A sweeping collage of northeast history, framed by the life (or more accurately, the death) of the illustrious yet humble Saint Cuthbert. Bold in both style and concept, the complex narrative takes the reader on a journey from the peregrinations of Cuthbert’s coffin to its final resting place (in what will become Durham Cathedral), right through to the present day. The histories and characters woven through the intervening centuries are original, beautifully realised and often extremely moving. This book was an absolute highlight of my reading year, and I guarantee you’ll find yourself marvelling at its linguistic virtuosity while it simultaneously steals your heart.
Feeling a sense of wanderlust and out of touch with his fellow Americans, Steinbeck embarks on an investigation of America, his purpose: to listen and understand localness. The account of his travels is prophetic, philosophical, and above all, human. It offers a snapshot of America in 1960, celebrating social interactions, the serendipity of journeys and the unknown in the everyday. His honest practical approach keeps his romantism for the past in check, couching nostalgia in the reality of the era. His observations describe the complexities of this diverse nation; at times troubled, deeply personal, yet generous and hopeful, Steinbeck writes with such a refreshing ease - a privilege to be in the hands of such a prodigiously talented writer.
This is a brilliant debut set in an old manor house beside the sea. We arrive at Chilcombe on New Years Eve 1919 and when we leave in May 1945, there has been a great deal of change for both its inhabitants and the whole world. Throughout, the house stands solid offering familiarity and stability in uncertain times. It is home to three eccentric siblings, who share a childhood full of play and adventure rather than the same genetic biology. Bonded by their isolation and imagination, this is a book founded on their stories. With echoes of Elizabeth Jane Howard’s Cazalets series, this is a novel with a big stage and cast. It draws you in with charm and heart, navigating social mores with grit and ambition. It is such a wonderful book to spend time with, I felt bereft after I turned the last page.
Prepare to be transported to sixteenth century Florence, awash with institutional corruption and personal intrigue, at the centre of which is Cesare Aldo; soldier and officer of the criminal court, struggling to hold on to his life and integrity, as he’s tasked with investigating a politically sensitive murder. The plot is wonderfully labyrinthine (as befits its setting) and Aldo a charismatic yet flawed central protagonist, as he attempts to navigate the murky moral waters of Medici Florence, never without his trusty stiletto tucked into his boot.
This engrossing book is a travelogue with a difference; perfect for those of us who love to contemplate the stories behind ancient ruins, abandoned buildings and mysterious shapes in the landscape. Matthew Green tours Britain from the Neolithic settlement of Skara Brae in Orkney, to the remnants of medieval Winchelsea on the Sussex coast, exploring how and why these locations rose, fell and left tantalising traces for us to wonder at. It’s both astonishing and inspiring to realise there’s so much left for us to discover in these ‘shadowlands’: whether blighted by natural phenomena, disease or political change, there’s a fascinating tale behind them all.
Full of interest, insight and wonderful research, this book brings an incredibly fresh perspective to the study of poverty in nineteenth century London. Oskar Jensen has eschewed the ‘top down’ approach to his study and instead concentrates on the stories of individual ingenuity, endurance, success and failure amidst the capital’s poor. He cleverly ranges across age and gender to highlight particular issues faced and writes brilliantly about the complex psychological and prejudicial interactions between the perceived ‘lower’ classes and those they encounter. In its examination of the ‘othering’ so often at the heart of social injustice, this is a book which still resonates hugely with us today.
The author’s exquisite writing seems particularly suited to this delve into the fragmentary, quasi-mythical realms of the post-Roman world. Williams deliberately ignores the early medieval kingdoms which prospered and goes in search of the smaller often more vulnerable ones, which existed for a time and then disappeared or were subsumed – their individual identities lost to posterity. This book is a testament to the author’s love of his subject, to ever evolving archaeology, to what might have been and also to honesty; Williams is the first to admit that sometimes it’s impossible to know the extent and character of these regions when the past is so very distant.
The formidable talents of Natalie Haynes are on dazzling display in this retelling of the myth of Medusa and Perseus. In this fiercely feminist reframing, we have a story placing family, acceptance and nurturing at its heart on the part of the Gorgons, and a brilliantly constructed narrative interrogating the idea of what constitutes a monster; the othering of those who aren’t like us: the fear of the unknown. Haynes then brilliantly demonstrates what happens when the conventions of the ‘monster’ narrative are carried to their inevitable, tragic conclusion; when Perseus, the supposed hero, is revealed in all his vainglorious brutality. A fantastically thought provoking read.
This is an intimate depiction of the Erradale Valley where Annie Worsley lives in Red River Croft. Annie’s writing is a joy to read, soothing and thoughtful about the world around her and considerate of her own presence in this varied landscape. As she explores this special place, from its geological history and topography, to the wonders and graft of crofting, her connections with nature and exquisite observations embody the movement and rhythms of the land, sea and air. Annie’s rich descriptions of nature through the seasons opened my eyes to a vast spectrum of colours, with subtleties of palette that I hadn’t registered before; her compositions engage all of your senses.
I walk, enjoy the wind in my hair (breeze not gusts) and have a deep sense of pleasure from being surrounded by the natural world but I certainly wouldn’t say I’m artistic. Yet, I took this book, a new notebook, and my pencil case on holiday when time takes on a more generous dimension. Spurred on by Clare’s constructive suggestions, practical tips, and gentle, supportive encouragement, I started my own nature journal. Not only fun and unexpectedly relaxing, this source of inspiration also heightened my sense of awareness and I noticed so much more; insects, unusual patterns in bark and stones, and stunning changes in light. It’s brilliant when a book opens your eyes. So go on, have a play and try something new!
No matter how much I read about Antarctic exploration it’s a subject I find endlessly compelling, and Julian Sancton’s book illustrates exactly why. It follows a Belgian expedition – setting out in 1897 and containing amongst its crew a young Roald Amundsen – which became trapped in the ice and was forced to overwinter on this most terrifying of continents. The manner in which the captain and crew dealt with physical and mental health issues, morale, food supply and – most importantly – preventing their ship, the Belgica from being crushed by the ice, is a phenomenally interesting story, full of strangeness and wonder. The incredible ingenuity and the terrible darkness of humanity is on thrilling display throughout.
It feels as though the whole of humanity resides in this hugely ambitious novel; its multi-timeline narrative journeys back to the fall of Constantinople, charts the upheaval and conflict of the twentieth century and propels us, perhaps, into a strange and uncertain future. Our guides to these worlds are a set of characters whose experiences are vital, terrifying and beautiful, and each in their particular way is obsessed by an ancient text which seems reborn or rediscovered regardless of the passage of time. Ultimately this book is a testament to the power stories have to sustain us and to bear witness to the connectedness of our fleeting individual lives: life-affirming and utterly wonderful.
This is a stunningly ambitious and brilliantly executed hybrid of crime and literary fiction. Set in Colorado in the small town of Whistling Ridge, it’s a brutally convincing examination of abusive power, corruption, prejudice and domestic dysfunctionality, rendered in prose of elegance and emotional power. When teenager Abi Blake goes missing after a party in the woods, the subsequent efforts to discover her whereabouts bring a myriad of toxic secrets to light, threatening to expose the hypocrisy of one generation and poison the future of the next. Although not always a comfortable read, this book expertly cracks the veneer holding a community together while still holding out hope of redemption.
Landlines combines everything I loved about The Salt Path with a deeper understanding of the humour and interdependence that underpins Raynor and Moth’s relationship. Faced with a decline in Moth’s health, Raynor reaches for the one thing they know can bring solace – another guidebook; another path. But this is not just any path: encompassing over 200 miles of terrain through some of the UK’s most remote landscapes, the Cape Wrath Trail presents Raynor and Moth with their biggest challenge yet. Deciding to put themselves ‘in the way of hope’, with ill-fitting boots and chronically inadequate provisions, Raynor and Moth put their faith in the process of putting one foot in front of the other, sharing fascinating perspectives on how we impact, relate to and curate the natural world.
This book is both a life affirming coming-of-age story and a superb examination of changing gender roles in modern Ugandan society. As our central character Kirabo grows up, sheltered by her prosperous family and the familiar surroundings of her village, she begins to question what path her own life will take and whether she really knows the truth about her closest relatives. Beautifully weaving together stories past and present and featuring wonderfully realised complex characters, the novel re-visits recent history to uncover a feminist narrative steeped in myth, folklore, and endlessly difficult choices.
This is a compelling and engaging account of one family’s unflinching determination and endurance to survive the atrocities and desperate suffering that plagued Vietnam over decades. Told in the first person from both Huong and her grandmother, the storytelling has an immediacy and familiarity, and I found the rhythm of the writing and voices strangely consoling in the face of the brutality and hardship the pair face. The unveiling of one family’s story is set against the wider back drop of the history and politics of this country’s conflicts and through it all there is the incredible integrity, resilience and hope of the human spirit.
I adored this historical novel, not least because the author’s vivid depiction of nineteenth century Edinburgh is a shining delight throughout. But this is far from the book’s only source of joy. Set in 1822, its central narrative involves the relocation of the city’s Botanical Gardens from their original site in Leith to their (still current) site on Inverleith Row. Against this backdrop the author’s central characters Elizabeth, a young widow traumatised by a violent marriage and Belle, a courtesan determined to maintain her independence at all costs, form a complicated friendship wherein the author examines gender roles, class, and social hypocrisy with a keen yet humorous eye.
There is something special when you read the right book at the right moment; in 2021 this was the book for me. A compilation of accounts by a selection of inspirational women who thrive in the face of a physical challenge - certainly not always the fastest, highest or most epic, this is about individuals’ personal challenges and one’s capability to dig deep. I read it when the confines of lockdown felt at their most restrictive but within these accounts, I found hope and inspiration. Yes, we’d be outdoors again, experiencing the adrenalin of embracing playground wildernesses. I’ve been on some amazing walks this year, thanks to the motivation of these stories, I hope it leads to some great adventures for you too.
This is such a superb psychological thriller; set in Oxford and centring around an apparently successful but highly dysfunctional family with nods to gothic fiction and a wonderfully tricksy potentially unreliable narrator, it’s an utterly fabulous read. A child has disappeared, and her nanny Dee is being questioned by the police; she seems like a sympathetic character but we’re seeing everything through her eyes regarding the family’s behaviour: how far can we trust her, plausible as she seems? Lucy Atkins’ writing is just so good; she has a brilliant eye for character, and she also evokes a great sense of Oxford as a city full of ghosts and often at odds with itself.
It’s not often that the heroine of a novel dies in the first sentence, but the fact that Shafak develops a dead character with such intimacy and integrity is testament to her writing. From the beginning, I felt I was in the hands of a gifted writer. This is a multisensory novel; as Tequila Leila lies dying, different smells conjure memories from her life. From her childhood in rural Turkey to the life she has created for herself in the underbelly of Istanbul, there is a great richness in the scents, sounds and colours in a country where the cultures of the East and West collide. Yet, the greatest richness comes from the friendships she has made and the power of these continue long after Leila has left the world.
One for the medieval historians here. Set in 1346, we follow Edward III’s army as it journeys through France, skirmishing and burning as it goes, heading towards the pivotal Battle of Crécy. Simon Merrivale, the Prince of Wales’s herald, is tasked with investigating the murder of an archer, but he soon discovers that this is not an isolated incident; he may well have stumbled upon a much wider conspiracy which could endanger his own life. With a reassuring labyrinthine plot, great characters, and wonderful historical detail in both the depictions of battle and everyday life on military campaign, this is a fantastically gripping, suspenseful read.
This is a genuine emotional roller coaster of a novel which examines the consequences which ripple out across time after a young girl is found dead outside a small Californian town. Years later, her supposed killer is released from jail and returns home; her damaged, psychologically fragile sister Star is then found dead, and the town seethes with suspicion once more. Star’s children Duchess and Robin become the focal point of the town’s attention; who will protect them as the local police struggle to find out what happened? This novel is heartbreakingly poignant as it follows the children’s journey to try and reach some kind of sanctuary, and in the teenage Duchess Day Radley, Chris Whitaker has created a complex, brave, and utterly compelling heroine.
This enthralling piece of crime fiction introduces us to one of my favourite new characters: Persis Wadia, India’s first female detective. Set in Bombay in newly independent India, we’re in a country alive with febrile tension; the new way ahead not yet clear and the scars of imperial suppression very much in evidence. Vaseem Khan skilfully weaves the story of a high-profile murder case, the roots of which are buried deep in complex political history, with Persis’s own personal family life and her burgeoning professional relationship with Scotland Yard criminologist Archie Blackfinch whose caution and deference are a perfect foil to her own pugnacious dynamism. The novel is supremely eloquent and convincing in its tackling of misogyny, corruption, and the toxic legacy of empire.
This is a wonderfully bold piece of imaginative storytelling. A novel which plunges the reader into the unforgettable world of its central character; where tides cause waves to crash through a house of infinite and strange spaces, all revealed to the reader in poignant detail as we try to work out just who and where Piranesi actually is. There’s a mystery to solve but the truth is as obscure to the novel’s central character as it is to the reader, with the curtain only slowly and tantalising being drawn aside by this supremely talented author. Clarke’s book is a subtle and beautiful look at humanity’s constant questing for something beyond ourselves, into obsessive investigation and the consequences thereof. Stunning, moving and delicately memorable.
This is a very personal exploration of the legacy of empire, melding memoir, history and Sanghera’s excellent journalism, in an attempt to understand how Britain’s imperial past is still influencing our evolving present. His historical research is illuminating, and his journalism probes our disinclination to examine with honesty and discuss the effects of empire on contemporary multiculturalism. I cannot recommend the book highly enough; it supports the vitally important work of encouraging a dialectical approach to the study of our problematic imperial history; changing the narrative to give us a deeper more inclusive understanding of our past.
The Dutch House is that rare thing; a beautifully written novel which has you wanting to slow down to savour each word and race to find out what happens next. The story has its genesis in events which unfold in ‘The Dutch House’ and which reverberate into the protagonists’ future. With exquisite subtlety, Ann Patchett gently uncovers the tremors which underpin many of the characters’ ostensibly functional lives – often encapsulating a lifetime of emotion in a few words. Prepare yourself for heartbreak and joy – I can’t remember when I found a novel this satisfying, or thought about it as much once I’d put it down.
This fascinating book reveals the disparate lives of five women, better known for the circumstances of their deaths. Although we may recognise their names, they have long been overshadowed by the cult of their killer, alias Jack The Ripper. Diminished in the face of sensationalism, dismissed as prostitutes and objectified as victims, I love the way that Hallie Rubenhold has reclaimed these women’s stories. Compelling, compassionate and immaculately researched, The Five resets the skewed perspective of history. Essential reading!
This is a wonderfully absorbing story set in a small rural community in Norway where, in 1880, the beauty of its surroundings is starkly contrasted with the harsh reality of desperately long, cold winters and people’s struggle for survival. Here, lifestyles and mindsets are strongly rooted in the land, but times are slowly changing, and the arrival of a new pastor calls into question the formidable position of the church. The story centres around three main characters all of whom dream of achieving their ambitions but to do so means breaking society’s restrictive conventions. Mytting’s characters have depth, his storytelling is vivid and emotionally rich, and his writing effortlessly unfolds a captivating tale.
I know less than I would like to about wild plants and fungi – certainly not enough to eat anything more adventurous than the odd blackberry. So, I expected to find The Forager’s Calendar useful and informative, which it absolutely is, with clear descriptions and excellent colour photographs. Not only a superb practical handbook, it is also full of thought-provoking insights and sparkles with John Wright’s humour. Equally fascinating on conservation, nutrition and the relationship between foraging and the law, Wright will prove the best of companions on your forays into finding food for free.
As the author sets out in his preface, the purpose of this hugely informative and entertaining book is to attempt an understanding of ‘why the North East remains one of the most distinctive parts of England’. I’m sure no native of the area would dispute this assertion, and in this vividly rendered, meticulously researched book Dan Jackson swoops and soars over crucial aspects of our region’s social, political, intellectual and industrial history. There emerges from its pages an affectionate but never sentimental portrait of a people uniquely shaped by their environment. It’s a must read for anyone interested in North East history from the Tees to the Tweed. Just wonderful.
This is a wonderful novel, which not only illumines the human heart with its brilliant insights but also tackles early twentieth century gender politics with gusto. The year is 1928 and we’re introduced to our heroine Mattie Simpkin in typical bravura style as she tries to thwart the theft of her handbag on Hampstead Heath. Mattie is a former militant suffragette; a woman of huge energy and intelligence who feels somewhat adrift now that the right to vote has been won (for some that is, not all). Together with former comrade in arms, Florrie Lee, whose unrequited love for Mattie is one of the book’s most poignant aspects, she endeavours to find a renewed sense of purpose in her post suffragette life.
This is an incredibly gripping debut novel by an American writer who works for the UN and currently lives in Norway with his family. The idea of uprooting oneself and trying to assimilate into another culture is a prominent theme in this interesting book.
The novel, set in Oslo, has the plot and pace of a thriller with the central character rescuing a young boy after his mother has been murdered in his apartment block. However, its overriding concern seems to be with the effect of and attitude towards conflict at individual, family and national level. The main character Sheldon Horowitz is a veteran of the Korean War, and a large part of the novel concerns his seeking what he sees as atonement for the death of his own son in the Vietnam War. Meanwhile other characters have been involved both as aggressors and victims of the more recent conflict in the Balkans. By turns moving and comic this is that quite rare thing – a genuinely thought provoking thriller.
A reimagining of the last days of the Trojan war may seem unfamiliar territory for Pat Barker, yet in this outstanding novel her towering abilities as a writer are deployed with breath taking skill. Briseis, queen of Lyrnessus, has been captured and enslaved by Achilles; forced to survive as best she can in the Greek camp. This was the fate of a great many women in Homer’s Iliad, but we know this about them and little more. Here Pat Barker conjures in brutal, harrowing detail what such a life could have been: the lack of agency and equality cruelly distorting all relationships. One of Pat Barker’s great strengths is her ability to portray the physical sensations of her characters’ experiences and this she does to brilliant effect here; we feel Briseis’ terror, anger and confusion coupled with an emerging steeliness which enables her to survive.
I loved the spare beauty of this novel which encompasses so much with so few words. The story is a deceptively simple one with the transcendent air of myth; American pioneer Cy Bellman leaves his home and family on a quest to discover a giant beast, the bones of which have allegedly been unearthed in Kentucky. While Cy follows his dreams into a land of both physical and spiritual extremes, he believes his daughter, Bess, to be safe at home living with his sister. However, by abandoning his paternal duties, has he in fact left Bess prey to threats of a different, more insidious kind? The insightful, menacing portrayals of both the unknown wilderness and the familiar domestic landscape are utterly compelling and the emotional engagement I felt with both Cy and Bess has been long lasting.
This crime novel is a mind-bending tour de force, with a plot so complex you might want to make notes as you go along. With nods to both the ‘country house’ murder of crime writing’s golden age and another to the sinister speculations of dystopian fiction, this novel has its protagonist Aiden Bishop, inhabit a variety of different host bodies in a quest to discover the murderer of Evelyn Hardcastle. But who is Bishop? Where is he? And what tricks is time playing on him? This is a hugely entertaining, roller coaster of a read, which is at times genuinely poignant and at others shot through with a menacing undercurrent which seeps right off the page. Prepare to be dazzled.
This beautifully written novel is a subtle examination of the effects of Victorian imperial ambition on both the lives of the indigenous people of South Australia and on those seeking to subjugate them. The novel follows one English family, the Finches, telling their story through the eyes of the eldest daughter Hester. It chronicles her initial feelings of duty and responsibility towards her family which are gradually undermined by the growing conflict she witnesses between the beliefs they claim to espouse and the way in which they behave. This is thrown into sharp relief when a boy from the Ngarrindjeri tribe becomes a part of their lives. Wonderful characters people this book, where the personal seamlessly unveils the political, against the backdrop of the stunning yet often brutal Australian landscape. This book was a huge success with our Cogito Fiction Book Group.
The heroes of classical antiquity are brought alive by Miller’s sensual and original language as she follows the life of Achilles from childhood to his destiny in Troy. However, it is the figure of Patroclus who really takes centre stage at least for the first part of the novel. It is chiefly through this character that Miller finds a way of reinterpreting the classical world in a way which gives the book an emotional realism for the modern reader. It is a book, essentially, about decisions and destiny but is rich in the nuances of a developing relationship and contains some beautiful writing which makes the physical world the author describes vivid and affecting.
This book contains many of the key elements I love about Scandinavian fiction: an isolated and harshly beautiful setting, a spare yet moving prose style and characters who appear to be living simply yet are unconsciously addressing some of life’s most fundamental concerns. In telling the story of Hans Barroy and his family, Roy Jacobsen shows us at close quarters what it means to live when life has to be built daily, with the characters’ bare hands and the support of their small familial community.
Copyright © 2024
Design & Build by r//evolution