rallies to search for her. But as the weeks go by, and there are no clues to what happened to Janet, we start to see the very ugly underbelly of small-town country living. To say that the 1970s were not a very enlightened period is an understatement, and racism and misogyny are just seen as part of the emotional landscape. It’s easy to forget how far we have come in regard to these issues, particularly in Australia.

I liked the addition of a first person perspective from an elderly ‘Arthur’ who has obviously lived in Quala all his life. His voice sets a typically laconic Australian tone to the narrative. He provides the reader with details about the town’s beginnings, and doesn’t white wash the dark history that stains the landscape: ‘People say Australia never had slavery. Well, I guess it depends on how you define slavery - or how prepared you are to face facts’.

Cuskelly slowly introduces us to all the main characters, building a tension that culminates in the burning of the cane. She exposes the sometimes less-than-pretty aspects of relationships, in particular, the ‘friendship’ between the naive young Essie and the all-too-knowing Raelene. Essie is torn between wanting to have a best friend and knowing ‘enough not to reveal all her tender, sacred places to Raelene. Anything precious or delicate, whether a feeling or a favourite book, Raelene will find a way to besmirch it’.

Once the fires are lit, the book picks up the pace to match the rush of flames through the cane. Cuskelly has written a cracker of a first novel, and sits comfortably in the company of [a:Jane Harper|556546|Jane Harper|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1550638161p2/556546.jpg] and [a:Chris Hammer|6474729|Chris Hammer|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1532475188p2/6474729.jpg].

This book is perfect to listen to as an audio as it’s formatted as written transcripts of audio recordings! The twists, turns and about-faces this narrative takes make this a totally immersive story. Steven Smith, recently released from a long stint in prison, embarks on a quest to unravel a mystery that has haunted him for forty years: the mysterious disappearance of his beloved remedial English teacher, Miss Isles. It all ties in with a children’s book by an author similar to Enid Blyton named Edith Twyford. Miss Isles believed that there was a code, hidden within the text of this book. A code that would lead to a hidden treasure. Was it the discovery of this code that led to Miss Isles disappearance?

Just when you think you know what’s happening, you discover that, in fact, everything you’ve just heard is a lie…or is it? This story is told by the ultimate unreliable narrator, and is a deeply satisfying read.

This is a bit of little weight fun! Amelia Peabody (isn’t that a fabulous moniker?) considers herself a spinster at 32 years of age: ‘why should any independent, intelligent female choose to subject herself to the whims and tyrannies of a husband?’ This is set in Victorian England, so Amelia’s choice to travel rather than settle into domestic bliss is seen as quite bizarre.

Amelia finds herself a suitable companion in Evelyn Barton-Forbes and together they set off on their Egyptian adventure, sailing on the Nile and exploring all things archaeological, and before they know it, they are being menaced by a moaning mummy and wonder if they have been cursed.

The book was written in 1975, and Amelia is feisty, independent and ahead of her times with plenty of feminist ideals. However, she is often hampered by her clothing - she is constantly finding herself tangled in her nightwear, or tripping over her long dresses. Then she discovered the Rational Dress League (look them up, they did exist!) and had a dress made to their specifications, which included a ‘divided skirt’ - shocking! However, her clothes seem to be a constant constraint in this book. And Evelyn, however sweet and kind, is more hindrance than help, always fainting and having to be rescued.

There are some wonderful moments that made me laugh, mostly to do with the ridiculous constrains placed on women of the time. And the silly behaviour of men trying to be ‘manly’. There is an element of Dudley Do-Right in their behaviour, and I kept waiting for someone to say ‘I’ll save you Nell’!

I did enjoy Crocodile on the Sandbank, but it felt a little dated. The romance element was certainly rather silly, and the suspense was….well, not very suspenseful! In fact, I think this book would appeal to younger readers who like romantic-suspense novels.

This novel could be viewed as a cautionary tale: be careful what you wish for.

Kit Carradine is a successful author of spy novels, whose life has stagnated. No wife, no children, no pets… ‘If I was a book, I’d be stuck at the halfway stage’. His father suggests that what he really needs is an adventure, ‘something to get you out of the office’. Serendipitously Kit is approached by Robert Mantis, purporting to be from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, who offers Kit the chance to play on the edge of the world of espionage. ‘The Agency’ is trying to help a woman (aren’t they always), who is believed to be hiding in Morocco. As Kit is already going there for a book festival, he has the perfect cover to look for Lara Bartok, who is a ‘remarkable young woman, cunning and unpredictable’, and, of course, drop-dead gorgeous (yawn - sooooo predictable).

‘Writers on research trips provide perfect cover for clandestine work. The inquisitive novelist always has a watertight excuse for poking his nose around. Any unusual or suspicious activity can be justified as part of the artistic process. You know the sort of thing. Atmosphere, authenticity detail.’

This was another thoroughly enjoyable novel from Monica McInerney. Her books are perfect for audio reading - straight forward with engaging characters and a wonderful sense of time and place. I suppose you’d call this a ‘family saga’, which sounds a bit lame - and it’s not.
After finishing this, I wanted to visit the Clare Valley in South Australia, and then hop on a plan to visit Ireland!

At first glance, After Story is a simple narrative: Indigenous lawyer Jasmine takes her mother, Della, on a literary tour of England, hoping that the time spent together will bring them closer to each other. Chapters alternate from each woman’s perspective.
Jasmine has gone to university, the first member of her family to do so, and is on comfortable and familiar ground walking the halls of Oxford or Cambridge, and discussing Dickens and Woolf with others in their tour group.
However, Della brings a refreshing perspective to these literary lions of the English canon and their written words. In her eyes, they are no more important than her Aunty Elaine and her oral wisdom, passed on from generation to generation. ‘Aunty Elaine had said that Aboriginal people had been in Australia for over sixty-five thousand years. So, when you think of it, even things from Shakespeare’s day are all kind of new…’
As the tour continues, familial traumas are revealed. Each site visited awakens memories and creates an opportunity for each woman to consider their past. After visiting the Foundling Hospital in London, Della could see the similarity between the treatment of poor women who tried to reclaim their children but were ‘denied by the governors who felt that they could do a better job of raising children’ and the way Aboriginal children were taken from their families because people thought they could do a better job of bringing them up than their own parents.
After Story gives you a lot to consider. It can be a bit didactic, but that is easy to overlook as Behrendt skilfully weaves together Indigenous history, English literature and a fraught mother/daughter relationship. Managing to balance these themes at the same time as creating a very readable novel is no mean feat!
I wish I could have met the often quoted Aunty Elaine - she sounds like a wise (and funny) lady. She used to tell Jasmine, when she thought she should show more self-belief: ‘Hold yourself with the confidence of a mediocre white man.’ - Brilliant!
How Della deals with her grief, and how Jasmine learns to understand her mother, are the beating heart of this moving story.
For lovers of English literature, there is a ‘Tour Reading List’ and a list of the destinations visited: both catnip for bibliophiles!

It’s 1941 and the blitz is devastating London. Winspear is at her best when describing what the war experience must have been like, particularly for those on the home front, and how fear becomes all pervasive.

‘Fear, she thought, had a viscous quality to it, to the extent that you could even feel it in your feet as you were running to the shelter; a burden slowing you down, despite the fact that you were moving as fast as your legs could carry you. Fear was sticky, like flypaper, something to steer clear of as you went about your business, because if you were sucked into that long banner of worry, you would be like an insect with wings adhered and feet stuck, never to escape.’

This is a perfect book to listen to! An interesting story, told well. Engaging characters, lovely locations, and plenty of heart. Thoroughly enjoyable.

Joanna Nell has done it again. This warm and funny novel is told from the perspective of three volunteers at The Marjorie Marshall Memorial Cafeteria in St. Jude’s Hospital. As always, Nell is particularly astute at giving voice to women ‘of a certain age’. So often older characters are mere caricatures, but Hilary and Joy are relatable women, dealing with life’s many curve balls the best they can. They aren’t perfect, but they are real. Introducing 17 year old Chloe to the Cafeteria gives Hillary and Joy an opportunity to share their wisdom and also gain a younger perspective. It’s a win-win for them all.

There are many poignant moments, and then there are many laugh-out-loud moments too. For example, as ‘Hilary tried to conjure some positive affirmations. If was important to maintain a growth mindset in the face of setbacks. Failure is simply an opportunity for development, she told herself. Even for someone who’d read as many management and self-improvement books as her, it was a hard sell. Honestly, did anyone actually believe this codswallop?’

Hilary, Joy and Chloe are memorable characters who find they have more in common than they realise. As they battle to keep their beloved Cafeteria open for business, they each discover inner strength and resilience, not to mention new and unexpected life-long friends. Prepared to be charmed!

I don’t think listening to this book did it any favours. I found the time changes hard to follow sometimes and I couldn’t flip back the pages to double-check were I was up to! I also felt it could have done with a good edit - too many words that didn’t really make a difference to the story. The language was a bit too overblown for my liking. I also thought it extraordinary that she managed to rub shoulders with just about every famous artist, writer and musician over her three hundred years on this planet- highly unlikely, don’t you think? Especially as she seemed to have no particular skills herself.
However, despite these misgivings, I did find myself getting lost in the many lives led by Addie LaRue, and it begs the question: ‘Would you sell your soul to avoid an arranged marriage?’

I immediately fell under the spell of Conor Farrington’s prose. This may well be ‘only’ a cosy-ish crime novel set in the sleepy back-water town of Roxiazny in Russia, but the language elevates it well above expectations. It feels like a book translated from Russian, but in fact the author grew up in Scotland!

Olga Pushkin is a put-upon single woman in her mid-thirties, working as a low ranking railway engineer and living with her good-for-nothing father. She spends her time helping her best friend Anna, shopping for her thankless aunt and cooking for her drunken father. She mourns the loss of her beloved mother, ‘…she was gone, and with her the magical grace that dissolved difficulties into laughter’. She dreams of studying literature and writing The Great Russian Novel.

‘But not today. Today she had to go to work. That was what Russian women did, day in, day out, regardless of drunken fathers or chauvinist foremen… The tracks lay always before them, the horizon forever receding. Maybe one day they would reach it. Maybe one day.’

‘The trailside plants were fragile with frost, and snapped like dried twigs at the slightest touch. Her breath crackled in the air like jet exhaust, and she felt the microscopic build-up of ice at the end of her eyelashes…At times like this Olga thought that cold was more than just an absence of heat. It felt like a malevolent force of its own, a withering, hostile spirit suspended in the lifeless air…’

I gave up at 200 pages. This is not my cup of tea. I couldn’t relate to any of the characters and lost interest.

I have loved several other novels written by Joanna Nell. This book is harder to love. Mrs Henry Parker, or Evelyn to her friends, has lived her whole life on cruise ships with her beloved husband Henry who is a ship’s doctor. They are now enjoying their twilight years aboard the Golden Sunset. However, Evelyn seems to have lost Henry.

Evelyn regales her new friends Nola and Frank with the story of how she and Henry met on board a ship from England, bound for Australia in 1953, and then went on to spend the rest of their lives at sea. Nell’s own experience as a ship’s doctor gives the book a real sense of authenticity. As she says in her acknowledgements, this novel is ‘a tribute to all ships’ doctors and nurses, the unsung heroes and heroines’.

It is obvious that Evelyn is suffering from dementia. This is extremely sad as she struggles to put names to faces, and often loses track of time, turning up for breakfast in her evening dress on one occasion. I find it difficult to believe that a woman with such advanced alzheimer’s would be allowed to wander around unattended on a cruise ship. And that’s the plot, in essence: Evelyn wandering the ship, looking for Henry.

That being said, Nell, as always, writes about getting old with compassion and empathy. As Evelyn says, getting old ‘ is as inevitable as the weather, and just as unpredictable. Like the weather, it could be forecast but not controlled. Best to be prepared, but go ahead with the picnic regardless. When it came to ageing, the best you could do was to carry an umbrella. And a life jacket.’

I listened to this book as an audiobook. It was very slow. There were too many extraneous threads that I found added nothing to the story. The disjointed time-line was difficult to follow. I found the characters hard to like - the book doesn’t explore the characters’ motivations or emotions. There is one character in particular who is obviously a psychopath, but it’s never explained why - and then he dies!
Nope, this one didn’t work for me at all.

I couldn’t continue listening to this book as I found the sexual abuse too hard to listen to.

[a:Joanna Nell|18061662|Joanna Nell|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1531896805p2/18061662.jpg] has done it again. I loved [b:The Single Ladies of Jacaranda Retirement Village|44182122|The Single Ladies of Jacaranda Retirement Village|Joanna Nell|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/book/50x75-a91bf249278a81aabab721ef782c4a74.png|62458297], but I adored TGEFWNH! Every character seems real - they really do jump from the page and I could see them all as clear as day.

Hattie Bloom (Miss Bloom, thank you very much!) finds herself ensconced in a ‘room with a view’ in the Woodlands Nursing Home after breaking her hip. She is ferociously independent, preferring the company of birds to that of humans, whose behaviour she finds baffling. She is counting down the days to when she can return to the tranquility of her beloved home.

Walter Clements lives in the room next door. He loves dad jokes, whisky and his best mate Murray who is now bedridden. He can’t wait to pass his ‘driving test’ for a mobility scooter so he can return to his home.

Nell deftly tells the story of how these two unlikely allies become co-conspirators in a plan to help Murray return to his beloved wife and garden one more time. Along the way we learn about their lives, and the lives of other residents of the nursing home. It’s so easy to dismiss the elderly, forgetting that they have lived all sorts of lives - some ordinary, some extraordinary.

So many issues regarding how we treat our older community members are touched upon. From the over-zealous children who infantilize their parents, to the over-use of medication to ‘help’ residents sleep through the night, Nell uses her experience as a GP to explore how we can better provide stimulating and caring environments for our seniors.

I found this book incredibly poignant and moving. It made me laugh, and it brought me to tears. I really cannot recommend it enough. It’s an absolute gem.

Thank you to Australian Children’s Book Council for a review copy of this book. Please find my review at readtime.com.au.

Thank you to Australian Children’s Book Council for a review copy of this book. Please find my review at readtime.com.au.

I cannot resist this series! McCall Smith has again written a charming and gentle story set in Botswana and featuring Precious Ramotswe, together with the usual support characters that I have grown to love over the previous twenty-one books.

As is always the case, the book is less about the plot and more about the philosophical questions raised, and the discussions that follow.

Questions about the role of women in society: ‘We have always asked too much of women in this country. They hold up the sky on their shoulders’.

Questions about modern slavery: ‘We thought that slavery was a thing of the past, but that was not true. There were slaves right under our noses - everywhere - all over the world’.

Questions about generational differences: ‘His two young mechanics lived in a completely different world, it seemed to him. This was not the world that he and Mma Ramotswe inhabited - a world in which people went about their business in an orderly way, drank tea at regular intervals, and retired to bed before nine-thirty at night’.

And always the acknowledgement of the wisdom of our elders: ‘We were not the first people to tread where we now trod; countless ancestors had come exactly this way. And although their footprints might have been blown away by the wind, we could sense their presence if only we opened our eyes and ears to it. And we could hear their voices, too, if we listened hard enough. We could hear their warnings, their encouragements, their advice - if only we turned our head to the wind and heard the voices, faint and distant, that the wind carried’.

The Joy and Light Bus Company does not disappoint. As the world faces its third year of pandemic, sharing bush tea and fruit cake with Precious Ramotswe, Grace Makutsi, J.L.B. Matekoni and the indomitable Mma Potokwani is like a soothing salve. Enjoy.

When Evie Boyd first notices the girls, she sees them as ‘royalty in exile’ who seemed to ‘glide above all that was happening around them, tragic and separate’. Evie is fourteen and desperate to be noticed. In the Californian summer of 1969, Evie drifts into the world of Suzanne and the other girls who orbit around the charismatic Russell, whose languid charm hides a controlling monster.

The Girls is inspired by the real events that took place in August, 1969, when Charles Manson orchestrated the brutal murder of five people, including a pregnant Sharon Tate. These shocking murders were made more disturbing by the fact that they were perpetrated by young women, who appeared to have no remorse for their actions.

Cline has absolutely nails the desperate need of a young girl to feel a part of something bigger than an ordinary life. As she listens to ‘sorrowful forty-fives’ with ‘fanatic repetition’ she works herself into an emotional frenzy, imagining that she is aligned with the ‘tragic nature of the world’. She wants ‘all of life to feel that frantic and pressurised with portent, so even colours and weather and tastes would be more saturated’. She embraces the lifestyle at the ranch, and is thrilled to feel accepted as part of their family.

Evie’s parents are distracted, her father having run off with a younger woman, and her mother trying to attract another partner. It is easy for her to stay for long periods of time at ‘the ranch’ with Suzanne and the other girls, and finds herself falling under their spell. ‘It was the knowledge, perhaps, that I would do whatever Suzanne wanted me to do. That was a strange thought - that there was just this banal sense of being moved along the bright river of whatever was going to happen. That it could be as easy as this.’

It’s a disturbing read, as we know what happens, and we can see how Evie is enthralled by Russell and his followers, accepting behaviour she knows is unacceptable: ‘I told myself there were things I didn’t understand. I recycled the words I’d heart Russell speak before, fashioned them into an explanation. Sometimes he had to punish us in order to show his love.’

As a female reader, this book made me look back at my teenage years and thank my lucky stars that I didn’t fall in with ‘the wrong crowd’. If nothing else, The Girls is a cautionary tale. It really is a miracle that any of us survive that volatile combination of hormones, neediness and sense of invincibility.

Molly Hook, the gravedigger’s daughter, is twelve years old, and motherless, surviving a brutal life with her father Horace and uncle Aubrey, when the Japanese bombs rain down on Darwin in 1942.

She embarks on a journey to find Longcoat Bob, who she believes has put a curse on her family. Her travel companions are Greta Maze, a blonde bombshell actress and Yukio Miki, a Japanese fighter pilot, Molly’s ‘sky gift’ as he fell from the sky.

[a:Trent Dalton|17503523|Trent Dalton|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1541749971p2/17503523.jpg] has written another magical, lyrical novel that requires the reader to surrender to his poetic and romantic writing style. At times overblown, but always beguiling, I lost myself in this wondrous novel and will never forget the indomitable Molly Hook.

‘Peggy Smart was ninety percent sure it was Monday.’

It’s impossible not to empathise with Peggy Smart. At almost 80 years of age, she knows that women her age become invisible, turning ‘completely neutral, blending in so perfectly to the tasteful decor of the retirement village that she had all but disappeared.’

She is still grieving the loss of her husband Ted, and is terrified that her adult children are going to see her occasional lapses of memory as an excuse to pack her off to a nursing home. Her life is dictated by her medication and her problem bladder that has hindered her all her life. She pines for the highly eligible Brian Cornell, yearning for ‘a deeper connection with another human’.

When a new resident moves in to the Village, Peggy cannot believe her eyes - it’s an old school friend, Angie Valentine, who she hasn’t seen for fifty years. Angie is still as glamorous as she was then; the life of the party. And she sees it as her mission to show Peggy how to age disgracefully.

You will find yourself quietly cheering for Peggy as her confidence grows, and she starts to embrace life again.

[a:Joanna Nell|18061662|Joanna Nell|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1531896805p2/18061662.jpg] has written a novel that celebrates growing old, and shows us that ageing doesn’t mean that we have to stop living a full and meaningful life. Sometimes we all need a friend like Angie Valentine!

Val McDermid mines her own experience as a journalist in Glasgow in the 1970s giving her latest novel, 1979, a real sense of authenticity.

Allie Burns and Danny Sullivan are young journalists trying to make a name for themselves in the cut-throat world of newspaper journalism. They discover that they have a shared passion and drive; as Danny says ‘From the very start journalism had been like a virus in his brain. He couldn’t resist the pull of a story’. Danny has uncovered a tax-evasion scheme that involves his brother, and enlists Allie’s help to polish the story for publication. Allie jumps at the opportunity to write something more than ‘the baby stories’ that are usually assigned to female reporters. Before they know it, they have ruffled the wrong feathers, with terrible repercussions.

McDermid has written a tight and enthralling thriller - again. In 1979 she also explores how far we have come from the sexism and homophobia that was entrenched in society in the 1970s.

I believe there will be more books featuring the intrepid Allie Burns which is excellent news.

Highly recommended.

I listened to the audiobook version of this novel. It’s certainly atmospheric, set in the harsh landscape of Australian opal mining country. The men are harsh, the weather is harsh - it’s a pretty brutal place to be. I don’t think I’m in the right mindset at the moment to be submerged in all this…harshness!

The characters are well drawn, but I found the plot a bit confusing. This could be that I was listening to the story, rather than reading it, so I got a bit lost in the complicated double-crossing that occurs.

This was an enjoyable enough book to listen to, but not a favourite for me.

Outstanding! I hope this becomes a children’s classic!

Matthew is a child who dreams of travelling to the North Pole. He is very much loved by his parents - but their love is suffocating him and stopping him from just being a boy. He’s lonely, finding it hard to connect with other children, his nose always in a book.

Then one day, a talking crow named Lewis Carmichael knocks on his window and changes his world. They share an adventure in a hot-air balloon; travelling to the North Pole where they encounter polar bears and arctic wolves, and see the northern lights. Through Lewis’s belief in him, Matthew discovers that he is, indeed, able to find his own way.

…he liked the bird’s words. Strong. Brave. You held your ground. The words made him want to keep going. He hadn’t known that words could be so powerful.

What an outstanding book with which to start the new year!
Having re-read [b:The Dark Is Rising|210329|The Dark Is Rising (The Dark is Rising, #2)|Susan Cooper|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1349051230l/210329.SY75.jpg|1530651] recently, I couldn’t help noticing the many similarities between it and Pacat’s new book - it’s hard to avoid when the title is so obvious a homage to [a:Susan Cooper|7308|Susan Cooper|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1379606336p2/7308.jpg]’s masterpiece, and the heroes of both books share the name Will. There are also obvious references to [b:The Lord of the Rings|33|The Lord of the Rings|J.R.R. Tolkien|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1566425108l/33.SX50.jpg|3462456]. However, this first book in a proposed trilogy is not a rip-off of these classics, but instead a gentle nod of acknowledgement to books that forged the path for Pacat to create her own world.
Dark Rise is an action packed, character-driven fantasy. The story begins in 1821 London on the busy docks. I could hear the clamour, and smell the sea air - it was like a book with surround-sound! I realised from the get-go that I was in the hands of a skilful author, whose world-building and descriptions take the reader away from the everyday and into her world. I found myself totally submerged in Dark Rise and I cannot wait until the next book is released.

Inga Simpson’s books all demonstrate her love of the natural world, and her horror at how we are treating it. In The Last Woman in the World she goes one step further, showing us a world that has been all but destroyed by our foolishness: first with fire due to climate change, then pandemic and finally a mysterious death that is causing mass destruction.

Rachel deliberately lives alone. She is an artist; creating beautiful objects with glass. She’s traumatised by the fires that swept the country and has removed herself from the outside world, only seeing her sister and another friend occasionally. When a young woman with her baby hammers on her door one morning, she wants nothing to do with them. But she hears the terror in the mother’s voice and lets them in. The world has been swept by a mysterious death that kills thousands in an instant. Together, Rachel and Hannah must leave the safety of her home to travel to Canberra with baby Isaiah to find him antibiotics, and also find Rachel’s beloved sister.

This novel is relentless. The horrors they encounter on their journey are straight out of a Stephen King book. I couldn’t put it down. I was totally invested in these women and their journey. Rachel’s affinity with the natural world is visceral and the trauma she feels from the destruction wrought by the bushfires is physical:

Another ten minutes and she would have lost everything. Not that any of that would have mattered, not compared to what had been lost. Billions of trees and animals. The pain rushed up in her chest, her heartbeat too fast, breathing too shallow. As if the land was her body.

The perfect feel-good antidote to these stressful times, The Dressmakers of Yarrandarrah Prison gives the reader real insight into the lives of men in prison, and how important friendship, community, purpose (and sewing!) can be in helping these men develop. There is also a great sub-plot revolving around the repercussions of a proposed closure of the local public library - reminding the reader of how many outreach services public libraries provide.
This is a fairytale, but like most fairytales, there is a kernel of truth, and the message is one of hope.

I would have adored this book when I was a child! It’s got all the ingredients guaranteed to keep the reader engrossed, right to the very last page.
It’s set in 1952, in smoggy London. Penny Black (yes, as in the world’s first adhesive postage stamp) lives with her uncle above his post office. When she catches a small, furry creature appearing to steal a letter, she soon discovers there’s a whole other world beneath the streets of London, where creatures like Wishyouwas look after the lost letters.
Penny is a feisty heroine, up against the scary Stanley Scrawl, the rat catcher, who is determined to destroy Wishyouwas’s community. Details regarding letters and mail sorting and postage may be quite foreign to a twenty first century child and could need some explaining.
The author has skilfully created the world of the tiny sorters, bringing back memories of the tiny world of [b:The Borrowers|348573|The Borrowers (The Borrowers, #1)|Mary Norton|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1308945559l/348573.SX50.jpg|802336].
Special mention must be made of the gorgeous black and white illustrations by Penny Neville-Lee which enrich the story enormously.
Set in the days leading up to Christmas, this is the perfect Christmas present for a reader aged 8+ or would be an excellent read-aloud story for younger children.

Thank you to The Children’s Book Council for a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. Please check their webpage for my review: goodreads.com.au

I love it when reading a book, I learn a new word. Thank you [a:Susan Cooper|7308|Susan Cooper|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1379606336p2/7308.jpg] for introducing me to “thribbling” which is another word for improvising - used in this context for actors performing [b:A Midsummer Night’s Dream|1622|A Midsummer Night’s Dream|William Shakespeare|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327874534l/1622.SY75.jpg|894834], who can’t remember their exact lines.
Cooper immerses the reader in Elizabethan London - you can hear the noise, feel the cobblestones and smell the stink of unwashed bodies, rotting garbage and effluent in the streets. You share young Nat Field’s confusion, when he wakes to find himself in a strange bed, and discovers that he has travelled back in time to 1599, where he is an actor in the newly erected Globe Theatre, working beside William Shakespeare.
How Nat copes with this situation, and why he finds himself transported in time, makes for a thrilling read. Details of theatre life and the workings of the Globe Theatre in particular, are fascinating. This is an excellent introduction to Shakespeare, making him a living, breathing man who takes Nat under his wing. It would be a lot of fun to watch a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream after reading this book - it would make the reader feel like they have secret, insider knowledge about the background of this Shakespeare comedy.
Highly recommended for readers aged 10 years and older.

[b:The Skylarks’ War|39903894|The Skylarks’ War|Hilary McKay|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1530694826l/39903894.SY75.jpg|61748760] is an outstanding novel (see my 5 star review). So I was super excited to see that Hilary McKay had written a companion story. The Swallows’ Flight follows alternating story lines, until they inevitably cross paths. We meet Erik and Hans in Berlin in 1931 as boys who love to watch the swallows fly, and who will eventually become pilots for Germany, fighting in a war they want no part of. Without sermonising, McKay shows her reader how ‘soldiers’ on both sides were more often than not unwilling participants. We also follow Ruby and Kate, and the story of ‘Dog’ an ill-treated dog in London.
Unfortunately, I found myself confused by all the different characters, and kept referring to the family tree at the back of the book to make sense of what I was reading. These trees should be positioned at the front, so readers can find them easily. Because there were so many characters, it was hard to form a bond with any of them, unlike the bond I felt with Clarry in The Skylarks’ War, which is such a pity.
Even with these faults, McKay is a wonderful author, who always writes with a sense of hope, which is so important, particularly in these dark times.

How little you know how you’ve kept my balance.
It’s what’s not said that makes this book so extraordinary. The emotions never articulated, the feelings, deeply felt, but never expressed. So many missed opportunities to connect. I found this novel profoundly sad, and a little too close to home - I saw my parent’s marriage poignantly reflected in The Sweet Shop Owner. For a first novel, written by a man barely into his thirties, it is a testament to Swift’s emotional maturity.
If the word love is never spoken, does it mean there isn’t any love?

Outstanding audio, brilliantly narrated by Michael Sheen. Lyra Silvertongue is now 20 years old, and separated from her beloved daemon Pantalaimon. Pullman has created a world that is both familiar, and foreign, where politics and religion are too closely aligned, and where friends are more important than ever. I loved this, and can’t wait for the conclusion of the trilogy.

Set in 1938 Ceylon and the dying days of the British Empire, The Pavilion in the Clouds is a stand alone novel from the prodigious pen of Alexander McCall Smith.
I have mixed emotions about this book. I found parts a bit of a plod - I wasn’t as engaged with the characters as I usually am with McCall Smith’s novels. In fact, not a lot happens for much of the novel. There are long passages of the characters’ thoughts. Much time is spent by young Bella and her mother being suspicious of the governess - is she having an affair with Bella’s father? These people have too much idle time on their hands! There were echos of Atonement as Bella does something that will affect many lives, for many years.
McCall Smith creates a sense of claustrophobia in this ex-pat community which is clinging on to the last vestiges of a colonial life of comfort. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. Women are bored; men are all powerful.
As always, this is a gentle book, and in these turbulent times, it is like a soothing salve for the reader’s bruised soul.

The Skylarks’ War is a beautiful book. I immediately fell in love with Clarry, her difficult older brother Peter, and their charismatic cousin, Rupert.
Clarry and Peter can’t wait for the summer holidays, when they can escape the confines of boarding school (for Peter) and living with their distant father (Clarry) to stay with their grandparents, running wild in Cornwall with Rupert. These summers are idyllic, and take on an almost mythical hue in the face of the looming dark cloud of World War One. McKay has a gift for describing not only landscape, and the emotions it can engender, but also fully-developed characters. How could the reader not fall in love with Rupert:

Rupert had a curving smile and lazy green-gold eyes, completely unlike Peter’s wary grey glance. His jokes were the best, his tennis balls flew the highest, his stories charmed the most listeners, cats strolled over and sat beside him, dogs regarded him with comradely affection, the sunlight tanned him apricot-gold and rain rolled off him in silver drops. He was recklessly kind. For Clarry he was the centre of summer, the light on the water, the warmth in the wind, the welcome-back song of the bee-humming moor.

On either side of the line were the armies. Neither was winning, although not because they didn’t try. They tried very hard and when one way didn’t work they tried another. There Germans were the first to use poison gas, and the British were to first to use tanks. Perfectly reasonable people, the sort who in their previous lives let wasps out of windows; read storybooks to children, doing all the proper voices; flinched at flat notes; and hardly ever shouted, got drunk or forgot their mothers’ birthdays - absolutely ordinary people - made considerable efforts to kill other absolutely ordinary people whom they had never even met.

Wallace Price is a pretty nasty piece of work. He’s a workaholic lawyer who has no problem with making his staff cry. His work is his life. He has no concept of the meaning of empathy. And then he dies. And a reaper collects him from his own funeral (where no-one is mourning his demise) and takes him to Charon’s Crossing Tea and Treats tearoom to meet the ferryman, Hugo Freeman, who will ‘explain everything before you cross, any of those pesky, lingering questions’.

Under the Whispering Door follows one man’s journey to discover what living a good life is really all about. It’s whimsical and funny and sweet. Wallace needs to learn to be honest with himself about the life he has lived and honesty can be a weapon. ‘It could be used to stab and tear and spill blood upon the earth. Wallace knew that; he had his fair share of blood on his hands. But it was different now. He was using it upon himself, and he was flayed open because of it.’

The novel doesn’t say anything particularly new - if you’ve read any [a:Mitch Albom|2331|Mitch Albom|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1368640552p2/2331.jpg] or [b:The Midnight Library|52578297|The Midnight Library|Matt Haig|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1602190253l/52578297.SY75.jpg|74043794] you’ve heard it all before. However, TJ Klune has a special touch and his exploration of grief and all its permutations is honest and raw. As he says in his Author’s Note: ‘This story explores life and love as well as loss and grief. There are discussions of death in different forms - quiet, unexpected, and death by suicide. Please read with care.’

I didn’t love this book as much as I did [b:The House in the Cerulean Sea|45047384|The House in the Cerulean Sea|T.J. Klune|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1569514209l/45047384.SY75.jpg|62945242] which I just adored. But I still loved it!

This is the first book in a new series from [a:Ann Cleeves|56067|Ann Cleeves|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1262915904p2/56067.jpg], introducing Detective Matthew Venn and his team. As they investigate a murder, Cleeves reveals the backgrounds of the main characters. Venn, ‘a man who never opened his mouth unless he had something useful to say’; DS Jen Rafferty, who struggles to juggle her work with single-parenting two teenage children; and Constable Ross May who is keen on self-promotion but not so keen on hard graft.
I love a book with a strong sense of place. Like [a:Elly Griffiths|2541526|Elly Griffiths|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1263313152p2/2541526.jpg]’ Norfolk in her Ruth Galloway series, Cleeves describes the Devon landscape and its sounds and smells so vividly you feel immersed.
It is refreshing that The Long Call’s cast of characters is diverse, truly reflecting contemporary English life, without any skerrick of tokenism.
I read this book after reading the second instalment,[b:The Heron’s Cry|56269063|The Heron’s Cry (Two Rivers, #2)|Ann Cleeves|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1623116403l/56269063.SY75.jpg|87659623], but it made no difference at all. I’m looking forward to further investigations with Venn and his team, in the beautiful Devon countryside.

Books that appeal to sporty kids are hard to find - Elsewhere Girls hits the sweet spot: engaging characters who are passionate about their chosen sport, in this case, swimming.

Cat lives in modern day Sydney and is on a sports scholarship at an exclusive girls’ college, which makes her feel extremely pressured. Fan lives in 1908 Sydney, and is passionate about swimming, wanting to compete in the Olympics one day. She is constrained by the lack of choice available for women at this time.

While both swimming in Wylie Baths at Coogee they mysteriously swap places. Time-slip novels often play on the laughs of a character being a ‘fish out of water’. The authors don’t write for the laughs, instead using the time difference to highlight the fundamentally similar issues the girls face, but also illustrating the particular hardships Fan faces in trying to follow her dreams. But there is a light touch, and there is humour. As Cat wonders what is happening in her life - ‘If Fanny is me, is she doing a good job? She’s probably fainted from the shock of everything that’s been invented since 1908. I hope she’s using deodorant.’

This book works on so many levels: it’s a great story, with engaging, strong female characters that also offers the reader an insight into women’s lives in 1908. There’s a lot of historic content which will easily be absorbed by the reader, without them even realising!

Fanny Durack and Mina Wylie are, of course, real girls who did eventually compete in the 1912 Olympic Games, becoming the first Australian women to win Olympic medals; gold for Fanny, silver for her best friend Mina.

If you live in Sydney, make a date to swim at the historic Wylie Baths and remember the indomitable Fanny and Mina.

Recommended for ages 10+

This is a very unusual story by Stephen King. It’s a monologue by the titular Dolores Claiborne, recounting her life story to the local sheriff after being arrested for the suspected murder of her employer Vera Donovan. There are no chapters and no other perspectives. I think it could be hard work to physically read, but to listen to as narrated by Frances Sternhagen was absolutely perfect. I was totally mesmerised, and felt such compassion for Dolores. As Dolores says, ‘Sometimes you have to be a high riding bitch to survive, sometimes, being a bitch is all a woman has to hang on to.’

This is the third instalment of Horowitz’s series, where he plays the role of the rather hapless sidekick to his brilliant, but annoying, fictional detective Daniel Hawthorne. The other titles are The Word is Murder and The Sentence is Death. Horowitz is worried that he will soon run out of titles with grammatical allusions!

This time we find them invited to a literary festival held on a remote island and before you can say ‘Agatha Christie’, a murder is committed and everyone’s a suspect. As Horowitz complains, ‘I had come to Alderney in the hope that I would be introducing Hawthorne to my world: books, lectures and all the rest of it. But instead, I had once again been dragged into his’.

Using a writing festival as the setting gives Horowitz plenty of opportunity to wax lyrical about the shared love of literature: ‘I think there’s something wonderful and reassuring about the idea that in the rush of modern life people will still come together and sit for an hour in a theatre, a gymnasium or a giant tent simply out of a love of books and reading.’ Obviously, anyone reading his book will be in total agreement.

This is an easy book to read; a real page-turner. But Horowitz can also be insightful. As he notes: ‘there are victims in every murder story, and not just the ones who are killed’. Just like Poirot and Holmes, Hawthorne waits for the final pages before the big reveal, and the reader is left wondering ‘why didn’t I work that out?’ And that’s the reason we all enjoy a great whodunit!

Real Friends is another graphic novel that really hits the ‘sweet spot’! Shannon Hale’s autobiographical story of her time in upper primary school brought back so many memories of the pain (and joy) that making (and keeping) friends at that age can bring: actually, at any age really!
It’s easy to forget how tough being a kid can be - and how important it is to be part of the ‘crowd’. Hale absolutely nails the anxiety and unhappiness a child can experience when they feel excluded and unpopular. She doesn’t flinch from the harsh realities of the playground, but she also celebrates the liberation found when you discover your true self.
Highly recommended for ages 7+/

The name ‘Josephine Tey’ keeps popping up in my life. This time it was while listening to the podcast Backlisted, where they discussed Miss Pym Disposes. If you are at all familiar with her name, it’s probably due to her most popular novel [b:The Daughter of Time|77661|The Daughter of Time (Inspector Alan Grant, #5)|Josephine Tey|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1394326949l/77661.SY75.jpg|3222080] which is a detective novel, in the truest sense. Miss Pym Disposes is less a mystery novel, and more a study of young women and what happens when they are isolated from the rest of society (in this case boarding at the Leys Physical Training College) and put under immense pressure to succeed.

The titular Miss Lucy Pym has unexpectedly become famous for writing a pop psychology book and is invited by an old school chum who is now the Principal of Leys College to give a lecture there. Before she knows it, she finds herself enmeshed in this foreign world of bells and tradition and the subtle cruelty only girls can inflict. After a comment made by the unpopular student Rouse, ‘their eyes went to her, and came away again, expressionlessly. No one commented on what she had said. Their indifference left her marooned in the moment’.

This is a book of its time. Written in 1946, there are some references that are now lost in said time, but I found this didn’t detract from the enjoyment at all. It’s also very English. The tone, the many references to English traditions and traits: ‘As always, the English were moved by a gallant failure where an easy success left them merely polite’. And the unmistakable English landscape, described with unabashed affection:

She would go away deep into the green and white and yellow countryside, and smell the may and lie in the grass and feel the world turning on its axis, and remember that it was a very large world, and that College griefs were wild and bitter, but soon over, and that in the Scale of Things they were undeniably Very Small Beer.

Many thanks to The Australian Children’s Book Council for a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review, which I will share once it is published at readingtime.com.au.

Ann Cleeves knows what she is doing. Famous for her Vera and Shetland series, The Heron Cry is the second book featuring Detective Matthew Venn, set in North Devon. What makes Cleeves’ books so enjoyable is how she equally balances character development with a well thought out plot. We spend enough time with Venn and his colleagues DS Jen Rafferty and DC Ross May to get to know what drives them, and what is holding them back. Everyone is dealing with their own personal demons and messy lives, while at the same time trying to find a murderer who has a penchant for using shards of broken glass vases for their murder weapon.

Venn is estranged from his elderly mother, after leaving the claustrophobic confines of The Brethren, a strict religious community, and is very buttoned-up. Jen is a frazzled single mum, feeling guilty about not spending enough time with her kids and drinking too much, and Ross is impatient and ambitious, wanting to secure a comfortable future for himself and his wife. And they are just the police officers! The suspects are many, and most have secrets that cast their innocence in doubt.

There is a strong theme revolving around guilt in this book; all the characters, including the police officers, are carrying a heavy load of it and for some, it’s become very toxic.

The plot is complex, with an abundance of false leads and red herrings and we see how much hard (and sometimes tedious) leg work is involved in trying to solve a crime. I haven’t read the first book in the series, [b:The Long Call|43263552|The Long Call (Two Rivers, #1)|Ann Cleeves|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1551047656l/43263552.SY75.jpg|67142367], but I don’t think it’s effected my enjoyment of this book at all. I am looking forward to catching up with it, not to mention reading further investigations with Venn and his team.

‘This night will be bad…and tomorrow will be beyond imagining.’

After listening to a Backlisted podcast discussing The Dark is Rising I felt impelled to revisit this children’s classic. I was 13 when it was published, so the perfect age to appreciate its power. This is not a jolly-hockey-style children’s fantasy. Cooper mines the rich vein of Britain’s myths and legends, and the book is imbued with a dark menace.

On the eve of his eleventh birthday, Will Stanton’s world is turned upside down when he discovers that he is, in fact, the Sign-Seeker, last of the immortal Old Ones, destined to battle the powers of evil that trouble the land. There is an inevitability to this burden, and Will accepts it with stoicism:

‘He accepted everything that came into his mind, without thought or question, as if he were moving through a dream. But a deeper part of him knew that he was not dreaming. He was crystal-clear awake, in a Midwinter Day that had been waiting for him to wake into it since the day he had been born, and, he somehow knew, for centuries before that.’

‘On Christmas night, Will always slept with [his brother] James. There was something about Christmas Eve, they both felt, that demanded company; one needed somebody to whisper to, during the warm beautiful dream-taut moments between hanging the empty stocking at the end of the bed, and dropping into the cosy oblivion that would flower into the marvel of Christmas morning.’

What a delight to again spend time with the indomitable Septuagenarians Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron who reside in Coopers Chase Retirement village, and just love to spend their days solving crime. They make the perfect team: Elizabeth is an ex-spook, Joyce a retired nurse, Ibrahim a psychiatrist and Ron has a background in the union movement. They may be struggling with sore knees and creaking hips, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with their ‘little grey cells’.

Elizabeth receives a letter from a former colleague, asking for her help. He’s in a spot of bother; bother which involves the mafia and stolen diamonds worth 20 million dollars. This story may involve people ‘of an age’, but there is nothing slow about the pace and in the blink of an eye, dead bodies start piling up!

I love the camaraderie, affection and respect our gang of four share. This warmth extends to their friend and accomplice, Bogdan, a Polish man who can always be relied on when a bit of muscle is required and the local police officers, Chris and Donna, who they invariably assist. Many a chapter finishes with one of the characters reflecting on how lucky they are to have such friends.

The conversations are often quite hilarious and made me laugh out loud. But there is, as in the first book, an underlying sense of pathos and sadness, as all these people have experienced loss. As Joyce records in her diary, “When I woke up, and realised Gerry [her deceased husband] had gone, my heart broke once again, and I sobbed and sobbed. I imagine if you could hear all the morning tears in this place it would sound like birdsong.” Death is never far from their thoughts, but as Bogdan thinks, ‘people love to sleep, and yet they are so frightened of death. He has never understood it.’

But don’t be deterred by these musings - as this book is full of life and love and laughter. After Ibrahim is injured badly in a mugging, Ron considers how he wants to deal with the perpetrator when he’s caught: ‘perhaps he’ll get his chance to smack Ryan Baird right in that gaping mouth before this is all over. Ron hopes so. He has a lot of respect for Gandhi and his ilk, but sometimes you have to cross the line.’ In fact, there is a lot of line-crossing before the end of this book!

I read this book in two sittings and now feel deflated that I’ve finished it - it’s that sort of book. So, do yourself a favour, and, if you haven’t read it already, read The Thursday Murder Club first, then The Man Who Died Twice - I guarantee you won’t regret it.

Sophie Hannah has been authorised by the Agatha Christie Estate to write ‘new’ Hercule Poirot mysteries. The Mystery of Three Quarters is the third in the series.

Anyone who loved the original Agatha Christie novels will approach another author’s attempts with caution. Hannah has written an entertaining mystery, which embraces many of the tropes we would expect from a homage to Agatha Christie’s Poirot. There are twists and turns and false leads aplenty, with Poirot being equal parts brilliant and pedantic, as always.

This book is not particularly memorable, but it is a pleasing distraction from the current state of the world!

I only read a few chapters and couldn’t read any more. The main character is vile, in fact all the characters are awful and life is too short to spend time with them. Disappointing, as I’ve enjoyed many other P. D. James books.

The Silver Pigs is the first in a series set in 70 AD Rome about an ‘informer’ or a private investigator in modern terminology, named Marcus Didius Falco. This story may be set in Ancient Rome, but it reads like a Raymond Chandler novel, particularly the whip-smart dialogue. Once you embrace this strange juxtaposition it’s is a lot of fun, with a cracking pace. I listened to it as an audio book which added to the fun as the narrator, Chritian Rodska, sounds like someone selling fruit from a barrow in a London market!

We get trapped in our own little bubbles, and even though the world is a wide and mysterious place, our bubbles keep us safe from that. To our detriment.

This book took my breath away!

In a world shared by magical and non-magical folk, Linus Baker works for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth as a caseworker. He is sent to orphanages for magical children to assess if they are being cared for properly. Linus’ world revolves around his work, his tiny home, his records and his cranky cat, Calliope. He’s forty, and alone.

Linus is sent on a top secret assignment to investigate and report on an orphanage on an island where six magical children, who are described as ‘special’, live with their enigmatic carer, Arthur Parnassus.

As Linus begins to understand the children, and grows closer to Arthur, he also begins to question the rules and regulations that he has allowed to dictate how he lives. He witnesses the cruelty of people towards these unusual children and learns that people ‘fear what they don’t understand. And that fear turns to hate for reasons I’m sure even they can’t begin to comprehend. And since they don’t understand the children, since they fear them, they hate them.’

Klune has created wonderful characters - these children who are all so different, are three dimensional: full of mischief and naughtiness but all seeking love and family and a safe home: ‘a home isn’t always the house we live in. It’s also the people we choose to surround ourselves with.’

Watching Linus’ true character emerge into the daylight is a total joy. Everything about this book is a total joy! I didn’t want it to end, and when it did, I felt bereft. The House in the Cerulean Sea is about self discovery: about uncovering hidden strengths and embracing life in all its complexity.

The narrator of this book is a forty year old gay man. As the author is himself queer, this story shows a refreshingly positive queer representation. There is nothing to offend any reader here. Although the cover suggests this book is for younger readers, I feel it would better suit readers 12 years and older.

Highly recommended to everyone!

During these challenging times, I have returned to a childhood favourite, even reading my original Puffin copy of this classic, printed in 1968, and priced at 60 cents!

As an adult, it is impossible to avoid the obvious parallels in the plot to the story of Jesus. ‘“Who is Aslan?” asked Susan. “Aslan? Why, don’t you know? He’s the King. He’s the Lord of the whole wood…”’ So, Aslan is Jesus, with Peter, Susan and Lucy his disciples and Edmund is obviously Judas. We have his crucifixion, and his rising from the dead.

But, let’s put all this adult insight aside. The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe is a cracking good children’s story. Lewis writes in an almost conversationalist style, often speaking directly to the reader. The children’s adventure starts quickly, and the pace of the story never slacks.

At a tidy 171 pages, this book will not be daunting to a younger reader. I cannot recommend it highly enough, and am now going to prolong my escape to Narnia by reading Prince Caspian.

This was so tedious. The premise sounds promising, but the reality was repetitive and self-indulgent. There were no surprises, and the main character annoying, with an over inflated sense of entitlement - wanting ‘the perfect life’ and nothing less. She needed to put on her big girl pants and get on with it!

Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for an ARC in exchange for my honest review. Please follow this link for my review:
https://readingtime.com.au/allergic/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=allergic

Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for an ARC in exchange for my honest review.

This is a strange little book! According to the author, it is written for adults and secondary school students. It’s certainly a scholarly piece, with nine pages of references. However, the book doesn’t look academic, with its nostalgic old-school cover, so it sends mixed messages to the reader. It is a slender volume which makes sense as it is actually a revised and expanded version of an article previously published in The Yorker, which is the journal of the Melbourne Cricket Club Library.

The author is a self-confessed cricket tragic, and I’m sure this book will appeal to others suffering the same affliction! Sampson has dug deep to uncover this little-know history of the very first women’s cricket matches held in Australia in 1874. And here’s the rub: the majority of the 80 pages of text are made up of verbatim newspaper reports of the time, with Sampson weaving them together into a narrative. There are also original illustrations, articles and photographs included, however some are hard to read or distinguish because of the poor quality of the original source – many from the National Library of Australia.

That being said, it’s extraordinary to read how some newspapers vilified the women who played in this inaugural game to raise funds for charity, charging them with being unfeminine, ‘unsexed’ (whatever that’s supposed to mean!) and unnatural. We have come a long way and are indebted to these pioneering women who forged the path for future generations of sportswomen.

This would be a useful resource for students exploring the following themes: feminism and women’s rights, women’s sport history, media bias, Australian history and colonialism. According to the publisher, the book is also available in paperback format for class sets and libraries.

I gave up after 120 pages. I found it confusing and the characters flat. Life is too short!

Do not be deterred by the lack of punctuation (Winman uses no quotation marks for dialogue) or by the strangely truncated sentences. Because once you’ve embraced these idiosyncrasies you will find yourself swept away by the sheer beauty of this book.

Beginning in 1944 in Tuscany, a young British soldier by the name of Ulysses Temper (what a name!) meets Evelyn Skinner, a sexagenarian art historian who is helping to salvage paintings from the rubble. From this chance meeting, we follow their post-war paths, and wonder at the effect their meeting has on their lives.

Winman has created characters that will stay with you long after you finish the book with a sigh. She celebrates the importance of friendship and of following your heart. There are elements of the fantastic which further enhanced the sometimes dreamlike quality of the story (how could you not fall in love with a blue Amazonian parrot named Claude who quotes Shakespeare at the most inappropriate moments?)

I will say no more, but instead finish my review with a few of my favourite quotes:

[Alys] was five. Would she remember that moment as completely as [Ulysses] saw it? Probably not. But she would remember the day because years later, she would tell people about it. The cool of the floor on her bare legs, the lines she’d made on the page. She would remember how a morning became an afternoon…how Ulysses’ gaze made her think she was something, or something enough. How she saw a woman dressed as a man and thought how interesting life could be, might be. The type of day that showed her where she ended, and the world began.

There are moments in life, so monumental and still, that the memory can never be retrieved without a catch to the throat or an interruption to the beat of the heart. Can never be retrieved without the rumbling disquiet of how close that moment came to not having happened at all.

So, time heals. Mostly. Sometimes carelessly. And in unsuspecting moments, the pain catches and reminds one of all that’s been missing. The fulcrum of what might have been. But then it passes. Winter moves into spring and swallows return. The proximity of new skin returns to the sheets. Beauty does what is required. Jobs fulfil and conversations inspire. Loneliness becomes a mere Sunday. Scattered clothes. Empty bowls. Rotting fruit. Passing time. But still life in all its beauty and complexity.

I listened to this as an audible book - the narrator was outstanding.
Although this has the expected supernatural element, Lisey’s Story is, at its heart, a love story and an exploration of grief. Yes, I too was irritated by the weird baby-talk that Lisey and her husband employed, but maybe some couples do that? Anyway, it’s a small irritant in a book that I found particularly moving.

The books we love when we’re growing up shape us in a special way. The characters in the books we read help us decide who we want to be.

Haven’t we all dreamt of being able to talk to our favourite book characters, or even better, be able to enter their worlds? In Anna James’ world, some of us actually can. I wish ‘bookwandering’ really was a thing! But that’s the magic of books, isn’t it? In books, we can go where-ever we want.
Eleven-year-old Tilly Pages has lived with her grandparents above their bookshop ever since her mother mysteriously disappeared when she was a baby.

When Tilly begins to see her favourite characters in the bookshop, and finds she can travel with them into their stories, family secrets are revealed, not to mention a whole ‘underground’ library system, entered via The British Library.

Tilly’s favourite books are Anne of Green Gables and Alice in Wonderland so readers familiar with these stories will have an advantage over those who aren’t. (However, a reference that assumes knowledge of Animal Farm would be lost on most eleven-year-old readers and was incongruous.) Although set in contemporary London, this book has an old-world charm about it. There is never any mention of modern technology, and Tilly would be considered a bit of an odd child by her peers with her head always buried in a book, rather than in her mobile phone! There is a distinct sense of nostalgia which I loved as an adult - I hope it’s as appealing to its intended audience.

I loved the illustrations by Paola Escobar and the use of different typography to indicate Tilly slipping between the real and imagined worlds.

Tilly and the Bookwanderers is a homage to books and their magic. As Tilly’s grandmother explains ‘we’re lucky enough to be able to use the natural magic of books and reading.’

This is the first in a series of adventures which is a total delight.

The Labyrinth is a meditation on mother-love, guilt, grief and healing. We accompany Erica on her journey, both emotional and physical, as she retreats to a shack by the sea, close to the prison where her son is incarcerated.

Nature imbues this novel with a pastoral quality. The extreme weather, the sea with its dangers but also its tranquility, the texture of rocks and grass and sand: Erica embraces all these elements, and in doing so, begins to heal. She dreams about a labyrinth, and resolves to build one on her land, recalling her father’s words “the cure for many ills is to build something”. She can’t do it alone, and as she allows herself to make connections with neighbours, she begins her healing journey.

Sleep, dreaming and sleeplessness play an important part in creating an almost languid tone to the book: ‘Exhausted, I go to bed early again and for the first time in a long while sleep an unbroken sleep that lasts until dawn. When I wake my body is soft; it feels as if in my dreamless state I have known mercy, showered in unearned grace’.

The scenes where Erica visits her son in prison are heartbreaking: ‘My son is an artist; he has done nothing in his adult life but daub canvas, nothing, that is, until his crime. Like any fantasist he believed he could remake the world in his own image, and when that failed he had no alternative but to smash it up: the world, that is. His, and mine.’

The gentle conclusion is perfect.
Reading The Labyrinth was like applying a soothing balm to my damaged heart - cooling and healing. Unforgettable.

I went about reading this series in a roundabout way - I read the second book (The Sentence is Death) first! However, it didn’t affect my level of enjoyment one jot.

Horowitz has a lot of fun with this series. He writes in the first person, cleverly weaving fact with fiction. His protagonist, disgraced police detective Daniel Hawthorne is fictitious, as are the murders and the suspects. But the details surrounding Horowitz’s life are real: his involvement in the film industry, his previous books and even his family are the real deal.

Horowitz finds himself coerced into playing Watson to Hawthorne’s Holmes, accompanying him as he investigates the mysterious murder of a woman who had arranged her own funeral the same day! An intriguing plot ensues, with plenty of red herrings and wrong turns to keep you guessing until the end.

One of the pleasures of this series is being given a birds’ eye view of how tv shows and films are created and the writer’s role in this process. As Horowitz explains: ‘Being the writer on a set is a strange experience. It’s hard to describe the sense of excitement, walking into something that owes its existence entirely to what happened inside my head….So I’ll sit down in a folding chair which never has my name on the back. I’ll watch from the side. I’ll chat to the actors…And as I sit there, I’ll take comfort in the knowledge that this is all mine. I am part of it and it is part of me.’

Hawthorne is not a likeable character. In fact he is a bit of cypher. Horowitz says ‘If I had sat down to write an original murder mystery story, I wouldn’t have chosen anyone like Hawthorne as its main protagonist. I think the world has had quite enough of white, middle-aged, grumpy detectives.’ Like I said, Horowitz really is having fun with all the familiar crime tropes and I do like his clever play on words in his titles: The Word is Murder; The Sentence is Death.

The Word is Murder is a real page-turner, which will keep you guessing to the end. Great fun.

Nope - this didn’t work for me! I can’t put my finger on it, but gave up at 100 pages.

This is a sequel to Gwendy’s Button Box, which Chizmar co-wrote with the prodigious Stephen King. I loved Gwendy’s Button Box. Unfortunately, Gwendy’s Magic Feather lacks, dare I say, the magic of the first book - perhaps what it lacks is King’s magic touch.

Gwendy is now in her late thirties, and where childlike innocence is appealing in a twelve-year-old Gwendy, it’s a bit odd in an adult. Gwendy doesn’t seem to have matured and developed very much at all.

The titular button box re-appears in Gwendy’s life and we never really know why. In fact, the novella as a whole just doesn’t make a lot of sense, and I’m already hard pressed to remember exactly what the plot was. It was a forgettable experience, and ultimately, disappointing.

Precocious eleven-year-old Flavia de Luce returns in her second adventure.

Bradley has fun with all the usual British murder-mystery tropes. The setting is an idyllic English village populated with eccentric individuals that include a mad woman living in the spooky forest, not to mention Flavia’s own fraught family living in their crumbling manor house.

This instalment takes a while to warm up, but then it’s off and running! Flavia has free reign (as her father is preoccupied with his stamp collection - his way of coping with the loss of his wife when Flavia was young) to sneak about the village on her trusted bicycle Gladys, asking impertinent questions of all the suspects. It’s amazing what you can get away with when you’re only eleven! As Flavia says:
We’re past the age of being poppets: the age where people bend over and poke us in the tum with their fingers and make idiotic noises that sound like “boof-boof” - just the thought of which is enough to make me bring up my Bovril. And yet we’re still not at the age where anyone ever mistakes us for a grown-up. The fact is, we’re invisible - except when we choose not to be.

This really is a lot of fun. Flavia can be a little annoying at times, however, she is also a lonely child, who wonders what her mother was like. Her sleuthing keeps her busy, and she’s very good at it! She is also very perceptive for her age: ‘I have learned that under certain circumstances, a fib is not only permissible, but can even be an act of perfect grace’. Flavia, you are wise indeed.

One for the Rebus fans - plays always make for a quick read, and Rankin’s introduction and the Q & A between Rankin and the playwright Rona Munro are revealing.

Thank you to the Children’s Book Council for an ARC in exchange for my honest review, which I will share here once it is published on readingtime.com.au.

When I started to listen to this I thought it had such a great concept: modern day historians travel back in time to witness history as it happens, and bring back an accurate eye-witness account. But after a couple of chapters, my enthusiasm rapidly waned. This is one of those books where everything everyone says is incredibly witty and clever, where action far outweighs character development and where plot seems to have taken a back-seat to said action.
By the end, I didn’t care what had happened to who, as the character development is sketchy at best. The time-line, if I can call it that, is all over the place, and the rules, such as they are, seem to bend to suit the plot.
Very disappointing indeed.

This book has also been published under the title The War Widow

Billie Walker returns to Sydney from war-torn Paris, grieving for her husband who went missing on assignment in Europe. It’s now 1946, and Billie has taken over the reigns of her late father’s detective agency. Most of her work involves tailing cheating spouses - if not particularly savoury, at least it pays the bills. But her latest client has asked her to look for their missing seventeen year old son - and suddenly Billie and her trusted assistant Sam find themselves mired in the murky Sydney underworld.

Moss’s meticulous research shines in this book, illuminating post-war Sydney: its tired glamour and shadowy underbelly. I’m Sydney born and bred, and many of the locations lovingly described are still part of my daily landscape. I’m not, however, much of a fashion-plate, so Moss’s very detailed descriptions of every-piece-of-clothing worn by characters started to wear a bit thin with me - but that’s just a small quibble. I know Moss absolutely adores vintage fashion - and she loves to share the love!

Billie is an independent woman in a world that is reeling from the effects of World War Two. Society wants a return to the comfort of the world it knew, with gender roles clearly defined. ‘After Victory in the Pacific Day women were expected to walk out of the aviation plants and munitions factories and news offices and hospitals they’d run successfully during the war and abandon the independence of a wage to return to their kitchens, but Billie had never been one those women, hadn’t been raised that way, and she certainly wasn’t going to bow to the pressure now.’

Moss deftly tackles several disturbing issues in this book. She doesn’t shrink from the horror, but nor does she wallow. She is a skilful storyteller, and Dead Man Switch is a cracking good read. I’m very much looking forward to more adventures with the sassy Ms Billie Walker.

Although Horowitz claims he has ‘no wish to turn myself into a character, and a secondary one at that: the perennial sidekick’, that is exactly what he has done in this series. He is Dr. Watson to Daniel Hawthorne’s Sherlock Holmes.

The set-up is thus: Hawthorne is a disgraced former police detective, now working as a private investigator. He has chosen Horowitz to be his biographer, which means, of course, Horowitz is involved in all his cases. Following in the tradition of Holmes, Hawthorne is a difficult character, seemingly unaware of his negative effect on everyone he encounters: he’s constantly rude and politically incorrect, making it very difficult for Horowitz to portray him in a sympathetic light. And yet, we still do warm to Hawthorne and his eccentricities.

Horowitz has cleverly woven fact with fiction; real with imaginary, which can at times be a little distracting, but overall makes for an intriguing read. While acting as Hawthorne’s sidekick, Horowitz is also working on the shoot of the latest episode of Foyle’s War (he is the writer and creator of same). This gives the reader a fascinating glimpse into the not-so-glamorous world of television and all its unforeseen difficulties. I will now watch Foyle’s War with some insider knowledge up my sleeve!

Horowitz’s real-life work colleagues and family also star in the book. Although Jill has wife ‘has made it clear that she’s uncomfortable being a character in my book’ he argues ‘unfortunately, truth is what it’s all about. She is the main character in my life’ (my italics). Well, that’s just damn cute, don’t you think?

This is a whodunit written in the classic tradition of Christie and Conan Doyle. There are red herrings aplenty and a labyrinth of twists, turns and coincidences to keep you guessing. It’s a jolly good romp!

Thank you to The Children’s Book Council for the opportunity to review this book.

I approached this autobiography with some apprehension: I have little interest in politics in general, let alone US politics. However, Michelle Obama’s memoir is less about politics and more about her life’s journey. By sharing her story, she hopes that she will inspire her readers (and young women in particular) to think about their own [story], because it’s the most beautiful gift you’ll ever have.

She recounts her childhood with warmth and deep affection for her family and for the neighbourhood where she grew up – the South Side of Chicago. The first line of her book: I spent much of my childhood listening to the sound of striving, immediately informs the reader that Michelle Robinson did not come from ‘money’. Throughout her life, she struggles and fights for what she wants. There’s an age-old maxim in the Black community: You’ve got to be twice as good to get half as far. I think that this maxim can also be applied to women.

At twenty-five she was working in a fancy law firm and was asked to mentor an incoming summer associate: his name was Barack Obama. They fell in love and the rest is, as they say in the classics, history!

What makes this memoir so engrossing is Obama’s constant questioning of herself and her abilities and how she can help to make the world a better place. She questions the traditional roles of ‘wife’ and ‘mother’, but at the same time embraces both roles, but on her own terms. One of her early role-models was Mary, from The Mary Tyler Moore Show, who was ‘independent and funny’, unlike the stereotypical mothers/wives portrayed in the majority of television shows of the time.

As an Australian, it is extraordinary to read that voting is not compulsory in America and how hard it is to convince the population that it is in their best interests to register to vote. (For example, in the 2020 election, roughly 66% of the population voted, the highest figure since 1900.) There are a number of chapters describing the campaigning process, which may be a little dry for some. I must confess to skimming (just a little!).

When Barack was sworn in as the forty-fourth president of the United States in January 2009, he was joined by Michelle and their daughters, Malia aged ten, and Sasha aged seven. The chapters describing their eight years in the White House are full of fascinating details, which will appeal to younger readers, particularly how this impacted on the two girls’ lives.

This is a big book, with a lot of information. I hope that younger readers are not deterred by its size, as Michelle Obama’s story is inspiring, particular for young women.

Highly recommended for readers 13+

Thank you Bill for making me laugh out loud - something I’m not known for doing. You are a funny man, and sometimes very wise. Thanks again.

I loved the author’s obvious love and affection for all things bookish. The literary references throughout are a delight.
However, the book is let down by the main character, Miranda, who I found selfish and really unlikeable. The ‘secret’ was also pretty obvious, in my opinion.
So the three stars are for the lovely Prospero Books, which is the bookshop of your dreams!

Alison Bechdel’s graphic novel memoir is both haunting and irritating. Mining her memories of a father who struggled with his own sexuality, Bechdel also explores her own sexual awakening. Her recounting of family life is both funny and sad as she tries to gain her parent’s attention - they were both very much wrapped up in their own needs and struggles. What was irritating? The constant references to classic literature, particularly Joyce, Proust and Homer - I found it painfully self-indulgent and I’m sure it would be a real turn-off for many readers. However, that is a minor quibble: I came away from Fun Home moved by Bechdel’s honesty and her ability to combine the genres of comics and memoir to create a unique new genre.

What makes a great crime book? A book that is about so much more than the crime itself. Midnight at Malabar House is that sort of book. In many ways, finding out who committed the murder is not as interesting as the historic setting of the novel.

It’s New Year’s Eve, 1949 and India is still struggling with the repercussions of Partition three years earlier. Inspector Persis Wadia is the first female police detective in India and has been relegated to Malabar House, which is the Indian equivalent of Mick Herron’s Slough House: ‘a menagerie of misfits’. When she answers the call reporting the murder of the prominent British diplomat Sir James Herriot she is determined to prove her worth by solving this sensational case.

Persis has grown up in a home above a bookshop. ‘As a girl, she had imagined that the books talked to each other in the dark. Papery whispers that gave her comfort through a troubled childhood.’ This love of literature and books is woven through the novel, as is the damage wrought by British Colonialism, not to mention the ingrained sexism Persis must overcome on a daily basis.

This is the first book in an intended new series by Khan. He has created an engaging new protagonist in Persis Wadia and I for one will be looking out for her further investigations. By the way, if you haven’t discovered Khan’s delightful Baby Ganesh Agency series, do yourself a favour and hunt it out too.

Whether you are going to like this novel or not is totally reliant on how you respond to the narrator: the titular Flavia de Luce, almost eleven years old, budding chemist and thoroughly precocious. I found her totally delicious! Her constant plotting of revenge on her older sisters is a clever device that reminds us that Flavia is really only a child. But a child with an over active imagination, not to mention an unhealthy interest in poisons.

Bradley has an unapologetic nostalgia for England in the 1950s, and has penned a novel in 2009 that has all the sensibilities of a novel written in the fifties. It contains all the usual tropes: a crumbling family estate, a motherless child, a mysterious body found in the garden of said country home, inept police, etc, etc.

Just when you think Flavia is behaving in a manner too mature by far, she reverts to being a little girl, worried for her father and struggling without the warmth of a mother’s love. When she hears her father tell a lie, she says ‘…suddenly, without warning, somewhere inside me, a little thread broke. It felt as if I had just aged a little and something old had snapped.’

The novel made me laugh out loud with some of its descriptions, for example: ‘The finely curved legs of a Queen Anne wash-stand seemed almost indecent beside the gloomy Gothic bed in the corner, as if some sour old chamberlain were looking on dyspeptically as his mistress unfurled silk stockings over her long, youthful legs.’ Delightful!

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie would fall comfortably into the cosy crime genre. However, it is also extremely witty and will keep you totally entertained until the last page.

Highly recommended.

Many thanks to the Children’s Book Council for an ARC of this book. Once my review is published on the Reading Time homepage, I will share it on Goodreads! http://readingtime.com.au/

Jonathan Coe mixes reality with fiction in this book which is an unapologetic love-letter to the titular Billy Wilder, one of the greatest film directors of our time.

We first meet Calista as a fifty-seven year old composer of film scores in contemporary London. Her children are grown and her work has dried up: ‘Writing music, and bringing up children. That’s what I do. And now I’m basically being told that neither of these skills is required any more.’

The novel turns back the clock to 1977 when an unworldly Calista has escaped the expectations of family and unexpectedly finds herself employed as an interpreter on the film-set of the famous Billy Wilder’s latest movie, Fedora. Calista knows nothing about the movie business, but quickly finds herself immersed in the lives of Wilder and the rest of the film crew. Her time with them will determine many of her life choices.

This novel is an ode to the golden years of Hollywood; in particular, to the films of Billy Wilder. Coe reflects with nostalgia on those heady days when going to the cinema was an escape from the ugly reality of life. As Wilder tells Calista after she’s seen Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, ‘You don’t need to go to the movies to learn that life is ugly. You go because those two hours will give your life some little spark….that it didn’t have before.’

Mr Wilder & Me is also a meditation on growing old and feeling obsolete. Calista is confronting these feelings at the beginning of the novel and Wilder knows his best work is behind him when Calista meets him. Coe and Wilder share compassion for their ageing characters, ‘struggling to find a role for themselves in a world which is interested only in youth and novelty.’

I’m now excited to work my way through the Billy Wilder canon. I think I’m in for a treat. And if you are at all interested in the business of making movies, you’re in for a treat too when you read Mr Wilder & Me.

Very disturbing. Very gothic. Very frustrating. Very unforgettable. Very well narrated. Very memorable. Very highly recommended.

Elly Griffiths, you’ve done it again! The Night Hawks is the thirteenth instalment in the Dr Ruth Galloway series, and it is as entertaining as the previous twelve! All our favourite characters are here, even a return visit from Cloughie. Ruth has returned to her beloved Norfolk, where there are three murders to be investigated by our favourite DCI Harry Nelson. Add a good dose of weird Norfolk superstition, a group of over-zealous detectorists who discover a Bronze Age hoard, and a rising body count and you know you’re in for a treat.
Highly recommended (but make sure you’ve read the previous books in the series first).

Thank you to the Children’s’ Book Council for a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

Trigger warnings: Kiva has scars on her thighs, which we learn are the result of self-inflicted cutting. [p. 246] It is sensitively handled, and her explanation of why she did it and how she stopped, is both moving and positive.

There are also numerous references to female characters being attacked and molested by male guards – no details are given; it is left to the readers’ imagination. Older readers will understand that it is referring to rape, younger readers will be left with a sense of menace and unease. It’s subtle, but worth mentioning.
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Kiva Meridan has survived ten years in the notorious death prison, Zalindov, working as the prison healer, a position she inherited after her beloved father’s death. She has found that to survive, she must remain aloof from the rest of the inmates, forming no attachments – what is the point when most prisoners are worked to death in a matter of months? If you can imagine the Soviet Gulag labour camps, transposed to a fantasy world, you have an accurate picture. The guards are brutal, the work is brutal, the landscape is brutal.

Kiva has allowed one prisoner to melt her resolve, the young boy Tipp, who reminds her so much of her little brother who had been murdered. When a new prisoner, Jaren, is brought to her for treatment, she discovers that having a friend and ally can be both a comfort and a danger. And then there is the new guard, Naari, who saves Kiva more than once, shifting the dynamic between them. Perhaps Kiva is not as alone as she once thought!

Kiva is yearning for the day when her surviving family will rescue her. After the arrival of a critically ill woman, who is revealed to be Tilda Corentine, the Rebel Queen, Kiva receives a coded message from them: Don’t let her die. We are coming. How can Kiva possibly keep Tilda alive long enough for her family to rescue them? She knows that Tilda would not survive the Trial by Ordeal, a series of elemental challenges against the torments of air, fire, water, and earth that she has been assigned. In the tradition set by Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games, Kiva volunteers to claim Tilda’s sentence as her own.

There is a flood of young adult fantasy books competing for readers’ attention. I predict that The Prison Healer is going to be a best seller, and deservedly so. It has all the right elements. The story is totally engrossing. Noni has created a strong female lead in Kiva Meridan, with whom readers will find easy to identify. She’s feisty, but also vulnerable. Zalindov is a terrifying place, and Noni has made it feel very real. Top marks for the maps by Francesca Baerald, which are well worth the time to pour over before you start to read the book. The story ends with an amazing twist, and an obvious ‘to be continued’. I cannot wait for the second instalment, The Gilded Cage of this proposed trilogy.

Highly recommended for readers aged 15+

For many of us, the name Dave Warner evokes memories of our misspent youth, with ‘Just a Suburban Boy’ playing (loudly) in the background.
However, he is now better known as an award winning writer of crime fiction. Over My Dead Body is set in contemporary New York City, a departure from his usual Australian bush noir setting. Dr Georgette Watson is determined to discover how to bring the dead back to life using cryogenics. So far, all she’s been allowed to experiment on are hamsters. How can she pass up the opportunity to revive a real person? So, here’s where you, dear reader, must suspend your disbelief, big time! She doesn’t realise that this dead person, who was a dear friend of her great-great grandfather, Dr. John Watson, and who had died in Switzerland in 1891 was none other than Sherlock Holmes - really?
Anyhoo, she does, indeed, successfully revive said famous detective, who, of course, adapts to modern life with aplomb. However, he is most disappointed to discover that the chemist won’t supply him with cocaine! And of course, Dr Georgette Watson and Sherlock Holmes find themselves involved in the chase to stop a serial killer from striking again.

On the down side, I struggled with Warner’s similes which I found absurd, for example:

‘…she slumped on her sofa, inert as a stain.’
‘Holmes nursed a brandy the way a longshoreman nurses a grudge.’
‘…the car merged with traffic, leaving Georgette like a shipwrecked sailor watching a clipper on the horizon disappear from view. ‘
‘…then she was struck again and her last conscious thought rushed out and impaled itself on the sharp spike of imminent death.’

The thing most missing of his old world was the smell. The sweet stench of horse manure rising in the heat of the day, the constant drifting smoke from small fires, backyard braziers, potteries and foundries all varieties and flavours of smoke: eel-tinged smoke marching from the river, mercury-laden heavy vapours that had rolled beneath lopsided gates of weathered wood, gossamer wafts that had squeezed their way up through ill-fitted tin-rooves of tanneries, the almost-living laneway bricks impregnated with centuries of odor of blood and flesh from halved steers, strung game birds, headless pigs, barrows of barnacled mussels and oysters and a legion of dead fish. And at night the great rolling fog that lifted like a devil’s sulphurous tail from the oily sheets of the Thames and conjoined with piped ash dancing up from a half-million sooty chimneys to drift hither and thither an ugly lullaby over slate rooves, beneath which pots of carrots and potatoes and peas bubbled and burped in their own familiar domestic pong of tobacco smoke.

Another perfect Agatha Christie, with the indomitable Miss Marple taking a support role in the investigation - but still ahead of the game!

I feel things. Things that could ruin everything.’

Henry Hamlet’s Heart is Rhiannon Wilde’s first novel and won the State Library of Queensland Glendower Award for an Emerging Queensland Writer in 2019.

It’s 2008 in Brisbane and Henry Hamlet is in his last semester of year twelve. He’s the school captain and has a tight group of close friends, although Len has been his best friend ‘since forever’. There’s pressure from all sides for Henry and his friends to decide what direction they want their lives to take, not to mention the immediate pressure of looming exams. And then there is the matter of Henry Hamlet’s heart! Henry has fallen – hard – but will it ruin everything?

This is a bitter-sweet, nostalgic look at the last semester of high-school. Suddenly Henry and his friends realise that the safe cocoon of school is about to disappear. Wilde was a high-school teacher and she successfully conveys the mixed emotions of students at the end of year twelve, as they suddenly realise ‘this is it’. Having worked in a high-school library myself, I can say with confidence that Wilde has nailed the pressures, anxieties and fraught emotions experienced by students at this tumultuous time of their lives.

The support characters are well drawn. Henry’s friends are all very real and likeable. The banter they exchange is exactly what can be heard in the school yard. I particularly liked Henry’s parents, who do their best to be supportive and honest in their communication with their children. Henry disgraces himself at a party by getting extremely drunk. He asks his mother the next morning if he’s grounded and her reply is priceless (and honest): Today will be punishment enough. Plus, I lived through the eighties. Grounding you for pretty much anything would be hypocritical. Though, I do think you need to work on your concept of moderation. Brisbane itself is also a leading support character. The constant heat and humidity, the violent colour of the jacarandas in bloom, the vibrant sunsets all add a sense of place unlike the usual cityscapes.

Henry Hamlet’s Heart is a love story. It’s about discovering how to be honest with yourself, and in turn being honest with others about how you feel. It’s being promoted as a ‘queer’ love story, but I don’t think that’s important. The confusion of emotions is universal. Len expresses it perfectly when Henry asks him if he’s gay: ‘It’s never really been an either/or kind of thing for me…You don’t have to have everything all figured out and put in a neat little box.’

High school students who can find the time between all their required reading, will love this book as it is a true reflection of the most exciting (and terrifying) time of their lives. There is nothing sexually explicit in this book, however it does contain mature themes involving alcohol consumption and sex. I would confidently recommend it for Senior Fiction collections in high school libraries.

Thank you to The Children’s Book Council for an ARC of this novel in exchange for my honest review.

I listened to this as an audio book and it was a lot of fun. Set in 1932 it moves from a luxury cruise liner to New York and finally to Sydney. The main character, Rowland Sinclair is an appealing man who cannot resist poking his nose in where it is least wanted. HIs is a life of privilege, affording him the luxury of pleasing himself most of the time. He is an artist and rubs shoulders with bohemian society, counting Norman Lindsay amongst his friends. This series has much in common with Kerry Greenwood’s Miss Phryne Fisher series.
I will read Book 1 now (this is book 2) and then continue to dip into the series when I feel in need of an entertaining read, with appealing characters, murders that aren’t too gruesome, and a mystery that engages.

When This Bell Rings proves that books written for kids don’t need to be simplistic - they can be complex and expect the reader to hold on tight for the ride! Allison Rushby has created a world within a world, and a story within a story, where the borders dividing these worlds are blurry.

Tamsin lives next door to the famous author Eddie St Clair, who has written a graphic-book series that has taken the children’s book world by storm. Everyone is waiting for the tenth and final book of her London Bells series, which is long overdue. Tamsin adores the books and spends every waking hour drawing the characters and immersing herself in the fantasy world that St Clair has created. When Eddie takes Tamsin into her confidence, Tamsin discovers that she has a role to play in the creation of “The End”, a very active role in fact!

I wish I was eleven years old, just so I could read this book and lose myself in its magic. Rushby has created another original story with a strong female leading the action. There is the perfect balance of history, fantasy and adventure that I guarantee will appeal equally to confident primary school readers and lower secondary school students. A total delight!

3.5 Stars
I found the premise of this book intriguing. Set in 1936, Alfred Hitchcock arranges a weekend gathering of film crew and actors in Portmeirion, an Italianesque tourist village in Wales. Josephine Tey is also there to celebrate a significant birthday with her friends, and to negotiate with Hitchcock who’s interested in filming her novel A Shilling for Candles.
Having real people in a novel can add a certain voyeuristic pleasure for the reader, however, it can also be very distracting, as you try to separate fact from fiction. Wouldn’t it be a lot easier if all the characters where fictitious? Oddly enough, the most appealing characters in this book are not real! For example, Chief Inspector Archie Penrose is a police officer with empathy and a strong moral compass. What a shame he’s fictitious!
This is a big book, over 400 pages, and it’s a long time before any crime is committed. Be prepared for graphic violence; this book is not for the squeamish. And then another even more violent murder occurs. Suddenly the lovely Portmeirion is awash in dead bodies and the tone of the book becomes dark. I found myself confused by the large cast of characters, many related to each other, some having changed their names along the way.
Portmeiron is the star of the show, and Upson’s descriptions are enticing:

…there was a pleasantly languid atmosphere about Portmeirion that made it easy to do nothing. Relaxing on the white-railed terrace with the sun on his face and the water flowing gently past, he could almost believe he was on board a transatlantic liner.

The Wild Silence is the follow up book to The Salt Path which was one of my favourite books of 2019.

After completing their 630 mile walk along the wild English coastline, Raynor and Moth are now reasonably settled in rented accomodation, but Moth’s debilitating illness, (Corticobasal degeneration (CBD)) has returned with a vengeance and Raynor is struggling to accept his failing health. Her description of the destructive nature of Moths’s illness is harrowing:

CBC was changing him. Not with the instant destruction of an illness that spread like wildfire, but with a slow loss of form and connectivity…Less wildfire, more a slow, insidious climate change of lost functions. His was becoming a flatter, emptier place. His body a world of hedges without birdlife, of rivers without fish and orchards without insects, as his tongue forgot how to taste and the feelings slipped from his hands.

In the wild grip of nature we had formed a bond that didn’t need words, a bond as palpably real and completely untouchable as the song of the deer in the quiet stillness before the storm.

At what point in our lives does cynicism take over from instinct? When we stop feeling the softness of rain on our face and start worrying about being wet?…When do we make that switch from being part of the natural world to being an observer with an assumed right to control it?

The List is the first in a series of novellas that run alongside the novels in the Slough House series. At 67 pages I’d call this a short story, not a novella, but who cares? The set-up is exquisite, and the dialogue whip-sharp, just as you’d expect from Herron. Plot twists abound.

John Bachelor is a milkman; in charge of retired assets (spooks), ‘his role was to make sure they suffered no unwelcome intrusions, no mysterious clicks on the landline; above all, that they weren’t developing a tendency to broadcast the details of their lives to anyone who cared to listen.’ When one of his charges, Dieter Hess dies (of natural causes), Bachelor discovers a coded list of names hidden in his apartment. And so the fun begins!

This may be a short, sharp read, but it’s still brimming with quotable quotes and brilliant analogies:

On a chest of drawers sat a hairbrush still clogged with old-man hair. Bachelor shuddered, as if something with a heavy tread had stomped across his future.

She [Catherine] had fallen far - there were those who’d argue she’d fallen further than Lamb - but the only enemy she’d made on the way was her own younger self.

Information is a tart - information is anybody’s. It reveals as much about those who impart it as it teaches those who hear. Because information, ever the slut, swings both ways. False information - if you know it’s false - tells you half as much again as the real thing, because it tells you what the other feller thinks you don’t know, while real information, the copper-bottomed truth, is worth its weight in fairy-dust. When you have a source of real information, you ought to forsake all others and snuggle down with it for good. Even though it’ll never work out, because information, first, last and always, is a tart.

Eddie Jaku’s memoir is a surprisingly uplifting reading experience. In spite of all that he has experienced, and all that he has lost, he has survived, and flourished, and considers himself ‘The happiest man on Earth’.

Eddie came from a comfortable middle-class German family, who also happened to be Jewish. He saw himself firstly as German, and considered Germany to be the greatest country in the world. However, with the rise of the Nazi Party, and the persecution of the Jewish people, his world was destroyed, and his belief in Germany shattered.

If enough people had stood up then, on Kristallnacht, and said, ‘Enough! What are you doing? What is wrong with you?’ then the course of history would have been different. But they did not. They were scared. They were weak. And their weakness allowed them to be manipulated into hatred.

I have learned early in life that we are all part of a larger society and our work is our contribution to a free and safe life for all….Your efforts today will affect people you will never know. It is your choice whether that effect is positive or negative. You can choose every day, every minute, to act in a way that may uplift a stranger, or else drag them down. The choice is easy. And it is yours to make.

I felt very cheated by this book. It’s one thing to have an unreliable narrator, it’s another thing for the whole book to be an unreliable narration, or to put it more bluntly, a lie.
This novel is supposed to reveal what really happened when Agatha Christie disappeared for 11 days in December 1926.
Agatha Christie comes across as a weak and naive woman for the best part of this novel, so you spend all that time wishing she’d wake up to herself and leave her bastard of a husband, Archie, who is portrayed as an impossibly awful man.
The characters were unbelievable, as was the plot.

This review is for Some Tame Gazelle.

Written in 1950, Some Tame Gazelle is Barbara Pym’s first novel. She introduces us to the Misses Bede, Harriet and Belinda who are unapologetic about their chosen lives as spinsters. Harriet asks rhetorically, ‘Who would change a comfortable life of spinsterhood in a country parish, for the unknown trials of matrimony?’ Their world revolves around the church (Church of England, of course, not Roman!) and it’s calendar, not to mention its curates.

Belinda fell in love with the insufferable Archdeacon over thirty years ago, and ‘not having found anyone to replace him since, had naturally got into the habit of loving him, though with the years her passion had mellowed into a comfortable feeling, more like the cosiness of a winter evening by the fire than the uncertain rapture of a spring morning’.

Pym’s gift is her eye for the beauty in the everyday; in her ability to put into words precisely how the mundane can be luminous: ‘Belinda’s eyes filled with tears and she experienced one of those sudden moments of joy that sometimes come to us in the middle of an ordinary day.’

Why should books only be about the ‘big’ stories - the grand passions, set in exotic locations, involving beautiful people? Pym celebrates our lives; her readers’ lives. She illuminates the thoughts we have all had, and shows them to be worthy, and full of pathos. As Belinda considers the purchase of some clerical grey wool to knit a jumper for her ‘dearest’ Archdeacon, she then resigns herself to knitting one for herself instead, because ‘when we grow older we lack the fine courage of youth, and even an ordinary task like making a pullover for somebody we love or used to love seems too dangerous to be undertaken’.

However, Some Tame Gazelle is not only contemplating the poignant lives of its characters, it’s also very wry and funny. When a famous librarian visits, it’s pointed out that he is ‘a great connoisseur [of wine]. It seems right that a librarian should be. Good wine and old books seem to go together.’

There are moments in this book that felt immensely personal for me, they resonated strongly. When Belinda takes to her bed with a chill, she luxuriates in the guilty pleasure, not even feeling like reading, but rather ‘she was quite enjoying her illness now that she felt a little better and could allow her thoughts to wander at random in the past and future without the consciousness that she ought to be more profitably employed.’ Only Barbara Pym would think to include this moment in a novel; so personal and yet so universal.

Do not approach a Barbara Pym novel with expectations of dramatic plot devices, or over-the-top characters, for you will be disappointed. However, if you want to spend time with characters with real hearts and souls, then pull up a chair, pour your favourite tipple, and enjoy - you’re in for a treat.

Loved, loved, loved this book. If you love books and libraries and the power that they have to provide a place of healing and safety, then this book is for you.
Highly recommended.

I’ve gone about these novellas in the wrong order, having read The Catch first, now The Drop and will read The List last! Oh well, they are still an absolute delight to read.

Mick Herron is a master of his craft, and this story about ‘retired assets’ and their minders, or ‘milkmen’ is a shining example. I’m not usually a fan of ‘spy’ or ‘spook’ stories, but Herron develops his character so that you, dear reader, care very much what happens to them.

John Butcher is not in a happy place, so when one of his charges claims to have witnessed ‘a drop’ he doesn’t think much of it. But his tentative enquiries have unfortunate results.

What a gem of a book!

Words removed from the Oxford Junior Dictionary are given new life in this stunning book written by Robert Macfarlane and illustrated by Jackie Morris. These words are wild words, describing the natural world; a world that children are losing. Words like: acorn, bluebell, fern, willow, wren and otter. It breaks my heart that these words are seen to be irrelevant to today’s children.
So, this is a book to own, to cherish, and to share with the children in your life.

This book made me so angry! The way these girls were treated made my blood boil. Their lives were ruined; they endured excruciating pain and many, ultimately, death. All so some could line their pockets with money. Grrrrr
Moore has done her research, and made me feel as though I knew all these woman personally.
It’s totally heartbreaking, but unputdownable.

I promised to challenge myself this year and read out of my comfort zone: hence this science fiction novel.
My knowledge of sci-fi is limited to Star Trek, Star Wars and Blade Runner so my expectations were somewhat limited.

To be Taught if Fortunate takes us to the 22nd century. In this future, space exploration is citizen-funded, ‘exploration for exploration’s sake. Apolitical, international, non-profit.’ Reflecting the Prime Directive of the Star Trek universe, astronauts are forever careful to minimise their impact on the planets they explore: ‘We try to be mindful tenants and ethical observers.’ To this end, astronauts use ‘somaforming’, synthetic biological supplementations that enable them to visit other planets, survive their environments and leave nothing behind that could damage the planet’s own delicate balance. As our narrator, Ariadne explains, ‘I’m an observer, not a conqueror. I have no interest in changing other worlds to suit me. I choose the lighter touch: changing myself to suit them.’

Ariadne and her fellow crew members have travelled 15 light years (in stasis) to explore 4 planets.
As they perform their tasks, the crew discuss the ethics of space exploration and what they miss most about home. Chambers explains complex science well and explores the ethics of space travel with insight and without hyperbole. This is a surprising gentle book: it’s characters are not interested in glory and honours, but rather in doing what is right and honourable.

Highly recommended.

This is exquisite! If you are familiar with Mick Herron’s Slough House series, then you know how clever his writing is. The beauty of a novella, a mere 105 pages, is that the author cannot waste a word, and Herron doesn’t. Every sentence is deliberate: dense and witty and sometimes melancholy.
John Bachelor is a man who has fallen on very hard times, and you desperately hope that things will not get worse for him - but they do! My husband and I both read The Catch and keep referring back to it. For a tiny book, it packs an emotional punch. Highly recommended.

The character of Betty Church is interesting. However, the supporting characters are just awful: stereotypes of the worst kind. They are so irritating, and unbelievable, that I couldn’t spend any more time with them. I gave this 100 pages, and then gave up.

In 1914, a ten year old Margery Benson falls in love with a beetle. In a book called Incredible Creatures, her father shows her a picture of The Golden Beetle of New Caledonia. Moments later, Margery’s world will be irrevocably changed.
In 1950, Margery flees her stultifying teaching job, advertises for an assistant, and starts packing for her expedition to New Caledonia to discover the Golden Beetle that has haunted her all her life. Finding an appropriate assistant proves to be much harder than Margery thought possible, and she finds herself sharing a cramped cabin on the RMS Orion on a five week voyage across the seas to Brisbane, with the irrepressible Enid Pretty.
Margery ‘was finally doing the thing she’d dreamt about as a child…She was travelling to the other side of the world. It wasn’t just the ship that had been unmoored. It was her entire sense of herself’.
As Margery and Enid journey together, Margery discovers her true self: ‘I am a woman who is ready for adventure’. She also discovers what it means to have a true friend, as Enid shows her unconditional love and support.
I found myself totally invested in Margery and Enid’s quest, as they battled the heat, the cyclones and the deprivations they encounter in New Caledonia. As Enid points out, this is Margery’s ‘vocation’ just as having a baby is hers, and you cannot ‘just walk away’. You need gumption! I fell in love with Enid and her love of life, and her unending support of Margery and her dream.
I rushed to the end of the book, and then was crushed when I reached it. Miss Benson’s Beetle is a total delight; it will make you laugh out loud, and it will make you cry. Not to be missed!
Watch this fabulous book chat with Rachel Joyce and Raynor Winn (The Salt Path & The Wild Silence) for more insight into how Rachel approached the writing of this lovely book:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k64_2zNcFcw&feature=youtu.be

I loved The Reader. But I’ve found Schlink’s subsequent novels disappointing. Olga has moments that shine, but on the whole I found it a sad story about a woman who wasted her love on a man who didn’t return it in kind. She just kept making excuses for his selfishness, and waited for him, and waited for him, and waited for him!
The blurb promotes their love as ‘a love against all odds’, but it wasn’t really a love story at all. In fact, it could be seen as a cautionary tale to women not to waste their lives, and their love, on a man who is narcissistic and unable to return their love.

I’m swimming against the tide here when I say that I didn’t fall in love with this book. I found Franny not only an unreliable narrator, but also self-indulgent and overwrought. I really wanted to slap her and make her wake up to the trail of damage she left in her wake!
Set in a near future where there are no longer any wild creatures in our world, I felt McConaghy missed the opportunity to build on this scenario: what would this world look like apart from the direct loss of the sounds of nature? What effect would the loss of all wild things have? Aside from killing (pun intended) the fishing industry, the world appears to have not changed at all.
I really wanted to love this book, but I didn’t.
(I listened to the audio book, read by Barrie Kreinik)

Well, I got to page 92, which is 32 more pages than Nancy Pearl would have read before giving up. I know most readers adored this book. I didn’t. The final straw was an entire chapter from the perspective of a pre-pubescent seal and how much sex seals have! This totally lost me. As they say, ’not my cup of tea'.

Another thoroughly enjoyable instalment in this police procedural series by Barry Maitland. This novel is told from Kathy Kolla’s point of view - always a gamble for a male writer, however, Kolla’s voice is spot-on.
The murders are suitably gruesome, without dwelling on the details, and the involvement of a amateur theatre troupe and the correlation with their plays is original. Maitland is particularly skilful in creating a sense of place, be it the backstage of a theatre, or the interior of an old house.
Highly recommended for lovers of a well executed police procedural, with believable characters and an intriguing plot.

What a delightful book with which to start 2021!
Miri and her mother Mazzy never seem to stay in one place for long; Miri’s mother is restless and searching for something elusive - a place that feels like home. So Miri struggles to support her, at the same time feeling uprooted and lonely. This is the story of a mother and daughter finally finding their ‘forever home’ and growing roots in a community.
Trace Balla has created a book full of detail, drawn in a deceptively simple style, using a muted palette inspired by the Australian landscape and its inhabitants. Children old enough to read will lose themselves in each page that illustrates Miri’s journey and the people, animals and plants she encounters along the way. The story is set on Dja Dja Wurrung Country, and Balla has used Dja Dja Wurrung place names where possible. The book is imbued with respect for country and its original inhabitants.
I found myself totally immersed in Miri and Mazzy’s quest to find home, and I discovered many native animals and plants along the way. This would be a perfect book to share as a family, pouring over the details together.
Highly recommended.

I am left-handed and was once a bookseller, so this book was made for me! In fact, it’s written for anyone who loves all things bookish. Garth Nix has spent his life immersed in books: selling them, promoting them and writing them. His love of this world is evident in his book, which is an ode to the power of books and reading. Nix is the same age as me and his many references to books resonated with me. As Merlin, our left-handed bookseller, says ‘Children’s writers, dangerous bunch’! So personally, I found this book a bit spooky as Nix repeatedly referenced books that I love, for example: Swallows & Amazons, Five Children and It by E. Nesbit, Margery Allingham’s The Tiger in the Smoke, The Ashley Book of Knots (which I just recently bought for my husband), Tolkien’s novels, William Goldman’s The Princess Bride and Adventures in the Screen Trade, Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers and the icing on the cake - the film Random Harvest. But, enough about me…

The plot is a classic fantasy quest. It is set in a re-imagined London in 1983, where the Old World can sometimes intrude on the New World. Susan is in London, searching for a father she has never met, and knows nothing about the Old World until she is rescued from an attacking giant bug by Merlin, a left-handed bookseller, whose responsible for ensuring the Old World doesn’t intrude on the New. Suddenly Susan finds herself in a race to find her father, while being pursued by malevolent creatures from the Old World. She finds allies in the society of booksellers and discovers that she is a part of a world she never new existed.

Nix sets a breathless pace, and he has created a complex world who’s laws and codes are explained along the way. It feels to me that he has invested a lot into this world, and I hope that he writes more books exploring the role of left-handed, right-handed and even-handed booksellers. Although promoted as a young adult novel, I can highly recommend this book for all fantasy lovers.

This was my final book for 2020, and although no literary masterpiece, it was an enjoyable book with which to finish a very challenging year!

Set in an idyllic retirement village, four friends prove that age is no barrier to solving crime. This is a gentle crime novel, almost cosy, which not only involves several murders, both recent and historic, but also explores the pitfalls, and sometimes advantages, of growing old. As Elizabeth, the leader of the Club, realises, ‘after a certain age, you can pretty much do whatever takes your fancy. No one tells you off, except for your doctors and your children’.

A sense of melancholy imbues The Thursday Murder Club, as the characters face grief, loss and loneliness. But there are also moments of humour. As Joyce notes in her diary, she ‘would never have therapy, because who wants to unravel all that knitting?’ Good point, Joyce! In fact, Joyce has a lot of fun being involved with The Murder Club, and finds herself feeling as though she has a purpose again, and is becoming ‘someone who has to keep their mobile on’.

This is not a novel that will appeal to younger readers; there is no sex, very little violence and no exotic locations, but for those of us ‘of a certain age’, it contains characters that we can relate to, who are not only solving crime, but facing the challenge of growing old with grace and determination.

A perfect companion to the documentary. Attenborough manages to tell us some very hard and sad facts, but also delivers remedies to our planet’s woes.
Every one should read this book and watch the documentary.

Where does Ursula Dubosarsky get her inspiration? (Read the final pages of this book and she reveals the inspiration for this particular story.) This book has so many fun ideas woven into the fabric of its narrative. Adults will see clever references to Greek Mythology and the River Styx, children will recognise elements of Little Red Riding Hood and other familiar fairytale tropes.
But, all these clever allusions aside, Pierre’s Not There is a delightful story about Lara meeting a little boy named Pierre who has a lovely antique puppet theatre. Together Lara and Pierre embark on an adventure (is it imaginary?) to find Pierre’s grandmother. In this adventure Lara is transformed into a dog (or is she a wolf?). Children are going to be entranced by this story, which changes text from a simple narrative to a play script and back again.
This would make a wonderful read aloud book for home or the classroom. Highly recommended for ages 8 years and over.

Are you a fan of Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs novels? Well then this is for you! Its a companion to the series, containing many quotes from the books, with Winspear extrapolating on the inspiration for these nuggets of wisdom, together with plenty of space for the reader to jot down their own thoughts.
This is a book to own, so you can use it as a journal, reflecting on your own insights inspired by the quotes. It would make an ideal gift for a fan of Maisie Dobbs.

I must confess my book-crush on Robert Macfarlane, which makes it almost impossible for me to review anything he writes without bias. However, I feel I can safely say I would be enamoured by The Lost Spells no matter the author.
This book is a delight. From its format: small, hardback, dust-jacketed and ribbon bookmarked, to the text and illustrations by Jackie Morris which celebrate all things wild.
The text is written specifically to be read aloud - and Macfarlane’s liberal use of onomatopoeia makes some poems positively rattle along. Morris’ illustrations are truly magical.
There is an illustrated glossary provided that will help naturalists identify items on their wanderings. This is a British publication, but many of the animals and plants will be familiar to readers around the world.
Like their previous collaboration, The Lost Words, this is a book to own and cherish, always at the ready for when you need to dip into a magical world where the air is sweet and the sounds are pure.
Bliss!

I listened to Graham Norton read his book on Audible, which added the Irish voice to the experience. This is Norton’s third novel set in Ireland. This is a story about the damage done by lies and misdirection. How lives can be irrevocably changed in the split second it takes for a car to lose control and crash.
He’s a skilled storyteller, weaving his narrative over different time frames. I thoroughly enjoyed Home Stretch, finding myself invested in the lives of the characters. Highly recommended.