Review: The Unravelling of Maria by F J Curlew (2020)

Blurb

Lovers separated by the Iron Curtain.

Two women whose paths should never have crossed.

A remarkable journey that changes all of their lives.

Maria’s history is a lie. Washed up on the shores of Sweden in 1944, with no memory, she was forced to create her own. Nearly half a century later she still has no idea of her true identity.

Jaak fights for Estonia’s independence, refusing to accept the death of his fiancée Maarja, whose ship was sunk as she fled across the Baltic Sea to escape the Soviet invasion.

Angie knows exactly who she is. A drug addict. A waste of space. Life is just about getting by.

A chance meeting in Edinburgh’s Cancer Centre is the catalyst for something very different.

Sometimes all you need is someone who listens.

Review

Huge thanks to the author for inviting me on the blog tour and for providing me with a digital copy of her book in exchange for an honest review. I was drawn to this book for many reasons: I love multiple perspectives, shifting timelines, and learning about the history of places I am unfamiliar with, so I was very intrigued by all the different ingredients of The Unravelling of Maria.

I have to admit, it took me a little bit of time to get used to shifting between the three very different narratives of Maria, Angie and Jaak. In some ways, it feels like three separate stories, completely different in tone and style. However, as the book progressed, I began to enjoy the variety, and the really quite original sensation of moving between ‘modes’. Maria is a delightful character, and her first person narrative is full of charming understatement and wonderfully formal language and expressions which, it becomes clear, are a result of her having to learn an entirely new ‘first language,’ her own native tongue lost to her along with her memories. It’s very clever, and contrasts brilliantly with Angie’s Scots dialect in the sections she narrates. Jaak’s chapters are told in the third person, which has an appropriately distancing effect as we watch history unfold and Estonia move slowly towards independence.

There is a lot happening in this novel, but Curlew balances the many strands with skill, and it was refreshing to read a story with such a wide scope. It feels unfettered, imaginatively daring, boldly taking in grand themes of war, loss, memory and illness as well as the smaller, everyday moments of connection that build up a friendship. I also have to give a shout-out to Albie the dog, whose presence in the novel is like a ray of light – I loved his silliness and stubbornness, and it definitely made me think about how rarely the absolutely central role pets can play in our lives is actually explored in fiction! I also very much appreciated learning more about Estonia’s journey to independence, and I found the sections set in that country fascinating.

This is a novel that grew on me as I read, with Angie in particular making her way into my heart. I love the bond that she forms with Maria, and the way that Maria’s kindness and lack of judgement brings out the best in her new friend. The story is very well-paced; it doesn’t rush towards resolution but takes its time to allow the characters to develop and change: it feels organic and realistic, despite the dramatic events that occur in the book. The ending feels truly earned, sincere and moving and real, and I finished this book feeling very satisfied indeed.

About the Author

Fiona worked as an international school teacher for fifteen years, predominantly in Eastern Europe. Seven of those years were spent in Estonia – a little country she fell in love with. She now lives in East Lothian, Scotland, where her days are spent walking her dog, Brockie the Springer, and writing.

The Unravelling Of Maria is her fourth novel.

Purchase Links

https://amzn.to/333mCr2

Author Website

https://bit.ly/3okI3MV

Social Media

Twitter

@FJCurlew

Post: My Top Reads of 2020

First things first, I have read so many good books this year that this was really, really difficult. So my strategy was: choose quickly, don’t overthink it, and try not to feel too sad for the ones you loved that didn’t make the list! And of course I’ve since read another couple that I want to add…but I’ve got to call it at some point!

I’m going to keep this straightforward, so here are my lists of 20 novels, 10 short story collections, 10 non-fiction books and 5 books in translation (reading more translated literature is top of my priorities for 2021!) that I absolutely adored this year, along with links to my reviews where relevant. Everything is in the order I read it in, not any kind of super-advanced ranking system or anything!

I also want to take this opportunity to send HUGE thanks to all the authors, publishers and publicists who have sent me books to review this year. It is an enormous privilege, and I feel very, very lucky. And to my fellow book bloggers, who have been such a support this year in so many ways: I love you, even though you have made my TBR grow to preposterous levels! I am really happy to have found the bookish community this year.

Right, onto the lists!

Review: Understanding Children and Teens by Judy Bartkowiak (2020) @JudyBart @LiterallyPR @FAB_Publishing

Blurb

The recent pandemic has turned family life upside down. Now, more than ever before, children and teens are experiencing anxiety, low self-esteem, fear, and a host of other, unfamiliar feelings. This book aims to give parents and those who work with children the tools to help them overcome these difficulties and to enable them to express themselves, and to build emotional intelligence and resilience.

Children and teens are given the means to believe in themselves with unconditional love and acceptance, empowering them to achieve all they wish for in life.

Understanding Children and Teens shows the reader how to use Neuro Linguistic Programming, and Emotional Freedom Technique as well as mindfulness and Art Therapy in order to connect with children and teens to help them overcome their problems. With clear explanations, examples, and easy-to-follow exercises, this book will enable those who care for children to gain valuable insight into their world, and to understand what they are thinking and feeling.

This practical guide is aimed at parents, teachers, coaches, and everyone who works with children and teens and is informed by the author’s experiences of working with this group over the last 30 years.

Review

I am very grateful to the author and to Helen at @literallypr for my spot on this blog tour and for sending me a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. There are many reasons why I jumped at the chance to read this book: as a mum of two small people, as a former teacher who is planning to re-enter the classroom soon, and as someone who knows what it means to suffer from mental health issues, anything I can do to better understand my children, and, if I go back to work, my students, you’d better believe I am going to try it!

I only knew a small amount about NLP before reading this book, and one of the things I most appreciated was the way in which Judy breaks down the jargon and demystifies all the terms. There are a lot of acronyms to get your head around, but Judy talks you through it all step by step, and I found her explanations clear and easy to follow.

Since this book is subtitled “a practical guide,” I decided that the most useful way of approaching this review was to try out some of the many exercises provided in the book. My five-year-old daughter was a willing guinea pig – she was very excited to help Mummy with her homework for once! We started out by doing an exercise which involved drawing the outline of a body, writing down emotions, and assigning each emotion a colour. We then coloured in the outlines we’d drawn to show where we felt each emotion. It felt really good to be talking about our feelings together, and I was surprised at how engaged my daughter was in the activity. She seemed to find it very easy to assign a colour to each feeling, and she had quite a definite sense of where she felt each one.

Another exercise we tried involved creating a ‘world’ on a tray by placing objects on it that represent things or people that are important in our lives. Again, my daughter was very enthusiastic about this, and seemed to really enjoy talking me through her ‘world’. She was also very good at guessing why I had chosen certain objects when it was my turn! I definitely feel as if I learned a bit more about her through this activity.

We worked through a few more exercises, with me occasionally adapting them to make them more suitable for a young child. There is a lovely range of activities in this book, and the teacher in me was already imagining which ones I might use with which age group. One exercise involved writing down three things you wish for, and this led to a surprising insight. My daughter wished for cake (she’s five, she always wants cake), three mummies, and for her brother to be good. When we started talking about the second two (having promised to provide the first later!) it turns out that she doesn’t like it when her three-year-old brother gets upset about me paying attention to her, or when he has a meltdown and demands my attention and/or I get stressed about it. She thought if there were three of me, she might not get interrupted by him when she is having ‘Mummy Time’! Now that I know how she feels, it is something I will make an effort to look out for, to make sure she isn’t suffering because of how I’m coping/not coping with her brother’s (hopefully temporary!) three year old angst!

There were a few other interesting things that came up, but I do owe my daughter a smidgen of privacy! Suffice to say, I have already found this book incredibly useful, and I can see myself referring to it again and again. We did have a go at the tapping, which I am very interested in, but I think I want to become more confident in it myself (I have a feeling it could be very useful for my own anxiety issues) before I try it out on my kids.

I think the author is absolutely right when she states in her introduction that the mental and emotional repercussions of Covid-19 are sadly going to be with us for a very long time. It therefore seems more important than ever that parents and practitioners have as many tools as possible at their disposal for helping young people and trying to understand them. This book is a valuable part of that toolkit, and I would recommend it to anyone who has dealings with kids or teenagers.

About the Author

Judy Bartkowiak is an NLP trainer and coach as well as an EFT trainer and coach who specialises in working with children and teens. Before becoming a therapist, she worked in market research, and then ran a Montessori nursery alongside her therapeutic work. She has written extensively on NLP.

Understanding Children and Teens by Judy Bartkowiak is published by Free Association Books and is available to purchase here.

Review: How the One-Armed Sister Sweeps Her House by Cherie Jones (2021)

Blurb:

In Baxter’s Beach, Barbados, Lala’s grandmother Wilma tells the story of the one-armed sister, a cautionary tale about what happens to girls who disobey their mothers.

For Wilma, it’s the story of a wilful adventurer, who ignores the warnings of those around her, and suffers as a result.

When Lala grows up, she sees it offers hope – of life after losing a baby in the most terrible of circumstances and marrying the wrong man.

And Mira Whalen? It’s about keeping alive, trying to make sense of the fact that her husband has been murdered, and she didn’t get the chance to tell him that she loved him after all.

HOW THE ONE-ARMED SISTER SWEEPS HER HOUSE is the powerful, intense story of three marriages, and of a beautiful island paradise where, beyond the white sand beaches and the wealthy tourists, lies poverty, menacing violence and the story of the sacrifices some women make to survive.

Review

I am so grateful to Antonia Whitton and the author for my proof copy of this incredible book, which I received in exchange for an honest review.

I have just finished reading this, and I am still reeling. The sheer force and power of the narrative has left me feeling as if I have been standing on a beach in a storm, giant waves crashing terrifyingly close, drenching me with icy water. It has been such a visceral, emotional experience reading this novel that I am not sure I can articulate my thoughts on this brilliant novel with the eloquence it deserves, but I’ll have a go.

This story is awash with violence, and I do need to add a warning that if themes of domestic abuse, child loss, rape, to name a few, are triggering for you, this is not the right book for you. If, however, you want a story that takes you deep into the heart of the lives of characters whose very survival is a precarious thing, their existence balanced on a knife edge, their bodies vulnerable and exposed, their options narrowed to desperate choices in extreme circumstances, then I can tell you that this could well be one of the most impactful reads I’ve ever experienced.

Cherie Jones exposes the disparity between the picture postcard beauty of Barbados as a tropical paradise and the dark reality of poverty-stricken life, showing how the rich tourists who make the island their playground have become a warped part of the ecosystem. The relationship between the locals and the tourists is explored in all its intricate complexities, and the ways these separate but dependent lives intersect and collide is explosive and often destructive.

The characters in the novel are what held me gripped, unable to tear myself away: Lala, Tone, Adan, Mira Whalen, Wilma, Beckles the policeman, each one was so real to me, so complex and nuanced and such a clever mixture of products of their environments and strikingly unique individuals. Lala is one of the most heart-wrenchingly real protagonists I’ve encountered in a long time, and I cried for her on more than one occasion while reading this book. And Esme, her mother, whose story hangs in the background almost as apocryphal as the titular Sister: even as I knew what was coming for her, the final reveal of her fate broke me.

I am absolutely in awe of how fiercely talented Cherie Jones is as a writer. Even amid all the violence, what shines through is the utter inventiveness and confidence of her style: the Bajan dialect leaking out of the dialogue and into the prose at strategic points; the startlingly effective use of “tricky” voices such as second person “you” and a beautiful section in the collective first person plural “we”; whole passages written as hypotheticals that spin the reader out of the narrative and then haul us back in – it is stunning. This is the work of a writer who has such firm control over her material, such courageous urgency in the desire to share this story – I was physically affected by how powerful the writing was.

If you haven’t already gathered, I was completely blown away by How the One-Armed Sister Sweeps Her House. I find it hard to believe that this is a debut novel. It has the tension and life-or-death stakes of a thriller, some of the most intricately-drawn characters I’ve ever read, and huge, powerful themes that beat an insistent, captivating rhythm as the skilfully constructed narrative surges to its dramatic conclusion. I am going to be thinking (and shouting!) about this book for a very long time.

How the One-Armed Sister Sweeps Her House by Cherie Jones will be published by Tinder Press on 21st January 2021 and is available to pre-order here.

Review: Forget Russia by L. Bordetsky-Williams (2020)

Blurb

“Your problem is you have a Russian soul,” Anna’s mother tells her. In 1980, Anna is a naïve UConn senior studying abroad in Moscow at the height of the Cold War—and a second-generation Russian Jew raised on a calamitous family history of abandonment, Czarist-era pogroms, and Soviet-style terror. As Anna dodges date rapists, KGB agents, and smooth-talking black marketeers while navigating an alien culture for the first time, she must come to terms with the aspects of the past that haunt her own life. With its intricate insight into the everyday rhythms of an almost forgotten way of life in Brezhnev’s Soviet Union, Forget Russia is a disquieting multi-generational epic about coming of age, forgotten history, and the loss of innocence in all of its forms.

Review

First of all, I want to say a massive thank you to the author, who reached out via my blog to see if I would be interested in reviewing her book. Lisa had taken the time to read my blog, noticed my enthusiasm for Molly Gartland’s wonderful debut novel, The Girl From The Hermitage, and on the basis of that, thought that Forget Russia might be my sort of book. It’s so lovely to get review requests from people who have carefully matched their book to my interests, and in this case, Lisa was 100% right! Forget Russia is exactly my type of book, and I am absolutely thrilled to have had the privilege of reading it.

The analogy of Russian dolls is almost too easy, but I kind of want to use it, as Bordetsky-Williams has created a structure that really does feel like a puzzle being pieced together. The sense of the past rippling forward, pursuing the generations, is skilfully done: this novel is rich in echoes and resonance. In fact, it reminded me a lot of Heidi James’ brilliant novel The Sound Mirror, in the way that it shows how trauma is passed down through generations. The focus is mostly on the women: Anna’s first person narrative follows her search for answers about her family in Moscow in 1980, her attempts to understand the way in which the experiences of her family have shaped her. The tragedy of her great-grandmother’s rape and murder sets in motion a chain of voices, and with a lovely sense of movement through both time and space (journeys to and from America feature heavily in this novel), we are rocked towards a deeply satisfying conclusion.

The novel is so well researched and so vividly imagined that it has the feel of a documentary. This sense is bolstered by the use of letters, of snatches of poetry and folk song lyrics, and the sectioning off of the story into subtitled chapters. Anna’s sections in particular have an almost journalistic quality, blurring the line between fiction and memoir, and her observational skills and empathetic manner build up a wonderfully detailed and realistic portrait of life in the Soviet Union. It is a setting rich in secrecy, in mystery, and it marries with Anna’s personal search for answers beautifully. But Anna is not merely an observer – she faces her own traumas, her own emotional entanglements, all of which add further layers to this complex, expertly shaped story.

There is so much to admire in Forget Russia: it is a novel that is more than the sum of its parts. It seems to take the genre of historical fiction and merge it with a kind of journalistic sensibility, adding in a dose of family memoir and self-exploration, so that while this may be fiction, it rings startlingly true. I love it when a book transports you to a time and place you know little about, and leaves you with a feeling of greater understanding, and Bordetsky-Williams’ novel delivers this sense in spades. Balancing the sweeping and the specific with expert skill, the author takes us on a journey that shines a light on a fascinating stretch of history, and on characters whose stories deserve to be remembered. I highly recommend this book, and am so grateful to have had the chance to read it.

Forget Russia by L. Bordetsky-Williams is published by Tailwinds Press and is out now.

Review: Panenka by Ronan Hession (2021)

Blurb

His name was Joseph, but for years they had called him Panenka, a name that was his sadness and his story. Panenka has spent 25 years living with the disastrous mistakes of his past, which have made him an exile in his home town and cost him his dearest relationships. Now aged 50, Panenka begins to rebuild an improvised family life with his estranged daughter and her seven year old son.

But at night, Panenka suffers crippling headaches that he calls his Iron Mask. Faced with losing everything, he meets Esther, a woman who has come to live in the town to escape her own disappointments. Together, they find resonance in each other’s experiences and learn new ways to let love into their broken lives.

Review

I am making a bit of a habit of starting my reviews by praising Book Twitter, but honestly, joining the book community and discovering fantastic new books has been a real highlight in a year in dire need of silver linings. I have become a massive fan of Bluemoose Books, and will read everything they have published and will publish: they do proper good books. Leonard and Hungry Paul was all over Book Twitter when I joined, so I duly bought and read it, and it was such a quiet joy of a book, so deeply comforting without being in the least bit twee. Ronan Hession’s writing is original, quietly courageous, and deeply moving. I’m honestly in shock that a few months later, I have been entrusted with a proof copy of Hession’s new novel, Panenka – it is a privilege I will never take for granted, and I am so grateful to the author and the publisher for providing me with a copy in exchange for an honest review.

As Panenka isn’t out until next May, I am going to keep this brief, cryptic and spoiler-free, but I couldn’t resist sharing some initial thoughts on this wonderful book. Natasha Randall has recently been posting some interesting thoughts on Twitter about ‘quiet’ books, the ones which don’t have a juicily baited hook, or a huge drama at their centre. Hession absolutely excels at ‘quiet’. I would argue that his genius lies in revealing the truth and beauty at the heart of the everyday, in taking a story about ‘nothing’ (in big, dramatic plot terms, that is) and showing us how it is really about ‘everything.’ Panenka is suffused with poignancy in the purest sense of the word: it pierces the heart, it contains the sting of truth within its gentle rhythms and ‘small’ events.

As a character, Panenka himself is different from Leonard or Hungry Paul, not as innocent, perhaps less immediately appealing. He has lived life and made mistakes, and his flaws are woven into his character. But this adds a richness and maturity to the book: for all the quirks of Panenka’s life story, he is deeply relatable and realistic. He is not a bad man, but he is far from perfect, and his complexities and struggles ring absolutely true. As his history is gradually revealed, each strand adds to the picture, and we come to understand him in a way that feels organic and meaningful. This book is delicately and expertly crafted – Hession is a storyteller in whom a reader can place absolute trust. Panenka flows along so smoothly and subtly that the writer side of my brain couldn’t help but marvel at how much work must have gone into making it all seem so effortless, while the reader side of me just revelled happily in the quiet intricacy of the story.

The care that Hession takes in this book is evident firstly in the beautifully rounded cast of characters. Everyone gets their turn; every character is lavished with attention. We are given little insights into their situation, their feelings, their true selves that shine a spotlight on even the most minor characters. It is a kind of generosity of spirit from the author, it seems to me, and it makes the book teem with life. The second type of care that is obvious in this book is the attention Hession pays to language. I know Ronan Hession is an avid reader of translated fiction; I suspect he is also a linguist, for he has clearly has an utter delight and amusement in language, a love of words, and of turning them over to examine their hidden sides, and it makes reading his prose a joy. In terms of the story, this careful approach to language manifests itself most affectingly when Esther and Panenka converse. Esther is a wonderful character: I loved her deeply, and the way she talks to Panenka and draws him out made me think, on more than one occasion, that if we all spoke to each other like that, life would be better. Words matter, and when we choose them as carefully as Esther does (with Hession at the helm), we can change lives.

Panenka is a subtle masterpiece: the fascinating painting on the cover art could not be more appropriate. With careful, intentional strokes, Hession paints a word-portrait of a man who is neither better nor worse than any of us: he is simply a flawed human being who has made mistakes, who faces obstacles, who tries to live his life in relation to those around him. A good heart beats at the centre of this book, and though Panenka is sadder in tone than Hession’s first novel, it still has that warm glow of gentle faith in humanity, in the power of connection, in finding a way in the world that makes sense for each one of us. It is a beautiful book, and I loved it.

Panenka by Ronan Hession will be published by Bluemoose Books in May 2021 and is available to pre-order from The Gutter Bookshop or Waterstones now.

Review: Exit Management by Naomi Booth (2020)

Blurb

“At minus five degrees, even the densest blood materials start to turn: the beginnings of a human heart will still into black ice.”

Callum has been given an opportunity: Jozsef’s house is the perfect place to live – plenty of room, a sought-after London location and filled with priceless works of art. All that Jozsef asks in return is for some company while he’s ill and the promise that if it all gets too much, someone will be there to help him at the end. It’s fortunate then, when Callum meets Lauren who works in Human Resources and specialises in getting rid of people. Jozsef welcomes them both inside, and so begins a deadly spiral of violence.

Pushed ever onwards by the poison of ambition, and haunted by loses from the past, these characters are drawn together in a catastrophe of endings. Naomi Booth’s second novel is a groundbreaking dissection of class, xenophobia and compassion. Exit Management will seize you in its cold hands and show you the dark heart within us all.

Review

One of the many absolute joys of joining Book Twitter has been discovering indie publishers whose output consistently amazes me with its quality. It is a very reassuring feeling to know yourself to be in good hands with a publisher, and there are lots of indies who give me this feeling: Influx, Bluemoose, Comma, Louise Walters, and now, added to the list: Dead Ink. Having recently read and loved Cat Step by Alison Irvine, I went straight onto another Dead Ink release, and I have to say, Exit Management by Naomi Booth has catapulted straight onto my top reads of 2020 list. It is an incredible book, and I am sure my review won’t do it justice, so I will keep it brief. Huge thanks as always to Jordan Taylor-Jones for providing me with a copy in exchange for an honest review.

I’ll start with the title: Exit Management wins the award for most layered, meaningful title of any book I’ve read this year. The word “exit” has such powerful contemporary connotations, and indeed, the shadow of Brexit looms over this book. But there are so many more “exits” to be managed in this story, each one deepening the significance of the title in a way which honestly left me in awe. I won’t say more here for fear of spoilers, but trust me, this book has LAYERS. I could probably write an essay on the title alone.

The two main characters, Lauren and Cal, are complex, nuanced and utterly believable, even as the events of the plot skew sideways from the expected. Booth employs a dazzlingly effective close third person, with staccato sentences and sensory impressions aligning the reader with their point of view. Written in urgent present tense, the viewpoint feels only just outside their heads: in a film, the camera would be grazing their cheek as it jolts and shudders with their every movement. It is intense and incredibly powerful. Words like ‘gripping’ or ‘immersive’ are not quite enough to describe the effect this book had on me – I couldn’t have stopped reading if I wanted to (which I didn’t!)

All of the characters in the novel are exquisitely drawn. Josef is a fascinating character, a voice from the past, his italicized stories bringing history into the present, and his relationship with Cal is deeply moving. I love that Booth doesn’t question or judge their closeness, or try to explain it too fully: it is simply a beautiful friendship, a slice of tenderness at the heart of the book. It also contrasts nicely with Lauren’s relationship to her mentor, Mina, a tough, cool woman who teaches Lauren how to survive in London. The city itself also becomes a character in the book, and the descriptions of properties are an effective way of highlighting the disparities of London life. Josef’s house, and the changes it undergoes, provides some of the most meticulously detailed, wonderfully visual descriptions in the book. Again, I found a kind of cinematic, camera-panning quality to the writing, which I adored.

This novel explores so many themes: it seems to cover everything, all of life, wrapped up in a cool, stylish, sometimes cynical package, but with aching truth underneath. It is London itself in novel form: sleek, hard exterior hiding the beating hearts and manifold small tragedies of its inhabitants. Objects, possessions, feelings, ambitions, past, present, possible futures; all collide in this exquisite examination of modern city life.

I was absolutely blown away by the sheer scale and complexity of this novel: it is a staggering achievement. Exit Management is a book I will be thinking about for a very long time, and I can’t recommend it strongly enough. I would even go so far to say it’s my favourite book of the year, which is no small claim, as I have read some fantastic books this year! But this one really got its hooks into me, and left me feeling absolutely exhilarated, as only the very best books do. I can’t wait to read more by this author.

Exit Management by Naomi Booth is published by Dead Ink Books and is available to purchase here.

November 2020 Reading: In The Sweep of the Bay; Everything Inside; Everything Is Fine; A Necessary Blessing; The Miseducation of Evie Epworth; Three Rival Sisters; The Servant; Cat Step; Exit Management; Panenka; Rebecca; Forget Russia

I can’t quite believe that I have managed to read 12 books this month with everything else that has been going on! I’m ahead of schedule to reach my goal of 100 books in 2020, which is nice, although I have already decided that next year I’m not setting a goal. It’s been good to push myself, but I miss being able to take my time with a book, and it has, if I am honest, put me off tackling some of the longer books on my TBR, which I am looking forward to reading at a leisurely pace next year!

It has been another brilliant, eclectic month of reading – do have a look and let me know if any of these catch your eye!

In The Sweep of the Bay by Cath Barton (2020)

I reviewed this beautiful novella as part of the Damp Pebbles blog tour. Louise Walters Books is fast becoming one of my favourite indie publishers, and Cath Barton’s book is a soothing, elegant work, reminiscent of Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers. Read my full review here.

Everything Inside by Edwidge Danticat

This is a stunning short story collection, which presents multiple perspectives on the Haitian disapora. It is the first work I have read by Danticat, but it definitely won’t be the last. My full review is here.

Everything Is Fine by Gillian Harvey (2020)

A hilarious, sharp, deeply modern comic novel which takes in some big themes as it rollicks along, you can read my full review of Gillian Harvey’s sparkling debut here.

A Necessary Blessing by Sarah Head (2020)

This book is very different – a quirky. supernatural village-set mystery which opens a planned series of Roelswick stories. Full review here.

The Miseducation of Evie Epworth by Matson Taylor (2020)

Oh Evie, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…I fell hard for the heroine of this wonderful debut novel, and I defy you not to do the same. Matson Taylor has created a character who lives beyond the pages, and I can’t wait to see what she gets up to next. Full review here.

Three Rival Sisters by Marie-Louise Gagneur translated by Anna Aitken and Polly Mackintosh (2020)

Translated for the first time into English, these two stories by French writer Marie-Louise Gagneur are reminiscent of Austen, but even more biting. I loved them. Full review is here.

The Servant by Maggie-Richell Davies (2020)

The Servant is a brilliantly immersive depiction of life in the lower classes in eighteenth century London. It gets pretty dark, but the writing is compelling and wonderfully detailed. My full review is here.

Cat Step by Alison Irvine (2020)

The first of two excellent books published by Dead Ink on my reading list this month, Cat Step is a gripping, taut, powerful exploration of motherhood and grief. You can read my full review here.

Exit Management by Naomi Booth (2020)

I’m in the middle of writing my review for this staggering novel, so all I will say here is that this is one of the best books I have read this year. And I’ve read some brilliant books this year. It blew me away. More later…

Panenka by Ronan Hession (2021)

I was so lucky to receive an early proof of Ronan Hession’s new novel, out next May from Bluemoose Books. I couldn’t wait to dive in, so in I dove/dived(?) and I will be posting my thoughts shortly. Spoiler alert: it’s utterly wonderful, and you don’t need to wait for my review to get this one pre-ordered.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier (1938)

I have apparently reached the age where I can no longer remember if I have read certain books, or if I did read them, it was twenty years ago so it doesn’t count. I read (or possibly reread) this with my crew from The Write Reads – we have the BEST book chats, total anarchy and lots of wild speculation, and this was a really fun book to talk about with them! Opinions were mixed, but on the whole, I loved it. I may or may not write a full review of this one – I am trying to remind myself I don’t HAVE to review every book I read!

Forget Russia by L. Bordetsky-Williams (2020)

Technically I am still reading this book, but since it is the 30th and I will definitely finish it tonight, it counts as a November read! Forget Russia is an incredible piece of work, a historical novel that feels like a documentary; a gorgeously written puzzle of the past being pieced together in front of my eyes. I am absolutely loving it, and I hope I can do it justice when I come to write my review.

So there we go, 12 wonderful books, which have got me through a rather turbulent month! I’d love to hear about your best November reads, so drop me a comment and help me grow my already enormous TBR!

Ellie x

Review: Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again by Katherine Angel (2021)

Blurb

A provocative, elegantly written analysis of female desire, consent, and sexuality in the age of MeToo

Women are in a bind. They are told that in the name of sexual consent and feminist empowerment, they must proclaim their desires clearly and confidently. Sex researchers tell us that women don’t know what they want. And men are on hand to persuade women that what they want is, in fact, exactly what men want. In this environment, how can women possibly know what they want—and how can they be expected to?

In this elegantly written, searching book Katherine Angel surveys medical and psychoanalytic understandings of female desire, from Freud to Kinsey to present-day science; MeToo-era debates over consent, assault, and feminism; and popular culture, TV, and film to challenge our assumptions about female desire. Why, she asks, do we expect desire to be easily understood? Why is there not space for the unsure, the tentative, the maybe, the let’s just see? In contrast to the endless exhortation to know what we want, Angel proposes that sex can be a conversation, requiring insight, interaction, and mutual vulnerability—a shared collaboration into the unknown.

In this crucial moment of renewed attention to violence and power, Angel urges that we remake our thinking about sex, pleasure, and autonomy without any illusions of perfect self-knowledge. Only then will we bring about Michel Foucault’s sardonic promise, in 1976, that “tomorrow sex will be good again.”

Review

One of the most powerful pieces of television I’ve watched this year is Michaela Coel’s searing show I May Destroy You. Like many people, I was struck by how well Coel portrays the myriad complexities that surround issues of consent and desire. When Maya at Verso offered me the chance to read Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again, which deals with similar themes, and in fact references the show, I jumped at the chance. Many thanks to Maya for my proof copy, which I received in exchange for an honest review.

This topic is timely, fascinating, and vital, and Angel’s book, though short, makes a huge contribution. Divided into four sections, ‘On Consent,’ ‘On Desire,’ ‘On Arousal’ and ‘On Vulnerability,’ this extended essay probes the rhetoric around consent, the #metoo movement, and female desire, revealing the places where disparities and contradictions lie hidden. I have to admit, as a feminist, I think I have previously aligned myself with certain tenants of consent culture without perhaps analysing it in enough detail. As Angel points out, though, we do have to start somewhere. There is nothing wrong with saying that consent is essential, of course, but this book explores the reasons why that cannot be the end of the discussion. The link between confidence culture and consent culture is examined, and Angel posits that by putting the onus on women to know what they want, this rhetoric ignores the unknowability of desire, its mutability, its reliance upon context.

Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again is elegantly argued and extremely well researched. I learned an awful lot about the study of desire, about the work of sexologists, and about the conflicting scholarly opinions on these unsurprisingly contentious topics. For such a slim book, it packs in a lot of information, but it is written in an accessible, thoughtful style that is never less than fascinating. There is a point in the text where Angel observes that were she ever to accuse someone of sexual assault, her own frankness and openness in discussing her sexuality would almost certainly be used against her: the truth of this hit me hard, and, I think, demonstrates just how important these conversations are.

I found this book extremely thought-provoking, and I very much hope it is widely read. Angel’s arguments are compelling, nuanced, and eloquently expressed; I found myself nodding in agreement (and doing my usual thing of reading out passages to my slightly terrified husband) at several points. Her central theme, that sex is not an object to be given or taken, but an encounter, an interaction, a conversation, seems so obvious but is so often forgotten. This is a powerful, important book – it addresses the vital question, as posed by Angel herself: “Why should women have to know themselves in order to be safe from violence?” There are no easy answers, but the conversation is a crucial one, and this book is a valuable contribution to it.

Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again by Katherine Angel will be published in March 2021 by Verso Books and is available to preorder here.

Review: Cat Step by Alison Irvine (2020)

Blurb

One mistake can unravel everything….

She only left her daughter in the car for a minute; just a quick minute whilst she ran into the shop. She barely thought twice about making the decision, but it soon began to consume her every thought. And not just her thoughts, but those of every neighbour, police officer and social security worker in a 15-mile radius. But this is her child. Surely she knows best?

After she’d made the move to a small town in Scotland, the rolling hills and blustery beaches seemed to be the perfect backdrop for her and her four-year-old daughter, Emily, to start again. It wasn’t always easy just the two of them, but Liz was sure that she could manage this time. And now this?

Sometimes, one mistake is all it takes to unravel everything. Cat Step is a lyrically sparse tale about judgement, intergenerational relationships, community, class and the expectations that we place on mothers. With sharp prose Alison Irvine has crafted a compassionate narrative that compels you to listen on.

Review

Thank you so much to Jordan Taylor-Jones and Dead Ink for providing me with an ARC of the book in exchange for an honest review. I’d seen a few people raving about this book on Twitter, so I bumped it up the TBR, and I am glad I did.

Cat Step begins with the dramatic incident outlined in the blurb: the narrator leaves her young daughter unsupervised in the car while she pops into the shop, and a chain of events is set in motion. As a plot device, I am a massive fan of the seemingly innocuous moment that reveals itself to be a hinge on which the story pivots – when it is done well, as it is here, it is simultaneously satisfying and unnerving. In making a snap decision, one which I think any parent will understand, even if they wouldn’t do it themselves, Liz lays herself open to the very worst sort of criticism and scrutiny. The question of whether or not we are fit to be parents is agonising enough when it swirls privately in our own anxious, sleep-deprived minds: when it becomes a matter of public reckoning, it must be horrific.

The first person narrative allows Irvine to fully explore the complexities of the mother-child relationship, and the way frustration can turn to love and back again in an instant is brilliantly depicted. It reminded me a lot of Lydia Kiesling’s novel, The Golden State, which I read earlier this year – both books isolate the mothers in a new environment, allowing for an intense focus on that key relationship and what it means for the women’s identities. Both Kiesling and Irvine do important work in laying bare some of the more uncomfortable truths of parenthood, and it is refreshing to see such honesty and insight in fiction – too often the intricacies of parenting are glossed over as not interesting enough to be part of the story. Cat Step captures not only the emotions of motherhood, but also the physicality, the practicality, the mental load that mothers carry, so that even in the midst of a crisis, Liz worries about getting to nursery in time for pick up; even when she feels as if she is falling apart, she must still attend to the day-to-day business of caring for her child. It is powerful and very well done.

The writing style is equally impressive. Sparse, spare prose, not a word wasted, with sharp dialogue which cuts to the heart of the story: this is a masterclass in taut story-telling. It feels as if the author has taken a specific stopped moment in time and stretched it out, cleverly weaving in strands from the past and glimmers of the future. For me, I was less interested in the uncovering of Robbie’s secrets than I was in watching Liz’s story unfold, although I liked the narrative drive that Robbie’s past provided. Liz is such a complex and fascinating character: watching her push and push when she knows she ought to stop and walk away makes for gripping reading.

This novel is a brave, honest, unflinching look at parenting, at grief, at the imperfect but necessary nature of human connections. It is skilfully written, utterly absorbing, sprinkled with unique touches like the references to dance and the beautiful descriptions of the light on the Campsie Fells. I was captivated by this book, and I am in awe of Alison Irvine’s assured, strong voice. I am really looking forward to reading more by this author.

Cat Step by Alison Irvine is published by Dead Ink and is available to purchase here.

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