All Blythe Carney ever wanted was to become a hotelier and run her family’s business, the Hope Square Hotel. But fate, and her grandfather, intervened and it fell into her younger sister Rae’s lap, taking her dreams with it. Now Blythe owns Still Water House, the most exclusive guest house on Pin Hill Island, but she can’t help but feel she’s still not living the life she was meant to.
Rae Johnson had no interest in taking over the hotel, her dreams lay elsewhere, but when she ended up with the family business her sister had set her heart on, her sense of duty to continue their family legacy with her husband was too strong to ignore.
Now, fifteen years later, newly widowed Rae is struggling to keep the hotel afloat and she knows that selling it could be the final straw in her already fragile relationship with her sister.
What do you do when your sister lives the life that you’d set your heart on? And when the perfect storm is brewing, surely, it’s time to put aside the jealousy and disappointment that can tear a family apart, and fight for the future you have always dreamed of?
I love the joy and care in Faith Hogan’s writing and this has been a brilliant book to sit back and enjoy while we’ve been having a few weeks of very warm weather. Her characters always have so many layers and usually plenty of secrets and these women are no exception. I also feel like she cares about them and wants us to understand their journey. The author takes us back and forth in time to give us the story of the Hope Square sisters, Blythe and Rae. In the present Blythe runs a very successful guest house on Pin Hill Island, at Still Water House, the home she shares with husband Kip and daughter Siggy. By contrast her sister Rae lives alone in what was the family business and the only hotel on the island, the Hope Square Hotel. The sisters couldn’t be more different. Blythe has the drive and ambition of a great business woman whose only dream was to gain her degree and take over at the helm of the family business after her grandfather. Blythe runs a tight ship, even at home, and while she and Kip are an excellent team on the business side, of late there’s been some tension between them. Their main point of contention is Blythe’s treatment of their daughter Siggy who is a teenager ready to start planning the next stage of her life, perhaps going away to university? Blythe has closed her mind to this idea, she rarely lets Siggy hang out with other kids on the island and refuses any activity she believes is unsafe. Kip is becoming frustrated, not only does he feel taken for granted, he wants his daughter to be allowed to grow up. However, there is no reasoning with Blythe. Siggy often escapes to work at Hope Square with her Aunt Rae. Rae feels fragile, not surprising since she’s a recent widow, but there’s something more that seems to be keeping her paralysed, unable to make plans and move forward. She and Marcus didn’t have children so she values her precious time with Siggy, but her relationship with Blythe has never fully recovered since Rae and Marcus took over the hotel. How did this sequence of events happen?
The author takes us back and forth in time with both sisters so we can see events and decisions that led us here, but she also uses it to let us in on secrets the sisters have kept from each other. We as readers have the full picture, so behaviour that seems unreasonable or excessive to other characters has some context for us. It’s very frustrating to see characters misunderstanding each other completely. One such instance is Blythe’s behaviour when a new resident comes to Pin Hill Island. Val and her grandson Danial are refugees, he’s eager to find work and she’s keen to join groups and make friends. Blythe’s behaviour around Val seems utterly irrational, but there must be a reason probably buried deep in the past. I found Blythe a challenge I must admit but I couldn’t quite believe she was just a hateful person. The major question that keeps popping up is why would the girl’s grandfather make the inexplicable decision to pass the hotel to Rae and her boyfriend Marcus? The answers will come, but needless to say there were some men in this book who needed a bit of reeducation. Meanwhile as Danial volunteers at the hotel for Rae to get some work experience, he and Siggy spend some time together. Could there be romance on the cards? If there is, Blythe will be definitely have something to say about it and I worried it would have implications for her relationship with her daughter.
All these misunderstandings and secrets are set against a picturesque backdrop on this isolated island. The incredible scenery is clearly what draws people to visit, but is there still enough to sustain two hotels? Blythe is determined to get in a tourist guide and in one of the best comic moments she has a guest from hell, who she suspects is an inspector. I have to admit I imagined Maggie Smith playing this role at her most imperious. The vision of Blythe having to tolerate smoking, moving furniture and waiting on this woman hand and foot made me laugh. Her eventual response to 48 hours of this treatment was priceless. There’s a lot of trauma to unpack here. There’s so much loss for both these women, even after they lost their parents. There are themes of bereavement, motherhood, domestic abuse and being a victim of crime as well as the central family feud. As always the author gives these subjects the depth they deserve and they do have impact especially when it’s a revelation from the past that gives us more insight into the characters. What I like is that she always keeps us hopeful, that there’s a chance for healing and light in what seems a dark world at the moment. As the tension and miscommunication builds I just wanted the two sisters to talk openly and honestly, but it reaches a dramatic conclusion I didn’t expect. This is a great summer read and something of an escape from reality, full of intrigue and family drama but with bucketloads of warmth and hope.
Out now from Aria Books
Meet the Author
Faith Hogan is an award-winning, million copy best seller. She is a USA Today, Irish Times Top Ten and an Amazon UK Number 1 Best Selling writer of contemporary fiction novels. Her stories have charmed readers around the world – she’s sold internationally and translated widely. She writes grown up women’s fiction which is unashamedly uplifting, feel-good and inspiring.
The Bookshop Ladies was shortlisted for an An Post Book Award in 2024.
The Sisters of Hope Square is her brand new summer read coming June 2026. It is a gripping and poignant story of two sisters divided by jealousy and disappointment who must put their differences aside to save the inheritance that drove a wedge between them decades earlier.
She writes twisty contemporary crime fiction as Geraldine Hogan.
She lives in the west of Ireland with her family and their Labrador named Penny. She’s a writer, reader, enthusiastic dog walker and reluctant jogger – except of course when it is raining!
Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?
This was a serendipitous prompt because I have been putting a post together for my Ten on Tuesday series about this subject. I’ve gone with books from primary school age first and this gives you a preview of what I’ll be writing about for the next few days. Many of my favourites were series and I think that’s because they came from a library. On Saturdays my dad played football and I would be dropped off in Scunthorpe with mum to shop and visit the library, a strange modern building with a glass pyramid lobby, not a great choice for a square overrun with pigeons. Mum always left me to make my own choices while she went upstairs to choose hers – on one occasion it was a Barbara Woodhouse training manual for dogs that our spaniel proceeded to rip into pieces, very pleased with himself. I’d have loved to hear that conversation with the librarian. I would choose my books, get them stamped (oh how I wanted a stamp) and then sit on a bean bag and start to read. We would travel across town to my grandma’s house on the bus and once I’d talked everyone to death I went through to the telly room and sat with grandad, who would be boiling himself next to the gas fire and watching either football or old black and white films. I would lie on the couch and read my books quietly until he wanted to check the pools. We used to watch the football results come in, my grandad swearing under his breath and me copying all the unusual club names like Leyton Orient or Heart of Midlothian. I used to take out five books every other Saturday and I would often finish a series, then start all over again with book one.
I think my favourite has to be Tove Jansson’s Moomin series and it is still something of an obsession. I collect Moomin crockery, particularly mugs and cake plates, but I also have Moomin jewellery, clothing and art around the house. I loved Moomin house and its magical Finnish surroundings. Moomintroll would always bring waifs and strays home, his parents always having enough to go round whether it was food, company or shelter that was needed. They also had buckets full of compassion and understanding for people. Little My was terribly bossy and bitey but there was room for her and her mother Mymble. Then there’s the Hemulen, a very learned gentleman who has a love of botany and can often be found shuffling around the gardens and beyond with his magnifying glass and notebook. For some reason he was always wearing a dress but nobody commented. The Snork Maiden is also a Moomin, but isn’t family. She comes and goes, mainly to see Moomintroll who she’s in love with, but she’s always worrying that she is too plump to be loved in return. Finally there’s Snufkin, Moonintroll’s best friend, who is a bit of a loner and loves to wander off and travel in the summer months. He shares a love of fishing with Moomintroll and although he doesn’t always understand Snufkin’s need to be alone he does respect it. All of these unusual people live under one roof and there’s always room. Moominmama and papa are wonderfully kind and never judgemental about their guests, they keep everyone fed and include them in their stories about various adventures. People talk about the personality types seen in Winnie the Pooh but the Moomins are it for me, I can easily fit anyone I know into one of these characters – my brother is a most definite Snufkin. They remain relevant today, particularly the Snork Maiden’s self-image and the Hemulen’s cross dressing. I only realised when I was older that I was lucky enough to have parents very like Moomintroll’s. I had a friend with a Mohican and very baggy Joe Blogg’s jeans who would stroll to my house with flowers he’d stolen from someone’s yard, or the graveyard, and announce to my mum that he’d come for tea and she always fed him. My brother and I constantly brought strays home, animals and people, and my parents were always there with food, a listening ear or some advice. I was living with Moominmamma and Pappa all along.
Reading the books over and over, certainly informed my own ways of dealing with people and might have a lot to do with my choice of career. In mental health, reserving judgment and accepting people as they are is vital in therapy. Now when I look at the books or buy something for my collection I get that feeling of nostalgia for my childhood and my family, whose way of being in the world meant we did live in Moomin House, it was just a bungalow in Lincolnshire rather than a blue tower next to a lake.
Look out for my childhood book blog in the next fortnight, or you can sign up and have every post sent to your inbox.
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.
London, October, 1956. A glittering Royal Film Premiere. The whole world is watching . . .
Tonight, Elizabeth II will formally greet an array of stars. Though she was not born to be Queen, this young mother and wife has embraced her patriotic duty and its unforgiving demands.
A limousine pulls up. Out steps a vision in dazzling gold: Marilyn Monroe. A money-making machine for Hollywood, with curves that drive men wild and a smile that lets women know she’s in on the joke.
As the two most famous women in the world come face to face, they look to be worlds apart. Yet beneath the glamorous costumes, both are fighting to keep the men they love, while trying to do their work in a man’s world. And they have spent the summer of 1956 battling secret demons the public could never imagine.
Now, Marilyn steps forward. These photographs will be on the front page of every newspaper in the morning.
But this isn’t their first meeting. And the story behind the headlines is even more sensational . . .
As soon as I knew that Julie’s next novel was going to feature these two women I was intrigued, because until now the comparison between Hollywood stars and our royal family has been Marilyn and Diana, Princess of Wales. Both were globally famous, incredibly beautiful, hounded by the press and died far too young. This comparison was compounded when Elton John rewrote Candle in the Wind, formerly about Marilyn Monroe, for the late Princess of Wales and played it at her funeral. I was around eight years old when Diana came into public view and I was obsessed for a couple of years with her beautiful dresses and how glamorous it all was, but of course as I grew older her story became more complex and tragic. I think my initial intrigue was due to my age, because to me Queen Elizabeth had always seemed old. This was partly to do with her style I think, but she was in her early fifties (as I am now) when I was taken to the bridge that crosses the River Trent in Keadby, North Lincolnshire to see her car pass by in the silver jubilee year of 1977. I was three and being around for 50 years seemed a million miles away. However, this book focuses on 1956 when the Queen was still a young woman in her twenties and experiencing a very turbulent year. She hadn’t had time to fully settle into her role, she’d had to advise her own sister that she couldn’t marry the man she loved if she wished to remain a princess and her relationship with Prince Phillip had it’s problems. Marilyn was in London to film The Prince and the Showgirl opposite one of our most acclaimed actors, Laurence Olivier. She too was coming into a turbulent phase of her life, after spending some time living in Manhattan and studying the acting ‘method’ theorised by Stanislavski and taught by Strasberg. The idea was to act in a natural way, experiencing what the character is going through, to bring personal emotion and past trauma into the scene, or even stay in character between scenes to keep the intensity in your performance. This was going to prove entirely at odds with Olivier’s way of working. She was also recently married to playwright Arthur Miller, making headlines around the world as the ‘egghead and the hourglass’. The couple came to London in lieu of a honeymoon and were living in a house situated next to the Windsor Castle estate so for a while, the two women were neighbours. The author has taken this background and created a fascinating story about stratospheric levels of fame, how women are treated in the media, and the difficulty of negotiating the line between public and private.
Each woman has their own narrative and we’re taken inside their deepest fears and emotions. This is incredibly difficult to do with such famous subjects because both women are so iconic and we all have an idea in our heads of what they were like and who they were. I found I couldn’t come to them as new characters straight away, but I did find each woman’s inner voice convincing and engaging. This approach means we get to experience each woman in three different ways: the public face; the private face; and their innermost thoughts. Each has an insecurity about their relationship. Marilyn feels that Arthur does see the real her underneath the persona but fears that he will find the press, the attention from other men and her role as Marilyn Monroe too taxing. Where they would have liked a cute little cottage away from it all to spend their honeymoon alone, they have a huge house with staff and constant requests for photo opportunities. Will Arthur always accept that his wife frequently has to switch Marilyn on? The Queen has had two children with Prince Phillip and now has a very busy public role, while his own is largely undefined. This has left him racketing around town with his Private Secretary Michael, attended a gentleman’s club which has a whiff of scandal about it. The Prince seems very aware of the duality of his wife, but being the Queen means playing that role even within her own family at times. There’s the recent unhappiness with Princess Margaret where Elizabeth the sister wanted to grant her wish to marry Group Captain Pete Townsend, but Elizabeth the Queen couldn’t. Prince Phillip refers to her “Queen Face” and she employs it as a shield so nobody knows what she’s thinking or for when she has to deliver news that family members might dislike. When scandal rears it’s head, the Queen has to think every carefully about how she handles her husband but first and foremost she must protect the crown. Will her relationship suffer because of this?
Marilyn’s excitement about her new film is tempered by the tone as soon as she arrives to meet Laurence Olivier and his wife, Vivien Leigh. It seems Leigh has played this role on stage and perhaps hoped to be in the film? It’s hard to read how eager Marilyn is to be with these revered British actors who she sees as the real deal. There’s an incident with Dame Sybil Thorndike at the read through that really does reinforce Marilyn’s ability to switch her star power on and off. It’s a defence mechanism to cover her natural shyness, but also a response to her childhood experiences. It’s clear when she’s bullied on set, her response comes from trauma – the muteness, the stammering and getting her lines wrong. Her past experiences are devastating and we can see them playing out in her work and her relationship with Miller, who she calls ‘Pa’ in private. The author poses the dilemma of each woman being much more famous than their husband and worrying about how to negotiate that imbalance. Marilyn is constantly placed in the middle by the press and her commitments to the film, meaning she’s forced to switch Marilyn on even in private events like a party. Can Miller accept this duality and the constant demands on her time while still seeing the real her? If the Queen makes the decision to act in the way her courtiers advise will Phillip forgive her? If only these women could have known what the other was going through – how impossible it is to be a wife, or a sister and also be a global icon. It made me think of the Queen in a new light and I wondered whether she ever thought of her younger experiences when Diana was globally famous. This is a really interesting read, shedding light on a fascinating time and showing how impossible it is to please everyone, something most women find particularly hard. I was moved by something attributed to the Queen:
“I want to be something constant to people – beaming out a little ray of light that provides a sort of normality. A kind of ‘if she’s still there doing her duty, then all will be well”
I think she achieved this because her death felt seismic and I think as a country we’ve been all at sea since she died. While politics were in turmoil the Queen was a constant for every generation since my mum who was born in 1953 and also has pictures of Marilyn in her bedroom. Both women have a legacy but only one got to live out her life in full, both publicly and privately. This is a beautifully judged piece of modern historical fiction, getting underneath the skin of women we feel like we knew well but perhaps didn’t know at all. The book goes beyond the facts and lets us wonder how these women could have had insights into each other’s lives. With all the research and sensitivity I’ve come to expect from this author, she has once again captured the mid-20th Century perfectly while also showing us that our modern preoccupations with image and celebrity are perhaps not as new as we thought.
Out Now from Penguin
Meet the Author
Julie Owen Moylan is the author of three novels: That Green Eyed Girl, 73 Dove Street and Circus of Mirrors.
Her debut novel That Green Eyed Girl was a Waterstones’ Welsh Book of the Month and the official runner up for the prestigious Paul Torday Memorial Prize. It was also shortlisted for Best Debut at the Fingerprint Awards and featured at the Hay Festival as one of its TEN AT TEN debuts.
73 Dove Street was recently named as a Waterstones’ Book of the Year and Daily Mail Historical Fiction Book of the Year with the paperback a Waterstones Welsh Book of the month in 2024.
Her writing and short stories have appeared in a variety of publications including Sunday Express, The Independent, New Welsh Review and Good Housekeeping.
Elizabeth and Marilyn will be released in April 2026.
When it feels as if the world has gone to hell in a handcart we need books that absorb us into another world, that distract us, or teach us how to cope. We want something gentle maybe? A feel good novel or something that makes us laugh out loud. So I’ve compiled a list of books that have helped me over the years from those that have given me inspiration or suggestions on how to cope – the best one? Get a small dog. Often we need something nostalgic or an old favourite to sustain us, or perhaps something with a hint of magic. I think we all need just a tiny sprinkling of hope.
This is a lovely, heartwarming read. It’s about being broken and trying to put ourselves back together. Sometimes we need another person to help us, a spark of friendship and a chance to learn from each other. Here’s the blurb…
Two people.
Simon Sparks hides in plain sight – his astonishing gifts locked deep inside himself, as he dreams of lost potential and extraordinary tomorrows.
Jodie Brook hides behind what you think of her – a single mum who can barely make ends meet. But her dreams are filled with the education she always wanted and discovering a better life for her and her son.
One life.
When Simon and Jodie’s lonely worlds collide, it upends everything. But as it becomes clear they have so much to learn from each other – Jodie can show Simon how to rejoin the world, and Simon can help Jodie prepare for her greatest challenge yet – they begin to realise that life could be so much more.
One ordinary day at a time…
Sometimes the old ones really are the best and I’m always instantly soothed by one of these books, mainly for me the first two that focus on the March sisters as they grow up and choose their way forward in life. Yes, I know exactly how they’re going to turn out but that means there are no nasty surprises and I can just luxuriate in the sisters, their hobbies and passions, the warmth of their home and their generosity as a family. The March family are not without their trials, with their father away at war, sickness and loss and heartache but these are character building and the girls always look forward with hope. I can’t believe there’s a reader out there who hasn’t seen one of the films or read these books when they were younger so I won’t do the blurb. All you need to know is these books are funny, hopeful, romantic and everyone has a favourite sister. Beware of doing those quizzes that tell you which March sister you are. I wanted Jo but got Amy and that put a real dampener on my day! 😂😂
I’ve been following Dr Brené Brown’s work for around 12 years now and often used it in my counselling practice. I could have taken any of the books because they’re all helpful, but this is the one I started with. One of the biggest barriers to success and connection in my life has always been perfectionism. I’ve failed at things before I’ve even started because I wanted my work to be perfect. I even went to university with the aim of getting a first, because anything less would have felt like a failure. A chronic illness and disability has taught me that I can’t work in the way I want to. I have to work in short bursts and sometimes it I have to accept it’s a day to rest and work, chores and everything have to take a back seat. It’s a hard lesson. Reading this book helped me to accept my imperfections and realise admitting them to friends and family would bring us closer. Brené Brown tells us about her own struggles with perfectionism and it’s like reading the words of a close friend. Under this chatty style is a serious academic, with many years of research behind her. I never felt lectured but I did learn. I came away feeling like we’d had an honest, in-depth conversation where she showed her own vulnerability. I would advise reading it through, then go back to it with a notebook and pen, working through the tasks and applying them to your life. This really did create change in my life and allowed me to relax about being a messy, imperfect human.
Many of you have probably read Cheryl Strayed’s book Wild or watched the Reece Witherspoon film of the same name. It chronicled her decision to walk eleven hundred miles up the West Coast of America from the Mojave Desert, through California and into Washington State. This wasn’t something she normally did, but life’s circumstances had brought her to breaking point. Her mother died suddenly, her family seemed to fall apart and her own relationship totally broke down. She knew she needed to do something drastic, otherwise addiction could completely take over her life. This one of those survival stories where just getting up every day and walking and the nature around her began the healing process. This is a later book, compiled from the online anonymous agony aunt Cheryl became afterwards. Using the name Sugar, she tackled so many different problems with empathy but also a deep understanding of how it feels to be at rock bottom. Having down to earth advice from someone who’s been on the same journey is so powerful. Somehow it comes across as down to earth, genuine and caring, while also avoiding bullshit. This is a great book to dip in and out of when you’re feeling a bit low. In fact I recommend creating a pile of books by the bed for this very reason, books where you can read one section, a poem or a letter for those mornings when you need that boost.
This book is an absolute beauty and was a total surprise too! I picked it up in a second hand bookshop because it had an octopus on the cover and I read these lines:
Who am I, you ask? My name is Marcellus, but most humans do not call me that. Typically, they call me that guy. For example: Look at that guy—there he is—you can just see his tentacles behind the rock. I am a giant Pacific octopus. I know this from the plaque on the wall beside my enclosure.
It went from a maybe to a must buy in a couple of sentences. Our main character is Tova Sullivan whose husband died and ever since she’s worked as the night cleaner at the Sowell Bay Aquarium. Ever since her eighteen-year-old son, Erik, mysteriously vanished on a boat over thirty years ago keeping busy has helped her cope. One night she meets Marcellus, a giant Pacific octopus living at the aquarium who sees everything, but wouldn’t dream of lifting one of his eight arms for his human captors – until he forms a remarkable friendship with Tova.
Ever the detective, Marcellus deduces what happened the night Tova’s son disappeared. And now Marcellus must use every trick his old body can muster to unearth the truth for her before it’s too late… This book is heartwarming, original and so clever. Being inside the mind of Marcellus just made me smile and still does whenever I have a re-read. This book stays by my bed because I know it will always bring me joy.
I may be cheating here because this is more of a genre than an individual book, but I simply had to add it to this collection. There’s a reason streaming channels fill their schedules with Jane Austen adaptations, with a new Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility on their way soon, and it’s because they’re a joy to watch. Especially if they put one on opposite the endless football. These are gentle, witty and romantic stories with the hope of a happy ending. Of course you’ve probably already read Austen, so what next? Reach for an Austen inspired book. My three choices are inspired by Pride and Prejudice and involve all of the characters we are so familiar with. Eligible relocates P&P to a wealthy New York neighbourhood and the present day. The Other Bennett Sister tells a familiar story from the perspective of the middle Bennett sister Mary, something of a joke in the original, here Mary starts to enjoy life and it’s glorious. Finally there’s last year’s take from Rachel Parris, which keeps all the wit and romance of the original but our heroine is Lizzy’s best friend Charlotte Lucas, last seen accepting the proposal of the seemingly dreadful and ridiculous Mr Collins. What’s great about these books are the new plots, different perspectives on characters you know well, witty interesting women and yes, a touch of romance too. There’s the comforting feeling of knowing this world but also the unexpected joy of seeing it anew.
This book was a gift from my mum, after my husband died. Having been his carer for the final year of his life I hadn’t just lost the person I loved but I’d lost my purpose, the thing that occupied almost all of my time. Before he died I was ‘on’ day and night, except for the two nights we received nurses paid for by the NHS. Occasionally Marie Curie had a cancellation and I was offered care for the night and I jumped at it. He couldn’t move, eat or swallow so had a feeding tube in his stomach. He had primary progressive MS and it even affected his breathing, so he needed someone awake at all times.
This is a really honest and powerful memoir from Bel Mooney, mixing personal stories with literature, history, and inspiration. This book tells the story of her rescue dog, Bonnie, and how she rescued Bel when her world fell apart. She writes about the very public break-up of her 35-year marriage to Jonathon Dimbleby who fell in love with an opera singer. Not long afterwards the other woman was diagnosed with terminal cancer, leaving Bel’s ex- husband devastated and needing support. Bel covers six turbulent years from when she first acquired Bonnie from a rescue home, through this personal heartbreak and disappointment. It also shows the joy and companionship a dog can bring at a very difficult time. It inspired me to get my dog Rafferty who lived through some very difficult times with me and only died around four years ago. I can honestly say if I hadn’t picked him up on New Years Eve 2007 I might not even be here. Bel has now found happiness in a new life, with her Maltese at her side all the way. She writes about transformation, about healing then picking yourself up and attacking life. It’s also about celebrating the good parts of life, much as a dog always celebrate your return, even from the shortest trip. This is such an engaging story and I suppose my dog and this small book saved my life.
In my teenage years, our holidays were always spent in North Wales at a holiday let owned by an elderly gentleman called Ted. It was a large secluded farmhouse not far from the coast and we’d originally found it in a brochure. But Ted liked us and knew my parents had no money, she he’d let us stay for a whole week for £50. We’d stay in the front of the house and Ted would live in the small living space at the back that had probably been a piggery at one point. There was an adjoining door and at breakfast he would appear like a magic trick from the pantry. He was ever the gentleman, full of stories from the RAF and looked like the BFG, just smaller. Every year I would aim for the bookshelves and grab a compilation of James Herriot stories. I would read them laid on the lawn or by the river while my brother fished. I still find them some of the funniest and most uplifting stories I’ve ever read. I defy you not to laugh out loud when reading the ghostly monk who wanted a particular lonely road, perfect for terrifying a vet who’d had a call out at 3am. Or the angry cat Tristan and James are conned into collecting from an elderly lady, only for it to escape from its box on the return trip. As James tries to concentrate on the road while this black streak whirls around the car, causing Tristan to shout:
“The bloody thing’s shitting Jim. It’s shitting everywhere”.
Or the disastrous night he first takes Helen out to a dance, and tries to drive through a flood. They return to her farm with James soaked from the knees down and with ruined shoes. He then has to attend a dance with crinkled trousers and her father’s old dancing slippers that have bows on! The animals are amazing and I love reading about the bond between animals and their owners, even some of the farmers are more attached to their livestock than we might think. This is another one that’s great for keeping next to the bed when some cozy humour is needed.
This lovely novel from indie publisher Orenda Books has all those feel good words attached to it – heartfelt, life-affirming, hopeful. I can honestly say it is all of those things. Our hero, Robin Edmund Blake is halfway through his life. Born in 1986, when Halley’s Comet crossed the sky, he is destined to go out with it, when it returns in 2061. Until that day, he can’t die. He has proof.
With his future mapped out in minute detail, a lucrative but increasingly dull job in the City of London, and Gemma to share his life with, Robin has a plan to be remembered forever. But when Robin’s sick father has one accident too many, the plan starts to unravel. Robin must return home to the tiny seaside town of Eastgate, learn to care for the man who never really cared for him, and face the childhood ghosts he fled decades ago. Desperate to get his life back on schedule, he connects with fellow outsider Astrid. Brutally direct, sharp-witted and a professor at a nearby university, she’s unlike anyone he’s ever met. But Astrid is hiding something and someone from Robin. And he’s hiding even more from her. I loved this book because I could relate to Robin, hit by one of those life circumstances that come out of the blue. He and his dad are awkward and don’t really know how to talk to one another. Robin is equally awkward with the characters, avoiding them if he can manage it. He’s dealing with a huge life change and seeing the person who brought you up becoming helpless is a difficult thing. An old friend gets Robin out of the house and out on a bike, taking in the scenery he remembers from being a child. Then there’s Astrid who is like no one he has ever met. When I finished this book I had a huge smile on my face and I’d read it again tomorrow.
My final choice is not a novel or a self-help book, in fact it’s more pictures than words. My mum’s copy of this book was kept on a recipe stand in the living room and was turned to each month as if it was a calendar. There was no point keeping a book this beautiful on a shelf, it needed to be seen. I fell in love with it and tried to convince myself I was an Edwardian lady in a floaty frock, flitting around the forest drawing ferns and butterflies. I copied her illustrations and did my own, even taking the book into school to do a project on it when I was around ten. Edith Holden’s original diary is filled with a masterful paintings and observations chronicling the English countryside throughout 1906. It’s one of the few true records of the time in print, the handwritten thoughts and paintings contained in The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady transport readers to a more refined, romantic, and simpler time. Her poetry and illustrations bring the reader back to a time in which propriety, civility, and an appreciation for the natural world reigned. It feels like a souvenir of a bygone era but it’s also a calming touchstone. I grew up surrounded by land, in a very agricultural county and I loved recording the plants and insects or birds I had seen, although my illustrations of butterflies and flowers were probably the most successful. It’s a charming book and even now a copy sits on the sideboard in my hall, open to the right month. It’s the perfect book to flick through, or read the quotations she has placed next to her sketches and lines of poetry. I feel completely in a different world when I look through this book, because it’s a powerful reminder of a gentler time, my own childhood and nature combined.
A killer is hunting Auckland’s homeless. No one cares. No one but Max. These are his people.
Max Grimes is homeless, living on the streets of Auckland – among the forgotten, the invisible. But now someone is hunting the homeless, killing them one by one. No one cares. Except Max.
Trying to put his shattered life back together, Max is pulled into a deadly game when a face from his past reappears, reopening wounds he thought were long buried.
As whispers of a Grim Reaper spread terror through the city, Max must race against time – not only to find the killer, but to outrun the ghosts chasing him.
Because if he fails, he’ll be next.
I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Max Grimes again, back on the streets of Auckland where he was once a detective and is now homeless, although has at least found shelter in a building under renovation. I was also utterly absorbed by this story, that goes to unexpected places as Max tries to find a killer, before the killer finds him. The plot is so well constructed, with a blend of the personal and professional aspects of Max’s life becoming dangerously interlinked as a killer stalks street sleepers in the city centre district. It immediately made me angry that someone would prey on such vulnerable people, but not a surprise in the current climate where the vulnerable seem to be easy prey for everyone to comment on and abuse. I’ve seen the rise of ableism over the last year or two, which has become toxic to any person with a disability, asylum seekers or anyone perceived to be problematic for society on social media. Working my whole life in mental health, I know the complexities that combine to leave someone where Max Grimes is. In his case a daughter addicted to crystal meth and a boyfriend who cut her throat while high on the same poison. Lives break down for a multitude of reasons, but usually loss and abuse of some sort has contributed to the mental health crises that I would deal with. Particularly long term users of the mental health team services and high up on my priorities is to keep someone in their home by helping maintain finances and hold on to their tenancy. Sadly, with all the will in the world, this does not work and people would become vulnerable, homeless and prey to anyone looking for people to manipulate and harm. So I found myself asking: is this killer simply preying on those who are vulnerable because they’re seen as easy targets or is this killer trying to make a point?
Despite having left his job behind a long time ago, Max is still a police officer at heart. He gets up early and walks a set ‘beat’ through the streets, checking on those he knows or believes to be struggling. It’s no surprise that he’s one step ahead of the police when it comes to adding these deaths up and asking questions, approaching fellow detective Meredith when he thinks something is ‘off’. Detectives don’t necessarily have a specific patch, they work cases not streets, so the deaths of a couple of homeless people in a cold snap wouldn’t even cross their desk. By the second death Max is sure something is wrong. What he finds most troubling is that it’s someone who mentions the killer as the Reaper who is next to die. As he walks his usual path the next day he makes a note of who talks about a serial killer and plans to keep an eye on them. Meredith gets her boss to agree to treat the third death as a crime scene and if there’s anything to suggest murder, then the previous two bodies will be examined. The questions are mounting up for both Meredith and Max. People who live on the streets are suspicious and vigilant, so how is the killer getting close to their victims? How is he circumventing that natural mistrust of others that he knows the victims would have had? In between his investigations, Max’s past creeps up on him quite literally in the library where he spends the morning in the warmth reading the news and using the internet. Shane McFarlane is the last person he wants to talk to, since his son killed Max’s daughter he’s avoided him at all costs. It makes Max feel vulnerable that he finds him so easily, maybe a wake up call that his own vigilance needs to be stepped up. He asks Max if he’ll work as a private investigator for him and find the man who supplied the meth to his son. Max certainly could do this and he feels empathy for McFarlane’s anger towards the dealer, but can he work alongside this man in exacting revenge?
I love how Vanda Symon writes her characters, because whether it’s Meredith or Max we’re straight into their inner lives and how they see the world they live in. She doesn’t do superfluous description of character or appearance, she simply lets them live their lives and think their thoughts and leaves everything else up to the reader. Even when it comes to the short chapters narrated by the Reaper she sticks to this inner world, so when the clues start to add up for Meredith and she realises something about him we’re as surprised as she is. It also adds another layer of grey to this world when we realise the reasons behind the Reaper’s eventual plan. The author also weaves in the politics of the city and this time by alluding to gentrification, historic abuse and the Mayor’s plans for removing the homeless from the centre of Auckland. At a press conference he talks about homeless people as if they are vermin, suggesting that the case gives them an opportunity to remove this group of people from harm, while also stopping them from harming the city. I loved Meredith’s urge to shut his mouth for him and how her experience of his wandering hands at a party ties into worldwide events such as the Epstein files, not mentioned by name but certainly in Meredith’s experiences and thoughts. She laments that women in public life are held to different standards to men and get the lion’s share of abuse with appalling misogyny the norm on social media. She refers to ‘Teflon’ men ‘and they had all been men. Narcissists and psychopaths who believed they were untouchable, above the law.’ She also laments the keyboard warriors in local papers making comments about putting the killer on the city payroll and congratulating him for moving these bums off the streets, dehumanising the victims completely. Her relationship with Max shows she doesn’t think like this, she respects him and his investigative skills. When he’s badly beaten she’s desperately concerned and when suspicion starts to fall in his direction she has some very hard choices to make. I wondered whether this might be the end of their friendship?
Vanda has written another brilliant thriller here, full of clever clues and reveals. However, her incredible empathy and compassion for a vulnerable section of society means the victims are not just sensationalism or a means of moving the plot forward. Max makes sure that we know about these victims and that their deaths are investigated with the same vigour as any other member of society. I felt like this case really is make or break for the trust between Max and Meredith and I hoped that even when the only choice was to bring Max in for questioning, they would find a way of working together to uncover the truth. By this point in the book I couldn’t put it down because I was so desperate for the evidence to be wrong and the tension was unbearable. This is not a black or white, right or wrong type of story either. The author brings out all the shades of grey in her characters, making sure we remember that human beings are complicated and when lives go off the rails there’s always a story behind it, whether it is a personal grief or loss, abuse or mental heath crisis. After all, whether a police officer, killer, or victim we all have a back story.
Out March 18th from Orenda Books
Meet the Author
Vanda Symon lives in Dunedin, New Zealand. As well as being a crime writer, she has a PhD in science communication and is a researcher at the Centre for Pacific Health at the University of Otago. Overkill was shortlisted for the 2019 CWA John Creasey Debut Dagger Award and she is a three-time finalist for the Ngaio Marsh Award for Best Crime Novel for her critically acclaimed Sam Shephard series. Vanda produces and hosts ‘Write On’, a monthly radio show focusing on the world of books at Otago Access Radio. When she isn’t working or writing, Vanda can be found in the garden, or on the business end of a fencing foil.
Adelaide Hills, 1959. At the end of a scorching hot day, in the grounds of a grand country house, a local man makes a terrible discovery. Police are called, and the small town of Tambilla becomes embroiled in one of the most mystifying murder investigations in the history of Australia.
London, 2018. Jess is a journalist in search of a story. Having lived and worked in London for nearly two decades, a phone call summons her back to Sydney, where her beloved grandmother, Nora, has suffered a fall and is seriously ill in hospital.
Seeking comfort in her past, Jess discovers a true crime book at Nora’s house chronicling a long-buried police case: the Turner Family Tragedy of 1959. And within its pages she finds a shocking personal connection to this notorious event – a crime that has never truly been solved . . .
I’ve always picked up Kate Morton’s novels and I don’t really know why this one has sat on my shelves for so long. I made it one of the novels to catch up on in December, when I take a break from blog tours and read what I feel like. It’s a chunky novel and it took some time to get to grips with everyone and their timelines but there’s no mistaking the power of the central image as new mum Izzy and her children are found on their picnic blanket by the creek. The man who makes the discovery assumes they’re asleep, until he sees a line of ants crawling over Matilda’s wrist. It’s such a striking image that it inspires the title of journalist Daniel Miller’s book ‘As If They Were Asleep’. The only person missing is baby Thea and it’s assumed she’s been carried away by wild dogs. The conclusion is that Izzy has poisoned herself and her children, in the grip of post-natal depression and unable to leave them behind. Back at their home, Halcyon, Izzy’s heavily pregnant sister-in-law Nora is waiting for her brother’s family to return. Possibly due to the shock and in a powerful storm, Nora gives birth to her own daughter Polly. Once she leaves for her own home, no one will ever return to Halcyon. Nora’s brother stays in the USA seemingly unable to face what happened to the woman he loved and the children whose voices once filled the house he fell in love with as soon as he saw it. Now, with Nora seriously ill in hospital, her granddaughter Jessie will be drawn into the cold case through Nora’s rambling words and Daniel’s book. What follows is a not just a complex murder case but a tale of mothers and daughters and how intergenerational trauma has an impact, even when it’s a closely guarded secret.
We’re given various viewpoints through the book and outside sources such as letters, documents and excerpts from Daniel’s book. We travel back to 1959 and Nora’s time at Halcyon and the accounts of various Turners, to Polly’s years growing up with mother Nora at their home near Sydney and Jess brings everything together in the present day. We dip in and out of these timelines and viewpoints and they are layered perfectly by Morton where they will make the most impact. Through this careful placement we build up a picture of characters and their motivations, only to have that impression change when we see a different viewpoint or Jess makes a discovery. My view of some characters changed radically, especially towards the end of the book when we hear more from Polly who has been an absent mother for most of Jess’s life. Nora and Jess have a solid relationship, perhaps closer than most grandchildren have with their grandmother since Jess grew up in Nora’s house until she left for England. She is distraught to arrive and realise her grandmother is more unwell than she imagined. For Jess, Nora has been the perfect example of a formidable woman. She gets things done and Jess has inherited her organisational talents and business-like manner. She feels she has little in common with Polly who is seen by both women as rather unreliable or flaky, a pregnant teenager who left the job of mothering Jess to Nora. I really liked the Nora I saw through Jess’s eyes and I was intrigued to know whether that would track back to 1959 and the young Nora who is pregnant with Polly and staying with Izzy and the children for Christmas.
I loved how Morton used the landscape, particularly regarding Halcyon – a veritable house of dreams. Michael fell in love with it straight away but it’s interesting how it echoes with his choice of wife and how it sits within the wider Aussie landscape. Described as a Georgian manor complete with its own English country garden strangely situated within the heat of southern Australia. It has a backdrop of boiling heat, ghostly silver gum trees on the horizon and its lush green garden stands out against the parched landscape. There’s something unnatural about it, as if a tornado had picked it up in England and dropped it on the other side of the world. This same description applies to Izzy, her pale and freckled beauty out of place in the brutal heat of that last summer. Michael Turner knew this was the right home for his family because it is the embodiment of his wife. Without tending and daily care, the garden and house would be taken over, becoming yellowed and dry and home to native plats and animals. Does Izzy also need such gentle tending? It is Nora who supplies the most compelling piece of evidence that she was struggling and feeling unable to cope. Jess needs to read the book about the case and have a search round the house before her grandmother comes home. It is only by chance that she gets to read Izzy’s thoughts first hand. Then when Polly arrives there’s a real chance for them to connect and discuss their family history openly and this is where the novel became really gripping. Up to this point we’ve only seen Nora through Jess’s eyes but now we see her through Polly’s eyes and there are so many more layers to this elderly lady, now unconscious in her hospital bed. I started to see her controlling side and her ability to manipulate with her money and status. I began to see Polly in a different light too and felt a huge amount of empathy for her situation and the things she lost.
It was only towards the end of the book when I realised that there aren’t many men in this family. In fact the only person who has no voice in the novel is Michael Turner. Why did he buy Halcyon, the dream family home and then live in a separate country from them? Polly doesn’t have a man in her life and nor does Jess. Morton keeps the twists and turns coming right up to the end of the novel, some expected and others a complete surprise. She never leaves even the tiniest loose end and that isn’t easy when we see just how far the ripples of this tragedy spread in the community. In the midst of that Christmas and all that comes after, Izzy really has an impact with her beauty and vitality. It is unthinkable that only hours later all that sparkle is simply snuffed out. If you love Kate Morton, this has all the aspects that make her novels so popular – the family saga, the big house and the secrets kept behind closed doors. However, this had the added element of an unsolved crime giving it an addictive quality. Added to that is the length of the book, allowing the story and characters to fully develop, showing fascinating and complex psychological dynamics between each mother and daughter. I can’t believe it took me so long to finally read it.
Meet the Author
KATE MORTON is an award-winning, Sunday Times and New York Times bestselling author. Her novels – The House at Riverton, The Forgotten Garden, The Distant Hours, The Secret Keeper, The Lake House, The Clockmaker’s Daughter and Homecoming – are published in over 45 countries, in 38 languages, and have all been number one bestsellers around the world.
Kate Morton grew up in the mountains of southeast Queensland and now lives with her family in London and Australia. She has degrees in dramatic art and English literature, and harboured dreams of joining the Royal Shakespeare Company until she realised that it was words she loved more than performing. Kate still feels a pang of longing each time she goes to the theatre and the house lights dim.
“I fell deeply in love with books as a child and believe that reading is freedom; that to read is to live a thousand lives in one; that fiction is a magical conversation between two people – you and me – in which our minds meet across time and space. I love books that conjure a world around me, bringing their characters and settings to life, so that the real world disappears and all that matters, from beginning to end, is turning one more page.”
While I was in the water swimming ‘gainst tides we′re taught to
Take it in our stride, laugh it off, take it on the chin just right
Don’t be too loud or too quiet, but I got all this fight
And now I see it clear with every passing of each year
I deserve to be here
And every time I fall, I crawl back like an animal
My focus is powerful.”
I knew I was going to love Self Esteem when I first caught her set at Glastonbury a few years ago, referencing 1990 Madonna with her black suit and corset. What made me stop and watch was that instead of the iconic John Paul Gaultier conical bra each breast was covered with the dome of Meadowhall Shopping Centre in Sheffield. At that point I didn’t know that Rebecca Lucy Taylor was born there but I could see she had a sense of humour, a sense of where she was from and had something very powerful to say as the above lyrics from her song Focus to Power show. In the intervening years Self Esteem has become a creative force with three solo albums, including A Complicated Woman this year. She had a Mercury Prize nomination for her album Prioritise Pleasure in 2022 and was the BBC Music Introducing act in 2021. She is not just a singer, she’s a multi-instrumentalist and has composed for theatre and became a West End lead in 2023/24 playing Sally Bowles in Cabaret. She’s been awarded an honorary doctorate in music from the University of Sheffield and a portrait of her hangs in the National Gallery. Now she has written a memoir, bringing together notes and lyrics, journal entries and observations on life as a woman in the 21st Century, referencing relationships, abuse, self-worth, creativity and living under the weight of the impossible expectations we impose on young women. The blurb refers to it as a ‘subversive anti-Bible’ and a ‘cathartic scream of a book’ and it is raw, emotional and so incredibly exposing. I will be buying it for my stepdaughters.
The narrative is jagged and feels unfinished, a structure that underlines the theme of being the ‘finished’ article something that applies to both the professional and personal self. Creative work never feels fully done. I always imagined that when writing a book I would know when it was complete and I would feel satisfied that it was finished. A piece of writing is always open to change, but we have to let it go at some point and finishing is a collaborative process with mentors, agents, editors and might end up looking different to what you expected. Similarly as people we are never finished, the self is not one fixed thing and can be influenced by mood, something we watched, whether we slept well or not and interactions with others. I think we imagine as children that there’s a point where we become an adult and our self is a fixed thing, but the self is fluid and open to change until the last day we’re alive. The author writes that she wakes up knowing it’s going to be a day when her brain is against her. So out of all the options open she decides on the middle ground:
‘Ultimately doing nothing garnished by a little of what I as a child imagined being an adult would be. A coffee in a cafe, walk to the cinema, watch an art house film alone, walk home.’
It’s almost a fake it till you make it idea. The self is just a raw block of clay but we still go out there, pretending to do what we think adults should.
Self Esteem at Glastonbury 2022
Toxic relationships are also a huge part of the book and it’s clear there was one in particular that was coercive and damaging. Tiny little snippets of information are dropped about him and I identified strongly with how she feels at these times. She addresses him remembering that: ‘ he made sure to take at least two pieces of jigsaw and hide them so it could finish it himself.’ It made me shiver with recognition. My heart broke for her in this paragraph:
“I’ll never forget the first time it cracked and he became someone else. I spent that night trying to sleep on the floor and reaching back up to him in his single bed, sleeping soundly. Offering my hand over and over through the night. – And forever he held back. Each tendon in his fingers finally gracing me with tension. And in that moment the sickness in my stomach was gone and the addiction to his acceptance began.”
She clearly spent years trying to please this person, to be enough but not too much. Enough in the right way that was acceptable to him. A rollercoaster of arguments followed by apologies to make things nice again, a blissful few weeks when he’s happy because she made herself smaller, then a withdrawal of affection, hurtful comments and arguments. It’s a place I’ve been and it only ended when I accepted I was enough, just as I was. I still feel sick to my stomach when something takes me back there and this really hit home. As she says, ‘tell me anyone who left when they should have.’ She also addresses the inevitable question of children, something women are always asked and I have noticed that I make a lot more sense to some friends now I have stepdaughters. The author wishes she could just have one, now, not because she wants one just because it would be done and people would stop asking. They ask as if you’ve forgotten to do it. There’s a point in the book though where change begins and it’s in a letter, because unsent letters have such power. It’s a letting go leaving the path clear to be whatever.
We get the sense of a person who has a huge and imaginative inner world, but is hampered by her own mind throwing out options, constantly questioning whether this or that is the right thing to do. There’s a very busy internal critic here and while the author may be an over-thinker and struggle with anxiety, I think this second-guessing herself is a habit many women have. It starts with parental pressures of what a girl should be, educational expectations influenced by gender, societal expectations of what an adult woman should want and how successful she should be. It’s as if feminism succeeded in giving women more choice, but also more expectations rather than equality. Yes of course we can have a career, but then you must go home and more than a fair share of housework, cooking, laundry and having the mental load of who eats what, which week a friend is coming to stay and an encyclopaedic knowledge of where every object belonging each family member might be found. On top of that are grooming standards, the endless opinions on whether women should age naturally or have surgery, when they should stop wearing short skirts and how to keep their sex lives spicy. No one asks a man when he’s going to fit in having a child or whether he should sacrifice his career for his family. This pressure is described beautifully here as it runs throughout the narrative alongside the extra pressures of being creative and a famous woman. Everyone talks about America Ferrarra’s speech in the Barbie film about what a woman is but I find the author’s words much more affecting as she writes a poem about herself as the woman she feels society wants her to be. A woman who eats the right things, who makes money but stays generous and humble, who is modern and desirable, but above all things maternal. It reads like a modern fairy tale.
‘I had one thousand friends and each and every one was happy with me, and felt I had given them enough time and attention’.
It feels like slicing yourself into a thousand different pieces to be everything and keep everyone happy and they all think you’re amazing, but you’re still slicing yourself. It takes therapy, age and self-acceptance to throw off these expectations and doubts. In amongst this torrent of emotions there is a down to earth feel and a sense of humour that comes out a lot in lists – ‘things I should have said no to’ being one. There are also blunt truths that she clearly can’t say to the person but records in her diary – ‘I want to be fucked like that but not have to hear about your Edinburgh show.” I loved this directness, tempered with humour. It also shows how hard it can be for some women to say what they want and don’t want without judgement.
She gives us an insight into how those judgements are magnified in the music industry, where you’re trying to get your creative work out there but are being told you’d sell better if you wrote a certain way or were a bit more attractive. If she’d compromised she’d have a record deal by now, she’s told, why is she so difficult? This is a tale we’ve heard again and again in the music industry but it has to keep being said till something changes. We’ve heard it from the incredible Raye who wrote for other people for years because her own stuff didn’t fit in a specific box, or Cat Burns who writes about how difficult it is to know how to be the human everyone expects. Paloma Faith is an incredible inspiration and I watched a clip of her speaking to students at the university graduation. She has delved into music, fashion, writing, broadcasting and art and she passed on an incredible bit of advice – she has always been brimming with ideas and would worry that she couldn’t fix on one way to get these thoughts and ideas out there. She remembered a conversation with one of the tutors who said she didn’t have to fit all of her ideas into one mould. One idea might be a brilliant book, rather than trying to condense it into a song but another might be better suited to fashion or art. She didn’t have to fit into one mould. I think Rebecca is the embodiment of that idea, brim full of ideas and happy to range across music gigs, theatre shows, dance, tv appearances and memoir writing. The point is the creativity, not the medium.
I can think of so many women who can take something from this book and it will sit happily up on my shelf with writing from Caitlin Moran and Paloma Faith, hugely creative and intelligent women with a lot to say. It renewed something I’ve been wrestling with in my own head now I’m hitting menopause and middle age – it’s ok not to ‘grow up’ but take joy in every new incarnation of yourself and the changes it brings. It’s subversive in a world where we’re told we should be striving to stay young and relevant. to be unhappy getting older. I found so much inspiration in this memoir, both personal and creative, as well as a wonderful feeling of being seen.
Defending free expression has become a challenge. Words seem to matter more than ever and their impact. Just having an X account in the past week has been painful if you have empathy. It’s a battle for control where the desperate need to counter someone’s post, fights with common sense. By replying, even if it’s scathing, we have entered the arena and boosted that person’s profile. On the other side there are more people taking offence, on their own behalf and on the behalf of others. In this endless spiral of offence and discrimination it can be easy to become apathetic. It’s a political strategy the Kremlin has been using for years, bombard the people with so much opinion and disinformation that they become completely overwhelmed and withdraw. In this war of words, art is a form of activism, said the publisher Crystal Mahey-Morgan in an interview published online this week and as more books seemingly disappear from schools and libraries in America, we have to think carefully about the books we fight for. If we’re asserting that all books matter, then that applies equally to the books we like and those we don’t. If we’re saying books that offend others can’t be banned, we’re fighting equally for books we find distasteful or are offended by. There are books I rather not have read – there were definitely parts of American Psycho I could have done without, but I would never say they shouldn’t exist. Yet we seem to be stuck in a world where various groups in society want to ban or cancel books that don’t align with their views or misrepresent them. Even the writer’s behaviour, political views and private life can contribute to the moral panic around their work and our permission to read them. J.K. Rowling is a case in point and the controversy extends to her Robert Galbraith books which I still read. I grew up a long time before the internet and the cancel culture and I know that my ability to separate art from the artist is frowned upon. I want to talk to you about one of my favourite banned books and it’s the one people remember most – Lady Chatterley’s Lover by D.H.Lawrence.
An adaptation of Lady Chatterley’s Lover has come to Netflix, where streamed shows are probably the 21st Century’s most popular creator of water cooler moments. The fact that this banned story is there for everyone to watch in their own homes would have shocked the 1960’s general public. The story is a simple one, about a young married woman (Connie Chatterly) and her husband’s gamekeeper (Oliver Mellors), and the forbidden love between them. First published privately in 1928, it took until 1959 for a ban on the book to be lifted in the U.S., and then 1960 when an uncensored version was published in the United Kingdom. Lawrence’s novel was also banned for obscenity in Canada, Australia, India, and Japan. People were genuinely shocked by the explicit descriptions of sex, use of four-letter words, and depiction of a relationship between an upper-class woman and a working-class man. To my mind, the most outrageous part of the book was the author’s portrayal of female sexual pleasure. In fact, Sean Bean’s ‘we came off together that time m’lady’ still lives rent free in my head. Maybe that’s because I spent most of the 1990’s dreaming, like the Vicar of Dibley, that Sean would come striding in and say ‘come on lass’ beckoning me with a single nod towards the door. I believed in him and Joely Richardson as those characters in the Ken Loach adaptation, more so than many others I’ve seen. Although I do have memory of going to see a more explicit French version of the book, wedged between a group of elderly ladies who gasped every time they saw a penis and a man who had a large bag of sweets that he would rummage in, very forcefully, at certain parts of the film. I moved seats in the interval.
Once I’d read the book, in my teens, I hated the way people talked about it. In my dad’s family, any mention was met with raised eyebrows and Monty Python’s ‘a nudge is as good as a wink’ type of humour. My mum loved D.H.Lawrence and I could see it bothered her to have him relegated to the role of pornographer. My dad’s brothers didn’t have a single bookshelf back in the 1970s and still don’t. They would come to our house with its massive bookshelves and ask ‘have you read them all? It was a question I never really understood. Did they think we were bluffing? Mum let me plunder her bookshelves all the time and this is why I know it isn’t just a ‘dirty book’. If I wanted to read something dirty I’d go for her Jackie Collins, Judith Krantz or Lace by Shirley Conran. I never reached for this as a prurient read, because it isn’t about sex. It’s about love.
“Sexual intercourse began
In nineteen sixty-three
(Which was rather late for me) –
Between the end of the Chatterley ban
And the Beatles’ first LP.”
Wrote Larkin and perhaps that’s why my Uncles and Aunties raised their eyebrows, being teenagers pre-1960 and very unlikely to pick up a book by D.H. Lawrence. In fact once they’d seen the naked wrestling of the film adaptation Women in Love, they were convinced Lawrence was a pornographer. My mum happily shared these films with me as a teenager with no comment or explanation, she just let me make sense of it for myself and I knew there was something more complex at play here.
There is so much more to Lady Chatterley than the sex, although the sex is glorious and we’ll finish with that. Firstly it was fitting that when Penguin did publish in 1959 and challenged the previous year’s Obscene Publications Act, it was sold deliberately at a price that meant the working class and women could afford to buy it. Objections mainly came from the middle and upper classes, who weren’t necessarily concerned that Connie Chatterley committed adultery, but were objecting to her choice of lover. In fact it was this discrepancy between the classes that finally forced the court case, echoing the attitude of Clifford Chatterley. He was quite matter of fact about his wife taking a lover. He realised that his war injury would force Connie into a lifetime of celibacy and no chance of becoming a mother. He also wouldn’t have an heir. In one conversation he is quite open about the fact he doesn’t expect Connie’s fidelity, in fact he thought a lover might be the best thing for her. At least then they could have a child who would take on the title and estate. However, she was to choose someone from their class and he’d like to meet him. This turned Connie’s stomach for two reasons, she didn’t want to be passed from one Lord to another like a chattel and secondly she was shocked that Clifford didn’t seem to care. She’d expected there would still be some intimacy between them, even if it was confined to the care he needed. Yet, he chooses to employ a woman from the village who’s nursed during the war and there is something intimate in her care of him, something he gains some pleasure or comfort from. This leaves Connie free, but to do what. All their needs are taken care of by servants, she doesn’t need to work and while she does check in on tenants, they are isolated and she has few friends. She’s married and not married. She wants to find someone she has desire and feelings for, not just to jump in bed with someone of the right class and hope it scratches an itch. She wants true intimacy and she has that with Mellors. What we’re seeing in this affair is the breakdown of the aristocracy after WW1 and in this love story is the mixing of different social strata and the changing roles of women.
There’s also a massive shift for the working classes between the two World Wars. We see Clifford visit the colliery he owns and the workers are restless. They’ve been through terrible experiences on the battlefield and to come back and slot into their old social status, working under a man they’ve fought with in the trenches doesn’t sit right. They want better wages, better living standards and for the respect to work both ways. We can also see mechanisation creeping in. Clifford is ready to try anything new, whether it’s his new motorised bath chair or mechanising the pit. There’s an uncomfortable scene where Clifford uses his chair to walk with Connie in the grounds, but it becomes stuck in the mud. He angrily calls for Mellors to push the chair and he gamely tries to climb on the back and weigh it down enough for the wheels to grip. It’s a metaphor for the death of the aristocracy, all while Connie looks on awkwardly and Clifford becomes more and more frustrated.
Then there’s Connie and Mellors (Oliver) who are an interesting mix and their sexual tension is palpable but endearingly awkward at first. Mellors clearly desires her but doesn’t know how to treat a woman of her class. That’s not to say Mellors is stupid, because he isn’t. He’s self-taught and he reads too. Their conversations are on the same level as they get to know each other, but their dialect shows the huge difference socially and geographically. Connie has an openness that comes from being the daughter of an artist and it has always afforded her a huge amount of freedom. She and sister Hilda were expected to have lovers, to drive themselves around to parties and different stately homes. They have the opportunity to be upper class, particularly now that Connie is mistress of the Chatterley house, but are also eccentric and bohemian. They can use this to push the boundaries a little and Connie is encouraged to by her sister and her father when they visit near the beginning of the book, noticing she is pale, listless and a little depressed. They see the chasm that has opened up between husband and wife leaving them with the appearance of a marriage, but missing all the elements that make a marriage work – a shared humour, joint outlook, deep conversation and intimacy.
It’s no wonder that as Connie and Mellors think about a longer term relationship they know they’ll have to emigrate to somewhere new like the USA or Canada. These are the places where a relationship like theirs would be accepted. We see the incongruity of it in their early sex scenes where they move from intimacy to Mellors calling her m’lady because at the same time as being under him she will always be over him. There is tenderness between them, something more than sex. There’s real care and Mellors’s link to nature is important too, such as the first time they meet when he is placing pheasant chicks in their new enclosure. She sees a gentleness and a nurturing side that Clifford does not have. He would care if she was to be with another man and he wants to her to enjoy their encounters, not just him. When she does orgasm with him he comments on it and how special it is when that happens between a couple. He makes her feel safe. They have a joint childlike joy with nature, running around naked in the rain and threading wildflowers in each other’s pubic hair. He wants to be with her after the orgasm, which she hasn’t experienced before. I’m touched by this book and I’m infuriated that it was treated as pornography when it’s a comment on WW1, disability, masculinity, nature and so much more. It’s also a touching love story and you’ll root for this couple. They have an immediate connection, that goes beyond the boundaries of their class. They see each other as two equal human beings (an equality that Clifford disputes even exists) and recognise the loneliness in each other. Even if you do find the sex scenes awkward and you’ve never read this book due to its reputation, go give it a chance.
The political and religious climate in the USA has seen 16,000 book bans in public schools nationwide since 2021, a number not seen since the Red Scare McCarthy era of the 1950s. This censorship is being pushed by conservative groups of people, such as evangelical Christian and has spread to nearly every state. It targets books about race and racism or individuals of color and also books on LGBTQ+ topics as well those for older readers that have sexual references or discuss sexual violence. One of the most banned authors across America is Jodi Picoult with her novels Nineteen Minutes (school shootings), Small Great Things (Racism) and A Spark of Light (abortion). In the 2023-2024 school year, PEN America found more than 10,000 book bans affecting more than 4,000 unique titles. Here are a few of them:
The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison and The Colour Purple by Alice Walker
Both these books are banned for themes of racism, sexual abuse and assault. Both break the silence around domestic violence and depict how tough life is for black women in the early 20th Century.
The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood – the book that some people believe is coming to life before their eyes has themes of enslavement, sexual assault, misuse of religion and power. In a future where the elite class are unable to have children ‘handmaids’ are kept in the family home to provide the couple with children.
Call Me By Your Name by Andre Aciman – is a first love story that springs up between a teenager and an older man, cited for depictions of homosexuality
The Kite Runner by Khalid Hosseini – was put forward by a group of mums concerned about their children reading an account of ‘homosexual rape’ but Hosseini fought the ban with a letter that talked about the book’s insight into Afghan lives and inspired children to ‘desire to volunteer, learn more, be more tolerant of others, mend broken ties, muster the courage to do the right and just thing, no matter how difficult.’
Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult – begins with a black midwife assigned to a woman in early labour who is then refused by the father, a white supremacist. When the baby is ill and there is only one midwife available does she touch the baby or wait for someone else? This really does have impact and made me think about my own privilege.
Ruth Hogan is one of my cozy authors. These are books I read when I need comfort and boy did I need it last week. I’m having the kitchen renovated, not just new units but ripping out the floor and ceiling, putting in new joists and laying a floor that’s been so wonky I’ve tripped over it a couple of times. We’ve taken out an island that was hogging all the space and finally new units are slowly going in. I’ve been without a kitchen sink for a fortnight and my other half has wired the oven up in the garage so everything we cook has to be oven or microwave only and I keep meeting neighbours as I’m walking past with oven gloves and a tray of chicken kievs. I’m washing up in the bath tub (not while I’m in it) so this time last week I lost my marbles and we’ve been staying in a holiday cottage nearby for some quiet. So I’ve spent a lovely week being mostly unreachable, laying back in a huge bubble bath with a view, and reading my cozy books.
So let’s talk about the book which was a lovely oasis of calm in my personal chaos. It covered a subject close to my heart. My first job in mental health was as a support worker and since I lived in a small town I would often see clients I worked with on days off and even for years after I left. These were usually single people, living alone and only just managing to function with the basics. They were so isolated and when I stopped working I would volunteer at a local community centre twice a week to have a drop-in place for people struggling or feeling isolated. Sometimes though I would find out someone had died and if I wasn’t too late I would go to the funeral. However if someone is estranged from their family due to their mental health history and lived alone I wouldn’t always be able to find out when and where it was. I hated the idea of no one being there, so I immediately understood our main character George and where he was coming from. He has lost his wife Audrey and takes her flowers every week down at the cemetery. It’s there he meets Edwin, a local undertaker who appears to be lurking by the bins. He explains that he’s watching the new council worker responsible for the funerals of those who had died without family or funds of their own. Edwin is making sure that new recruit Niall knows what he’s doing and giving the person the reverence and dignity they can. George hates the idea of such a lonely send off with no one to witness your journey beyond this life. He muses about it and talks to his friends at the Dog and Duck pub where he goes to the quiz night. He would like to mark these funerals in some way so he invites Edwin to join his group at the pub for a chat. From a simple wish to be there for these send offs the Light a Candle Society is born.
Like all Ruth’s books this has a wonderful cast of interesting and quirky characters, many of whom do live alone. There’s Roxy, George’s friend and colleague from the library where he works part-time. She has an alternative look, with tattoos and piercings and is probably not the person you’d expect to be so close with an older widower. Slowly we’re drawn into their circle. There’s Elena from the florist who does George’s flowers for Audrey every week and would like to make a contribution to the funerals. There’s Captain and his dog Sailor, one of the library regulars who comes in and reads most days. He talks very little about himself, only seeming to warm up when people pet his canine companion. Then there’s Briony who works for the local paper and decided to write a piece about the funerals, something she can take to her rather dismissive and sneaky boss and show him she can write more than a few words about someone’s giant vegetable. Her downstairs neighbour Allegra is an absolute riot and I would have loved to be friends with her. She has led a rather colourful life and acts like a mentor to Briony, pushing her to trust her own instincts and talent. Briony needs her combination of feminism, cocktails and a kindly kick up the behind.
The funerals grow when Edwin tips George off about a house clearance firm, who log all the deceased belongings, sorting through them for valuables and taking them away to sell. He agrees to tip George off if he’s doing the house of someone who has no relatives or friends, allowing him to come to the house and get more of a sense of who they were. From there he can write a eulogy that matters and resonates with anyone who does come along unexpectedly. The author has created short chapters that take us back in that person’s life in between the main narrative, showing us a moment from their life and the sometimes devastating circumstances of their death. It’s a reminder that no matter who it is or how their lives have ended, we can’t judge because we haven’t lived their life or experienced the unique and sometimes traumatic circumstances they find themselves in. This resonated strongly with me having had clients with addictions and mental illnesses that have driven family away. I was so touched by one young man who had the dream and potential of become a professional footballer. I was also touched by Captain who slowly builds a relationship with Roxy for a very particular purpose. When we’re taken back into his life it explains completely why a man called Captain lived so far from the sea. I may have shed a tear or two there.
As the society grows it takes in people who would have otherwise been alone. There are younger people like Briony or Niall who have often moved to start a career they’ve longed for, but have to then make a life far away from home where they don’t know anyone. There are older people who have retired and perhaps lost their partner who have the time and the enthusiasm for the society. However the society is also a lifesaver for them, getting them out of the house and making new connections. They’ve needed to make friends and have a home from home like the Dog and Duck to meet new people and of course, come to quiz night. There are potential romances but they’re kept quite low key because they’re not the story’s focus. The focus is one friendship and how the society isn’t just honouring those who have died, it’s making sure that lonely people who might easily have become one of the statistics, are looked after. It made me think of people I’ve let go off in life. Those I’ve lost touch with when one of us has moved or has had a partner who isn’t keen on me or vice versa. It reminded me that when someone pushes you away, it might be the time when they need you the most.
Meet the Author
My new novel – THE LIGHT A CANDLE SOCIETY – is out in NOW! It’s about a man called George McGlory – recent widower, part-time librarian, pub quiz enthusiast and lover of loud shirts – who witnesses a public health funeral and is deeply moved by the sight of the lonely coffin with no flowers and no mourners in attendance. George believes that everyone deserves a decent send-off and decides to do something about what he calls these ‘lonely funerals’ – and so THE LIGHT A CANDLE SOCIETY is formed. The book contains a number of short stories which give a glimpse into the lives of those whom George and his friends take it upon themselves to honour and remember in their own unique way. Despite it being a story about funerals, it’s full of life, love, humour, community and human connections. And, of course, there is a very special dog!
THE PHOENIX BALLROOM, MADAME BUROVA, THE KEEPER OF LOST THINGS, THE WISDOM OF SALLY RED SHOES and QUEENIE MALONE’S PARADISE HOTEL – are out now in all formats.
I was brought up in a house full of books, and grew up with an unsurprising passion for reading and writing. I also loved (and still do) dogs and ponies, seaside piers (particularly the Palace Pier in Brighton) snow globes and cemeteries. And potatoes. So of course, I was going to be a vet, show jumper, or gravedigger. Or potato farmer.
The Lotus Readers 