Blurb

The countdown to the millennium has begun, and people are losing their heads. A so-called Y2K expert gives a presentation to Scotland’s eccentric Tech Laird T.S. Mole’s entourage in Edinburgh, and soon long hours, days, weeks and months fill with seemingly chaotic and frantic work on the ‘bug problem’. Soon enough it’ll be just minutes and seconds to go to midnight. Is the world about to end, or will everyone just wake up the next day with the same old New Year’s Day hangover?

A book about what we know and don’t know, about how we communicate and fail to, My Book of Revelations moves from historical revelations to the personal, and climaxes in the bang and flare of fireworks, exploding myths and offering a glimpse of a scandal that will rock Scotland into the twenty-first century. As embers fall silently to earth, all that is left to say is: Are we working in the early days of a better nation?

Review

Huge thanks to the lovely Will at Renard Press for my spot on the blog tour and for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. This is my third ‘Book book’ experience with Iain Hood, having also read and reviewed This Good Book and Every Trick in the Book, and it is such a joy to be back in his weird and wonderful imagination. You never know where he is going to take you, so you just buckle up and enjoy the ride.

My Book of Revelations opens with a history of the Gregorian calendar and plenty of fascinating facts about time, dates and countdowns. There’s an exuberance to this section that reminded me of Bill Bryson’s brilliant book A Short History of Nearly Everything – the curiosity and desire to know EVERYTHING, making the facts and figures leap off the page, as well as the gently sparkling humour, feels very Bryson-esque. The titbit about Kiribati jumping the International Date Line is just the sort of thing I love to read about, and there are many other treasures besides.

I love the strange way that time behaves in this book, looping and pausing as our narrator inches us closer to the new millennium, and the way the suspended moments allow for a detailed examination of the characters around him, including cameos from Muriel Spark, Jean Cocteau (with a Scottish accent, naturally) along with characters from Hood’s own previous works. Our obsession with countdowns, with the apocalypse, and with our own doom is cleverly explored, and the reference to ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ brought back a memory of my own millennium eve experience, when my friend and I were stumbling home down a country lane, and out of the mist the Grim Reaper appeared, waving his scythe. “Please tell me you see that too.” Luckily it was just another reveller on their way home. (Or was it?)

The narrator, who isn’t quite the expert he seems to be at first, is another great literary creation from Hood – I loved the titles of the short stories he is (not) writing, and at times his stream-of-consciousness style put me in mind of Ducks, Newburyport (albeit with a few more full stops). The whole book is stuffed with references to literature, science, film, TV, music, politics – it’s as if the creator of Trivial Pursuit had written a novel. I always think the dream is to write a book which, when someone asks you what it’s about, you can airily say ‘Oh, everything’ – Hood has pretty much achieved that here. This kind of playful experimentalism is, as I have said before, exactly why we need indie presses who champion writers like Hood. He has produced yet another startlingly good book.

About the Author

Iain Hood was born in Glasgow and grew up in the seaside town of Ayr. He attended the University of Glasgow and Jordanhill College, and later worked in education in Glasgow and the West Country. He attended the University of Manchester after moving to Cambridge, where he continues to live with his wife and daughter. His first novel, This Good Book, was published in 2021, followed by Every Trick in the Book in 2022.

My Book of Revelations by Iain Hood is published by Renard Press and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

A listless aristocrat, Lord Jones, finds himself in London during the Blitz, attending to insurance matters. A zebra and her foal, having escaped from the London Zoo during a bombing, cross his path, and he decides to take them back to his estate in Pembrokeshire. Little loved by his fascist-sympathiser parents, something in Lord Jones softens, and he realises he is lost, just like these zebras.

The arrival of the zebras sparks a new lease of life on the Pembrokeshire estate, and it is not only Lord Jones but the families his dynasty has displaced that benefit from the transformation. Full of heart and mischief, The Zebra and Lord Jones is a hopeful exploration of class, wealth and privilege, grief, colonialism, the landscape, the wars that men make, the families we find for ourselves, and why one lonely man stole a zebra in September 1940 – or perhaps why she stole him.

Review

I’m a big fan of Anna Vaught’s writing, and I’ve reviewed her novel Saving Lucia and two short story collections, Famished and Ravished on the blog in previous years. I was thrilled to be invited to take part in the blog tour for her latest novel, The Zebra and Lord Jones, which is being published with one of my favourite indie publishers, Renard Press.

While I relish the darkness of Anna Vaught’s short fiction, what I loved about Saving Lucia was the thread of joy and generosity running through it. That same energy seems to flow through the veins of her new novel – there is a lightness, a kindness, a delight in language and a sense of mischief that makes the book a pleasure to read.. The subject matter is not light – we have war and death and trauma here, and there is a depth and a breadth of references that feels encyclopaedic – I love the footnotes and the end matter, as well as the way the whole text is steeped in natural history and some of the most thorough zebra-research you’re likely to come across! But despite the backdrop of war, and the reminders of the awful things people do to each other and to the natural world, the overwhelming feeling is of a beautifully choreographed spectacle, a cast of delightfully eccentric characters lovingly assembled for our enjoyment.

The characters really are the stars of the show in this book, from Lord Jones and his gradual transformation to the fiercely blazing Anwen, guest appearances from figures such as Haile Selassie, characters that will capture your heart like Ernest the evacuee and Talbot the dedicated zookeeper, and of course, Mother and Sweetie, our striped equids, who bring the whole story together. But there is another character, and it’s one that is something of a stylistic trait of this author’s writing – the narrator of the story takes an active role on almost every page. We see the strings being pulled, the material being shaped, the careful weighing up of what to include and when, and it is this, I think, that gives the writing its classical feel. There is something about the confidence it displays in the power of storytelling that makes you feel as if you’re being grabbed by the hand and led on a huge adventure. It is a voice at once wise and childlike in its sense of wonder, and there is a lovely kind of breathlessness to the excitement at each new tidbit of information, each historical anecdote, each tasty morsal offered up for the reader to savour. The glee the narrator takes in knowledge, I think that’s what really struck me with this book, as it’s such a wonderful gift to be curious, and we often forget to be.

There are so many delights woven into this rich narrative – I love the ‘blasted owl’ and the vindictive ghosts, and the playful way the zebras communicate with the humans. I’m not sure I could give you a very precise summary of the plot, because I don’t think the plot is the thing here, so if you’re a stickler for a neat story this may not be your bag. But if you like literary fiction that’s going to both tease and comfort you, that’s going to offer an almost maternal reassurance that there is beauty and goodness and humour left in the world, and that, above all, is going to gently urge you to be constantly, delightfully curious, then you’ll find much to enjoy in The Zebra and Lord Jones.

About the Author

Anna Vaught is an English teacher, Creative Writing teacher, mentor, editor and author of several books, including Saving Lucia, Famished, Ravished and These Envoys of Beauty. Her short creative works and features have been widely published, and she has written for the national press and has had a column with The Bookseller and Mslexia. In 2022 Anna launched The Curae, a new literary prize for carers. Anna is also a guest university lecturer, a tutor for Jericho Writers, and volunteers with young people from disadvantaged backgrounds. She is the mother of three sons, comes from a large Welsh family and lives in Wiltshire. The Zebra and Lord Jones is her third novel and seventh book.

The Zebra and Lord Jones by Anna Vaught is published by Renard Press and is available to pre-order here.

Blurb

When Edie Budd arrives at a shabby West London boarding house in October 1958, carrying nothing except a broken suitcase and an envelope full of cash, it’s clear she’s hiding a terrible secret. And she’s not the only one; the other women of 73 Dove Street have secrets of their own…

Tommie, who lives on the second floor, waits on the eccentric Mrs Vee by day. After dark, she harbours an addiction to seedy Soho nightlife – and a man she can’t quit.

Phyllis, 73 Dove Street’s formidable landlady, has set fire to her husband’s belongings after discovering a heart-breaking betrayal – yet her fierce bravado hides a past she doesn’t want to talk about.

At first, the three women keep to themselves. But as Edie’s past catches up with her, Tommie becomes caught in her web of lies – forcing her to make a decision that will change everything…

Review

Many thanks to the publisher and the Squadpod for sending me a proof copy in exchange for an honest review.

I was a big fan of Julie’s debut novel That Green Eyed Girl, so I was really looking forward to reading 73 Dove Street. There are definite similarities between the two books – we’ve swapped New York for London, but the city setting comes alive just as vividly, and the period detail feels spot on. Above all, the characters are once again so real – Edie, Tommie and Phyllis leap off the page and into the reader’s heart. The time shifts are more subtle in this book – we get flashbacks from Edie’s point of view, but it’s not a dual timeline book, and in a way, that makes it easier to get fully immersed in the London of 1958.

There is so much intrigue in this novel – we get just the right amount of information dripped into the story to pull us along, but there are mysterious elements that tantalise the reader, and I loved that. There is a real sense in this author’s books that we ‘meet’ the characters – we use that word a lot in reviews, but it’s somehow especially true of the way Julie Owen Moylan writes – we get a window onto their lives, we get to know them as you do when you meet someone in real life, and, importantly, I think, we don’t know everything. Enough of their secrets are revealed for narrative satisfaction, but it is almost as if you could pick a different point in Tommie’s life, or in Phyllis’ life, and you’d have a different, equally compelling story. It’s hard to explain – it reminds me of Almodovar films, when the action just seems to carry on as the camera pans away. It’s so clever, really sophisticated writing.

Tommie is an especially interesting character, and there’s such poignancy and truth in her obsession with the man, whose name we never find out. I liked the way her relationship with Edie plays out – this is no sentimental ode to female friendship, it’s far more nuanced and complex than that. And of course, as in That Green Eyed Girl, there are some hateful characters, too – again, very well written. I’m such a fan of this author’s work, and I can’t wait to see what’s next. I hear rumours of Berlin…

73 Dove Street by Julie Owen Moylan is published by Michael Joseph and is available to pre-order here.

Blurb

‘Dear Reader, the man I love is trying to kill me…’

1932. Emily Blackwood, adventuress and plant hunter, travels north for a curious new commission. A gentleman has written to request she catalogue his vast collection of taxidermied creatures before sale.

On arrival, Emily finds a ruined castle, its owner haunted by a woman who vanished five decades before. And when she discovers the ripped pages of a diary, crammed into the walls, she realises dark secrets lie here, waiting to entrap her too…

The Birdcage Library will hold you in its spell until the final page.

Review

Many thanks to the publisher and to the Squadpod for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I love this kind of book – the type that draws you in right from the start, announcing itself as a puzzle to be solved, a ‘treasure map’ littered with clues. A hidden diary, a ruined castle, secrets and twists galore – it’s a good ol’fashioned mystery freshened up by the original characters and Berry’s stunning prose. I loved the language in this book – she writes beautifully, treading that fine line between clear-eyed precision and dazzling description with all the skill of a tightrope walker. It’s a joy to read; the sentences are assured and carry you along the twisty, dark corridors of the narrative with confidence.

Parts of the story reminded me of another fabulous historical novel filled with taxidermy animals – Jane Healey’s debut The Animals at Lockwood Manor – but while that book (as far as I remember) stuck pretty closely to its single setting, Berry’s novel crosses the pond and includes some excellent scenes in New York, adding yet another dimension to this complex story. The Emporium and the glamorous parties as described in Hester’s diaries are a lot of fun – I think the New York section had some of my favourite scenes in the book.

The way the mystery itself unravels is very clever. I have to admit, there were a couple of points where I thought, ah this is too easy, I’ve got this figured out – more fool me, because I definitely didn’t! I really enjoyed how it all resolved itself – for me, it was completely satisfying, and allayed a couple of concerns I’d had early on in the book about the treasure hunt.

This is a treat of a novel, one that really includes the reader, an immersive, enjoyable, sometimes dark adventure that kept me gripped throughout. I’ve been meaning to read Freya Berry’s debut, The Dictator’s Wife, for ages – this has definitely persuaded me to get it, and anything else the author writes – I am officially a fan!

The Birdcage Library by Freya Berry is published by Headline and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

One of our greatest and most original living writers sets out the perils of the writing life with joyful provocation

‘Wish I Was Here is a masterpiece. Formally inventive, constantly surprising, M John Harrison has written an archaeology of fragments that shivers with wholeness. It’s exquisite’ Helen Macdonald, author of H is for Hawk

‘As always with M John Harrison, you’re never quite sure what you’re reading or where it will take you next. There are only a few certainties: that it will surprise you, sometimes astound you, and leave you profoundly changed’ Jonathan Coe, author of The Rotters’ Club

‘Late style is when the people who have all your life jumped in front of you waving their arms – No! Careful! – jump out one more time to encourage you to run them down, and this time you do.’

M. John Harrison has produced one of the greatest bodies of fiction of any living British author, encompassing space opera, speculative fiction, fantasy, magical and literary realism. Every book is subversive of genre and united by restless intelligence, experimentation and rebelliousness of spirit.

This is his first memoir, an ‘anti-memoir’, written in his mid-seventies with aphoristic daring and trademark originality and style, fresh after winning the Goldsmiths Prize in 2020. Many of our most prominent younger writers now recognise him as the most significant British writer of his generation. He is ‘brilliantly unsettling’ (Olivia Laing), ‘magnificent’ (Neil Gaiman), ‘one of the best writers of fiction currently at work in English’ (Robert Macfarlane).

Review

Many thanks to the publisher for sending me a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

A disclaimer upfront: I am not clever enough to write a proper review of this book, nor have I had enough time to sift through the wreckage of thoughts and revelations that reading this ‘anti-memoir’ has left in my tattered brain. It’s left me with a feeling that seeds of ideas have been sown in my mind, and I won’t understand them fully for years, if ever. But that’s a really exciting feeling to get from a book!

Where do I start with describing Wish I Was Here? It’s fragmented, splintered, not quite a book on writing, not quite a memoir, but not NOT either of those things… The ideas are scattered but not random, and as I read, I found myself questioning everything I thought I knew. It’s weirdly beautiful in the way that there’s a complete rejection of any attempt to build a cohesive sense of self – there is something in that which I have felt but never been able to articulate. When Harrison talks about the rift between your present and past self, particularly when looking back on something you’ve written a long time ago, it sets my brain buzzing. I’ve long had the feeling that I have lived layers of lives rather than one continuous one. Perhaps this isn’t what he means at all, but it really got me thinking.

I feel about this book both similarly and kind of the opposite to how I felt when I read Lessing’s The Golden Notebook. Similarly in that: I am not clever enough for this, and yet, there are ideas here that speak to me and might change everything, and the opposite in that while Lessing’s book was a sprawling, terrifying slog at times, this book is a short, sharp injection of something I didn’t know I needed. And of course there are the notebooks, or nowtbooks – I coincidently looked through some of my own shortly before I started Wish I Was Here, and a lot of what I found startled me with the gap between what I think I remember of a particular time and what I recorded in my scribbles. So there is a lot to ponder about memory, too. Harrison rejects memory, in a way that I find fascinating, and again, I’ve got a lot more thinking to do on the subject.

I don’t feel like I can write much more in this review – my response to this book was so personal, and I’m still dealing with the fall-out! I do think anyone interesting in writing, memory, the idea of the self, or anyone who wants to see things differently, should read this. I’m looking forward to letting the words in Wish I Was Here percolate, and seeing how they change me (if indeed there is a ‘me’ left to change!).

Wish I Was Here: An Anti-Memoir by M. John Harrison is published by Serpent’s Tail and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

The heartwarming, moving and uplifting new story of friendship, love and finding courage when all seems lost from AJ Pearce.

London, April 1943.

Emmy Lake is an agony aunt at Woman’s Friend magazine, doing all she can to help readers as they face the challenges of wartime life. With her column thriving and a team of women behind her, Emmy finally feels she is Doing Her Bit.

But when the glamourous new owner arrives, everything changes. Charming her way around editor Guy Collins, Emmy quickly realises the Honourable Mrs Cressida Porter plans to destroy everything readers love about the magazine.

With her best friends by her side, Emmy must work out how she can bring everyone together and save Woman’s Friend before it’s too late.

Review

Many thanks to the publisher and to the Squadpod for my advance copy of the book.

I loved the first two books in AJ Pearce’s Emmy Lake series, Dear Mrs Bird and Yours Cheerfully, so I was properly excited to catch up with the characters in this next instalment. Pearce captures the spirit of wartime London so beautifully, with humour and pathos and everything in between. The magazine setting is ripe for all sorts of shenanigans and wrangling, and when a new owner takes over, it’s only a matter of time before Emmy must come to the rescue once more. There are some wonderful new characters to love – and hate – as well as recurring appearances from series regulars.

What these books do so well is weave together humorous plotlines with incredibly moving ones – I can’t say too much for fear of spoilers, but alongside the ridiculous whims of Mrs Porter (and a star turn by her dog, Winston), there are moments that had me welling up, and some really poignant observations by Emmy, who is growing as a character with every book. What’s particularly interesting here is that we see her facing challenges she has absolutely no experience of, and admitting that she doesn’t always know what to do for the best. There’s a vulnerability to her that feels more defined than in the previous books, and it made me warm to her even more.

The consistency of the style is admirable – the language feels not only era-appropriate, but also reflective of internal and external attitudes of the characters. It’s very clever, because there is a remove between even the most beloved characters’ sensibilities and our own, but we can fully buy into their attitudes because of the exceptional times they are living through and the author’s absolute commitment to the era. There’s something cinematic about these books; they’re such beautifully crafted, immersive period pieces, and it’s always a pleasure to spend time in this world.

There is definite potential for more Emmy Lake Chronicles to come (the ending is satisfying, but open for more) and I, for one, can’t wait. This is proper escapist, immersive fiction – funny and heart-warming and oddly healing; if you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Emmy yet, treat yourself to all three – they’ll make perfect summer reading.

Mrs Porter Calling by AJ Pearce is published by Picador and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

It is my dearest wish, that after so long apart, I am able to bring this family together for my wedding day.

This house. This family.

Mary has raised a family in this house. Watched her children play and laugh and bicker in this house. Today she is getting married in this house, with all her family in attendance.

The wedding celebrations have brought fractured family together for the first time in years: there’s Phoebe and her husband Michael, children in tow. The young and sensitive Rosie, with her new partner. Irene, Mary’s ex-mother-in-law. Even Emma, Mary’s eldest, is back for the wedding – despite being at odds with everyone else.

Set over the course of an English summer’s day but punctuated with memories from the past forty years of love and loss, hope and joy, heartbreak and grief, this is the story of a family. Told by a chorus of characters, it is an exploration of the small moments that bring us to where we are, the changes that are brought about by time, and what, despite everything, stays the same.

Review

Many thanks to the publisher and to the Squadpod for providing me with an early copy in exchange for an honest review. I was a huge fan of Kate Sawyer’s debut, The Stranding, so I was really excited to get my hands on this one! It did not disappoint!

I’m a sucker for a sprawling family drama where secrets gradually come to light and the changing dynamics of the years play out before our eyes, Cazalet Chronicles style, and there is definitely a hint of Elizabeth Jane Howard here. But it’s combined with the claustrophobic heat of Claire Fuller’s Bitter Orange, and the stylistic verve of an Ian McEwan novel. Compressing the present tense focus to one single day, in one setting, is a brilliant way of building tension, as we see everyone gathering in at the same time as flashbacks reveal the cracks and ruptures of the past. It’s a very clever novel, and I’m beginning to suspect Kate Sawyer’s literary career is going to be strewn with well-deserved prizes.

The characters are complex and rounded, their shared past full of the kind of morally ambiguous choices that will divide readers’ opinions. I really felt I got to know each member of the family – what is really clever is the way that, at the start, the relationships between them aren’t entirely clear – it’s almost confusing, and at first I thought, oh I wish there was a family tree or something to help me sort this out, but then I realised that what this does is drop the reader right into the group, an outsider trying to figure out the connections and dynamics in the same way as we would if we met these people in real life. It’s actually genius, as it’s a natural way of getting to know the characters, and avoids the kind of exposition that can take a reader out of the moment.

The house, the willow tree, the preparations for the meal and celebration – everything is described in vivid, fresh detail, and it’s easy to picture the scenes unfolding on the page. The writing in This Family is so subtle and skilful, and the revelations, when they come, feel earned and real. There are moments of tension that held me in thrall, and tender moments, too, pulsing with emotion. I won’t give away anything about the ending, except to say that it feels exactly right.

This is a deeply intelligent, beautifully written book, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. I love how different it is from her debut – both novels are brilliant, but in such different ways. I can’t wait to see what’s next from Kate Sawyer.

This Family by Kate Sawyer is published by Coronet and is available to preorder here.

Blurb

Enid isn’t clear about much these days. But she does feel a strong affinity with Olivia, a regular visitor to her dementia home in a small coastal town. If only she could put her finger on why.

Their silent partnership intensifies when Enid, hoping to reconnect with her husband Roy, escapes from the home. With help from an imaginary macaw, she uncovers some uncomfortable truths about Olivia’s marriage and delves into her own forgotten past.

A deeply touching story of love, age and companionship, evoking the unnoticed everyday moments that can mean the world to the people living them, Tim Ewins’ second novel will delight fans of his acclaimed debut, We Are Animals.

Review

Huge thanks to the author for sending me a copy of the book, and to the Squadpod for arranging this publication day blog blast.

I loved Tim Ewins’ debut novel We Are Animals, so I was really looking forward to Tiny Pieces of Enid. It’s also garnered a lot of praise from writers I admire, which raised my expectations even more. And it doesn’t disappoint – it’s quite different to We Are Animals, which was delightfully quirky, but what it does have in common is the same large heart. It is – in that overused phrase – a ‘quiet’ book, focused on the small moments, but those moments are everything – they’re what makes up life – and without all the dashing around the world that was so much fun in his first book, the author has time to slow down, and zoom in, and the result is a wise, tender novel.

Enid’s dementia is handled with real sensitivity – we get a good sense of her confusion, of her loosening grip on what is going on around her, but we still get an insight into her personality, and she’s a joy to spend time with. There are lovely moments of humour – watch out for the carrot – and her warmth and generosity shines through in her interactions with Olivia, in particular. I thought their relationship was really well done – there’s no ‘cheat’ here of a sudden moment of lucidity so that Olivia can get to know the ‘real’ Enid – there’s just an unspoken understanding, a connection, and it feels very real. We are not just what we can articulate, we’re people underneath it, even without words, and the way their stories merge reveals a lot about both women.

The real heart of the story, however, is the love between Enid and Roy. It’s beautifully depicted, so subtle and meaningful in all the ways that matter, and their unwilling separation due to Enid’s illness feels desperately sad. It’s refreshing and wonderful and also heart-breaking to see the unsung love story of a long term couple brought to the fore in this way – we often talk about having ‘someone to grow old with,’ but literature doesn’t often show us what this means in practice. There’s so much quiet tenderness in the way Enid and Roy think of each other, their love for each other is so clear and uncomplicated, despite all the complications that life has thrown at them. I’m firmly in my cynical phase at the moment, but even I was thinking, “yes, that’s how it should be”!

There are moments of real peril and drama in this book, which I was quite surprised by (at a couple of points I was actually quite concerned it was all going to go in a very different direction), and some pretty dark themes are explored, but again, it’s done very sensitively. My favourite moments, though, were the in between times, the times when Enid is reflecting on her past with Roy, or he is thinking of her, and that idea that even though they are physically apart, they’re still each other’s worlds. It’s beautiful and so moving. And I was glad to see that animals haven’t been entirely left behind – there are some stunning passages about nesting birds, and a few glimpses of the brightly coloured parrot from the gorgeous cover. I do like it when there’s a little thread that connects an author’s books!

I highly recommend this book, especially if, like me, you’re a fan of a cathartic, book-induced weep, and I’m excited to see what this talented writer produces next.

Tiny Pieces of Enid by Tim Ewins is published by Eye/Lightning and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

Glory is an energy burst, an exhilarating joyride. It is the story of an uprising, told by a bold, vivid chorus of animal voices that helps us see our human world more clearly.

A long time ago, in a bountiful land not so far away, the animal denizens lived quite happily. Then the colonisers arrived. After nearly a hundred years, a bloody War of Liberation brought new hope for the animals – along with a new leader. A charismatic horse who commanded the sun and ruled and ruled and kept on ruling. For forty years he ruled, with the help of his elite band of Chosen Ones, a scandalously violent pack of Defenders and, as he aged, his beloved and ambitious young donkey wife, Marvellous.

But even the sticks and stones know there is no night ever so long it does not end with dawn. And so it did for the Old Horse, one day as he sat down to his Earl Grey tea and favourite radio programme. A new regime, a new leader. Or apparently so. And once again, the animals were full of hope…

Glory tells the story of a country seemingly trapped in a cycle as old as time. And yet, as it unveils the myriad tricks required to uphold the illusion of absolute power, it reminds us that the glory of tyranny only lasts as long as its victims are willing to let it. History can be stopped in a moment. With the return of a long-lost daughter, a #freefairncredibleelection, a turning tide – even a single bullet.

Review

Many thanks to FMcM Associates for sending me a copy of Glory to review as part of their promotion of the Rathbones Folio Prize shortlist. Apologies that it has taken me so long to read and review – this book was worth the wait, though!

I don’t know where to start with reviewing this book, except to say that it is one of the most powerful novels I’ve ever read. It pulls you along with the force of its prose and the strength of its premise – as one critic says, “Bulawayo is really out-Orwelling Orwell.” I thought Animal Farm was a brilliant, clever book – but Glory is astounding.

This book grabs you and doesn’t loosen its grip until after the last page. The allegorical mode is much rawer here than in Orwell’s work; it’s easier to forget that the characters are ostensibly farm animals, because the emotions and scenarios feel so terribly human. There are obviously clear parallels between Jidada (with a -da and another -da) and Bulawayo’s own Zimbabwe, but it reaches further than that – the pattern of colonialism and liberation and repression and torture and corruption has been repeated again and again across the globe, and here the author writes those themes large, in fierce, bold, surging prose.

The opening chapters are a masterclass in political rhetoric, the call-and-response, the assigning of blame to anyone and everyone except for the ruling party, the machinations at play within the seat of power. It’s scarily mesmerising, and it sweeps the reader along with the crowd of animals. And then, as the book progresses, we have the pendulum-swinging movement between hope and disillusionment, as a new era brings more of the same pain. The collective suffering of the animals of Jidada at the hands of the corrupt government is described in increasingly eviscerating terms, with repetition and stylistic experiments driving it home.

But what makes this book even more special is the individual narrative that comes to the fore in the second half of the novel. When Destiny returns home from exile, the intensity of the novel moves up a notch, and through her reconciliation with her mother and her neighbours, we get a reckoning with the past which reverberates into the present. The story is brutal and violent and bloody, yet in amongst it there is Destiny, and her mother, Simiso, sharing such intimate moments, there is a sliver of hope, there is the hint that the tide can yet turn.

I cant remember reading a book which held in in its thrall as strongly as Glory. The scope of its subject matter, its linguistic acrobatics, its ability to flick from humour to tragedy, its blending of allegory and specifics; there just isn’t another book like this, certainly not that I’ve read. It seems to vibrate with truth and history, with a raw honesty that exposes the horror of the systems that grind down the many while benefitting the few, with an entirely justified rage that powers the story forward like a tidal wave. It left me reeling, and I know I’ll come back to this book. I’m very grateful to have had the chance to read it.

Glory by NoViolet Bulawayo is published by Chatto & Windus and is available to purchase here.

The Rathbones Folio Prize winners and shortlisted books can be viewed and purchased here.