Blurb

It’s about time we made motherhood more diverse…

When Candice fell pregnant and stepped into the motherhood playing field, she found her experience bore little resemblance to the glossy magazine photos of women in horizontal stripe tops and the pinned discussions on mumsnet about what pushchair to buy. Leafing through the piles of prenatal paraphernalia, she found herself wondering: “Where are all the black mothers?”.

Candice started blogging about motherhood in 2016 after making the simple but powerful observation that the way motherhood is portrayed in the British media is wholly unrepresentative of our society at large.

The result is this thought-provoking, urgent and inspirational guide to life as a black mother. It explores the various stages in between pregnancy and waving your child off at the gates of primary school, while facing hurdles such as white privilege, racial micro-aggression and unconscious bias at every point. Candice does so with her trademark sense of humour and refreshing straight-talking, and the result is a call-to-arms that will allow mums like her to take control, scrapping the parenting rulebook to mother their own way.

Review

Becoming a mother is utterly terrifying. It is like entering a new universe, one which you know nothing about, where everything is strange and difficult and the highs are so high and the lows are so low. Nothing can really prepare you for it. When I became a mum, I remember feeling completely lost and bewildered. But as I tentatively navigated this brave new world, I took comfort from the support systems: my lovely NCT group, endless hours scrolling on Mumsnet (I never asked anything, I just searched frantically for someone else with the same problem), various online parenting magazines and Facebook groups. Looking back, I took these things for granted. I saw myself and my struggles reflected back at me in the warm, friendly faces and the helpful advice from people who were in a similar position to me. After reading Candice’s book, I have to say, it really hit home just how lucky – and yes, I am going to say it – privileged I was.

I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and negotiate the tricky, sometimes downright traumatic, terrain of pregnancy, birth and motherhood when no one is holding a space for your experiences, when you don’t see yourself reflected back, when issues which are faced by so many mothers are swept under the carpet because they don’t affect white mothers in the same way. I’ve seen the statistic that black women in the UK are five times more likely to die in childbirth several times now, and it never gets any less shocking.

What Candice Brathwaite does so brilliantly in this book is to carve out the space for Black British mothers, to demand it, to show why it is not just necessary but vital. Her personality comes through wonderfully: she is funny, brave and honest, and the trust she places in the reader is an honour not to be underestimated. Her experience at the birth of her first child makes for upsetting reading, as do other incidents where she faces microaggressions and more direct racism in almost every sphere of her life as a working mother.

But this is a hopeful book. It is a powerful, fresh, insightful look at the ways in which spaces CAN be reclaimed, progress CAN be made. Candice states that her primary aim for this book is to help Black British mothers “feel validated and encouraged to take up space.” I can’t speak for that, but to her hope that for all others reading, she can “accurately describe the many hurdles black British mothers are up against,” I can definitely say that this book opened my eyes. I highly recommend this book, and I am very excited to read her next book, out next year.

I Am Not Your Baby Mother by Candice Brathwaite is out now published by Quercus Books.

Blurb

For the first time, behavioural and data scientist, activist and writer Dr Pragya Agarwal unravels the way our implicit or ‘unintentional’ biases affect the way we communicate and perceive the world, how they affect our decision-making, and how they reinforce and perpetuate systemic and structural inequalities.

Sway is a thoroughly researched and comprehensive look at unconscious bias and how it impacts day-to-day life, from job interviews to romantic relationships to saving for retirement. It covers a huge number of sensitive topics – sexism, racism, ageism, homophobia, colourism – with tact, and combines statistics with stories to paint a fuller picture and enhance understanding. Throughout, Pragya clearly delineates theories with a solid grounding in science, answering questions such as: do our roots for prejudice lie in our evolutionary past? What happens in our brains when we are biased? How has bias affected technology? If we don’t know about it, are we really responsible for it?

At a time when partisan political ideologies are taking centre stage, and we struggle to make sense of who we are and who we want to be, it is crucial that we understand why we act the way we do. This book will enables us to open our eyes to our own biases in a scientific and non-judgmental way.

Review

As part of my resolve to read more non-fiction last month, I finally read this book, which has been on my shelf for a while. I am so glad I read it, as it is a fascinating, deeply important study that gave me a lot to think about. I took my time with it and made plenty of notes, but I will still be going back to it again and again. I also have her new book, Wish We Knew What To Say, and am very much looking forward to reading it.

The style of the book is comfortingly factual. Dr Pragya Agarwal’s rigorous, meticulously researched exploration of unconscious bias is rooted in scientific evidence and backed up by descriptions of experiments and studies. She does include some personal anecdotes, and I found these touches of personal experience helpful in linking the theories to how they might be manifested in everyday life.

So much in this book is fascinating and eye-opening. I feel I learned a lot about how the brain works, the way it processes information, and how biases often stem from evolutionary responses: survival tactics based on a kind of short-hand of threat assessment. The author is quick to point out that such instincts are not an excuse to allow unconscious bias to go unchecked: one of the main drives of the book is the hope that by understanding these processes more fully, we can address and change them.

I could go on and on about specific chapters and themes in this book that struck me as deeply important, but I will just highlight a few of the key points that really caught my attention. The distinction between in-groups and out-groups is fascinating, and when the author moves on to discuss the echo chambers that we exist in when we ‘hang out’ on social media with like-minded people, it is increasingly clear just how massive the effect of this has become in our society. The myth of a ‘post-racial’ age is exploded, with Agarwal firmly in agreement that silence is complicity, and that it is not enough to be ‘not racist’ – we must be actively anti-racist if we are to make progress on this front.

Finally, the section on technology opened my eyes to the way in which unconscious bias can have pervasive influence beyond anything I might have imagined. That facial recognition software should carry within it an implicit bias towards whiteness perhaps should not have come as a shock to me, but it did, and the whole notion of AI bias blew my mind wide open.

This book is a comprehensive, fascinating, hugely important study of a topic that we need to address, constantly and consistently, even if it makes us uncomfortable. The situation is not hopeless; as Dr Agarwal states, we must try to find strategies to “mitigate and counter our unconscious biases.” Understanding those biases is the first step. I urge you to read this book: it will change the way you think about the way you think.

Sway by Pragya Agarwal is out now, published by Bloomsbury Sigma, and is available to purchase here.

Blurb:

In this collection of short stories, offbeat characters are caught up in extraordinary situations that test the boundaries of reality.

A love-hungry goddess of the sea arrives on an island inhabited by eunuchs.

A girl from Martinique moonlights as a Grace Jones impersonator.

Dimension-hopping monks sworn to silence must face a bloody reckoning.

And a homeless man goes right back, to the very beginning, through a gap in time.

Nudibranch is a dark and seductive foray into the surreal.

Review:

These powerful, strange stories are the first fiction works by Irenosen Okojie that I have read. Right from the start, the stories spoke to me: reading them was a hugely affective experience that I am probably going to struggle to put into words. Suffice to say I will be reading everything else she has written and will write.

The style is unique, heady, bold and confident. Okojie stretches sentences and images like elastic, twanging reality into strange shapes. She pivots on a knife-edge, always leading the reader somewhere totally unexpected. Words become jewels, weapons, made new in her fierce, fearless prose. It would be fruitless to try and compare such originality with other writers, but I experienced a surge of joy when Amos Tutola’s The Palm-Wine Drinkard was explictly referenced – a book I haven’t read for many years, but which I remember giving me a similar feeling of dazzling new possibilities. In fact, if I had to find echoes of Okojie’s force-of-nature style in other works, I suspect it would be in previous Caine Prize anthologies (which, by the way, are a fantastic resource for anyone wanting to explore African literature) – it is no surprise that Irenosen Okojie’s story Grace Jones is this year’s winner. It is a perfect short story.

Some of the stories are incredibly dark, drenched in horror: the monks in Filamo and the awful unfolding of events in Point and Trill gave me seasonally appropriate nightmares. My favourite stories, apart from Grace Jones, are the title story, Nudibranch, Mangata, Komza Bright Morning and Dune Dunehelm (even the list of titles sounds like an incantation). I really don’t want to go into detail as the discovery of the surreal, surprising, extraordinarily varied worlds she creates in these stories was a large part of the joy for me. Instead, I’ll just give you a taster – from the opening of Grace Jones:

“Once the stray parts of a singed scene had found their way into the bedroom, onyx edges gleaming and the figures without memories had lost their molten heads to the coming morning, after she’d pressed her face against the space under the doorway crying, reaching for some untouched handful of earth as sustenance, the agency called, Hassan more specifically.”

As you can tell, these stories really had an effect on me. I recently listened to Irenosen’s keynote speech for the National Creative Writing Industry Conference, run by Comma Press and Manchester Met University, which was also amazing and incredibly inspiring. From a very personal point of view, Irenosen Okojie’s words have reignited my own passion for writing, something I have been struggling to find during this difficult year. Okojie’s mind-bending, reality-stretching style of writing won’t be for everyone (and actually it isn’t how I write at all, although that is beside the point!) but for me, reading these astounding stories has been a moving, powerful, wonderful experience, and I owe her a debt of gratitude.

Nudibranch by Irenosen Okojie is published by Dialogue Books, and will be out in paperback on 12th November.

October was a fantastic month for reading. I managed to read ten books, and although I deviated slightly from my planned ‘mostly non-fiction’ month (I didn’t realise Non-Fiction November was a thing, so I am either out of the loop or ahead of the game, whichever you prefer) I have no regrets. As well as six brilliant non-fiction works, I read an astounding short story collection and three fascinating, very different novels. A two-week half term for the kidlets means that I am desperately behind with writing up my reviews, but I’m hoping to catch up soon! In the meantime, here’s a summary of my October Reading. Let me know if you see anything that catches your interest!

The Same Ledge by Daniel James (2020)

I kicked off the month with this powerful, brave novel, which I was lucky enough to read for a blog tour run by the wonderful Damp Pebbles. My review is stuffed full of trigger warnings, but if you are looking for an uncompromising insight into the shocking inequalities of our society, I highly recommend this book.

PMSL by Luce Brett (2020)

The first of my non-fiction reads in October was a book I won on Twitter and, in all honesty, might not have read otherwise. BUT I am SO glad I did – Luce Brett’s book, in which she smashes the stigma of incontinence and opens the door for further conversations on this and other taboo topics, had a profound effect on me. You can read my full review here. Even if you don’t think you need this book, trust me, you will get so much out of it. We need writers like Luce, who can inform, educate, entertain and push the boundaries. People like her make things better. (I am pretty passionate about this one, in case you can’t tell!)

Bringing Up Race by Uju Asika (2020)

Another brilliant non-fiction read, and one that every parent, regardless of race, should read. Uju Asika’s book is an informative, useful, incredibly relevant resource which has the added benefit of being written in a friendly, engaging style. It is both practical and necessary, and I highly recommend it. My full review is here, do check it out.

Running the Orient by Gavin Boyter (2020)

A bit of a change of pace (excuse the pun) for my third non-fiction read of the month – I thoroughly enjoyed Gavin’s account of his incredible ultra-run through Europe. My review details the reasons why I loved this inspiring story, even despite my lack of running experience/ability/enthusiasm!

The Night of the Flood by Zoe Somerville (2020)

I couldn’t resist deviating from my non-fiction plan to dive straight into this novel, and I felt utterly vindicated upon discovering how brilliant it is. A confident, surprising, stunningly written debut, this is one of my top reads of 2020. I do more waxing lyrical in my review – do have a look. It is going on my forever shelf, and I am definitely going to reread it.

Nudibranch by Irenosen Okojie (2019)

Right, this is the point at which my reviews remain To Be Written, as the kids started their two week break! I am really excited to share my thoughts about this strange, surreal, gorgeous collection of stories, as it hit me hard and reignited my desire to write (just in time for NaNoWriMo!). These stories really push the boundaries of narrative, and I absolutely adored them. More to come!

Sway by Dr Pragya Agarwal (2020)

Again, I will be posting a full review soon, but this study of unconscious bias is absolutely fascinating. I learnt so much, and it really showed me why it is important for me to keep reading non-fiction alongside my beloved stories. This book delves into its subject in an intelligent, thought-provoking, evidence-based way, and I want to sit down with my notes and process what I have learnt from it. Gaining a greater understanding of my own unconscious biases feels like a deeply important experience, and I definitely recommend this book. I’ve got a copy of her latest book, Wish We Knew What To Say, which has just come out, and I am looking forward to it even more now.

The Doll Factory by Elizabeth Macneal (2019)

Another detour back into fiction: I read this novel as part of a readalong with some fab book blogger friends. This was only my second experience of a buddy read (after taking part in the Love Orange event organised by Quercus last month) and honestly, I am a total convert. It is so much fun to have a group of people to chat about the book with, and I love the artificial ‘stop points’ that give you a chance to speculate wildly before reading on! This book split opinions and gave us masses to talk about – it is an idea reading group novel! I’ll try and get some more detailed thoughts up soon! Spoiler alert: I was a fan!

I Am Not Your Baby Mother by Candice Brathwaite (2020)

Back to non-fiction, and another great read. This book dovetailed nicely with both Bringing Up Race and Sway, and I loved the way Candice’s personality shines through as she recounts her experiences. Again, I will try and get a proper review up soon! Lots of catching up to do!

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

My final read of the month was an ARC of a book which will be published by Verso in March next year. Absolutely worth getting a preorder in for this deceptively slim volume, which is packed with insight and incredibly nuanced discussions of female desire and consent culture. I need to sit with my thoughts on this one for a bit, but I WILL get a review up… oh you know the drill! Really fascinating, important stuff.

So in summary: a brilliant month for reading, and plenty of reviewing to catch up on! How did you get on in October? Let me know your top reads – my teetering TBR could always stand to get a little bigger!

Happy reading!

Ellie x

Blurb:

Behind the postcard imagery of London, the darkest parts of the city house some of the saddest stories.

When Michael met Cameron, they were two boys who shared a bond and a ledge, an escape from their turbulent and violent home lives. But when Michael leaves, their lives drift apart into dramatically different directions until the events of the past bring them back together. They are no longer boys, but the ledge remains. Can they save themselves? Can they save one another?

This raw debut from Daniel James is a literary fiction that delves into fragile friendships, social inequality and mental health.

Review:

Readers of a sensitive disposition, look away now. The list of topics covered by this book makes for brutal reading: domestic violence, drug abuse, alcoholism, suicide, misogyny, racism, poverty, depression…I could go on. However, regular readers of my blog (hi both) will know I am not one to shy away from a challenging read, and as long as everyone is happy that I have provided sufficient trigger warnings, I’m going to tell you why I am so glad I did not swerve from this one.

This is much more than a ‘sliding doors’ story of two boys starting from the same point and heading off on different trajectories. While it is true that Michael “gets out,” escaping the cycle of poverty and getting a job in the City, leaving Cameron behind, the scars of their upbringings are impossible for either to escape. This is a thoughtful and thought-provoking exploration of what it means to come from a “broken home,” a cliché that is all too often tossed around without considering the full and tragic implications.

The author sticks closely to the two protagonists’ points of view, so closely that, especially in the case of Cameron, it is often deeply uncomfortable to be inside his head. And yet, this discomfort serves a purpose beyond shock value: his violent tendencies, his misogyny, his growing racist views, stoked by the people he meets and the circumstances he feels trapped in, are not presented as a damning indictment of his nature. Rather, he is a product of everything he has lived and suffered, and, as difficult as it is to read about domestic abuse from the point of view of both the victim and the perpetrator, the message of how the cycle will turn relentlessly until the underlying issues of poverty and privation are addressed is a profound, and profoundly relevant, one.

Even Michael, while he manages to distance himself physically from his past, carries the hurt and the trauma within him. The scene where he sees Cameron, now homeless, is incredibly powerful on its own, and in the light of what follows it is almost unbearably so. The parallels between the boys, set up in the title and echoing throughout the book, are not so much designed to evoke the “there but for the grace of…” cliché, but something even more powerful: Michael is Cameron, both boys are a product of the warped society they live in: the damage it has done them is unforgiveable.

The style of the narrative is striking: James writes with eloquence and an attention to detail which illuminates the corners of the city many of us would rather not examine too closely. The South London accents are mimicked convincingly in the dialogue, and I really enjoyed the contrast between the articulate thoughts of the men and their brief, staccato utterances – so much left unsaid, so many swirling thoughts that cannot find release. It is a very clever depiction of the mental anguish suffered by both men, but it works particularly well for Cameron.

This is far from an easy read, but it is an important one. I was forced into contemplating a lot of uncomfortable truths about the liberal views I hold so dear: my horror and distaste for Cameron’s misogyny and racism gradually giving way to a deep, deep sadness that the experiences of his life have shown him no other way to be or to think. The Same Ledge is a brave experiment in pushing the boundaries of empathy to their limits, taking us inside the truth of what it means to live on the edges. This is a book that interrogates our society in an absolutely uncompromising way, and explores some of the reasons for the deep divisions we see all around us. It is a bold, challenging, distressing look at a reality we ignore at our peril.

About the Author:

Daniel James is a London born writer residing in Toronto at the release of his debut novel. Daniel draws upon his own life experiences as a Londoner to create a descriptive account of life in the city, exploring issues of inequality and the pressures on the human spirit blended naturally into one story.

Daniel uses modern day themes and explores complex issues that revolve around mental health, relationships and societal class, issues that have impacted his life in one way or another. The need to captivate and highlight these themes are the inspiration behind his writing. He hopes you connect and enjoy the story in your own way.

Social Media:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/DanJamesWriting

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Daniel-James-Writing-112573600438719

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/daniel_james_writing/

Purchase Links:

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2S2RaDd

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2EDDknx

Published in digital and paperback formats by Lulu.com on 29^th May 2020

Blurb:

An atmospheric literary thriller set in north Norfolk in the shadow of the Cold War, in which a love triangle turns murderous.

Her heart beat hard. There was a crazed beauty to the storm. It was almost miraculous, the way it took away the mess of life, sweeping all in its path…

No-one could have foreseen the changes the summer of 1952 would bring. Cramming for her final exams on her family’s farm on the Norfolk coast, Verity Frost feels trapped between past and present: the devotion of her childhood friend Arthur, just returned from National Service, and her strange new desire to escape.

When Verity meets Jack, a charismatic American pilot, he seems to offer the glamour and adventure she so craves, and Arthur becomes determined to uncover the dirt beneath his rival’s glossy sheen.

As summer turns to winter, a devastating storm hits the coast, flooding the land and altering everything in its path. In this new, watery landscape, Verity’s tangled web of secrets, lies and passion will bring about a crime that will change all their lives forever.

Review:

The Night of the Flood is another book that caught my eye amid the many novels published last month. I am so grateful to the author for sending me a copy in exchange for an honest review.

There is a feeling that comes over me when I start a book and I know from the opening pages that it is going to be brilliant. It is a sort of tingling, gleeful anticipation. I love that feeling of beautiful possibility and rewards to come, and my spidey senses were definitely activated by the start of this novel. The Night of the Flood fully delivered on that promise.

The word “atmospheric” is tossed around with casual abandon to describe books, but here it is singularly appropriate, with all the shades of nuance of weather, pressure, tension, and total immersion that it contains. The double jeopardy of the approaching flood, which is counted down at the start of chapters, and the menace of the Cold War in all its mysterious, suspicious secrecy, creates a fog-like blanket of tension overlying the more personal dramas that play out.

The prose is confident, muscular, and full of texture. It is so evocative of the Norfolk landscape in all its salty, marshy viscosity. My special kind of literary synaesthesia, in which I imagine that prose has a taste, was out in force: this is definitely an umami book, savoury and meaty and without any hint of sugary sweetness. (Sorry if I’ve lost you with “umami prose”!)

The characters are deeply complex, and the level of psychological and emotional richness in this story is astounding. The five young people whose lives are intertwined are each crucial to the intersecting themes of the story, and each one brings yet another layer to the narrative. The crackle of attraction that sparks between different characters at different times is such a realistic depiction of sexual energy at that age (I vaguely seem to remember!) and it is a bold, insightful move away from the simplicity of a mutual attraction between two characters or a clichéd “love triangle.”

Verity, Peter and Arthur are afforded a close third person point of view, sometimes shifting between them within chapters, and this perspective allows for some startling insights into their thoughts. I found my sympathies ebbing and flowing between them, sometimes shocked by their thoughts, sometimes aching for their separate predicaments. Jack, the American pilot, stands outside this close perspective, though he is no less developed as a character. The author’s refusal to let us into his head aligns us cleverly with the three other character, much of whose energy is spent trying to figure Jack out.

The final character of the five is Muriel. I am probably going to wax lyrical here, because for me, Muriel is perhaps the most startlingly brilliant aspect of this novel. The only one among the young people whose (deliberately brief) chapters contain a sense of joy, of contentment, of existing in harmony with her surroundings, Muriel, the fisherman’s daughter, is both an anchor and a catalyst, a kind of nexus around which the others orbit without realising it. Her connection to the landscape, and to the sea in particular, seems elemental and powerful; even the flood is something she can understand and accept, and also subtly profit from. I flippantly referred to her in my head as the Thetis of Norfolk – there really is something goddess-like about her, for all her down-to-earth pragmatism. I actually went back and read her sections again upon finishing the novel, revelling in their lyrical beauty and strange power.

There is so much more I could say about this book. It is constructed of brilliantly complex, subversive layers, culminating in an almost unbearably dramatic climax on the night of the flood itself. Like Muriel, I will be picking over the rich leftovers of this story for a long time to come. The Night of the Flood is a staggering achievement, and I hope many of you are tempted to read it for yourselves. I’m certainly going to be reading it again.

The Night of the Flood by Zoe Somerville is published by Head of Zeus, and is available to purchase here.

Blurb:

Armed with a toilet trowel and a converted Mazda Bongo called Roxy, self-styled ‘ordinary’ ultrarunner, Gavin Boyter, embarks on his latest long-distance challenge: to run the 3400km from Paris to Istanbul along the route of the world’s most illustrious railway journey, the Orient Express.

And, despite work on Roxy having hampered his training programme, Gavin remains undeterred and plans to run through eight countries, to cross 180 rivers and to ascend 16,500 metres, through forests, mountains, plains and major cities – aided all the way by temperamental mapping technology and the ever encouraging support of his girlfriend, Aradhna. En route, Gavin will pass through urban edgelands and breathtaking scenery, battlefields and private estates, industrial plants and abandoned villages, and on through a drawn-back Iron Curtain where the East meets West. He will encounter packs of snarling, feral dogs, wild boar, menacing cows, and a herd of hundreds of deer. But he will also meet many fascinating characters, including a German, leg-slapping masseuse, music-loving Austrian farmers, middle-class Romanians, itinerant Romanies, stoic soldiers, and boisterous Turks. However, confined to the cramped conditions of Roxy, and each other’s company, Gavin and Aradhna’s journey is not only a test of the endurance and stamina required to put in the hard miles, but of their relationship, too. After all, if they can survive this challenge, they can survive anything.

But will Gavin’s legs make it all the way to Istanbul, where he has planned a special surprise for Aradhna?

Review:

This book may seem an unlikely choice for someone whose only brushes with running include the odd couple of weeks here and there when I’ve dragged myself out of bed and laboriously thumped along the road for half an hour or so before slowing to a walk and returning home, defeated by my lack of both fitness and a suitable sports bra. Nevertheless, I had followed some of Gavin and Aradhna’s journey on Facebook back in 2018 (when foreign adventures were still possible, happy days) and found myself gripped by their travels, so I jumped at the chance to read this book. Many thanks to the author for providing me with a copy in exchange for an honest review.

I had imagined that this book would be one I would dip in and out of, and was slightly nervous that as a non-runner I might find it difficult to involve myself fully in the day-to-day of such a long trip. This was not the case at all: I was thoroughly absorbed in the adventure, and read it in a few sittings (including on a bench on the South Downs, the closest I get to the wilderness these days). It is quite remarkable how Gavin manages to go into such detail about their daily routine and the ins and outs of the ultra-running experience and make it really compelling reading. Quite apart from the fact that his feat of endurance is utterly incredible (running almost every day for over 100 days), I was blown away by the minute, precise detail with which he tells their story. It is mostly narrated in the present tense, which creates a wonderful sense of experiencing each episode alongside them; it is a truly immersive experience (without the blisters and nipple chafing – win win).

It felt like a privilege to be taken on this slow, mindful journey through Europe, all the more poignant, as both Gavin and Aradhna, in her introduction, observe, in the light (or shade) of the looming spectre of Brexit. Gavin runs through eight countries, and describes each one in elegant, lucid prose. Quite how he managed such recall, I don’t know – I suspect he took meticulous notes, which would be the last thing I would feel like doing after a full day’s run. The nature of the journey, travelling on foot (with Aradhna and trusty Roxy the Mazda Bongo, who becomes a character in her own right in the story, both providing outstanding support), means that the pace is much more meditative than many travelogues, in which planes, trains and automobiles whizz the traveller from one country to another in hours. It takes Gavin days or weeks to cross each country, and he sees so many aspects that the capital-hopping tourist would never encounter: run-down farms, industrial estates, leafy suburbs, hidden mountain tracks…the list goes on. The writing is often really quite beautiful, and the prose is precise and very visual. It was easy to picture the scenes that Gavin describes. His tone is delightfully Bryson-esque, full of self-deprecating understatement, and quite charmingly old-fashioned at times, giving a flavour of the Grand Tour, or perhaps more appropriately, the Victorian travels on the Orient Express itself. I really enjoyed his use of expressions like “Alas” and “pay no heed” – it created an image in my mind of a Laurie Lee figure, loping across the landscape in search of good old-fashioned adventure.

There are moments of tension (involving feral dogs and border guards), and some very honest commentary on the strain such a trip can put on a relationship (it must be stated – as Gavin does frequently in the book – that Aradhna is a saint, and quite certainly the lynchpin of this mad scheme), but above all this book is a testament to the joy of travel, of movement, of observation and adventure. The maps and colour photographs add another layer of interest to the diary-style entries, and for runners, there is a wealth of useful information for planning your own trip, large or small. For everyone else, there is so much to be enjoyed in this inspiring story. Even I have been prompted by it to think about some outdoors adventures in the future – though I suspect they will involve walking rather than running. And I will definitely be getting Gavin’s first book, too.

Running the Orient by Gavin Boyter is published by Great Northern Books and is available to purchase here.

Blurb:

You can’t avoid it, because it’s everywhere. In the looks my kids get in certain spaces, the manner in which some people speak to them, the stuff that goes over their heads. Stuff that makes them cry even when they don’t know why. How do you bring up your kids to be kind and happy when there is so much out there trying to break them down?

Bringing Up Race is an important book, for all families whatever their race or ethnicity. Racism cuts across all sectors of society – even the Queen will have to grapple with these issues, as great grandmother to a child of mixed ethnicity. It’s for everyone who wants to instil a sense of open-minded inclusivity in their kids, and those who want to discuss difference instead of shying away from tough questions. Uju draws on often shocking personal stories of prejudice along with opinions of experts, influencers and fellow parents to give prescriptive advice making this an invaluable guide.

Bringing Up Race explores:
– When children start noticing ethnic differences (hint: much earlier than you think)
– What to do if your child says something racist (try not to freak out)
– How to have open, honest, age-appropriate conversations about race
– How children and parents can handle racial bullying
– How to recognise and challenge everyday racism, aka microaggressions

A call to arms for ALL parents, Bringing Up Race starts the conversation which will mean the next generation have zero tolerance to racial prejudice, and grow up understanding what kindness and happiness truly mean.

Review:

Uju Asika’s book caught my eye amid the flurry of September releases, and I immediately pre-ordered it. Like so many of us, I am trying to educate myself as much as I can about antiracism, and while I still have a very long way to go, I feel like I am ready to think hard about how I can engage my kids in these vital conversations. My two are very young, only 3 and 5, but as Uju explains in her book, it is never too early to start the dialogue.

The structure of the book makes it extremely easy to read. Chapters are divided into short, snappily-titled subsections contain an engaging mixture of facts, personal anecdotes and testimonials from other parents/those who have been affected by racism. At the end of each chapter there are Talking Points, in which the author answers questions that may arise from the previous pages. I especially liked these sections, as it illustrates the uncertainty that many of us might have about approaching this topic, and shows that there are no stupid questions: the most important thing is that we do not let our fear of saying the wrong thing lead to us saying nothing at all. The complicity of silence is referred to several times, and is a danger I am becoming more aware of thanks to my reading on this subject. We’re not going to get it right every time, but this isn’t a test: it is a vitally important learning experience for both us and our children. The talking points and the handy reference section at the end of the book further emphasise that this is a process, and give the book a very practical feel.

What struck me most of all was the tone of this book: it is informal but informative, warm and wise, driven by a desire to help others implement change, not to berate them. This is also a very kind book: Uju’s mantra of “Be cool, be kind, be you” runs through her prose – her personality and sense of humour lift the mood of the book, while her empathy and generosity shine out of every page. Yes, the anger at injustice is there, how could it not be, but what the author shows us is how to channel that anger into something positive.

Bringing Up Race is useful, informative, thought-provoking and, above all, hopeful. Like Uju, I have faith in the next generation, and am heartened by the changes I see in the way they view the world. But we, as parents, have a very important role to play in this: we need to have the difficult conversations, challenge our own assumptions and inbuilt biases, learn and explore alongside our children. This book has already prompted me to have some really interesting discussions with my five year old, and I’ve noted down several of the reading suggestions from the back of the book for Xmas pressie ideas! I would recommend this book to every parent, without a moment’s hestitation.

Bringing Up Race by Uju Asika is published by Yellow Kite Books and is available to purchase here.

I’ve got a slightly different type of post for you today, chock full of bookish goodness! I’m delighted to be collaborating with Margate Bookie, the friendly Litfest by the sea (online for 2020, of course – that’s how we roll this year). They have an absolutely fab programme of events coming up, and I’m very pleased to have the chance to tell you all about them!

First up in October is a series of talks with some amazing writers, kicking off THIS AFTERNOON with a talk from Mary O’Hara.

Here is the full programme of Bookie Talks:

Next up in November is a series of Fireside Chats – have a look and see if any of these grab you (I am definitely feeling the Bibliotherapy one!):

As an aside, one of the unexpected perks of 2020 for me has been attending virtual events and chatting with people over various forms of technology. As a full time mum who, lets face it, “doesn’t get out much,” even pre-Lockdown, it has actually been really fun to Zoom around, chat to people, and listen to the wise words of interesting bookish folk.

All of which got me thinking about the silver linings of this frankly pretty dismal year. For me personally, properly joining Twitter, sharing my blog, and “meeting” so many wonderful people has been a real saviour of 2020 for me, along with the fantastic books I have read, of course. I feel like the bookish community has provided a safe haven in a difficult time, and it really has meant an awful lot to me.

Before I get too sentimental, I’d love to ask you if you can think of some positives for this year. Have you attended any interesting online events? Virtually met any new friends? Or maybe there’s a particular book you’ve read that has helped you get through/escape for a while? Do drop me a comment and let me know, I’d love it if we could start a bit of a chat about the (gasp) nicer side of 2020.

I’ll be doing some more posts about upcoming Margate Bookie events, so keep an eye on my blog. And if you follow me on Twitter, watch out for a chance to WIN event tickets…coming soon!

You can find out more about Margate Bookie and book your event tickets here.

Let me know if you do go to any of these, I’d love to hear your feedback. Or just shout if you’ve read and enjoyed any of the authors mentioned – lets spread the bookish love!

Links:

Margate Bookie website

@MargateBookie on Twitter

https://www.instagram.com/margatebookie/

https://www.facebook.com/MargateBookie/

Blurb:

An extraordinary debut novel by Natasha Randall, exposing the seam of secrets within an American family, from beneath the plastic surfaces of their new ‘smart’ home. Love Orange charts the gentle absurdities of their lives, and the devastating consequences of casual choices.

While Hank struggles with his lack of professional success, his wife Jenny, feeling stuck and beset by an urge to do good, becomes ensnared in a dangerous correspondence with a prison inmate called John. Letter by letter, John pinches Jenny awake from the “marshmallow numbness” of her life. The children, meanwhile, unwittingly disturb the foundations of their home life with forays into the dark net and strange geological experiments. 

Jenny’s bid for freedom takes a sour turn when she becomes the go-between for John and his wife, and develops an unnatural obsession for the orange glue that seals his letters…

Love Orange throws open the blinds of American life, showing a family facing up to the modern age, from the ascendancy of technology, the predicaments of masculinity, the pathologising of children, the epidemic of opioid addiction and the tyranny of the WhatsApp Gods. The first novel by the acclaimed translator is a comic cocktail, an exuberant skewering of contemporary anxieties and prejudices.

Review:

I have been having so much fun taking part in the buddy read for this book on Twitter, organised by the publisher @riverrunbooks. I pre-ordered it as it caught my eye amid the 3rd September release rush, and I am so glad I did. It has been really interesting to chat with fellow bookish folk about this novel – do make sure to catch their reviews as well, as we’re all putting them up today. This is certainly the perfect book to discuss, the only problem being that there is possibly TOO much to say!

Love Orange is startlingly different. A dark, mischievous sense of humour pervades the novel: as I read it, I had the thrilling sense that the author was revelling in wrong-footing us, hitting us with the unexpected, refusing to conform to what we might expect to happen in a conventional family-set novel. Natasha Randall’s prose is sharp-edged, witty, and at times delightfully uncomfortable. I really felt the sense of something new and exciting while reading this brilliant debut. It is also a very visual novel: the set pieces or episodes which make it so ripe for book club discussion are almost cinematic in their self-contained detail. I could see the boys in the cave on the camping trip (oh, the camping trip – that was much discussed on the buddy read!); the younger son, Luke’s, carefully organised and catalogued collection in the basement; Jenny in the kitchen of the ‘smart’ home, surrounded by appliances that seem to control her more than help her. I really felt as if I watched a lot of this book rather than read it, which is testament to the author’s skill in transferring her imagination to the page.

As for the characters, they are the core of this book. The quirks and surprises of the plot are wonderfully intriguing, but it is the Tinkleys themselves that fascinate. Hank provoked such strong reactions among our chat group – he is exasperating, infuriating, conflicted, complicated, and above all, absolutely real. We all felt so strongly, it was as if we were discussing an actual person, and not one we were very fond of! Jenny evoked more sympathy; her story is just so unexpected and borderline bizarre – I would love to know how the author came up with it! Their sons, Jesse and Luke, are the most sympathetic characters, particularly Luke – my heart ached for him watching his parents’ fumbled attempts to label him rather than just accept him for the marvellous, original boy he is. I was #TeamLuke all the way!

The themes of Love Orange are myriad: technology and its effects on our lives, religion, relationships, parenting, freedom, the prison system, masculinity, addiction… there is barely an aspect of modern life that the novel does not probe. It is an outstanding achievement for a novel to cover so much ground and yet remain cohesive and focused. There is something about Randall’s writing which feels like an evolution, a step forward, something truly modern. It is exciting and slightly dangerous, always pushing the reader out of their comfort zone, right until the very end. I absolutely cannot wait to see what she writes next. And I am very much going to miss chatting about this book, so do let me know your thoughts when you have read it (which you definitely should!)

Love Orange by Natasha Randall is out now published by riverrun, and is available to purchase here.