Blurb

The second novel by the author of the acclaimed Dodge and Burn (Dodo Ink, 2016) is surreal, speculative, read-in-one-sitting, feminist literary fiction inspired by The Master and Margarita and narrated by a djinn who is obsessed with the young American woman who has released him from a bottle.  

 
“With sorcery, as everyone knows, there is no stopping it.” 

 

Born into Evangelical trailer trash poverty, Aurora finds her way into an elite prep school where she’s drawn into a circle of girls who form a Surrealist coven. Hell-bent on tapping into magic to subvert and transform reality, they encounter forces they should have left alone… A surreal adventure, an infernal fairy-tale, Aurora is a stunning novel that explores witchcraft from a radical new angle.

Review

Huge thanks to Sam at Dodo Ink for sending me a copy of Aurora in exchange for an honest review. I did read this back in January but it has taken me a while to get my review up – apologies!

‘Witch lit’ is having a moment – it’s everywhere, it seems, and I for one am all for it. If you pick up Seraphina’s new novel expecting a bit of a spooky, hazily ambiguous, is magic real or isn’t it story, however, you’re in for a shock. This brilliant book feels more like a potentially dangerous source text, something I could imagine being locked up in the ‘strictly forbidden’ section of an occult library, perhaps put under a curse so that no one escapes reading it unscathed. I simultaneously absolutely loved it, and was genuinely afraid that in reading it, I was at risk of shattering my own notions of reality. That’s a powerful book right there.

The prose is a heady cocktail of the base and the sublime, sometimes switching modes within sentences, full of grit and beauty all at once. Narrated by a cherry pop downing djinn, whose footnotes zip forwards and backwards through the narrative, clarifying and complicating all at once, the story stretches and compresses time in a fascinating way. Sometimes years zip by within pages, at other times, a single episode is described in minute detail from several different perspectives. It’s mind-bendingly clever, and I felt disorientated whenever I took a (brief) break from reading.

Aurora is a compelling protagonist, and I found her as mesmerising as the narrator clearly does. Her early life, her treatment by the pastors, her grandmother’s determination for her to rise up out of the circumstances she was born into all make for a gripping start to the book. And we move on to the elite school, and the coven she forms with Sylvia and the Californian girls – there is a slight The Secret History vibe to this section, but the density of the intellectual and philosophical rigour behind the girls’ champagne-soaked exploration of magic sets it apart. Key texts are woven into the narrative – Jungian psychology, Surrealism, spiritualism of all kind, and so much more, thicken the intoxicating brew of the girls’ risky journey. As they go deeper into their investigations, you really feel that they are on the cusp of totally new discoveries – the narrative is so probing and urgent in its pursuit of the other side of reality that it creates a kind of tension and momentum that is unlike anything I’ve read before.

There is a shift again, towards the end of the book, and without spoilers, these sections were some of the hardest to read. Aurora’s power and trauma collide, and the results are dark and unexpected and shocking. It takes an incredibly skilled writer to drive a book of this intellectual heft to such a dramatic conclusion, and the last pages had me gasping out loud. There is so much in this book – art, literature, philosophy, religion, a sweet little bird called Dinky and an excellent black cat called Tu-tu – you’ll finish this with your mind fizzing and your sense of reality less stable than it was when you began. It’s an incredible achievement to write a novel from which the reader emerges dizzy and blinking, struggling to readjust, changed by what they just read, and that it what Seraphina Madsen has done with Aurora.

Aurora by Seraphina Madsen is published by Dodo Ink and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

Perfect for fans of Liane Moriarty and Celeste Ng.

You want your sister to have all her heart desires.

But – what if she wants your children?

Maggie has everything her sister Rose always wanted. A handsome husband and two adorable children, Emily and Elliot.

But what Rose doesn’t see is that Maggie is struggling. Every day is a fog of sleep loss and mess made by two tiny children. Left alone in her distress by husband Stephen, Maggie drifts ever closer to the edge.

When Maggie finally cracks, walking out one day and not returning, Rose is right there to step into the breach . . .

You trust your sister to look after your children. But should you?

Review

Many thanks to the author for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

At first glance, The Cuckoo Sister looked to be a little outside of my usual genres – I don’t read very many thrillers, although I do enjoy the occasional foray! However, on reading, I discovered that the novel is more nuanced than the tagline might suggest. It’s more psychological family drama than straight-up thriller, and I found the subtleties and complexities of the book really intriguing.

The writing is confident and pacey, and as we flick between the two sisters’ points of view, a complex picture emerges. What I found really clever about The Cuckoo Sister is the way it constantly made me reassess my assumptions. Every time I made a snap judgement about a character, I’d find my opinion unravelling in the next few chapters, and I became really invested in trying to figure out what was for the best. You know it is a strong story when the central dilemma has you just as worked up about it as the characters are!

Conversely, I sometimes found myself sympathising with a character, nodding along, only for them to go a step to far and for me to recoil at having empathised with them. It’s a morally grey, tangled situation, and I loved puzzling it all out and thinking about the wider implications.

Underpinning the narrative is the important message that families are messy, complex, imperfect; that mistakes, even huge ones, do not make someone inherently ‘bad,’ and that there is always more to a situation than meets the eye. The ending left me thinking for a long time, and I can imagine this book being ripe for discussion – lots of juicy issues to get stuck into!

The Cuckoo Sister is a strong debut, and I look forward to reading more from this author.

The Cuckoo Sister by Alison Stockham is published by Boldwood Books and is available to purchase here. It was an Amazon First Reads pick last month.

Blurb

‘I have seen ghosts. They will not rest. The whispers of the past are all around…’

Sweeping from the bustling beaches of contemporary Lima to local ceviche bars crammed with fishermen, music and folklore; from the rise and fall of the Inca Empire to a civil war that will devastate a nation, The Dust Never Settles is a love letter to Peru.

And running through it all, like the warm smell of orange blossom she remembers from her childhood, is Anais, who has returned to the country she loves after seven years abroad. Her beloved grandparents have passed away, and the time has come for her to sell the ‘yellow house on the hill’.

As Anais prepares to say a final goodbye, she is haunted by memories. Dark truths of previous generations are hidden behind these crumbling walls – secrets that threaten to overwhelm her…

Review

Many thanks to the Squadpod for bringing this book to me attention, and to the publishers for sending me a copy in exchange for an honest review. Apologies it has taken me so long to write this – I read the book a while ago, but am still catching up with reviews. I’ve raved about it several times, though, and will continue to do so for reasons I explain below.

I love this book. It’s absolutely chockful of elements that add up to a perfect read for me. We have a brilliantly original protagonist in Anais, a setting that lives and breathes as a character (or many!) in its own right, and a narrative that takes us to dazzlingly unexpected places. There are things here that I am trying hard to achieve with my own work-in-progress, so as a writer, this book had an extra special resonance for me, but as a reader, it’s a sheer delight. It calls to mind One Hundred Years of Solitude, and Pedro Paramo, and, more recently, When I Sing, Mountains Dance (which I also read in 2022) – books that take you on a sweeping journey through generations, that make the borders between past and present permeable, that broaden the limits of reality and rationality and stretch them into something new and strange. It’s the type of novel I find so exciting – books like The Dust Never Settles are, I think, the reason I read.

Anais is a fascinating character, trapped as she is between the world of the living and the ghosts of the past, and the fact that she is pregnant adds another delicious layer of complexity. The yellow house on the hill is such an atmospheric place – I could see it so clearly, in all its shifting guises. The book swoops through time in a dizzyingly acrobatic way, and the touches of myth and mystery that permeate the story add to the sense that this is an old story being remade in a new way.

It’s a book that is both playful and meaningful, funny in outrageous and sometimes shocking ways, but also deeply moving. It has so much of life threaded through it – it feels tapestry-rich, a full and satisfying book that leaves you somehow changed.

I hope I’ve managed to convey something of the profound effect that The Dust Never Settles had on me. I still think about it months after reading, and I know it is one of the few books I will absolutely make time to reread. Probably very soon! Every aspect of this novel worked perfectly for me, and reading it was a joyous experience. I can’t recommend it highly enough, and will be looking out for more from this author.

The Dust Never Settles by Karina Lickorish Quinn is published by Oneworld Publications and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

Ravished, subtitled A Series of Reflections on Age, Sex, Death, and Judgement, is the second collection from Anna Vaught. These are peculiar tales, weird fiction, gothic, unusual, full of literary allusion, threaded through with classical and Welsh reference, occasionally starring the author’s relatives and the Virgin Mary. Sometimes funny, morbid, potentially inspiring, Ravished is both revolting and pretty; both awful and yet optimistic in the stress it places on playful language and the abundance of the imagination. The stories explore revenge, angels, an encounter with faith, death and loss and are full of off-kilter experiences, such as a chat with the holy spirit on a bench, a love story in an embalming parlour, passing the time with the man who’s going to bury you and why you should never underestimate the power of the landscape or the weird outcast you passed by.

Review

Many thanks to Reflex Press for providing me with a copy of Ravished in exchange for an honest review – I apologise sincerely for the delay! I did read this wonderful collection before publication, but have been a very slack book blogger these past few months. I promise to do better in 2023!

I’m a huge fan of Anna Vaught’s writing. I loved her 2020 novel Saving Lucia and her previous short story collection, Famished, so I was delighted to see that she had a new book coming out. The short stories I’d read by her before were beautiful and strange, mesmerising in their use of language, and this collection is no different.

The titles alone are works of art – the contents page reads like a poem. From ‘A Welsh Grave Digger Laments (or Why It Is Better to Be Dead in Wales)’ to ‘Love, Now and Then, on a Primrose Bank’ to ‘The Unguents of Ada Morgan,’ the richness of the treasure that lies within is hinted at from the very start. Death is threaded through the stories not as an abstract concept but a physical presence – graves, embalming parlours, the work of laying the dead to rest forms an integral part of the book. And yet despite this morbid fascination, there is comfort here, too – the beautiful shapes that Vaught sculpts with her words represent a brave, playful, intriguing engagement with all the strange dark corners of existence.

As in Famished, the narrator of the stories often engages directly with the reader – we are ‘my dears,’ ‘my sweet ones,” implicated in the tapestry being woven by the frequent use of “you” as a direct address. I think this speaks to the project that the author is undertaking (gravedigger pun intended) here – Vaught is delving deep into the realms of gothic-tinged horror and weirdness in order not only to bring to our attention the strangeness of it, but also the beauty – she is excavating what we might be too afraid to unearth on our own. In that sense the stories – and the author – function as a kind of gentle guide, a calm hand pressed against our backs as we confront the other-worldly, the inexplicable, the dark parts.

Anna Vaught’s prose often gives me the sensation of being rocked, the cadences and rhythms running through it lulling me into a kind of dream-like state, in which the peculiar nature of the stories becomes temporarily familiar, a new normal where nothing is, in fact, normal. It’s a fascinatingly immersive experience, and one that I struggle to articulate fully, as you can probably tell!

My favourite stories were the ones with Evans and Myfanwy, their relationship traced with such tenderness and delicacy, as well as the delicious interlude of ‘The Bookshelves of Amos Biblio’ – one for all book lovers to enjoy. But it’s the sum total of the work that has stayed with me more than any individual moment or story – I love how layered and carefully crafted the book is, and how well it sits beside her other works that I have read. I’ll read anything Anna Vaught writes, and luckily, she is prolific – with a new novel coming later his year from Renard Press – and I’d recommend her work to anyone wanting to discover a truly original literary voice.

Ravished by Anna Vaught is published by Reflex Press and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

LILY IS A GOOD DAUGHTER

Every evening she pours Mama a glass of perfectly spoilt orange juice. She arranges the teddy bears on Mama’s quilt, she puts on her matching pink clothes. Anything to help put out the fire of Mama’s rage.

MAMA IS A GOOD LIAR

But Mama is becoming unpredictable, dangerous. And as she starts to unravel, so do the memories that Lily has kept locked away for so long.
She only wanted to be good, to help piece Mama back together. But as home truths creep out of the shadows, Lily must recast everything: what if her house isn’t a home – but a prison? What if Mama isn’t a protector – but a monster . . .

Review

Huge thanks to the publishers and the Squadpod for sending me a copy of Bad Fruit in exchange for an honest review. I’m sorry it’s been such a long time coming!

Bad Fruit is a fantastic debut – it is taut and compelling and fiercely original. What really elevates it is the level of detail, particularly of Mama’s quirks and whims. It’s all brought to life so vividly: I read the book with the taste of sour fruit juice in my mouth. And yet despite the intricate details, there is so much that is hidden beneath the surface – the novel hums with the weight of the unsaid. It’s really cleverly done – the trauma is deep and cutting, but never made explicit – and it’s all the more powerful for that.

Lily is a really interesting protagonist, allied as she is at the start of the novel with Mama and her strange ways. This complicity, and the difficulty of breaking away from it, is one of the most fascinating aspects of Bad Fruit – Mama gets away with her behaviour because she is allowed to do so, and in some ways Lily is her co-conspirator as well as her victim. The dynamics at play between all of the characters are nuanced and complicated, and there’s a kind of twisted pleasure in teasing them all out.

The unravelling of Lily’s memories, and the sense of the pieces of herself coming apart, especially towards the end of the book, makes for some of the most tense scenes in the book – at times there is an almost thriller-like feel to the narrative, as events unfold that you can’t look away from. It’s totally immersive, a book to be devoured in a couple of sittings, and one that will stay with me for a long time. I’m looking forward to reading more of Ella King’s work.

Bad Fruit by Ella King is published by HarperCollins and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

Winner of the Booker Prize 2021

Shortlisted for the Rathbones Folio Prize 2022

A masterpiece of a family in crisis from twice Booker-shortlisted author Damon Galgut

The Promise charts the crash and burn of a white South African family, living on a farm outside Pretoria. The Swarts are gathering for Ma’s funeral. The younger generation, Anton and Amor, detest everything the family stand for — not least the failed promise to the Black woman who has worked for them her whole life. After years of service, Salome was promised her own house, her own land… yet somehow, as each decade passes, that promise remains unfulfilled.

The narrator’s eye shifts and blinks: moving fluidly between characters, flying into their dreams; deliciously lethal in its observation. And as the country moves from old deep divisions to its new so-called fairer society, the lost promise of more than just one family hovers behind the novel’s title.

In this story of a diminished family, sharp and tender emotional truths hit home. Confident, deft and quietly powerful, The Promise is literary fiction at its finest.

Review

Many thanks to Zara at FMcM and the Rathbones Folio Prize for sending me a finished copy of the book in exchange for an honest review. Apologies for the delay!

I’ve read a couple of other works by Damon Galgut, and as a big fan of South African literature, I was thrilled to hear he’d won the Booker. My expectations were high on starting The Promise, and I wasn’t disappointed.

The most striking aspect of this novel is how skillfully the author manipulates the roving point of view, flitting between the characters with a modernist ease reminiscent of Virginia Woolf. Stylistically, the book is beautifully wrought, each sentence delicately laced with meaning. intricate and complex, a true lesson in the craft of writing. But it is not a case of style over substance: there is story here too, and character, and moments of tension and heartbreak.

‘The farm’ is a recurring motif in South Africa literature (I won’t punish you by dropping in my decades-old undergrad essay on this topic, though I have to admit this book did have me looking it out!) and here, the Swart family’s smallholding is not only a symbol but also a stage, where various family dramas play out at intervals across the years, shadowed by South Africa’s tumultuous history. The narrator’s role as ‘puppet master’ heightens this sense of theatricality – characters are dropped onstage and then summarily dismissed, and the ‘behind the curtain’ artifice of storytelling is directly commented on.

I think what I loved most about The Promise is that it showcases exactly what a novel, and only a novel, can do when the author is operating at the peak of their powers: it delves into the psyches of fictional characters in order to give us a better understanding of ourselves. The fiction provides a mirror for reality, and truths both beautiful and ugly are brought to light. It is an incredibly powerful book, and one that will stay with me for a long time.

The Promise by Damon Galgut is published by Vintage and is available to purchase here.

Huge thanks to Sryia at Penguin Random House for inviting me on the paperback blog tour for a book I read when it first came out and absolutely LOVED! I’m re-sharing my review below – do check out the other stops on the tour over the next few weeks! And if you haven’t read Nobody But Us yet, you’re in for a treat!

Blurb

He’s a well-respected college professor. She’s a young and eager-to-please student.

He knows she would do anything for him. She knows his certainty is his weakness

He thinks he’ll get what he wants. She thinks he’ll get exactly what he needs.

Two liars.
One twisted path.
A game of cat and mouse.

BUT WHO IS THE HUNTER? AND WHO IS THE PREY?

Review

I’m not sure if I devoured this book, or if this book consumed me, but either way, I could not put it down. This is one of the most tense – and intense – reading experiences I’ve had for a while, and I loved every second of it. From the dramatic opening to the gradual unveiling of what has taken place, Nobody But Us is an absolute masterclass in creating narrative tension. It’s a tricky book to review in terms of the story, because so much of the twisted pleasure comes from discovery as you read, so I’ll keep this brief and focus instead on what I love about Laure Van Rensburg’s writing.

There is a sharpness to the prose, a piercing accuracy – each sentence has the ability to startle, to awaken new ways of seeing. It is beautiful, clever writing – shaped and polished, with the glassy sleekness of the house itself. The descriptions of the house where these disturbing events unfold are some of the sharpest writing in the novel: the author could not have chosen a more perfect setting for Ellie and Steven’s weekend away. Its stylish modernity contrasts with the wildness of the landscape around it, and the visual quality of the writing creates a cinematic effect. I really felt like I was watching the events unfold rather than reading about them – it’s a very powerful effect.

Nobody But Us isn’t my usual type of book – but I have come to realise that I pretty much only have a ‘usual’ type in order to attempt to manage the ever-growing list of books I want to read! Every time I step outside my comfort zone, I realise how much can be learned from books outside my typical genres. This is some of the best writing I’ve read in a long time, and Laure Van Rensburg is a debut author to watch. It’s a book that will have you messaging your friends to say “text me when you’ve finished!” – a book you’ll want to talk about and recommend to everyone you know.

Nobody But Us by Laure Van Rensburg is published by Penguin Michael Joseph – the paperback is out NOW and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

Evie Epworth is ten years older. But is she any wiser?

Ten years on from the events of The Miseducation of Evie Epworth, Evie is settled in London and working as a production assistant for the BBC. She has everything she ever dreamed of (a career, a leatherette briefcase, an Ossie Clark poncho) but, following an unfortunate incident involving a Hornsea Pottery mug and Princess Anne, she finds herself having to rethink her future. What can she do? Is she too old to do it? And will it involve cork-soled sandals?

As if this isn’t complicated enough, her disastrous love life leaves her worrying that she may be destined for eternal spinsterdom, concerned, as she is, that ‘even Paul had married Linda by the time he was 26‘. Through it all, Evie is left wondering whether a 60s miseducation really is the best preparation to glide into womanhood and face the new challenges (strikes, power cuts, Edward Heath’s teeth) thrown up by the growing pains of the 70s.

With the help of friends, both old and new, she might just find a way through her messy 20s and finally discover who exactly she is meant to be…

Review

Many thanks to the author, publisher and the lovely Squadpod for my copy of All About Evie in exchange for an honest review.

I was so excited to catch up with Evie again, having adored the first book The Miseducation of Evie Epworth. It also provided another opportunity to bake, and to celebrate with Matson and the Squad, which is always a joy!

It can feel like a bit of a risk to catch up with a beloved character, but I knew I was in safe hands, and this second installment is just as joyous and jubilant as the first. The time jump works well, giving Evie a gap to settle into her London life, and when we meet her again it is in full 70s, Biba-frocked glory. I was hooked from the wonderful opening paragraph to the very last page.

Despite initial setbacks of a typically unique and hilarious nature, Evie has lost none of her lust for life, her enthusiasm, or her kindness. She’s just a pleasure to spend time with on the page, as are the new characters we are introduced to, and the old ones we meet again.

There are some beautifully written flashback sections that cast new light on the backstories of certain characters, and it is these sections in particular that evoke the strongest emotional response. I think in a way that is representative of Evie herself – she is not just the star of the show, but she also shines her light on other people, allowing them to step into the spotlight. We root for Evie so strongly because she roots for others – she’s exactly the sort of person you want to have on your team.

I don’t want to give anything away about the plot, but if you enjoyed Evie’s first (mis)adventure, you will not be disappointed with this sequel. And if you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting her yet, you need to get right on it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: EVERYONE needs Evie Epworth in their life.

All About Evie by Matson Taylor is published by Simon & Schuster and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

‘There’s only control, control of ourselves and others. And you have to decide what part you play in that control.’

Cast your eye over the comfortable north London home of a family of high ideals, radical politics and compassionate feelings. Julia, Paul and their two daughters, Olivia and Sophie, look to a better society, one they can effect through ORGAN:EYES, the campaigning group they fundraise for and march with, supporting various good causes.

But is it all too good to be true? When the surface has been scratched and Paul’s identity comes under the scrutiny of the press, a journey into the heart of the family begins. Who are these characters really? Are any of them the ‘real’ them at all? Every Trick in the Book is a genre-deconstructing novel that explodes the police procedural and undercover-cop story with nouveau romanish glee. Hood overturns the stone of our surveillance society to show what really lies beneath.

Review

Many thanks to the author and to Renard Press for my spot on the blog tour and for sending me a proof of Every Trick in the Book.

I was a massive fan of Iain Hood’s previous novel This Good Book so I jumped at the chance to read more of his work. I also really like the link between the titles (I’m having fun thinking of what his next book might be called) and the gentle intertextual reference to Susan Alison MacLeod which appears early on in Every Trick. These little touches of playfulness are what the author does so well, and it sets the reader up nicely for the meta, modernist journey that Hood takes us on.

To borrow from the artistic theme of his previous novel, reading Every Trick feels like wandering through an eclectic art gallery. From the camera-panning opening, in which we zoom in on the everyday objects that represent the family’s ‘Sunday supplement’ life; to Paul’s interactions with Sarge and the Chief; to his surreal spell in an institution; to the Woolfian consciousness-flitting of imagined passers-by: each set piece has a different tone, and yet the author manages to pull it all together through clever mirroring techniques (of plot, character and indeed whole passages).

This is definitely a book you have to concentrate on, and I’m sure my brow was deeply furrowed while reading (except when it relaxed for the humour that is liberally sprinkled throughout), but like This Good Book, Every Trick wears its intellectual credentials lightly, and the play(fulness) is the thing. And just when you think it has wandered too far into stylistic trickery, it pulls you back in with a sucker punch of emotion, bringing Olivia and Sophie to the forefront at just the right moment.

I think what I admire so much about Iain Hood’s writing is that rather than ‘making you think,’ it invites you to do so, with a wink and a nudge and the comforting hand of levity laid gently on your shoulder. Yes, it is deeply intelligent, self-referential, stylistically daring work, dealing with large, important themes, but it is also tremendous fun, and pulling off this particular trick is no mean feat. I’m so glad that Renard Press has given us the opportunity to enjoy his work, and I look forward to His Next Book…

About the Author

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

Every Trick in the Book by Iain Hood is published by Renard Press and is available to purchase here.

Blurb

1955: In an apartment on the Lower East Side, school teachers Dovie and Gillian live as lodgers. Dancing behind closed curtains, mixing cocktails for two, they guard their private lives fiercely. Until someone guesses the truth…

1975: Twenty years later in the same apartment, Ava Winters is keeping her own secret. Her mother has become erratic, haunted by something Ava doesn’t understand – until one sweltering July morning, she disappears.

Soon after her mother’s departure, Ava receives a parcel. Addressed simply to ‘Apartment 3B’, it contains a photo of a woman with the word ‘LIAR’ scrawled across it. Ava does not know what it means or who sent it. But if she can find out then perhaps she’ll discover the answers she is seeking – and meet the woman at the heart of it all…

Review

I’m extremely grateful to the publisher and to the Squadpod for my review copy of That Green Eyed Girl. Apologies for the lateness of this review – I did read the book and get my cake made in time, though, so perhaps that compensates a little!

This was one of those books that I’d been looking forward to for a long time – something that always makes me a little bit nervous, just in case I don’t love it as quite much as I hoped. Fortunately, the opposite was true, and Julie Owen Moylan’s debut exceeded my high expectations.

It takes a lot of skill to thoroughly immerse the reader in a certain era, and in this story, the author manages this trick beautifully not once but twice. We flit between the New York of the seventies, all sweltering heat and teen anguish as we follow Ava on her quest to find the owner of the photograph, and the same city, streets and apartment in the fifties, with all the smoky jazz-filled glamour you could wish for. The dual timeline is handled so deftly – I could almost see the cinematic fade from one era to the other – and, rarely for me, I was equally invested in both timelines.

There is so much quiet elegance in this book, so much careful heart-breaking, an assembling and dissecting of feeling done with a masterfully light touch. Dovie and Gillian’s story would be enough to crack the hardest of hearts, but counterpoised with Ava’s mother’s tragic mental illness storyline, the emotional resonance of the book is so thick it hums. I really felt a kind of throbbing, aching urgency as I read this book, despite the gentle, almost lyrical tone. It is a book that taps into the core of what it means to feel, to love, and I was deeply moved by it.

It would be impossible to review this book without mentioning that there is a character you’ll love to hate – I suspect many other readers did a similar thing to me and shouted out loud at her! It is another strength of That Green Eyed Girl – there’s beauty and love and kindness, but also the messier, uglier side of humanity – betrayal and jealousy and dishonesty. It’s the perfect New York novel in that it encapsulates so much of life within its pages.

It’s a real pleasure to read a novel that feels so well-crafted, so elegant and stylish, and yet so full of emotion. It’s like music, each note perfectly placed, drawing out unexpected feelings with its careful pattern. I’m so glad to have discovered a new favourite writer, and I can’t wait to see what Julie Owen Moylan brings us next!

That Green Eyed Girl by Julie Owen Moylan is published by Penguin Michael Joseph and is available to purchase here.