Posted in Random Things Tours

Fallowfield by Nicole Swengley

Fallowfield Hall: once an avant garde art college, now abandoned and decaying. To journalist Rowan Woodhouse it is the fabled backdrop to her parents’ 1970s love story. But is there more to Fallowfield – and her family – to uncover?

Seeking solace after the loss of her artist-teacher father, Rowan accepts a research project to interview college alumni, hoping this may reveal more about him – and her enigmatic mother who died tragically young.

But Rowan soon discovers that Fallowfield had a darker side than hedonistic student life and idyllic picnics on its famous daffodil lawns. Jealousies, betrayals and rivalries emerge when she learns of the mysterious death of one young woman and the unsolved disappearance of another. As part and present become dangerously intertwined, how will the suspicions sparked by her investigations impact Rowan’s own troubled life?

I was immediately intrigued by this story that uncovers life at a progressive art school called Fallowfield, where journalist Rowan Woodhouse’s parents met in the 1970s. The opportunity to contact alumni from her parent’s years at the college has a personal benefit, to find out more about her parent’s relationship. However, she finds a surprising amount aren’t keen on talking about their student days, with some coming across as rude on her first phone call. Where people do engage with the project the author has cleverly created different perspectives of the same time, showing that while people might be in the same place they haven’t always had the same experience. This is usually because everything in life is experienced through our own filter, formed by our personality traits, learned behaviours, past experiences and general outlook Time also affects memories, causing events to be distorted, bundled together and confused. We each create a narrative of our past, but how do our friends and family see those same events? Previous student Patrick remembers his college days as living in a hazy bubble but recommends she talks to Maksym, a rival of her father’s who might remember it differently. Of course there’s also the possibility that people are lying, bringing a more sinister edge to the story and inspiring Rowan to dig further. Parts of the mystery are only revealed as Rowan uncovers them so we experience her emotions in the moment. It’s a slow- burn read and I enjoyed the chance to really understand the characters and Rowan’s complex emotions as she moves through people’s hazy memories and her father’s memorabilia and sketchbooks.

I thought the passage of time – can it really be over fifty years – played an interesting part, because the world has changed so much in that time. In the same way ideas about childhood developed during the Victorian period and into the 20th Century our views on teenagers and young people has changed. I feel like we’ve extended the protection and care we give to a child to this older age group. We’re more aware that they might need support with decisions and that they’re more open to exploitation. This comes from psychological research but also from the decision to extend school or training to the age of eighteen. Added to that is an extended time living at home for many young people thanks to the cost of living crisis and rising rents. The #MeToo movement has made us more aware of inappropriate relationships and power imbalances so behaviour that was perhaps frowned upon in the late 20th Century is an absolute ‘no no’ for today’s students and tutors. The criminalisation of coercive control and emotional abuse has finally made people realise that intimate partner abuse isn’t just physical and young people are vulnerable to manipulation and grooming. Rowan realises that her father’s romantic stories about how he met her mother Annie at Fallowfield could be viewed differently now. Nick had been a student at the college before returning as a lecturer and as Annie’s tutor he knew their relationship was against the college’s rules but they still continued to see each other. Now her father has died Rowan has been visiting his country cottage as an escape from her London home. She’s surprised to find newspaper articles in her father’s things about a student who went missing and a tutor’s girlfriend from around Fallowfield who was found dead during her parent’s time there. Could these articles contain the big secret behind the alumni’s reluctance to reminisce and what part do her parents play in the events of that time? 

I’m fascinated by artists and the art world and I learned a lot about a genre I’d never come across before. Rowan’s father painted within the Good Girl genre – an illustrative style often used for comics, book covers and erotic art. It’s glamorous women in tight or skimpy clothing and had been around for a few decades before Nick was a student. Rowan didn’t seem keen on her father’s style, branding it as trashy although she did listen as he showed her why his women were different from the more exploitative side of the style. I still wondered if there was a link between the representation of women in his art and his behaviour? It’s clear a toxic atmosphere was brewing at the college, an interesting contrast between the idyllic setting at Fallowfield which was a secluded country estate. Not many painters become household names and an atmosphere of determination and competition thrived between this group. It’s clear some will let nothing stand in the way of their success, creating dangerous situations. After the events in the articles and the summer ball Fallowfield was closed suddenly leaving students struggling to find other courses. The governing committee felt the scandal was too great for the college to continue in its current form. Alongside Rowan we’re starting to understand the rather permissive regime at Fallowfield, with drinking, drug-taking and free love. A woman called Zizi is part of the art college’s social scene but lived in a hippy community camping in a nearby field. Is she the one described in the newspapers as the girlfriend of a tutor? Could her father have been seeing this woman at the same time as her mother?

The most fascinating part of the story from a psychological perspective is how her parent’s ‘perfect’ love story seemingly prevented Rowan from forming loving and functional relationships as an adult. She sees Nick and Annie through a romantic lens, mainly due to Nick reinforcing the story throughout her life and after Annie’s death. All families have their own myths and this one was so strong she’s measured every relationship next to it and none have made the grade. She met current boyfriend Doug in a work capacity with Doug providing the photographs to her features on an assignment. It seems that he is often absent and while this is normal for someone who works freelance, when present in body he often isn’t in mind. Rowan seems a bit lost in terms of how he feels and where he sees their relationship going and is reluctant to invite him to her father’s cottage. She cooks him a dinner from scratch before leaving but he’s incredibly late and when she does get in touch he’s tired and wants to stay home, with no apology for wasting her time. I wondered if her feeling that she came second to her mother in her father’s affections had led to her repeating the pattern with emotionally unavailable partners. I found her a little bit childlike in her acceptance of her parent’s great love story. It’s something we often re-evaluate as we get older, especially when we start having our own relationships. As she starts to uncover student stories of drinking, drug-taking and multiple lovers she seems surprised and I wondered what sort of student experience she had because I would have expected it. It’s a jolt for her to realise Nick and Annie weren’t perfectly romantic and had their problems. I wondered whether her mother would have categorised their relationship differently had she lived longer? Rowan has to face that maybe she’d let people go who could have been a great partner. Being performatively romantic like Nick isn’t everyone’s style and verbal, public declarations of love often cover up a multitude of secrets. 

The anniversary celebration is to be held at Fallowfield’s original site, now a resort hotel owned by another alumni student. Everyone, apart from her father, will be present in the same place as the events of that final summer. The tension really kicked in at this point and I wondered if Rowan was placing herself in danger. Can this event be the catalyst to breaking through all the confusion and lies to finally see the truth? Through each of these characters we can see a stark contrast between the self- fulfilment of using your artistic talent and the dangerous and competitive scramble towards fame and success. Often incredibly talented people also have huge egos and narcissistic traits, a combination that could become deadly when their ego is bruised. I had so many questions at this point. I was intrigued by sculptor Maksym’s suggestion that he provided a service for Rowan’s father. I wanted to know whether it was true that Nick was seeing other women as well as Annie. Could being at the original college for an event like that final summer ball bring up new memories for the students? Rowan’s research had thrown up some disturbing truths in my mind and I was happy and satisfied by the ending. I wondered how the truth would impact Rowan’s life going forward. I was strongly reminded of the opening to L.P. Hartley’s The Go- Between – ‘the past is a foreign country: they do things differently there’. 

Out now from Breakthrough Books

Meet the Author

Nicole Swengley is an author and journalist who has written for the Financial Times, the Telegraph, The Times, Wall Street Journal, London Evening Standard and many other publications. Her short stories have featured in women’s magazines, a crime anthology and themed anthologies from Breakthrough Books. A past student of Faber Academy, one of her stories was shortlisted in a national TV/magazine competition some years ago. Her debut novel, The Portrait Girl, was published in 2024. Fallowfield is her second, standalone, art-and-design inspired mystery.

Posted in Squad Pod Collective

Roman Mornings by Matson Taylor 

I’ve looked forward to a new Matson Taylor novel for a while now and this one is such a charming, humorous, comfort read set in 1970s Rome. The word serendipitous was made for this novel as friends and housemates Clemmie and Floss are trying out the turquoise Vespa that Floss has bought as a gift. Unsure whether she will get the hang of the scooter, at first Clemmie is a bit wobbly but as she gets to grips with it and sails off into Roman traffic she starts to enjoy herself. Strangely something like this is exactly what she needed. She’s been feeling a little stale and middle aged of late. However, as she makes her way towards a bridge flanked by angels, she quite literally bumps into a blonde, curly headed angel of a young man who was idling by the water on a break from work. Clemmie takes Monty to the hospital where his injuries are bad enough to stop him working but well enough to go home. The problem is Monty doesn’t have a home, just some digs he’s sharing with a few other craftsmen doing up an apartment for an acquaintance from London. It’s not long before his boss is in the emergency department, with Monty’s meagre belongings telling him he no longer has a job or digs. Feeling terribly guilty and also drawn to this angelic young man, Clemmie decides he will go home with her and Floss. Ensconced in their wonderfully bohemian living room, filled with plants and Floss’s theatrical memorabilia, Monty is soon drifting off to sleep with his new protectors looking on indulgently and Octavian, their large house cat laid on his chest. 

This is a story about friendship, found family, reaching crossroads in life and being your authentic self, with a bit of romance thrown in for good measure. I love Matson’s chatty writing style, it brings to mind writers like James Herriot whose books mix beautiful settings, humour, everyday life and characters who feel as familiar as family. I thought his usually evocative 1970s setting would feel different in an ancient city like Rome, but we’re soon hearing about foods from my childhood and the brand new craze for avocado bathroom suites. Monty’s clothes are also of the era and Floss’s flat with its boho chic style reminds me of the indoor hanging baskets, posters and tasselled throws of my own youth. I remembered my parent’s romantic evenings in with a vesta curry and a bottle of Mateus Rosé. These contemporary 1970s references set against the ancient beauty of Rome is such an interesting contrast. I felt like I’d been to the city as the author conjured up the beautiful light, the soft and gentle colours of the stone, tiles and marble. It sounds busy and chaotic at first but it’s easy to find moments of calm. There are those cafe moments with Italian espresso and mouth watering Italian food that had me craving a trip to Italy. 

The author excels when it comes to character and these are all generous, loving people. There are those incredible comic characters that lighten the mood like Floss and those like Clemmie who have more complexity and are questioning their future. Loving the city and the Italian language led Clemmie to move here and living at the palazzo with Floss is a dream, but intellectually she’s not being stretched. She has so much of the city’s history in her bones, but she’s using the language to translate plumber’s manuals. When an accident means moving out of her office for a while she has time to think. Is this what she really wants? Floss is getting older and thoughts about what’s next are accelerated by an accident that leaves her stranded on one floor of the palazzo. Is it time for a change and to accept that she’s not as young as she used to be? It’s Monty who’s the beating heart of this novel though, and I had the same urge as the women, to give him the biggest hug. I could feel the little boy in him. A boy who’s scared and wants his mum, and he’s found two in Clem and Floss. He’s a joiner by trade and incredibly skilled, he’s also keen to pay the women back for their kindness and on the advice of Octavian the cat, he starts to fix things in the palazzo. Despite his skill he’s not the best at pushing himself forwards. It’s also clear that he has a secret or too, but he needs to feel safe first. I felt like he’d found a kindred spirit in the kind and hesitant Clem. I have to mention the nuns who are incredible and I’d like to have first casting rights if this is ever a film please. These are not the stern scary nuns of my Catholic school, but a rather giggly pair who distribute British foods amongst the ex-pat community in Rome. They get to know Monty by offering him work in the many ecclesiastical buildings locally. They also end up at a club dancing to disco at one point which made me laugh out loud.

The story is quiet at first, allowing characters to settle and get to know each other, but when secrets start to emerge the deeper story comes through and it’s heartbreaking. It might have been nice to have seen some of his story slowly reveal itself in flashback across the novel, but it’s so emotional and beautifully romantic. My heart broke for Monty. We also have a slow burn romantic story for Clemmie and a man called Bob who appears in an ice-cream van and helps Monty build a basement apartment for Floss. The book meanders slowly with the odd intervention from the statues that decorate the buildings and bridges all over this city. I’ve read so many novels recently that are great but don’t have a single character I like. It was such a relief to be in a book where the characters are gentle, kind and want to help each other. Books like this, that bring joy and comfort to the reader, are hard to find and even more difficult to write. Reading about these characters embracing change with feelings of hope and renewal provided a window of solace and hope in what feels like a very angry world. For Monty it’s facing his authentic self without judgement and censure from others, a journey that isn’t without its trials. Clemmie embraces the boost she gets from teaching Monty about Rome. It reminds her she knows so much more than she’s using in her daily life and his story opens a door in her heart for potential romance but also her first love – writing poetry. Floss is embracing the new stage in her life and the freedom living in the basement flat brings for the next stage in life. Octavian the cat, prowls each level of the palazzo enjoying his new friends and casting an imperious eye over their adventures. This is a very emotional read in a stunning setting, with a big heart, a sprinkle of magic and a definite Northern slant to the humour. 

Out Now from Scribner Uk

Posted in Squad Pod Collective

The Treasures by Harriet Evans 

One golden summer. One missing treasure. And a secret that binds two lives together. 

Every year, Alice’s father gives her a treasure. Then on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, her final gift vanishes – along with the fragile certainty of her world. Alice runs, towards New York City and away from the memories of that last summer at the orchard where she grew up.

Across the Atlantic, Tom has always felt that something is missing from his life. When he finds a long-forgotten letter, it leads him away from Sevenstones – the house at the heart of his family for generations – and towards a truth no one has ever fully told.

From post-war London to 1960s New York, Alice and Tom’s stories become entwined. But will the secrets of their past bring them together, or break them apart?

I always think that the good marker of a book is when you find yourself thinking about it days later and discussing it – or in my case boring someone who hasn’t even read it with my thoughts and feelings. This book brought up so many feelings! While we start with Alice’s devastating story of her early years, it was Tom’s narrative where the book came alive for me, with his early life in Dumfries and Galloway only a stone’s throw from my favourite yearly holiday destination. The descriptions are so vivid, from the hand to mouth existence of Tom and his father and their total connection with the seasons. The frozen sheep they find that keeps them going all winter and the beautiful hare at the gate signalling the oncoming summer. It’s a magical place and although life isn’t easy it’s familiar, with a strong connection between father and son since the death of his mother. To be torn from all of that and transported to post-war London by his mother’s family feels so unjust. His Aunt Jenny and Uncle Henry are eccentric and not as wealthy as they once were, evidenced by the ghosts of sold paintings on the wallpaper and their diet of tinned goods. As Tom deals with new expectations, the fractured feel of the city and its bomb sites, we start to sense a secret behind all of this, only hinted at and never made clear to Tom. A promise was made in wartime, one that couldn’t be broken and has it’s roots in a house called Sevenstones where ravens nest in the trees and a key was left under a stone at the door for anyone who needed an interlude from their wartime duties. It’s a secret that follows Tom throughout his years at school and eventually across the Atlantic. 

Each section of this book is so evocative of its time and place. The captures the unrest in 1950s London and attitudes towards those who enlisted to fight in the war from Britain’s colonies, now returned to settle here as part of the Windrush generation. There are Teddy Boys rioting and children playing in bomb craters, the contrast of Westminster school and forays into Portobello Market. Meanwhile, Alice’s narrative takes her from a small town in upstate New York where minds and opportunities are equally small, into Manhattan during the unrest and change of the 1960s. Living in a squat in the East Village she is part of the hippy generation, with the backdrop of protests against segregation and the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy. Then comes the anti – Vietnam War demonstrations accompanied by the music of Joni Mitchell and Joan Baez. All seen through a haze of pot, LSD and The Beatles more psychedelic years. Alice’s generation is my mother’s too so the music, peace and love, the fashion and political beliefs are familiar and nostalgic. Tom travels to the USA to look for Alice, who he accidentally spoke to by phone briefly, for answers about his past and a woman called Teddy Kynaston who seems to be the key to the secrets he’s discovered. 

Alice’s humming of Yesterday is so symbolic, with its twin refrains of the young girl running away early one morning and the parent’s lament that they sacrificed everything for her. Both young people are damaged by the generation before and there’s a definite sense of Phillip Larkin’s ‘This Be The Verse’ about the narrative – everyone always remembers the first line but forgets the second “they do not mean to, but they do’. The generation before us were messed up by their parents too, a theme that I imagine will run throughout the next novels in this series. Tom and Alice are failed by parents keeping secrets and making decisions to right the wrongs of the past that only make things worse. I felt something of Tom’s confused identity, having gone to a grammar school where many of my classmates were considerably better off than we were. I was taught to drop my accent and while I got a great education I didn’t  feel like I belonged anywhere. For Tom the disparity is even greater and in his beautifully naive way he reminded me of Jay Gatsby, unaware of how ruthless the rich can be even when it comes to love. The parallel reaches across the Atlantic to Alice’s family and her dad’s employer, the oily and deeply unpleasant writer Wilder Kynaston. He’s wants to write from a young girl’s perspective, perhaps Daisy Buchanan’s but Alice is quite clear that no one cares about the Buchanans, they’re just as careless with feelings as Tom’s Westminster friends. Gatsby is great because of his loyalty and fierce love for a girl who doesn’t deserve his devotion, something Tom understands. 

I felt so deeply angry with the Kynastons and the Caldicotts, especially as the truth of their wartime connection comes into the open. Their story made me understand why people of my grandparent’s age feel nostalgia about wartime – there was a freedom that disappeared into the 1950s and what felt like a concerted effort to force women back into their pre-war roles and behaviour. Women were flying planes up and down the country, joining the ambulance service in heavily bombed cities, working as land girls or taking on roles in the forces. They experienced a freedom in their social life they’d never had before and people took risks because they didn’t know if they’d live through the next day, never mind see the consequences. For women like Jenny, Teddy and Irene it allowed them to be fully themselves only to find themselves controlled and back in the domestic sphere and for some the consequences of being different are devastating. The author takes 20th Century events and shows their consequences in one generation of a family and I’m fascinated to see where these characters go next, something hinted at in the final chapters. As the book drew to a close I found myself hanging on through the final twists that bring us back to Sevenstones. I was so desperate for a specific outcome that when a previous character popped up unexpectedly in the final pages I swore out loud! The treasures in this story are not necessarily the trinkets that Alice carries with her or the carved house that Tom always carries in his pockets as a talisman. It’s the people they represent and the love that flows between them, even long after they’ve gone. 

Out now from Penguin and part of the Sevenstones Trilogy

Meet the Author

Harriet is the author of an incredible fourteen novels, selling over a million copies and being a Top Ten bestseller as well as a Richard and Judy pick twice. Prior to that she worked in publishing, editing authors like Marian Keyes and Sue Townsend. She claims working on the reissue of the book LACE as a proud moment from her junior career.

The Treasures was released in 2025 and is the first book in a family saga featuring the Ravens over a fifty year stretch of the 20th and 21st centuries.

Last year she published her first murder mystery featuring detective Dora Wildwood, a character she hopes to continue into future novels.

She is on the management committee of the Society of Authors, fighting for better deals for authors, talking about the dangers of AI, ghostwriters, bad contracts, ghosting, royalties and other issues facing authors. She also volunteers with Inspiring the Future, aiming to widen aspiration for all children, and am an ambassador for the London Library.

Harriet lives in Bath with her family and a huge fluffy cat.

Harriet can be found on instagram as @harrietevansauthor.

Posted in Netgalley

Hollow Bones by Jodi Picoult

I reach up and unravel my braid. When my hair is loose and whipping around my face, I take the red ribbon I’ve woven through it and press it just beneath my mother’s etched name, underlining. She was here. She was mine.

When Molly Fitzgerald was two months old, her mother went to a morning appointment in downtown New York.

Like so many who left their homes on September 11th, 2001, Molly’s mother never came home.
Now Molly saves lives for a living, running a department for when disasters strike.

Molly and her husband Jesse―a police polygraph expert with his own fractured family―have found a love that is a solace in a dangerous world.

But then Molly’s whole world is turned on its head. She’s spent her life preparing for catastrophe. But nothing could prepare her when a disaster strikes too close to home.

In this powerful novel, Jodi Picoult tells an epic story of the lies we tell ourselves, the plans we design to protect ourselves at the worst moments, and the ties that bind mothers and daughters.

A new Jodi Picoult novel is always cause for celebration in my house and this was devoured in just two days. She has a knack of drawing in the reader immediately with a casual conversational style. I went in with no blurb so I didn’t know which way the story was going and was surprised by the different direction. This is the story of a family caught up in events beyond their control as the world processed one of those events that splits history into a before and after. The shock of 9/11 was felt the world over and everyone has a story of where they were when the planes hit the World Trade Centre. I was in Milton Keynes and I’d been married to my late husband Jez for six weeks. A few days previously he’d flown out to Cape Cod to attend a family wedding, planned long before we met. I stayed home and started university, but I also had my mum staying with me. I’d dropped her in the town centre, came home for a brew and switched on the television to see the second plane hit the south tower and I was transfixed. Then it hit me. When was Jez’s internal flight from Boston to Washington? I didn’t know. I remember scrabbling through paperwork and even ringing his secretary to see if she had it, but nothing. By the time a jet hit the Pentagon I was sure I’d lost him. Between my mum and my sister-in-law Jenny in New Zealand we tried to keep calm, but no calls were going through to his hotel or their mobiles. I’d been so happy in our honeymoon period that I hadn’t thought to ask where he was and when. Finally at around 9 o’clock that night, his cousin Joanna rang me from her honeymoon to tell me they were ok. They left Dullas Airport in Boston twelve hours before the hijackers and had been eating breakfast at IHOP when the pentagon was hit close to their hotel. I was lucky.

The author has also written a flashback section that goes back and takes us through Eloise’s story. We meet her twin sister Adie who wears the white ribbon – a link to The Scarlet Letter perhaps? Eloise’s story isn’t an easy read but I identified with her upbringing in an evangelical church and the spiritual and emotional harm such environments can have on developing teenagers. Eloise had plenty of reasons to run away and she kept running. She’s an artist and uses her art to express her emotion. The significance of her chosen medium – mosaics- is clearly recovery, painstakingly placing broken pieces together to create a bigger, beautiful picture. At art college she creates a large heart with an anatomical heart placed within it using white grout to define its shape. Called ‘Love Thyself’ the piece seemed to signify romantic love but with the reality of love deep inside, a recognition that love isn’t easy but needs action not just pretty words. Despite having empathy for Eloise I did also feel for Evie, Eloise’s best friend at college who falls in love with Adam before she introduces him to Eloise, only to see them fit together as if meant for one another. Evie isn’t perfect, but she stepped in and held Adam and Molly in the aftermath of 9/11 and has been an incredible stepmum. Eloise might have been Adam’s great love but there’s no doubt that Evie’s great loves are Adam and Molly. There’s a huge twist within the book that I hadn’t expected at all, taking it in a completely different direction to what I was expecting. It was so unexpected I had to go back and read a few pages for it to make sense, but from that point on I was gripped. As always this is one of those books that made me think, about chance and destiny and whether there’s ever a right time for something. It made me think about the lives we don’t live – what if Jez had been on that earlier plane? What if I’d gone to the US with them?

Lastly I want to say how brave Jodi Picoult is. At a time when she is the most banned author in school libraries she continues to write about those hot topics that stir up interest and even anger. Here I felt she used her reputation to throw the reader a couple of curveballs – when I realised Molly was pregnant I wondered if she was going to revisit the controversial subject of abortion or babies with special needs, but she surprised me by going in a completely different direction. Taking on 9/11, a seismic event in everyone’s memory, is going to bring criticism her way but she doesn’t let it stop her. Taking on Evangelical Christianity is something that needs to be done a lot more because it should be treated as a cult. We can see the current effect it’s having on politics in the curbing of women’s rights and policies to end an equality people in minority groups have had for most of the 21st Century. Finally she uses Molly’s job in disaster preparation to criticise the current US administration! When I met Jodi Picoult over ten years ago now she told me that it’s the issues in her books that come first. If it stays in her mind a few days she knows it might be worth researching and then finally she hears the characters voices. Here she’s taken different criticisms of the Trump presidency and directly attacked his choices for important roles within government and cuts in spending. I love that she’s still speaking truth to power in her work. This is a timely novel about the world we live in since 9/11 but also how a family face personal loss inside such an international tragedy. It’s also a beautiful look at motherhood and how mums sacrifice themselves for their children in small everyday ways, but also in big life-changing ways too.

“I reach up and unravel my braid. When my hair is loose and whipping around my face, I take the red ribbon I’ve woven through it and press it just beneath my mother’s etched name, underlining. She was here. She was mine.”

Meet the Author

Jodi Picoult is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of twenty-nine novels, including Mad Honey, Wish You Were Here, The Book of Two Ways, A Spark of Light, Small Great Things, Leaving Time, and My Sister’s Keeper, and, with daughter Samantha van Leer, two young adult novels, Between the Lines and Off the Page. Picoult lives in New Hampshire.

Follow Jodi Picoult on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and Twitter: @jodipicoult

Hollow Bones is out in the UK on 5th November from Penguin

Posted in Squad Pod Collective

The Trouble with Sister Francis by Matt Coyne

Sister Francis is an unlikely nun.

She’s sixty, sweary, drives like a lunatic and smokes like a stacked chimney . . . and she runs the Blessed Assumption Boys Club.

Richie, Bennett, Kenny and Stan are four best friends from the Whittle council estate with little to do but get up to no good. After a run-in with local bullies, they discover the crumbling, forgotten club and find themselves in the company of the most remarkable person they will ever meet.

Set against early 1980s Britain, THE TROUBLE WITH SISTER FRANCIS is a funny, heartwarming, and heartbreaking story of unlikely heroes, quiet rebellions, fierce loyalty and unexpected hope.

And at the centre of it all lies a long-forgotten journal that might just change everything.

I feel like I’ve been living under a rock because I seem to be the only book blogger who hasn’t read Matt Coyne’s Frank and Red, so this was my first introduction to his writing. I didn’t even follow him on social media before now so I went in completely blind. I can honestly say this book was a gem from start to finish. Matt Coyne’s ability to write a novel with the emotional intelligence to balance weighty subjects like war and loss against laugh out loud comedy is akin to Sue Townsend and her wonderful creation Adrian Mole. In fact it was Adrian I thought of when reading these four boys, Richie, Bennett, Kenny and Stan, all from the Whittle Council Estate in Sheffield in the early 1980s. Their dialogue is pitch perfect for a boy of that age, with their slang, swearing and prurient interest in Mrs Bolcheck’s ‘wibblies’. It brought back a memory of my brother and his friend Darren who would hang out together in our Lincolnshire village, hiding behind hedges to shout at a rather well endowed lady ‘show us your tits’. Thank goodness there were no formidable nuns nearby. 

Nostalgia and charm are definitely are a huge factor in the enjoyment of this story, with exactly the right 1980s sweets, pop culture references and Northern humour. For me, it the presence of a nun that drew me in and having been brought up Roman Catholic nuns feature strongly in my memory. In 1980 as I was falling in love with Lady Di like the rest of the world and wondering whether to cut off my hair, I was also making my holy communion. I couldn’t get to Catholic school where we lived so I went to the convent every Monday evening for lessons with Sister Anne, a large, twinkly and very maternal nun who taught me my catechism. She also gave me homework every week, to write out a Bible story and illustrate it. I came across this folder when my mum and dad downsized a few years ago and found various crayon drawings of Jesus and his disciples but thanks to a seven year olds grasp of anatomy I’d placed their arms too low on their bodies. The result was various saints whose spidery hands looked like big throbbing knobs! How did she keep a straight face? 

Sister Francis is more like my rather formidable previous schoolteacher, Sister Joan. She had the sharpness and discipline of a military veteran, but underneath that there was a twinkle that made me think there was a sense of humour and quick wit underneath. Sister Francis drives an old clapped out van as if she’s in a rally car. Smoke seems to billow from the exhaust and the a cigarette she always has on the go. She swears and is often reading the racing post. I have always found nuns to be singular and quirky individuals so I warmed to her immediately. Although she’s a comic character there’s so much more to her. She’s clearly keen on restarting a boy’s club she used to run years ago, with origins of supporting boys who had lost their father in WW2. She has a way of relating to boys from the area and our four friends can see she’s a formidable ally from the first day. When they roll up to the clapped out shed they’re accosted by one of the local priests, asking what they’re doing hanging around the presbytery and accusing them of looking for things to steal. When Sister Francis bursts out of the shed he’s taken aback and the boys notice she uses her sweetest voice and emphasises the holy intentions behind her club, but as soon as he’s gone she lights up and is her sweary self. Behind this exterior are buckets of empathy and determination to help the boys in her care, not that she’s easy on them. The four boys have a deal with her, if they come and help her clean the club house on the last Saturdays of term they can come to the club in the holidays and keep the entrance fee. It’s hard work but they stick at it and I found this so reminiscent of little dens me and my brother would build together in those long summer holidays where the sun seemed to shine endlessly. 

I developed a soft spot for Rich’s Grandad Bob, who has a keen sense of humour and is a great role model for a young boy who has lost his father. I loved how he made Rich laugh with his assessment of Aunt Carole – she has a beard and looks like a pirate. He’s also there for the worse times too, after Rich’s dad died he has enough sense to simply sit with him as the loss hits him, no platitudes or promises, just sitting with him in his grief. Alongside Rich’s 1980s narrative is the journal of another boy who went to the Dead Dad’s Club after the upheaval of WW2. This narrative is evocative of a totally different era as Reginald is evacuated to a small village near Sheffield that’s something of a culture shock after growing up in London. It includes little documents he’s saved that really add to the historic significance of his experiences. Evacuees didn’t always have the best time and Reginald is coping with the boredom of the village and his observations on what passes as news worthy are so funny. He’s also navigating that rite of passage from primary to secondary school and the author really does conjure up those fears about the bigger school, getting lost and being without your usual friends. I wasn’t sure where his story fit with our four main characters and this is kept under wraps until exactly the right moment. This book has been a wonderful mood lifter just when I needed one, like a warm hug in book form. One line made me think about the friends who knew me in my small village at a similar age, one of whom I’ve tried to see regularly more recently. We try to get together at least once a month for cake and a catch up and I remember being taken aback at first by exactly how well she knew me. But of course she does. As Matt Coyne writes ‘real friendships are cast in the everyday’ and even though my friend and I often just walked her dog, cleaned out the rabbits and watched telly we grew up together and that counts for a lot. I heartily recommend this hilarious but heartfelt story that’s a ray of sunshine in book form. 

Out Now from Wildfire Books

Meet the Author

Matt Coyne is from Sheffield, South Yorkshire. In September 2015, his life was turned upside down by the arrival of his son, Charlie. Three months into parenthood, he took to social media to write about his experience as a clueless first-time dad. Within days, his post about surviving the early months of parenthood was shared by millions around the world.

Following this, Matt created his popular blog Man vs Baby, which now has more than 500,000 followers. He is the author of two Sunday Timesbestselling books – Dummy and Man vs. Toddler – both based on Man vs Baby and has written for the Guardian, Telegraph, Private Eye and GQ.

The Trouble with Sister Francis is Matt’s second novel, following his acclaimed, award-winning debut Frank and Red.

Matt lives in Sheffield with his son Charlie, his partner Lyndsay and a Jack Russell terrier with ‘issues’ called Popcorn.

Posted in Netgalley

The Wine Dark Sea by Victoria Hislop 

Greece, 1946. In the power vacuum remaining after the Second World War, a brutal civil war erupts between rival left- and right-wing factions. The conflict spirals as the country pays a bitter price in human lives and fighting soon erupts in the mountains, turning villages into battlefields and pulling ordinary women and children into the fray.

When the government soldiers come to Kalopetra, Fotini is nursing her newborn second child. She urges her daughter, Iliana, to hide with the older children as she and the other women are herded into trucks. Weeks later, soldiers return for the children . . . but they are not to be reunited with their mothers, a wholly different fate awaits them.

Fotini finds herself transported to a prison on the island of Chios, where she befriends Markella, whose little son, Nikos, is wise beyond his years. After months of imprisonment, when Fotini and Markella find themselves separated from one another – and from Nikos – Fotini vows to hunt not only for her own child but for Markella’s too. 

The Wine-Dark Sea tells of families flung apart across continents and of a strong, determined mother who resolves not to let war destroy hers.

This epic story from Victoria Hislop really taught me a lot about a period of history I know little about. She has taken an incredible amount of research for this novel and I imagine some of it was harrowing. She has taken the stories from women living through this time and shown some of them through one family, magnifying their power. The events happen after the end of WW2, a turbulent time that has already seen the punishment of Nazi collaborators and now many would like to see the end of their right wing government. The setting is one little village called Kalopetra where Fotini’s husband has gone to fight for government forces against the communists. This immediately causes a schism in the family because Fotini’s sister Stella has a husband who fights for the communists. The sudden divide is causing friction across the village, but the women left behind must work together if they’re to survive. When government forces come to the village they capture all the women and Fotini is allowed to bring her baby son with her. However, her older daughter Iliana is left behind along with a group of older children. How will they survive? That moment of Iliana chasing the truck with her mother unable to do anything to reassure her is burned into my memory. Although soon enough communist forces will round up the children and move them into camps where they are fed, clothed and then sent on to other countries like Yugoslavia. After having the entire burden of the other village children on her shoulders, Iliana is relieved to be fed and clothed by such kind people and so the process of brainwashing begins. All Fotini can think about is returning to her peaceful village and living the rustic existence that has survived for centuries, she doesn’t know that her way of life is already dead and nothing will be the same again. 

The author uses Fotini as her main narrator, but we also have chapters from Iliana’s perspective as she grows into adulthood and some through Nikos, the clever son of Fotini’s friend in their camp. These two narratives show how far and wide one family could be spread as Iliana thrives in the communist way of life and Nikos is chosen for a programme directly backed by the Queen of Greece. Iliana sums it up perfectly when she asks:

“Was there a single family on earth that had remained intact, or in the place they belonged or wanted to be.” 

One of the benefits of a communist system is that women are seen as equal to men and this intrigues Iliana who knows that if they’d remained in Kalopetra her fate would have been the same as her mother and grandmother. She’d be married to someone in the village and bring up babies. Here she could learn to drive or even fly a plane. She longs to be an engineer and hopes if she studies hard she will have the opportunity to go to university. It’s easy to see how a young woman like her would see communism as an improvement on what she expected from life, scratching out a living from the land and being second to a man. In the government camp Fotini is holding out against signing a confession that she was a communist. Those who do sign the waiver are set free but forever marked as traitors to the government, especially in the eyes of their fellow villagers. Fotini doesn’t want that hanging over their family when they return home. She doesn’t know whether her husband is alive or dead, but isn’t longing for his return. She makes friends within the camp, particularly with Markella who comes from an island with a leper colony where she used to work. It’s where she plans to return. As her baby Mitsos grows he plays with Markella’s interesting boy Nikos, something of a child prodigy when it comes to numbers. His fascination is with ships and he will build them out of any material he can find to hand. It’s not long before he’s noticed and singled out for a different institution backed by the Queen. From there he seems to disappear and Fotini is determined to find both her daughter and Nikos when she is released. When she is released it’s clear one thing hasn’t changed – the generosity of Greek people. As Fotini and Mitsos travel to search for the lost children people take them in, share their own dwindling food supplies and clothe them too. It restores her faith in humanity that there is still such generosity left in a people who have been tearing each other apart. There is a glimmer of hope for the future. 

I really enjoyed the later parts of the novel where we see Fotini piecing life back together in the city of Piraeus. It’s a massive change for this country girl but she can see the benefits of more job opportunities, entertainments like the cinema and eating good Greek food again at a lovely restaurant run by Demetrios. He’s such a kind man and gently reminds Fotini that she can’t spend the rest of her life wandering and looking for the children. The best thing she and Mitsos can do is stay in one place and hope the children find her, the place she was trying to get back to is gone. There was so much material to choose from in this book that it could have filled a trilogy. I had questions about all sorts of characters, such as Fotini’s relationship with her sister Stella. I also had questions about Nikos’s journey and his adoptive mother, there just seemed to be more about her that could have been explored. However, I loved Iliana’s growth and her life as an adult living under communism. The differences between Greece and Hungary were fascinating and imagine some very heavy editing of this material had to be done to get it into one novel. As always the author captures the beauty of the Greek islands, their isolation and wildness and how this conflict disrupts a way of life that existed for centuries. The book symbolically ends with a circular dance that’s life affirming and perhaps a way of capturing, just for a few moments, that lost way of being. 

Out from Headline Books September 24th 2026

Meet the Author

Victoria Hislop is the international bestselling author of The Island and The Return. In the United Kingdom, she writes travel features for The Sunday Telegraph, The Mail on Sunday, House & Garden, and Woman & Home. The Island sold over a million copies in the UK and has been translated into 24 languages. Victoria’s second novel, The Return, has been published in more than a dozen languages. She lives in Kent, with her husband Ian and their two children.

Posted in Squad Pod Collective

Sugartown by Caragh Maxwell 

What do you do when you’ve ruined your life? You go home to your mother, if you’re lucky enough still to have one. Saoirse Maher wouldn’t recommend it. 

Leaving home wasn’t supposed to be temporary. When she moved to London, Saoirse was leaving Ireland behind for good, and with it her messy, broken family. But it turns out that starting again isn’t as easy as she imagined, and when her five-year relationship goes south, Saoirse finds herself out of options. And so here she is, trudging back to her mother Máire’s house up a side road on the outskirts of Irish civilisation. 

Except the world she comes back to is nothing like the one she left behind. Her mother has a new family, and everyone else seems to be moving on. But between the drinking, drugs, and an entirely healthy, not-problematic-at-all-thanks relationship with Charlie, there’s plenty to distract her.

Don’t look too closely, and everything’s fine. Saoirse is just fine. 

This was one of those books where the narrative voice captures you straight away and you know you’ll follow wherever she takes you. Saoirse is in her early twenties, newly returned to a small town in the Irish midlands when her big life in London doesn’t go as planned. Now back under the roof of her mother, her second husband JJ and their three perfect daughters, all Saoirse can see is the difference between the mother her little sisters have and the mother she had at the same age. Back then Máire was young and struggling, with a husband who’d rather drink his wages than bring them home to his wife and child. In fact Saoirse can remember being in her mother’s car, driving from pub to pub to look for him. There was so much drama between her parents she might as well have been invisible. When she contrasts this with Lily, Grace and Emilia’s life she can see the difference but she can’t understand it; are they just more lovable than her? She notices the way her mother Máire dotes on them, puts their hair into identical plaits but stops short of identical clothes, reads to them at night and makes sure they’re cared for and these small expressions of love hit Saoirse like poison darts. Her sisters even get to call her Mammy, something that Máire was very clear about:

“I was christened Máire Lynch. Not Mammy. That is not my name. I won’t speak to you if you don’t use my name.”

Sometimes she wonders if the impression she has of their relationship is distorted but then she remembers Granny Lynch, the person who cared for her most asking her aunt to give her some leeway; ‘leave her be, you’ve met her mother.’ Granny’s is the only place she had stability and felt loved for herself, just for existing. Even now, at the age of 24, Saoirse feels her mum’s bite as she bullies her out of bed in the morning, insists she does an interview for the local hardware store and is insistent that JJ shouldn’t have to keep her. Saoirse just wanted a few days grace to gather her thoughts and adjust, but now she’s everything she didn’t want to be, living back with her mother in a small Irish town and doing a job that has no meaning and pays enough money to get by week to week. Then, with her friend Doireann she spends it on alcohol and drugs to forget the tedium and disappointment of life for a few hours. She isn’t even allowed to express her disappointments because Máire is right there, ready to tell her what it was like to be her age with a baby and an alcoholic husband. The author uses wit and humour, even within the darker themes and here Saoirse talks about the ‘overarching theme of the Annual Irish Suffering Olympics’. If you complained about a broken toe, someone else had lost their foot in a mowing accident, so you should ‘get over yourself’. This was such a familiar moment of Irish family humour that it made me smile. 

It’s easy to forget Máire’s struggles because Saoirse’s voice is so compelling. It’s no wonder her mother enjoys the routine and stability of her relationship with JJ after the turbulence of marriage to Saoirse’s father. When Saoirse hits rock bottom her dad is briefly there for her, but it’s the first time. Although we concentrate on the mother/ daughter relationship, he has been completely absent in her life. He’s one of those Irishmen who are great at stories and for the craic down at the pub, but they don’t see the state he’s in at home and the way he chooses drink over his family again and again. He seems stable enough at the moment, living with his second wife and making bodhrains in his garden workshop, but he will always let her down. I was concerned that Saoirse would end up living her mum’s life, young, pregnant and with a partner who can’t be trusted. I felt so maternal towards Saoirse throughout and I could see that her lack of parental support left her craving love and acceptance. It’s like a huge hole that can never be filled. Unfortunately it also leaves her open to damaging relationships and when she meets Charlie, through Doireann and her on again off again boyfriend Connor, she falls headlong into tumultuous and possessive feelings.

I was holding on to hope that she could get her life back on track, even when it hits rock bottom and she wakes up in hospital. In the end she turns to counselling and one of the first things they talk about is that emptiness Saoirse feels where the love and support of a parent should be. One line of dialogue in the book broke my heart more than anything and it’s when Máire is throwing all her anger and resentment at her daughter. Their fight turns physical when Saoirse reminds her that she forgot she had a fourth child. When she asks her mother what she’ll tell her little sisters Máire says ‘I’ll tell them to be anyone but you.’ It’s so harsh it stopped me short. Of course in order to heal we look for closure and Saoirse has tried drugs, alcohol, relationships and acting out to fill that hole at her centre. The counsellor asks her some searching questions. What if that closure never comes? What if she doesn’t have a relationship with her mother? Somehow she has to learn to feel that uncomfortable absence without trying to fill it with other things. I felt there was hope that she would build self esteem, because even in the throes of first love she finds Doireann’s relationship with Connor uncomfortable. When she tries to clarify whether they are together or not, Doireann says they’re not ‘together, together’ but it’s great because they both get their space and they’re not making claims on each other. Saoirse is confused and asks Doireann who else she’s seeing, but she’s only seeing Connor while he’s seeing other girls. 

“So you do all the things a couple does without the security of knowing you’re not going to get cheated on.”

Of course she could be cheated on whether in an official relationship or not, but the need to point out that only Connor benefits from their arrangement shows that Saoirse does have some expectations and standards. She knows she doesn’t want that kind of relationship. She wants boundaries, exclusivity and respect it’s just that her desperate need for love and acceptance means she settles for less. She also knows that her own capacity for love is immense, saying she would tear herself down to make sure Charlie grew because ‘it was just my way.’ Luckily at this point she moves in with Doireann and her family and sees a totally different way of parenting, a seemingly natural maternity in her mum Karen who struggled to become a parent and sees her daughter as something of a miracle. Saoirse notices that they have saved mementoes of every milestone in their daughter’s life and yet are still able to listen and support her plans to move away from home. When Karen’s had a hard shift at the hospital, Saoirse listens and makes her a cup of tea and Karen tells her she’s a ‘good girleen’ but the compliment is so alien to her she doesn’t know what to do with it. Being mothered makes her realise how complicated it is and opens up the guilt, anger, resentment and thoughts that she could ‘fuck up’ her own daughter. Yet she’s already thinking about how to stop repeating the pattern. 

This is a remarkable debut. Every single character felt completely real and the author has captured the awkward vulnerability of youth and a girl who has never had that parental safety net that allows her to experiment and work out who she is. The language is beautiful too from the viciousness of a resentful parent, to the delirium of drug addled parties and the tedium of the hardware store. She describes a silence between her and her mother as weighing on her like ‘wet wool’ and I could feel its heaviness. It all rings true and struck a chord with me about my own teenage years and not always being understood. Some of the descriptive passages are so layered they create tiny moments of stillness within the turbulence becoming passages to breathe in. I found myself responding to the book bodily, so immersed that when the author described a panic attack I realised I was holding my own breath. I felt sad, angry and deeply maternal towards Saoirse and with my counsellor head on I wanted to help. I wanted her to see that she wasn’t the sum of her parents and all the bad things that had happened, that even in the darkest moments there is a tiny spark of light. Any writer that can make a reader feel so much for her characters and their journey is special and I can’t wait to read what Caragh does next, but for now I know Saoirse will be staying with me for a while. 

Out now from OneWorld Publications

Caragh Maxwell is a writer living in Sligo town. She graduated from the Trinity College MPhil in Creative Writing in 2023, and her essays, poems and stories have been published in The Irish Times, The Cormorant and other publications. Her writing focuses on the self, memory, and womanhood. Sugartown is her debut novel, and was shortlisted for the 2025 A Post Irish Book Awards.

Posted in Writing and Writers

Who Inspires You? My Writing Heroes.

My blog is a little different today because it is inspired by Monday’s WordPress prompt – who inspires you? Like many bloggers and readers I am an aspiring writer. Ever since I was a little girl I’ve wanted to be able to walk into a library and see my book on the shelf. I used to make little books, sewn into colourful covers, my writing is definitely better than my drawing. One particular book about a family of chickens is in a box in the attic, but remains infamous in my family because when my mum read it she was anxious the school would think this was my home life. Mr and Mrs Cockadoodledo were very volatile and he was fond of telling his wife she was a nag and stomping off to the pub while she watched Coronation Street. So far, the closest I’ve come to writing a book as an adult was writing the story of me and my late husband, killed by complications with primary progressive MS. I managed to finish it and then format it (goodness knows how) to go on Kindle around 15 years ago. I think it probably sold half a dozen copies. Everyone was very kind about it, but let’s be honest it’s hard to be critical to a recent widow. When it came to reformatting it I was finishing my counselling training so I let it go. So that’s where I am. I do have a work in progress, but it’s all fragments at the moment. I struggle with flow, a very negative inner voice and my health limitations. So today I thought I’d share people whose writing I really admired recently and how they’ve inspired me to keep writing. 

Rachel Canwell – Canwell’s debut novel Paper Sisters was brilliant and made me realise that any setting is fascinating if the writer makes it so. Set in my home county of Lincolnshire, in an area that suffers many jokes about Fen Folk and endless fields filled with mist and cabbage, Rachel still managed to draw me in. In fact she took the isolation of the area and made her characters grow from that, with their house, sited across the river from Sutton Bridge and accessed via a swing bridge. The abandoned hospital next door is primed, ready for patients that will never come creating an eerie and abandoned feeling. She uses the peculiar Lincolnshire mist to great effect in her opening scene as the family are woken by a rumbling noise coming from the small port area being built across the river. As they emerge into the darkness, the mist rises above the river and obscures their view but they can hear crashes and objects falling into the water. The mist also obscures the rescue of workers, leading to the terrible drowning of one of the brothers. I recognised that mist from years of living next to the River Trent, and eerie nights back in the 1990s driving home in my little Mini from working late at a local pub. Because the area is so flat, the mist seems to hang in mid air, with everything below and above still visible and it was exactly the height of my windscreen. I had to drive very slowly which at a late hour in the middle of nowhere was very creepy indeed. For Rachel’s characters WW1 comes and the fact that it’s reach extends to such an insignificant place somehow magnifies its impact – you imagine areas where people were carrying on as normal but this reminds us everyone was touched by it, rather like our recent experiences through COVID. Her female characters are two sisters Eleanor and Lily and Eleanor’s childhood friend Clara who is married to their brother Frank. Lily has rarely left the house since her brother died on the night of the port collapse, but for an apparent invalid she has a lot of control over Eleanor. She’s determined that her sister will never leave her. Eleanor wants to leave, she has fallen in love with the new blacksmith. Her day to day maintenance of Lily and the abandoned hospital her father created to treat the port workers is draining. The tension between the sisters builds and then there’s Clara and Frank. Clara wants to help her sister-in-law escape Lily’s control and Frank, an unreasonable and violent man at the best of times, returns from war struggling with a brain injury and PTSD. These two women only have each other and the strength of their loyalty is incredible. My main take away from a writing perspective is to remember that I have a unique voice. No one else has had my experiences or my way of dealing with them. Yes, they seem mundane to me because they’re mine, but to a reader they are completely new. 

Nydia Hetherington – last year I was blown away by Nydia’s novel Sycorax a book I was drawn to thanks to chatting with Nydia on social media after reading her debut novel but also because it features Shakespeare’s The Tempest. The Tempest is my favourite play of Shakespeare’s especially since studying it at university and becoming obsessed with Caliban, the play’s ‘monster’. It crossed over beautifully with my Post-Colonial Lit module because there we’d looked at Jonathon Miller’s 1970 production at the Mermaid Theatre. This production leaned heavily on post-colonial themes with two West Indian actors, Norman Beaton as Ariel and Rudolph Walker as Caliban. It depicted Ariel as a house slave who was plotting to take over the island when the colonialists left, by contrast Caliban was a field slave in a much lowlier position. With my specialism in disability literature, Caliban’s description as a ‘savage and deformed slave’ jumped out to me. In disability theory a deformity is used as a ‘narrative prosthesis’, Caliban’s deformity is a crutch, used to show his moral and intellectual inferiority and justifying his enslavement by Prospero. We have to think about the time Shakespeare is writing in and the treatment of people with disabilities, where they were used for entertainment and spectacle or hidden away because they deviate from the white European and abled-bodied ideal. I can’t believe that in this research I didn’t touch on Sycorax. Prospero often speaks of her as a sorcerer he banished from the island and his descriptions of her appearance as monstrous and a hag are there to justify his treatment of her and negates her own power. I was interested in how Nydia used her own experience of rheumatoid arthritis to flesh out this character and give her the story that Prospero denies her in the play. She weaves her own illness into the life of this young girl suffering bouts of extreme joint pain and malaise, gradually becoming bent over as she ages and having to use a stick to walk with. She also has a hand disfigured by fire, but she also has a beauty that men are drawn to and powers they’d like to possess. The juxtaposition of great supernatural power but physical weakness is a powerful one and it creates a fascinating woman who can’t be ignored, as much as she would sometimes like to be. She takes periods of solitude, living very simply and using periods of recuperation to commune with nature and deepen her connection to the earth. She gains wisdom and resilience from battling against the elements in order to survive. I have a chronic illness too and experienced long periods of solitude, particularly during the pandemic. Currently, there is a harmful rhetoric around long term illness and disability that ‘others’ disabled people and blames them for societal problems and I did feel a kinship with this character facing both ableism and the misogyny of men like Prospero. Nydia’s book reminded me that personal experience is a great place to start and that woven with research and imagination it can create something magical and meaningful.

Louise Beech/ Swanson – Louise is a writer who is local to me and I’ve admired her novels for many years now. The first book of hers I absolutely loved was This Is How We Are Human where she writes about a woman caring for her adult son who has autism and other learning difficulties. She is used to providing everything he needs according to a strict daily routine, but one day he comes up with something that stumps her. He wants to experience sex. She’s unsure how to approach this, realising that the world of dating might be too stressful and involves a second person’s feelings and challenges. In the end she takes an unusual decision and hires an escort for her son – it’s interesting to add here that sex is a recognised human need when it comes to assessing a disabled person’s care in some areas of Europe and escort services can be used as part of a care package. I find we’re a lot more squeamish here about sex and disability, although very curious too judging by the amount of people who questioned me when I married a man with physical disabilities. I admired Louise’s bravery in choosing what many see as a taboo subject and managing it with dignity and with a surprising outcome that shows we all make assumptions about people with disabilities. She reminded me that it’s good to write about subjects many people never experience or might be shocked by. Then I read her novel End of Story, a dystopian thriller where fiction novels are banned and writer Fern is suddenly unable to tell stories. She’s followed by grey men in suits who want to be sure she isn’t writing, but joins a resistance movement of women who tell banned bedtime stories to children over the phone. The strangeness of this world is incredibly chilling and she draws us in completely, but something kept nagging at the back of my mind. Something else was going on here. I won’t ruin what this book is about but the twist is incredible and I will admit I cried. This book taught me that we can write about the depths of any human experience, by presenting it in a different place, time or genre and somehow give it even more power. 

Finally there’s her memoir Eighteen Seconds that I devoured and loved for its brutal honesty, bravery and dark sense of humour – something I definitely recognised from my own family. One morning Louise received an awful phone call. Her mother had jumped from the Humber Bridge and despite falling onto a path underneath the bridge, rather than the river, she was alive but very badly injured. Through the lens of this experience Louise tells the story of her childhood and what it is like to be the eldest child of a mother who struggles with her mental health and copes with alcohol. Louise balances this book beautifully. She remembers the experiences she faced as the eldest child of a single mother who couldn’t care for her children and often met men who placed them in genuine danger. Louise was a mum to her younger siblings when she still needed a mother herself. Then there’s the present problem of her mum’s long recovery from her suicide attempt and the difficult balance of being there, but not being dragged back into parenting your own parent. Then there’s the incredible humour the family share in their WhatsApp messages were made me laugh out loud and reminded me of times when my family were sat around my husband’s bed just before he died – at one point watching a crucial Liverpool match. Gallows humour helps and it was inspiring to see personal experiences written in that way. It’s a truth many people don’t realise, that when someone is terminally ill or very badly injured, eventually life carries on. We have to live through the period of loss and still get up every day. It made me think back to the wake we had after my husband’s funeral where everyone had a drink and blew off steam after months of pain and stress. I found my mum down in the garden after midnight throwing smoked salmon from the buffet into the garden pond in order to ‘free the fish’. It was a terrible day but my abiding memory will always be my mum trying to revive a plate of smoked salmon. Louise reinforced the belief in my original memoir, reminding me that my experiences have worth and to tell them exactly as they were, despite fear of judgement and with nothing held back. 

Posted in Personal Purchase

The Bell Witches by Lindsey Kelk 

After sixteen-year-old Emily’s father tragically dies, she is forced to live with the only family she has left, an aunt and grandmother in the heart of Savannah, Georgia in a house as beautiful as it is mysterious.

But all is not what it seems with the Bell family; they’re hiding a magical secret.

When Emily meets the alluring Wyn, she forms a connection that feels like it was always meant to be. As the spark between them grows more powerful, her life takes an exhilarating and terrifying turn; but every step closer to him, takes her a step further away from her family.

Emily will find out that blood is always thicker than water…

THERE’S NO BOND GREATER THAN MAGIC

YA fiction isn’t usually on my radar, but I love both Alice Hoffman’s and Sarah Addison Allen’s mix of small town America and witches so I gave it a try. I was sold on the cover comment that this was ‘Buffy meets the Gilmore Girls’. It certainly isn’t short on atmosphere, with a charming setting in Savannah and Bell House in particular. For Emily who is used to the Welsh climate, it’s hard to acclimatise to the soupy heat that leaves everyone dripping in minutes – their laundry basket must be full every day. The Spanish moss that hangs from the trees like a natural brand of tinsel is actually parasitic, showing us that not everything is as beautiful as it first appears. Bell House is breathtaking and Emily’s first glimpse is overwhelming, calling it ‘Sleeping Beauty’s castle through an Instagram filter’. Everything has that southern charm, including her aunt Ashley’s breakfasts that have so much variety it feels like going out to brunch every morning. What Emily hasn’t yet realised is that she has the power to change the weather just by changing mood and Bell House is equally responsive to the people who live there, but its sentience isn’t just benign. Emily’s grandmother Catherine is in tune with the house and drips with Southern charm, her sayings are pure Deep South hokum; “you look like you were rode hard and put away wet” made me giggle out loud. As she starts to educate Emily in her heritage as a witch I wondered whether her sweetness was just as synthetic as saccharin. 

I felt like the plot was paced awkwardly, feeling both too slow and too fast at once. This was a slow burn at first, setting up both the atmosphere and back story of the Bell family. While this is understandable as the first book in a series, it did feel like the plot took a back seat to description. Conversely, the central romance seemed to proceed at the speed of light with an intensity that felt unnecessary at this early stage. It felt as if their connection was simply announced rather than slowly building up through their emotions. I wanted more from her new friends Lydia and Jackson, both of whom promise fun and mischief and are incredibly loyal to Emily despite only knowing her a few weeks. I liked Lydia’s role as the naughty twin and I hope their friendship develops in the next book. Jackson is taken with Emily and I was expecting some rivalry between him and Emily’s love interest Wyn. I also loved her aunt Ashley who cares for Bell House and its inhabitants so beautifully, but has a dry wit and plenty of sarcasm. She doesn’t take to Emily right away and she’s a great antidote to Catherine’s syrupy sweetness. She never leaves the house and doesn’t pretend to be happy about her role, there’s far more going on here than meets the eye. 

Catherine is the strongest character, stunningly beautiful and clearly very powerful. She takes her role as Emily’s mentor and caretaker very seriously, but there’s very little emotional connection. Catherine isn’t a cuddly grandma at all and imposes quite a few rules on Emily including a ban on dating until her ‘becoming’ when she comes into her full power as a Bell witch. It is Catherine who relates the story of the family of witches who have lived in this house and her history with Emily’s father Paul, who didn’t want Emily to grow up knowing about her potential powers. I loved that the author addressed issues from within that history that resonate today, especially the witch’s role as wise woman to others in her area.

“She helped women who wanted to control the size of their families […] there have always been women who help others in that regard.” 

This is important to Emily who soon discovers she’s a natural apothecary, somehow able to identify most of the plants in Bell House’s garden along with their specific uses. I liked the idea that witches tend to have a speciality, with Catherine being an elemental witch. She suspects Emily of having many different powers, shown clearly when they encounter an unexpected attacker in the cemetery one night. This is a terrifying incident for Emily, even though she doesn’t know the full implications of her actions yet. Catherine tells her that their powers don’t signify them as good or bad, but the opposing forces they work with must be treated with respect. It felt like the book really picked up the pace towards the final third, with Emily’s becoming on the horizon and Lydia planning her a birthday party. This contrast shows us how extreme Catherine’s regime is and reminds us that Emily is a teenager who should be getting to know other young people and looking forward to dancing the night away on her birthday. Instead she’s heading out to a cemetery in the dark, for a potentially dangerous initiation into the Bell tradition under a guidance of a grandmother who doesn’t always seem to have her granddaughter’s best interests at heart. This is where Ashley comes into her own and I hoped to see Emily’s relationship with her aunt develop in future books. The becoming is going to be a reckoning for Emily, Catherine and Wyn in an action packed finale that is gripping and unexpected. There were elements of this novel that I really enjoyed and others I felt were underdeveloped or rushed. I wanted more depth to Wyn and Emily, with perhaps a few twists to their relationship considering their age and Jackson’s interest in Emily. The atmosphere and setting really stood out most, the action sequences were dramatic and fast paced and there were characters with a lot of potential. I am very interested to see how werewolves are going to integrate with the story and how Bell House will respond to Emily after her becoming. I really hope we also see more of that conflict between normal teenager and all powerful witch, as well as more about Savannah and its history. The sequel is out now so look out for my review coming in the next few weeks. 

Sequel The Witch and the Wolf is out now from Magpie Publishing

Meet the Author

Lindsey is a Sunday Times and USA Today bestselling author, podcaster and vociferous defender of The Cheesecake Factory. Her books include the I Heart series, Christmas Fling, The Christmas Wish, Love Story and YA fantasy series, The Bell Witches.

When she isn’t writing, Lindsey moonlights as a co-host on Tights and Fights, a pro-wrestling podcast on the Maximum Fun network. Yes, really, pro-wrestling. And when she isn’t writing, podcasting or ruining her life with social media, Lindsey is most likely to be found reading, watching literally anything on television, texting the group chat or planning a karaoke night (please note she cannot sing).

Born and raised in South Yorkshire, Lindsey lived in London and New York before settling in Los Angeles, where she lives with her husband and their two cats.

Posted in Squad Pod Collective

Dark Is The Morning by Rupert Thomson 

Sometimes love isn’t where you belong

In a mountain village in the Abruzzo region of Italy, Gino, a troubled young man, realises that his childhood sweetheart Franca can give his life the happiness and stability he needs. They seem made for each other, and move to a remote house in the countryside – but there is something in Franca’s past that haunts Gino.

Descending into pathological jealousy and resentment towards a married man who had been Franca’s lover, Gino is unable to stop himself imagining the worst, and embarks on a violent path that has catastrophic consequences.

There couldn’t be a better book for a counsellor to read than this one, following the life of Gino who lives in a small Italian town on the Adriatic Sea. The setting isn’t a bucolic, sun drenched and charming little town, despite Gino’s upbringing on his father’s smallholding where he mainly grows tomatoes. This is a grittier Italy, perfectly suited to the story and Gino himself. Although there is a sense that there’s a different existence within reach, perhaps the life his father has living off the land or whatever brings his father’s friend Harry back every few months. Whatever contentment is, Gino doesn’t know how to find it or accept it once he has it. Gino was born here and makes the comment that he’ll die here if he isn’t careful. He doesn’t want to live the life his parents have, he has bigger and better things to do. However, it could also be the foreshadowing of what’s to come when he meets Franca again. Franca was at school with Gino and in some senses he feels they’re both outsiders: ‘She was a strange little stringy thing, with a thin face and brown hair’. Franca was nicknamed The Rat by other girls, but then Gino was called Dopey after the dwarf in Snow White. She’s very bold, walking up to Gino and telling him that she’s going to marry him one day something both of them were teased about for years. Now, when his father mentions her, he seems irritated but they do have something in common, an inability to live up to their heroic parents. Gino confided in her when they were thirteen, saying all he seems to do is disappoint his father. Franca seems to get this, after all Gino’s father is known for something heroic he did in WW2 and her father is the local ambulance man. Maybe, she suggests, they could be something different to each other? She’s a realist, saying her father could have wanted a beautiful daughter and she’s aware she isn’t. How can they compare to heroes? They are only human. Gino gets into trouble in his teens and spent time in a psychiatric unit and he admits he’d forgotten his old friend, but the conversation with his father lights up his memory and he questions his choices. With a new view on life he searches Franca out and asks to take her to dinner and they are married in a whirlwind and given the chance to make a home in her aunt’s house in the countryside. Is it possible that Gino has learned from his mistakes and now sees what is important in life? 

If I had a trainee who wanted to understand the Cognitive Behavioural Therapy concept of negative automatic thoughts I’d get them to read this book. Everything Gino experiences is filtered through a faulty lens. Whether this is innate or a result of constantly feeling like a disappointment is hard to tell. At the moment he has it all, but in his mind it’s already unravelling. The house needs a lot of work, but could be a secluded haven for a family. Gino hears that something strange happened to Franca’s aunt here during the war and starts to wonder about it, could an event like that leave something in the house like a mood or a feeling? Is the house unlucky in some way? To be transparent about her past Franca tells him about an affair she had with one of her father’s friends. Although outwardly he seems to accept this confession, inwardly it becomes a nagging concern he can’t shake off. He asks others about man who has a concrete business, telling them he has a friend who’s putting in a pool. He tells himself he just wants to look at him, but can he resist speaking to him or perhaps even warning him off? At the end of her working day Franca goes to a cafe in town to wait for Gino to pick her up after work. He notices that she’s chatting to a man, laughing and passing the time of day and he knows he’s been trying to pick her up. His strangest obsession comes when his son Elio is born, a beautiful baby with amazing violet eyes. Everyone who sees him comments on what a beautiful boy he is and he genuinely seems hypnotic for some people, almost holy. All Gino can see is a boy who looks nothing like him. Neither he nor Franca are beauties so how can Elio be his and inspire such reverence in complete strangers? Being in his mind is exhausting and worrying, the author leaves us unsure what he might do next. Pressure mounts with every page and Harry is the only person who seems to get through to Gino, telling him that perhaps the boy embodies the beauty inside them both. 

Everything about Gino screams of a paranoid personality disorder, his mistrust of others and ability to twist innocent encounters into personal slights and grudges are classic symptoms. He has stopped listening to others and his behaviours become more extreme, including hallucinations that his baby son is talking to him. Franca is disturbed to come home and find Elio screaming in the house alone, while Gino is zoned out in the garden. As readers we’re inside his mind and see his motivations, the wrong patterns of thinking and the way he broods and cultivates grudges that are simply not there. Instead of facing these painful thoughts he directs his anger and obsession outward. If Elio is nothing like him, then someone else must be the father. I genuinely believe that Pierozzi would have carried on his life rarely thinking of Franca and her new husband, but Gino’s places himself in harm’s way. Pierozzi is a dangerous man. He’s described as someone things happened to and that resonated with my idea of Gino. Is this something people would eventually say about him? The way the author builds this difficult inner world is so clever and I was anxious, mainly for Franca and Elio. They are living in the middle of nowhere, with a husband and father who is no longer rational. I was mentally screaming at her to make sure she had somewhere safe to go. 

Franca is very sure of her own emotions and choices. When Gino asks her if she’d still marry him she tells him calmly that her feelings have never changed. However she does have “something of the fox about her. That sudden, absolute stillness, that pricking of the ears, that readiness to flee.” Will Franca be just as resolute if she does sense danger? I felt so sad for her, because Gino’s obsession with her past harms her, even though it has nothing to do with him. Why can’t he see that she has only ever loved him? Despite him leaving and never making her any promises when they’re younger, her love never dies. That shows loyalty, but it’s never appreciated or rewarded. Even the beautiful son they have isn’t enough and I wondered if it was partly about his fears of her infidelity but mainly about his relationship with his own father. They were so different in character and distant emotionally, did he ever wonder about his own paternity? The author bookends this story with Harry as the narrator and honestly I had an emotional reaction to being back in Harry’s steady hands at the end. Being in his world felt safer and the way he frames Gino’s story gives it some closure and structure too. I found myself wondering how I’d work with a client like Gino and whether he could ever be satisfied with his life. This book has emotional depth and complexity, tension and action alongside some incredibly surreal moments too. I would definitely read this author again. 

Out now from Head of Zeus

Meet the Author

Rupert Thomson is the author of fifteen critically acclaimed novels, including ‘The Insult’, which was shortlisted for the Guardian Fiction Prize, and chosen by David Bowie as one of the 100 Must-Read Books of All Time, ‘The Book of Revelation’, which was made into a feature film by the Australian writer/director, Ana Kokkinos, and ‘Death of a Murderer’, which was shortlisted for the Costa Prize.

His latest novel, ‘Dark is the Morning’, was published on May 7th 2026. Praised in advance by the likes of Chloe Aridjis, Claire-Louise Bennet, Sarah Waters, Julie Myerson, and Philip Pullman, LoveReading subsequently made it one of their Star Books of the Year, saying “Thomson’s writing casts an almost other-worldly spell…Teeming with tension, ‘Dark is the Morning’ represents literary fiction at its most page-turningly thrilling and poignant.” According to the Financial Times, which admired Thomson’s “stunned, post-traumatic prose”, it’s “the ideal holiday read: frictionless at the level of the sentence; stealthy, romantic, and utterly unpredictable in every other way.”

Rupert Thomson is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, and has contributed to the Financial Times, Granta, the Guardian, the Independent, and the London Review of Books. He has lived in many cities around the world, including Athens, Berlin, Amsterdam, New York, Sydney, Rome, and most recently Barcelona. He currently lives in London.