You Will Have a Black Labrador by Nino Gugunishvili
Blurb
Love, memories, family, enduring friendships, cooking, movies, dogs, travels, hairstyles, and saying Yes to many No’s in a witty, yet often sentimental, journey of self-discovery…
You Will Have a Black Labrador is a collection of semiautobiographical essays forming a narrative about a modern Georgian woman. Her stories range from the search for a perfect romantic partner to exploring food as an integral part of the Georgian culture. Many of the vignettes centre on childhood memories or weird family traditions, such as the way family members stay connected no matter if they’re deceased or alive. One essay reveals how making a simple omelette can change your life; and that No can be the most powerful word in any language. She shows us, too, that a haircut can be a tribute to the movies you love as well as a path to your freedom; and how owning a dog always brings unexpected experiences. In this poignantly humorous collection, reality mixes and interferes with an imaginative world in so many surprising ways.
Review
My final read of 2020 was this utterly delightful little book, kindly sent to me by the author in exchange for an honest review. I love something a bit different, as my two regular readers may know, and the idea of semiautobiographical essays intrigued me, so when Nino sent me a lovely email offering to send me her book, I jumped at the chance.
This is a slim volume that takes no time at all to read – I gulped down Nino’s vignette-like essays in a single sitting before my cup of tea had time to get cold. With titles like “A Long Story of a Short Hair” and “A Belated Apology to My Dog,” this is a wonderfully quirky, family-centred, personal exploration, and I thoroughly enjoyed my brief time in Nino’s bright, funny company. She has a lovely turn of phrase, and the book strikes exactly the right tone between wry and reflective.
There are some interesting insights into Georgian culture, as well as plenty of refreshingly honest confessions and amusing anecdotes. There is a warmth to Nino’s writing, a curiosity and generosity that shines through, and it is a pleasure to read her stories.
This charming little book feels like a proper chat with an old friend, and in these isolated times, what could be more comforting than that? I would recommend this to anyone who is finding long tomes difficult to get into at the moment – this is the perfect reading slump buster, a brief window into a bright and funny mind.
You Will Have a Black Labrador by Nino Gugunishvili is out now and is available to purchase here.
Seven Nights at the Flamingo Hotel by Drew Gummerson
Blurb
You could’ve been someone, you could’ve been a contender, yet instead you ended up here, a dishwasher at the Flamingo Hotel. From the death of your mother, to homelessness, to insanity, and back again, to an encounter with an American serial killer, a love affair with a performance artist, to the loss of your foreskin, to living in a shed, and certain bum operations, you have only ever wanted one thing…
To find someone worse off than yourself.
And now’s your chance.
You’ve got seven nights…at the Flamingo Hotel.
Review
Seven Nights at the Flamingo Hotel is the first book to be published by new indie press Bearded Badger. It is very exciting to see a new indie publisher (especially one with such a delightful name/logo) and the fact that the Badger has burst onto the scene with this daringly different, totally mad but utterly brilliant book bodes very, very well indeed. Huge thanks to Paul for reaching out and sending me a copy of Drew’s book in exchange for an honest review.
The most obvious stylistic feature of this book is of course the second person “you” point of view. I’ve read quite a few short stories which use this voice, but not many novels – Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City is the only one that comes readily to my mind. It’s a tricky voice, and one that has the potential to sound gimmicky, but Gummerson absolutely smashes it: the direct address, the sense of complicity, the capacity for alternating between effrontery and empathy, all add so much to the richness of the eccentric tapestry he weaves. This is not experimentation for its own sake: the point of view fits the story perfectly.
And what a story! There are so many crazy, crude, shocking surprises in this book that I don’t want to divulge too much. If you are easily offended by graphic descriptions of sex and bodily functions, you’ll want to steer clear of this one, but the surface level of puerile humour is far from the whole story. Seven Nights is clever, it’s insightful, and it’s far more complex in structure than it initially appears. Following the protagonist through the week results in some magnificent and hilarious set pieces, but what is most impressive is the way that the story BUILDS, almost without the reader noticing, until, by the end, this outrageous, filthy, utterly outlandish tale becomes something that is surprisingly deeply moving.
Finally, and you’ll have to trust me on this rather odd point: the bums and willies (and there are a LOT of bums in this book, always referred to with deliberately childish terminology, sometimes featuring in rather surprising ways) are there for a reason. The protagonist is undergoing a really quite poignant struggle with his own sexuality. It is subtly and quite beautifully done. This novel is hugely funny: it’s rude, bizarre, brightly original – but most importantly, beneath the jokes and the eccentricity, it tells a very human story, and it does so brilliantly.
I’m absolutely thrilled to have had the chance to read this book, and I urge you to give it a try, supporting a fab new indie press into the bargain.
Seven Nights at the Flamingo Hotel by Drew Gummerson is out now from Bearded Badger Publishing and is available to purchase here.
1890s. Colorado. Following her mother’s sudden death, thirteen-year-old Hannah Owens is hired as domestic help by a wealthy doctor’s family in Colorado Springs. When the doctor declares bankruptcy and abandons his family to finance his mistress Pearl DeVere’s brothel, Hannah is thrown into a world of gold mining bonanzas and busts, rampant prostitution and the economic, political and cultural upheavals of the era. Two of Cripple Creek’s most colorful historic characters, Winfield Scott Stratton, eccentric owner of the richest gold mine in Cripple Creek, and Pearl DeVere, the beautiful madam of The Old Homestead come to life as this old-fashioned, coming-of-age saga unfolds, a tribute to the women who set the stage for women’s rights.
Review
Many thanks to The Write Reads and the author for my spot on the tour, and for providing me with a digital copy of the book. I was really intrigued by this book – I love historical fiction, and the setting was not one I had read much about.
Cripple Creek comes alive in this book, as Eichmann repopulates the mining town with characters both historical and fictional. The novel doesn’t shy away from the harsh, brutal reality of life for women at the time – in a way, despite the very different setting, it reminded me of Maggie Richell-Davies’ excellent novelThe Servant, which I read last year (and not just because the protagonists share a name!). Both books expose the vulnerability of being a lower class woman in their respective societies, and the terrible power men wield over their lives and their bodies. In A Sparrow Alone, themes of prostitution and exploitation are explored in myriad ways: it is a bleak picture, but within the constraints of their situations, the resourcefulness and resilience of the women shine through.
Hannah is an engaging protagonist, and I enjoyed following her story. The fictionalised versions of real historical characters are well done, and Stratton in particular is a fascinating character – although I found him much more disturbing than the protagonist seemed to. The dialogue between characters occasionally sacrifices realism at the altar of exposition, and there are a lot of lengthy discourses which could have been more subtly folded into the narrative, but the content is interesting, and it didn’t detract too much from the story. Likewise, I found the pacing a bit uneven: important events sometimes take place off-stage, and for me, the ending was slightly rushed. Despite these little quibbles, however, I did find myself immersed in Hannah’s world and keen to find out what happened next.
A Sparrow Alone is an entertaining, fast-paced story which paints a vivid picture of life for women at the time. There is a sequel, Muskrat Ramble, coming out in March this year – fans of historical sagas should check out these books and discover Cripple Creek for themselves!
Mim Eichmann has found that her creative journey has taken her down many exciting, interwoven pathways. For well over two decades she was known primarily in the Chicago area as the artistic director and choreographer of Midwest Ballet Theatre and director of its home, Midwest Ballet Academy, bringing full-length professional ballet performances to thousands of dance lovers every year and was the recipient of many arts’ programming grants. A desire to become involved again in the folk music world brought about the creation of her acoustic quartet Trillium, now in its 15th year, a folk band well known for its eclectic repertoire performing throughout the Midwest that has also released four cds. She’s also written the lyrics and music for two award-winning original children’s cds, “Why Do Ducks Have Webby Toes?” and “Wander Down Beyond the Rainbow” and occasionally schedules concerts of her children’s music and movement programs.
Always captivated by the writings, diaries and journals of late 19th century women, as well as that era’s economic, social and political upheavals, Ms. Eichmann has now put pen to paper and the historical fiction novel she has been passionately researching, its rich synopsis gradually evolving over many years, has finally become a reality. We hope you’ll enjoy “A Sparrow Alone” and its sequel, “Muskrat Ramble.”
‘I want you to remember something, Nat. You’re small on the outside. But inside you’re as big as everyone else. You show people that and you won’t go far wrong in life.’
A compelling story perfect for fans of The Doll Factory, The Illumination of Ursula Flight and The Familiars.
My name is Nat Davy. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? There was a time when people up and down the land knew my name, though they only ever knew half the story.
The year of 1625, it was, when a single shilling changed my life. That shilling got me taken off to London, where they hid me in a pie, of all things, so I could be given as a gift to the new queen of England.
They called me the queen’s dwarf, but I was more than that. I was her friend, when she had no one else, and later on, when the people of England turned against their king, it was me who saved her life. When they turned the world upside down, I was there, right at the heart of it, and this is my story.
Inspired by a true story, and spanning two decades that changed England for ever, The Smallest Man is a heartwarming tale about being different, but not letting it hold you back. About being brave enough to take a chance, even if the odds aren’t good. And about how, when everything else is falling apart, true friendship holds people together.
Review
Having seen brilliant reviews for this book, and deciding that it sounded like exactly the sort of story I would love, I was thrilled to get a proof copy from Jess Barratt at Simon & Schuster. Many thanks to Jess for the chance to read this wonderful book, which, as I suspected, I fell completely in love with.
Beginning in 1625, this novel covers a period of history that I really didn’t know much about before I started reading. The setting and period are wonderfully evoked, and the book wears its impressive research lightly, as the best historical novels do. The turbulence of political life in England at this time is brilliantly depicted, and Frances Quinn does a marvellous job of showing how ordinary people are caught up in the dangerous, changeable tides of history. There are some lovely, wise insights about personal connection versus political affiliation: despite being close to the centre of the royal court, the main character is no blind royalist – he sees the King’s weaknesses and failings, and it is incredibly enlightening and realistic to see the way in which, for many of the characters, survival rather than political or moral high-mindedness is the driving force behind their actions.
Nat Davy himself is an absolute joy of a protagonist, the kind you miss when you finish the last chapter. I loved following him on his adventures and watching him change and develop as a character. He isn’t perfect, but his flaws make him real and human, and he has a wonderful capacity to learn and adapt. His heart is anything but small, and I adored the gentle, loving connections he forms as the story progresses. His relationships with his friends and with the Queen are nuanced and sympathetic, and it really made me ponder the precious nature of human connection. We could all learn something from Nat.
This is a hopeful, heart-warming, wise story; it is an absolute pleasure from start to finish, and the kind of book I can see myself buying for loved ones as presents (and being thanked for my excellent taste in books, of course!). I can’t recommend this warm, witty, gorgeous novel enough – and I am very tempted to treat myself to one of the beautiful indie bookshop editions!
The Smallest Man by Frances Quinn is published by Simon & Schuster and is available to purchase here. The beautiful indie bookshop edition is available here or from your local indie.
A couple drive from London to coastal Provence. Anya is preoccupied with what she feels is a relationship on the verge; unequal, precarious. Luke, reserved, stoic, gives away nothing. As the sun sets one evening, he proposes, and they return to London engaged.
But planning a wedding does little to settle Anya’s unease. As a child, she escaped from Sarajevo, and the idea of security is as alien now as it was then. When social convention forces Anya to return, she begins to change. The past she sought to contain for as long as she can remember resurfaces, and the hot summer builds to a startling climax.
Lean, sly and unsettling, Asylum Road is about the many borders governing our lives: between men and women, assimilation and otherness, nations, families, order and chaos.
What happens, and who do we become, when they break down?
Review
Just to get in a little name-drop here, this book was recommended to me by author Heidi James, whose novel The Sound Mirror was one of my top reads of 2020. Many thanks to Laura Meyer at Bloomsbury for sending me a proof copy – it took me a while to get round to it, but I am so glad I had the chance to read this brilliant novel.
Asylum Road feels very different. It is very much its own (sharp-clawed) beast. The writing is spare and taut; the sentences cut like a knife and bleed truths. No thought or feeling is deemed too uncomfortable to probe: there is a needling quality to the prose as it pushes deeper and deeper beneath the surface. The relationship between the protagonist and her boyfriend/fiance Luke is almost unbearably tense. There is a veneer of normality to their interactions which belies the constant second-guessing and agonising that Anya goes through. Luke is prickly and difficult and detached, and it is sometimes painful to watch Anya desperately trying to forge a connection. I disliked him intensely, but Sudjic explores the dynamics at play between them in a way which is both fascinating and rings terrifyingly true.
Anya herself is such a complex and intriguing character. I don’t think I have ever encountered a fictional character with quite such a problematic relationship with the concept of ‘home’. Themes of trauma, exile, escape, and loss circle her story like vultures, and the (mostly) first person narrative aligns the reader so closely with her inner unease that I often found myself reading with my breath held and my jaw clenched. Some of the most powerful and devastating scenes take place when she visits her family: there is none of the warmth or comforting familiarity that we might expect, and the reality of the short time she spends with her parents and sister is in itself traumatic. It is masterfully done – never have I felt so tense when reading about a family reunion!
Asylum Road is a shocking, powerful, intelligent novel that subtly ratchets up the tension and quietly, menacingly builds its landscape out of the main character’s psyche. The prose is so tightly controlled that the explosive ending comes as a delicious shock. I was left reeling at the end of this book, and utterly in awe of Olivia Sudjic’s razor-sharp writing. I highly recommend this novel if you enjoy reading psychologically insightful stories that scratch unused parts of your mind. An oustanding, startlingly original book.
Asylum Road by Olivia Sudjic will be published by Bloomsbury on 21st January 2021 and is available to preorder here.
The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot by Marianne Cronin
Blurb
Life is short. No-one knows that better than seventeen-year-old Lenni living on the terminal ward. But as she is about to learn, it’s not only what you make of life that matters, but who you share it with.
Dodging doctor’s orders, she joins an art class where she bumps into fellow patient Margot, a rebel-hearted eighty-three-year-old from the next ward. Their bond is instant as they realize that together they have lived an astonishing one hundred years.
To celebrate their shared century, they decide to paint their life stories: of growing old and staying young, of giving joy, of receiving kindness, of losing love, of finding the person who is everything.
As their extraordinary friendship deepens, it becomes vividly clear that life is not done with Lenni and Margot yet.
Fiercely alive, disarmingly funny and brimming with tenderness, THE ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF LENNI AND MARGOT unwraps the extraordinary gift of life even when it is about to be taken away, and revels in our infinite capacity for friendship and love when we need them most.
Review
I was absolutely thrilled to win a proof copy of this book in a Twitter competition run by @bkslovelythings (who is as lovely as her Twitter handle suggests) – huge thanks to Jo, Alison Barrow and Doubleday for the chance to get an early look at this beautiful novel. I had already heard brilliant things, and I couldn’t resist diving straight in.
I adored this book. The friendship between Lenni and Margot is heartfelt, honest, entirely believable, and so movingly depicted. The idea of them combining their century of lived experience and creating something meaningful out of it is so delicately and beautifully handled; it never comes across as overly sentimental or simplistic. Rather it is really quite a profound act of generosity and creativity, and I think it taps into a deep understanding of the nature of storytelling. It made me think a lot about how reading allows me to ‘live’ other lives – there is a complex, almost spiritual sense of sharing in the way that Margot, who has experienced so much more than Lenni ever will, hands over her memories to her young friend, like a kind of inheritance more precious than jewels. The thing that Lenni is denied by her diagnosis – a long, full life punctuated by joys and sadnesses, loves and losses, becomes something almost transferable, shareable – and it’s astonishingly moving to witness.
Margot’s story unfolds in gorgeously fragmented shards – as readers, we piece the details together alongside Lenni, interrupted by the daily routines of hospital life. Marianne Cronin is an incredibly skilled writer; she makes this gradual, complicated stitching together of life experiences seem completely organic. There is a lightness of touch here which in itself is a kind of authorial generosity – the characters are right at the forefront; the complexity of the structure is modestly backgrounded, so that the multiple strands seem to flow effortlessly. It is very inspiring.
I loved Margot, and her life story is fascinating and nuanced, but my heart belongs to Lenni. In a way, I feel as if there are shades of another one of my absolute favourite recent characters here: Matson Taylor’s Evie Epworth. Like Evie, Lenni is a character who leaps out of the page, who lodges herself in the reader’s imagination as a real person, and an incredible one at that. She’s funny, she’s rebellious, she is generous, kind and huge-hearted, and I fell hard for her. In the author’s acknowledgements, she speaks about how Lenni ‘visited’ her, and I am so glad she did. There is a little bit of magic involved with characters as special as Lenni, characters so real they stay with you, and this alchemy, this sprinkling of stardust, is what makes the very best books soar.
This book is both heart-breaking and heart-warming, sometimes at the same time. It made me sob, but in truly cathartic way, and more often, it made me laugh. I think it’s the strongest emotional reaction I’ve had to a book for a long time. It is very hard to put into words how special this book is: it simultaneously manages to celebrate life and make us less afraid of death, and what could be more beautiful and inspiring than that?
The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot by Marianne Cronin will be published on 18th Febraury 2021 by Doubleday and is available to pre-order here.
December already seems quite a long time ago, but as usual I am running behind on getting reviews up, so in the meantime here is my wrap up of the brilliant books I read last month. What I really like about this (typically eclectic!) selection of books is that it sums up the fantastic experience I have had in joining the bookish community on social media – there are blog tour books, giveaway wins, buddy read books, author requests, exciting proofs, and a fab new indie press all represented here, and I LOVE to see it. I’m going to get the rest of my reviews up soon, but we are once again in the middle of a house move (please let it be the last one for a while!!!) so do bear with me.
Amari and the Night Brothers by B.B. Alston (2021)
I was absolutely thrilled to take part in The Write Reads Ultimate Blog Tour for this wonderful middle grade novel, which kicks off an exciting new series by B.B. Alston. You can read my full review here – Amari is going to be HUGE, and rightly so!
Understanding Children and Teens by Judy Bartkowiak (2020)
A highly relevant non-fiction read as part of another blog tour, this time run by the fab people at Literally PR, Understanding Children and Teens is a practical, empathetic book which offers techniques and tools for anyone working or living with kids (big or small). You can read my full review of this excellent guide here.
How the One-Armed Sister Sweeps Her House by Cherie Jones (2021)
I honestly can’t believe this is a debut novel; it is one of the most powerful books I have ever read, and I am so grateful to have had the chance to read a proof copy. This brutal yet intricately constructed story blew me away – you can read my review here. Do not miss this book, which is out in a couple of weeks.
The Unravelling of Maria by F J Curlew (2020)
I was delighted to be invited by the author to take part in the blog tour for The Unravelling Of Maria, an original, satisfying novel that spans years and countries and introduced me to the history of Estonian independence. You can read my full review here.
The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot by Marianne Cronin (2021)
I’m in the middle of writing my review for this beautiful novel, and hoping to post it very soon, so I shall stay quiet for now, except to say I adored this book. And I cried A LOT. Out in February, you definitely want this on your bookish radar.
The Devil and the Dark Water by Stuart Turton (2020)
This was another readalong with my book club that isn’t a book club, a wonderful group of bloggers from The Write Reads! We had so much fun discussing this gripping adventure story, speculating on the supernatural elements and trying to predict the twists and turns of a very twisty, turny plot! I really want to read more by Stuart Turton – he’s such a skilled writer, and I loved the contemporary feel to this book despite the historical setting. Brilliant stuff.
Asylum Road by Olivia Sudjic (2021)
Again, my review is on its way for this sharp, insightful, sometimes shocking novel, which is out this month from Bloomsbury. This is a book that gets under your skin and stays with you. More thoughts very soon!
The Smallest Man by Frances Quinn (2021)
Nat Davy is such a wonderful character, and Frances Quinn has created something very, very special with this book, which (sorry for the pun) deserves to be HUGE. Full review coming soon, but I really loved this one.
Seven Nights at the Flamingo Hotel by Drew Gummerson (2020)
I can tell when a book has hit the spot when I get really excited about the prospect of writing a review for it, and I can’t wait to share my full thoughts on Drew Gummerson’s novel, which is published by new indie press Bearded Badger Publishing (go forth and follow on social media, folks!) So far, my review notes include: “genius use of second person pov, lots of bums and willies, surprisingly moving” – and if that hasn’t tantalised your reading buds, well then I don’t know what will.
You Will Have a Black Labrador by Nino Gugunishvili (2019)
My final read of the year was this delightfully quirky, slim enough to squeeze in at the final hour, offering from Nino Gugunishvili. Full review to come, but it’s a lovely, short and sweet treat, and I thoroughly recommend it!
So there we go, once again, my wrap up is mostly built on promises of reviews to come, but I’m pleased I managed to read ten books in December (and made my 100 books in 2020 target) – it feels like a fitting end to a wonderful year of reading. I’m looking forward to slowing the pace a bit in 2021 and not aiming for a set target, but with all the brilliant books on my TBR, we’ll see how it goes!
Wishing everyone a Happy New Year, and massive thanks for all your support, always!
2020 has been a lot of things. On the positive side, it has been a truly outstanding year for reading. Not only have I read some amazing books, I’ve also found a whole beautiful bookish community, taken my book blog “public,” and had so many really special interactions with bookish folk that have meant the world to me, especially in these difficult times.
I don’t do resolutions anymore, but here are a few intentions for next year. Shifting to intentions rather than goals has been a bit of a work-in-progress for me over the last few years – the idea is that I track and reflect rather than set immovable targets. So while I intend to do the following, there’s no pressure, and I’ll keep coming back to these and adjusting them as necessary.
1. Read Fewer Books
Don’t panic, bookish friends, this doesn’t mean spending less time reading! I set myself a goal (I know, I know, it is a hard habit to break!) of reading 100 books in 2020, really just to see if I could, and in a lot of ways it spurred me on and helped me develop some good reading habits, like reading every day, having a fiction and a non-fiction book on the go, keeping track of my reading and loosely planning my reading for the month ahead.
But it did also make me rush through books at times, and created an artificial sense of pressure. It was doable, but sometimes I wanted a bit of time to just sit with my thoughts on the book I’d just finished before diving into the next one, and there wasn’t really time for that when I had to get through eight or nine books a month. It also, I will admit, put me off picking up heftier tomes!
So for 2021, no targets, no pressure to read a set number of books – I’ll read my blog tour and proofs/author request commitments each month and then whatever else I fancy!
2. Read More Literature in Translation
I love translated literature, and did not read as much in 2020 as I would have liked. There are quite a few folk on Book Twitter who give wonderful recommendations, and I’ve started noting some down for starters. I’m keen to check out Charco’s list of Latin American literature, and I’ve actually just won 3 Orenda books by Finnish writer Antti Tuomainen.
3. Support Indie Publishers
I’ve said this before, but discovering fab indie presses has been one of the biggest joys of getting involved with Book Twitter. I’ve got some firm favourites now, whose books never disappoint (I’m looking at you: Bluemoose, Influx, Dead Ink, Comma and Louise Walters!) and I’d love to keep exploring and find new indies to add to my list.
4. Reread
I used to reread books a lot, but I didn’t have a single reread in 2020 (except possibly Rebecca, which I don’t remember reading before, but I may have done, as I am getting old enough to have read books decades ago and not realise I’ve already read them!). So many books deliver up hidden treasures on rereading, or hit us differently depending on our situation each time we read them. I’m not going to worry about “the new” so much next year – if I fancy picking up an old favourite, I shall!
5. Hit the Backlists
As well as reading some fantastic 2020 debuts, I’ve discovered some new-to-me writers this year who have published previous works that I haven’t read. There is both comfort and excitement in picking up a book by a writer you know you enjoy, and I’m looking forward to deepening my reading of writers such as Heidi James, Sharon Duggal, Brit Bennett, Helen Cullen, and so many more.
6. Mix it up
One thing I’ve really enjoyed about my reading this year is how eclectic it has been. I’ve read lots of different genres, a mixture of fiction and non-fiction, and I’ve picked up books I wouldn’t necessarily have been immediately drawn to. I am definitely going to keep this approach, as it’s led to some wonderful surprises. I can sometimes get stuck in a bit of a literary/historical fiction rut, just because I know that’s what I like, but when I push myself out of my comfort zone, I often come across some real gems.
7. Have Fun
I love writing reviews. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy it! But I did get myself into a bit of a pressured situation this year where I felt like I had to write a full review of every book I read. If it’s not an ARC/author request/blog tour, if it is just a book I have bought or borrowed, I’m going to relax the pressure to do a full review. I often find I want to anyway, as I love sharing my views on books (in case you hadn’t noticed!) but book blogging is my hobby, not my job, and I need to keep it relaxed and fun!
8. Do More Readalongs
Speaking of fun, I have absolutely loved doing buddy reads and readalongs this year! It is so lovely to chat about a book with a group of bookish friends, to laugh and speculate wildly and get frustrated with fictional characters together! More please.
9. Read African Literature
African literature usually features really heavily in my reading, but I don’t seem to have read much at all in 2020. So I need to do something about that! I’m going to start by ordering some of the Caine Prize anthologies – I have read a few, and they are such an excellent place to find great writers.
10. Write
I used to have a New Years Resolution every year to “write first draft of my novel”. It haunted me, and I felt rubbish each year that passed without me writing that draft. In 2019, I did manage to complete a full draft, but this year I just haven’t had the writing mojo. Which is fine. I’m not going to promise myself that I’ll finish the book in 2021, or even set myself a specific novel-related goal: all I want to do next year is find my way back to writing, because it is such an important part of my life, and I miss it. I do feel ready – I feel as if all the reading I have done this year has provided fuel for my writing fire!
Have you got any bookish intentions for next year? I’d love to hear about them! Wishing you all an excellent year of reading in 2021!
So when Amari gets an invitation to the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs, she’s certain this is her chance to find Quinton. But first she has to get her head around the new world of the Bureau, where mermaids, aliens and magicians are real, and her roommate is a weredragon.
Amari must compete against kids who’ve known about the supernatural world their whole lives, and when each trainee is awarded a special supernatural talent, Amari is given an illegal talent – one that the Bureau views as dangerous.
With an evil magician threatening the whole supernatural world, and her own classmates thinking she is the enemy, Amari has never felt more alone. But if she doesn’t pass the three tryouts, she may never find out what happened to Quinton . . .
An epic middle grade supernatural adventure series, soon to be a major movie starring Marsai Martin. Perfect for readers aged 8+ and fans of Percy Jackson, Nevermoor and Men in Black!
Review
Firstly, a massive thank you to B.B. Alston, Egmont Books, and The Write Reads for my spot on this tour, and for providing me with a beautiful proof copy in exchange for an honest review. The warning on the proof didn’t put me off in the slightest (bring on the monsters!), and the author’s letter inside was such a moving introduction to this book. I love the fact that Amari’s voice popped into his head and refused to be ignored, and I am so glad he listened!
There is so much to love about this book, from Amari herself, who is just the coolest, bravest, most fun protagonist ever to follow around as she delves deeper and deeper into the world of the Bureau, to the hugely imaginative scope of B. B. Alston’s vision. Once the lid has been blown off the supernatural world, it seems as if the possibilities are limitless, and a dazzling display of magical, mythical, monstrous mayhem ensues. One of the most exciting things about starting a series like this is the feeling that this could grow and grow, that the author has opened a bottomless treasure chest.
It is difficult to say too much about Amari and the Night Brothers, as one of the pleasures of reading this story is joining Amari on her voyage of discovery, and being constantly surprised and amazed by the weird, wonderful, sometimes scary world that we enter alongside her. The plot, too, is deliciously twisty, and I definitely wouldn’t want to give away any spoilers! So I will just say that this is a book full of intriguing characters, well-plotted mysteries, and boundless imagination, and you NEED Amari in your life!
There is so much going on in this story, and Alston balances the different strands with skill. The ‘fun stuff’ is loads of fun, but it never overwhelms the emotional core of the story. There is so much heart in this book, so much wisdom: I kept thinking over and over again that it is exactly the sort of book I want my kids to read when they’re a bit older. And I am almost kind of jealous that they’ll get to grow up with books of this calibre, books which joyfully and proudly and non-didactically teach wonderful lessons about accepting difference and looking beneath the surface and diving into the world as non-judgementally as Amari does. The generation of kids who will grow up with Amari are very, very lucky indeed.
About the Author
Joshua Aaron Photography
B. B. Alston lives in Lexington, SC. Amari and the Night Brothers is his debut middle grade novel. When not writing, he can be found eating too many sweets and exploring country roads to see where they lead.
Elspells 