Women in Translation Month | Recommendations

Women in Translation Month is just around the corner! Having shared my own TBR for this year, I thought I would also share some recommendations, highlighting a few of my favourites from the past few years. If any catch your eye, simply click on the title and it will take you over to Book Depository, where you can find out more or pick up a copy in time for #WITmonth!

The Diving Pool by Yoko Ogawa (translated from the Japanese by Stephen Snyder)

This book is comprised of three quietly unsettling novellas that creep beneath your skin in an uncanny way. They explore the sordid, sinister side of human nature that lurks beneath the surface of normal life, caused by suppressed emotion that manifests in a sense of detachment from society and casual everyday cruelty.

The History of Bees by Maja Lunde (translated from the Norwegian by Diane Oatley)

Set in the past, present, and future, this ambitious novel follows three seemingly disparate narratives that increasingly weave together. Lunde highlights how intimately our fate is tied to that of bees and why it’s so important we protect them. Drawing beautiful parallels between them and us, she asks us what kind of legacy we want to leave behind.

The Last Children of Tokyo by Yoko Tawada (translated from the Japanese by Margaret Mitsutani)

A strange, understated little book that focusses on mood and message more than plot, this is carried by a singular narrative voice, and a tone that balances pathos and whimsy. Set in a society where older generations are living ever longer, whilst children are dying young, it touches on many prescient themes, including the rise of nationalism, gender fluidity, the use of language and law-making to incite fear of the Other, and how our pursuit of self-gain is harming the planet.

The Distance Between Me and the Cherry Tree by Paola Peretti (translated from the Italian by Denise Muir)

This bittersweet novel follows a young girl as she attempts to come to terms with her failing eyesight, before she is left completely blind. Exploring difference, self-acceptance, and friendship, it’s also a great example of own-voice literature, with Peretti having the same degenerative eye condition as her protagonist.

Out by Natsuo Kirino (translated from the Japanese by Stephen Snyder)

When a young woman murders her deadbeat husband, she enlists the help of her female co-workers to help her dispose of the body and cover up the crime. The book then follows the way this act impacts the various people involved, whilst exploring the role of women within Japanese society at large.

The Vegetarian by Han Kang (translated from the Korean by Deborah Smith)

Hypnotic and at times disorientating, The Vegetarian explores the fear and misunderstanding levied at those who are bold enough to be open about their differences, particularly where mental health is concerned. Its allegorical approach won’t be for everyone, but it offers a boldly original look at our inability to understand what’s going on inside someone else’s head, and men’s stifling desire to control women.

Irmina by Barbara Yelin (translated from the German by Michael Waaler)

Inspired by the life of the author’s grandmother, this graphic novel is a look at how easy it was for those on the periphery of war to abandon their former beliefs and slip into a life of quiet complicity. It offers unique insight into a generation that looked the other way during Nazi rule, through choice, necessity, or wilful obliviousness. Though its somewhat abrupt ending lacked a sense of development or revelation, in many ways this was reflective of the book’s main theme: the impact and meaning of what is left unsaid.

The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa (translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel)

This is a touching and surprisingly nuanced story about a young man reconnecting with old friends, to try and find a new home for the beloved cat he can no longer house. Throughout their journey, we learn about the man’s past, and the ways each of the people he meets with helped to shape his life. This had a lot of potential to become overly sentimental, but I found it genuinely affecting.

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I’ll leave it there for now, but I’d love to know what some of your favourite books are by women in translation!

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Women in Translation Month | TBR

August is Women in Translation Month; the perfect opportunity to champion international literature written by women that has been translated into English. The initiative was set up to counter the fact that the majority of works translated in and out of English are written by men. This post may be a little early, but I’m already excited to get going, and wanted to share my own TBR in case anyone else is keen to get involved and is looking for some ideas.

Depending on how well I get on, I may well reach for a couple of others, but I will be prioritising the following titles:

1. Lust, Caution by Eileen Chang (translated from the Chinese by Julia Lovell)

I’ve been meaning to try Chang’s work for years, and it’s about time I stopped putting it off. The title story in this collection is described as an atmospheric look at ‘love, espionage and betrayal in wartime Shanghai’. That’s more than enough to pique my interest!

2. The Good Lover by Steinunn Sigurðardóttir (translated from the Icelandic by Philip Roughton)

I picked this up during my most recent trip to Iceland, drawn in by the striking cover, and the claim that the writer is one of the country’s most successful contemporary authors within the international market. The story follows a wealthy businessman returning to Iceland from New York as he attempts to reconnect with his childhood sweetheart.

3. Asleep by Banana Yoshimoto (translated from the Japanese by Michael Emmerich)

This is a bind-up of three novellas. Each story follows a young woman afflicted by a strange sleep habit: The first, mourning her lover, begins to sleepwalk; the second, embarking on an affair with a married man, is unable to stay awake; the third, once embroiled in a love triangle, finds her dreams haunted by the ‘other woman’ she was pitted against. Described as ‘sly’, ‘mystical’, and ‘surreal’, I’m excited to try more of Yoshimoto’s work.

4. The Unit by Ninni Holmqvist (translated from the Swedish by Marlaine Delargy)

This dystopian novel is set in the near future, when people who remain unmarried and childless by the time they turn 50 are taken to a retirement facility known as The Unit. Here, they live a life of luxury, but they must donate their organs one-by-one until the ‘final donation’. We follow one such patient, whose peaceful resignation to this fate is called into question when she falls in love with a fellow inmate. This is giving me major vibes of another popular novel, which I won’t name for the sake of spoilers, but if you know, you know.

5. The Iliac Crest by Cristina Rivera-Garza (translated from the Spanish by Sarah Booker)

A surreal, atmospheric hybrid of horror and mystery, this novel is set on a dark and stormy night (as all the best stories are). In it, a man is visited by two women who claim to know his greatest secret: that he is, in fact, a woman. In increasingly desperate attempts to assert his masculinity, the book purportedly goes on to explore the roles of gender and language.

6. Blue is the Warmest Color by Julie Maroh (translated from the French by Ivanka Hahnenberger)

I’m not generally a big re-reader, but WIT Month feels like a great excuse to pick up this graphic novel again. It’s a queer coming of age story that explores love and identity. I enjoyed it first-time around, but wasn’t as floored as some people, so I’m curious to see how it fares upon a second reading, several years on.

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I’ll leave it there for now! There are lots of books by women in translation on my TBR, and as I said, I may well reach for a couple of others depending on how well I get on. The ones listed above are all books I already own a copy of, however, hence why they’re my priority. Plus, that should leave me enough wiggle room to pick up a few books on a whim throughout the month.

I’ll put together a recommendations post highlighting a few of my favourite women in translation soon, to hopefully get us all even more hyped! If you’d like to know more about any of the books mentioned above, or if you’d like to pick up a copy in time for #WITMonth, simply click on the title and it’ll take you over to Book Depository.

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Reading Year in Review and 2019 Goals

Before we get swept up by another inevitably fast year, there’s just about time to take stock of how my reading fared throughout the previous 12 months, whilst setting out some new goals for 2019.

According to Goodreads, I read a total of 131 books, the best of which I highlighted in my Top Reads of 2018 post. My average rating for the year was 3.6 stars. This is a little lower than the previous couple of years, but I suppose it’s natural to become a more critical reader over time, and thus harder to please in some respects. It still means I’m picking up more books that I enjoy than I am books I don’t like, and that’s definitely a good thing.

I never read or don’t read a book based on the author’s gender; it’s just not a factor that even computes when I’m deciding what to pick up. Purely out of interest, however, I went through all of my 2018 reads and found that I read more than twice as many books written by women than I did books written by men. This fact is somehow unsurprising yet very pleasing.

My specific goals were:

• Read 90 books. At 131, I greatly surpassed that number, so this one gets a big tick.
• Pick up the longer books I’ve been putting off for ages. Meh, the success of this is fairly subjective. I did pick up the likes of The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton, and Vixen by Rosie Garland, but I still haven’t read Jane Eyre or The Heart’s Invisible Furies. So, I ticked a few off the ‘long books’ list, but there are others I can roll over to this year.
• Read by whim. I definitely did this, which I’m pleased about, as it seems to be the best way to avoid or get out of a reading slump. It’s also part of the reason I still haven’t picked up some of the aforementioned longer reads. The moment I told myself I had to pick one of them up so I’d meet an arbitrary goal, my brain lost interest. Definitely a lesson learned.

In terms of this year, I’m keeping it pretty simple again, with my goals being:

• Read 100 books. Pretty self-explanatory.
• Read more non-fiction. I don’t pick it up all that often, but when I do, I tend to really enjoy it. I’m not going to set a specific number for this; it’s just something I’d like to consciously reach for a little more often.
• Read more plays. Again, I don’t reach for them that often, but for the last two years, a play has ended up being one of my top 10 reads of the year. That has to say something.
• Read more Daphne du Maurier. I didn’t read a single full-length du Maurier book in 2018 (just a short story chapbook), and given that I read and adored 5 the previous year, that seems really stupid.
• Keep mood reading. The more of my life I spend as a bookworm, the more I come to accept that I’m a mood reader. Set TBRs and suchlike just don’t work for me. As I said, as soon as I tell myself I have to read a certain book, my brain just stops co-operating.

I always like to end these posts by sharing my monthly wrap up pictures from throughout the previous year. It’s a fun way for me (and anyone else who may be interested) to look back at everything I read at a glance. Happy reading in 2019, folks! Here’s hoping lots of good books come our way.

The books I read in January

The books I read in February

The books I read in March

The books I read in April

The books I read in May

The books I read in June

The books I read in July

The books I read in August

The books I read in September

The books I read in October

The books I read in November

The books I read in December

Top Reads of 2018

It’s that time again! In terms of reading, 2018 has been pretty solid, with many great reads amongst the 129 books I’ve managed to complete thus far. (I may finish another one or two before the year is out, but I’m pretty happy with this list, and so was eager to just share it now.) And since we all like to reflect on the cream of the crop, let’s jump right in.

I’m going to give an honourable mention to Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss. I should probably just make this list a top 11, because the exact number is arbitrary, but I do like the neatness of a top 10. Written with eloquence and pin-sharp precision, it is a subtly powerful exploration of gender, class, nationalism, and violence, as we follow a small group taking part in an Iron Age re-enactment. By drawing on the past, Moss is able to say much about the present day, showing the cyclical nature of men using physical power as a means of oppression. Tension builds at an unsettlingly good pace, reaching its claustrophobic best in the shocking yet beautifully understated climax. Dark, though tinged with a hope for the future that lies in the notions of youth and sisterhood, I found it thought-provoking and surprisingly impactful. The only reason it didn’t technically make the cut for my top 10 is that I just read it this month, and so it hasn’t had to stand the test of time yet.

A quick shout out as well to The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, The Gloaming by Kirsty Logan, and Partners in Crime by Agatha Christie; the other reads that were in contention for this list. But enough dallying; on with the actual countdown!

 10. The Corset by Laura Purcell

This is an intricately plotted and thematically rich gothic chiller that follows the dual narrative of a 16-year-old seamstress accused of murder, and the wealthy young woman who takes to visiting her in prison, determined to prove or disprove her guilt through the use of phrenology. An undercurrent of mystery and threat bubbles throughout this page-turner, which beyond its bleak and immersive core, manages to explore the notions of poverty, trauma, the class system, and female autonomy. Equal parts poignant and horrifying, Purcell maintains the perfect amount of ambiguity regarding its flirtation with the supernatural, leaving the reader satisfied, without losing the sinister tone of the book at large. It was also exactly what I was in the mood for when I picked it up, and there’s a lot to be said for finding the right book at the right time.

9. A Kiss Before Dying by Ira Levin

This was the first read of the year to give me the elusive book tingles (that prickling feeling of excitement that a book could well become one of your new favourites), and for that, I still think back on it very fondly all these months later. We follow a decidedly menacing chap, whose plans to claim his fiancé’s inheritance are scuppered when she falls pregnant, and risks being disowned by her father. He resolves to get rid of the baby, and his fiancé too if necessary. Clever, masterfully plotted, and just damn thrilling to read, this is perhaps one of the best crime books I’ve encountered, with a deliciously sinister plot, and brilliantly executed twists.

8. The Last Witch by Rona Munro

I adored reading this play, and I subsequently saw an excellent adaptation on the stage. It’s a powerful and atmospheric dramatization of the story of Janet Horne, the last woman to be executed for witchcraft in Scotland, in 1727. Janet as a heroine is fascinating, complex, and skilfully constructed; the atmosphere both tense and melancholy. As we delve into why Janet seems so hesitant to either confirm or deny the accusations against her, the story becomes a rousing look at the struggle for power between the sexes; othering; and the inherent hypocrisy of misogyny. I also loved its nuanced look at sisterhood, the power of language, and the magic of nature.

7. Mary’s Monster by Lita Judge

This book completely defies categorisation. It is, essentially, a novelised graphic memoir written in verse. It presents itself as though it’s the diary of Mary Shelley, exploring the events in her life that led to the creation of her magnum opus, Frankenstein. The poetic prose is beautiful; the first-person perspective intimate and engrossing; the accompanying black-and-white artwork both haunting and transporting. It’s a fascinating, original, engaging, and enlightening insight into an iconic work of literature. Above all else, however, it is a stunning love letter to the genius of Mary Shelley, and how she channelled great suffering into great art.

6. A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay

It isn’t easy to pen a horror novel that is as unsettling as it is achingly sad, but that is exactly what Tremblay has done here. Plot-wise, we follow a family who fear their eldest daughter’s increasingly strange behaviour may be caused by some kind of demonic possession. When the church gets involved, and money gets tight, they agree to let cameras into their home to document the attempts to exorcise her. On the one hand, the book is a very meta, critical analysis of the horror genre at large, with many clever homages to the classics, but it also has much to say about the demonization of mental health; religious pushback against the advances of science and medicine; and the moral depravity of a society obsessed with exploitation as a means of entertainment. It’s well worth checking out if you want to be disturbed and have your heart broken at the same time.

5. Dracula by Bram Stoker

This is one of those classics that is so iconic I thought I knew it before I’d even picked it up. I got so much more from it than I anticipated, however, in terms of both reading enjoyment and literary merit. Its epistolary structure lends an air of realism that enhances the unsettling atmosphere, and as a lover of all things gothic-horror, I thoroughly enjoyed delving into the origin of many aspects we now consider conventions of the genre. From a thematic point of view, it was a rich treasure trove to pick apart: the primal fear of bodily and sexual corruption; gender dynamics; mistrust of the unknown; and fascinating queer coding being just a few of my favourite themes to mull over. It might not be perfect by modern standards with regards to pacing and climax, but I both appreciated and enjoyed the time I spent with this book.

4. Little Boy Lost by Marghanita Laski

I found this book instantly absorbing, and utterly compelling throughout. An overlooked classic that focusses on the instinctual draw of paternal love, it follows one man’s attempts to track down his missing infant son, post-war. The emotional complexity of the hero is fantastic, as is the pacing, which sees the narrative unfold with real elegance and poignancy. The central themes of loss and healing are cleverly reflected in several aspects of the story; the backdrop of war-torn France attempting to reclaim its identity following decimation and liberation highly effective as a setting. Beautifully realised, I took its characters to heart, and they remain there to this day, despite having read it early in the year.

3. The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

This was a gripping read with strikingly vivid world-building. As an early post-apocalyptic novel, it was also interesting and fun to read from the perspective of seeing where so many modern entries in the genre have subsequently drawn from. Beyond the enthralling tale of survival it presents at face value, there is also a surprising amount of depth and social commentary going on; with conflict between survivors, gender dynamics, and ensuing moral dilemmas proving more troublesome than the deadly, sentient plants that have devastated the population. The prose itself is very readable, with flashes of evocative beauty, and I loved its exploration of the illusion that humans have tamed nature and assumed ultimate power; making this, in many ways, a cautionary tale more relevant now than ever before.

2. Everything Under by Daisy Johnson

There is so much narrative and thematic depth to this book, which made it a read for which my admiration only grew the more time I took to reflect on it. A tinge of almost ethereal otherworldliness is befitting of the classic myths and fairy tales it so strongly feeds from, but it still maintains a bold, original identity all of its own, thanks to its intricate plot, and its complex, fascinating characters. Its tragically inevitable outcome, and its sense of pathos and quiet magic may not work for everyone, but I was swept up by its lush prose, clever structure, and its nuanced look at identity and gender fluidity; fate vs free will; the power of language; storytelling as a means of preserving memory; acceptance of the truth; and whether or not children have a duty to their parents.

1. The Lightkeepers by Abby Geni

In The Lightkeepers, we follow a nature photographer who secures a residency on a small cluster of remote, untouched islands, where the only other inhabitants are a group of scientists studying the indigenous animal species. Geni’s prose is utterly breathtaking, and she captures the raw beauty, daunting power, and savage menace of the natural world like no other writer I’ve ever encountered. When violence disrupts the group dynamic, the story becomes a fantastic meditation on the nature of storytelling as a means of coping with trauma. There are excellent parallels between Miranda’s work as a photographer and the ‘framing’ of a story to distort reality; between the cycle of the seasons and the process of grief; and a core of mystery with pleasing homages to Christie’s And Then There Were None. Rich, intricate, and expertly handled, I was utterly enthralled; by its narrative, its construction, and by its deceptive complexity. The Lightkeepers serves as a powerful and somehow timeless reminder that we too are just animals, doing what we have to do to get by – however ugly it may be.

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There we have it! Here’s to lots of great reads for us all in 2019. Have you read any of these? What were your favourite reads of the year?

Most Anticipated Releases 2019

I’ve seen a few of my bookish chums posting about their most anticipated releases of 2019, and I couldn’t resist joining in. This is by no means a comprehensive list of exciting reads due to come out next year; just a few that are high up on my list of interest so far.

Keep in mind that precise release dates may differ depending on country and edition, but for the sake of ease, I’ve listed them chronologically in terms of their UK release, and have linked to them all on Goodreads, in case you want to know more.

The Twisted Tree by Rachel Burge – published 10^th January by Hot Key Books

This is being pitched as ‘part ghost story, part Nordic thriller’, and sounds as though it may draw on fairy tale and mythology; which is all right up my street. It focusses on a girl who can absorb someone’s emotions and memories simply by touching their clothes, with things taking a twisted turn as she seeks to uncover the meaning behind this strange ability.

The Last by Hanna Jameson – published 31^st January by Viking

Part locked-room murder mystery, and part dystopian, this follows 20 survivors of a nuclear war who are holed up together in a hotel. When a body is found, they realise one of them must be the killer. It’s pretty ambitious to combine two such distinct genres, but if Jameson pulls it off, this could be a thrilling read.

The Glass Woman by Caroline Lea – published 7^th February by Michael Joseph

This is historical fiction set in Iceland (my favourite place on Earth). It’s also giving me some major Rebecca vibes, with the suggestion that our heroine feels haunted by the spectre of her husband’s first wife, which I’m totally here for. Set during the witch trials of the 17^th century, ‘in a land governed by religion and fear’, I’m hoping this could be a dark, atmospheric, and transporting read.

The Twisted Tree, The Last, & The Glass Woman

The Dreamers by Karen Thompson Walker – published 7^th February by Scribner

The strange and intriguing concept of this one hooked me right away: a college town is swept by a strange new illness that sees victims fall into a deep sleep they cannot be woken from. But once unconscious, their brains show unusually high levels of activity. It sounds as though it’s going to be a quiet dystopian, low sci-fi, speculative novel with a focus on female characters; and if all of that is true, I can’t wait to dive in.

Inspection by Josh Malerman – published 23^rd April by Del Rey.

In ‘a world of secrets and horror’, this ‘tantalizing thriller’ sees boys and girls trained in separate schools ‘for geniuses’, unaware of each other’s existence. I adore Bird Box, a novel by the same author, and it sounds as though this one could have a lot of creeping intrigue and gender commentary. Sign me up!

The Missing Years by Lexie Eliot – published 23^rd April by Berkley

Described as ‘claustrophobic’, this is set in ‘an eerie, old Scottish manor in the middle of nowhere’. Frankly, I don’t need to know anything else, because if that’s not my brand I don’t know what is. Props to Rachel for instantly knowing that this would appeal to me, and for promptly bringing it to my attention.

The Dreamers, Inspection, & The Missing Years

Things We Say in the Dark by Kirsty Logan – published Halloween 2019 by Harvill Secker

There’s no cover art or concrete release date for this one yet, but how could I not mention a collection of sinister, feminist horror stories? I’m already a big fan of Logan’s work, which often has good queer rep, and draws from folk and fairy tales. These particular stories are said to be ‘dark and visceral’, exploring ‘female experience, domestic claustrophobia, desire, family ties, and male aggression’. Consider me HYPED.

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There we have it! What are some of your most anticipated releases of 2019?

What Makes a Five Star Read?

Let’s chat!

In many ways, a five star read is a very personal thing. With our own individual tastes and expectations, what works for some won’t necessarily work for others. I also think there can be discrepancies in what the same reader looks for from genre to genre.

Generally speaking though, we all have our weaknesses; those literary devices that draw us in time and time again, greatly increasing the likelihood that we’ll dish out a much coveted five star rating. Aside from a gripping and immersive story, which sort of goes without saying, here are some features that I can’t help but love. I’d be very interested to know what equivalent elements work for you, so let’s chat about it in the comments.

Atmosphere

I already alluded to liking books that are immersive, and for me, well-crafted atmosphere is the number one way to achieve that – hence why gothic fiction is my favourite genre. I want my books dark, brooding, and sinister; I want the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up, and a shiver to snake its way up my spine. If an author can transport me to their world and give me that feeling – which I usually refer to as ‘the five star tingles’ – they’re already well on their way to getting a perfect rating from me.

Flawed characters

I love it when an author can blur the lines between right and wrong, with morally complex characters that feel fleshed out, and all the more believable for it. Give me a flawed hero or a redeemable villain over the clear-cut good and bad guys any day of the week.

Beautiful language

Have you ever read a book so stunning in its use of prose that it leaves you feeling literally breathless? That it has you rereading passages to better absorb its stunning imagery? I adore that feeling. Obviously, there’s a time and a place for this, and overly poetic language doesn’t work well in certain genres; but when it’s implemented in a way that enhances the mood and impact of the story, drawing us deeper and deeper into the author’s world, it’s such an impressive feat.

Isolated settings

This is a particularly personal one, I admit, but I suppose it goes along with the idea of atmosphere and immersion. There’s something about rural, isolated settings (think islands or woodlands; deep in a dessert or far out at sea) that instantly ramps up the atmosphere, and makes the stakes feel that much higher, allowing for an incisive exploration of its characters and themes.

Layers

I like my fiction like I like my onions (and my ogres) – with layers. By this, I mean I love it when an author can craft a story that works at face value as a damn good read, with a compelling plot and engaging characters, but which also hides greater depth of meaning with regards to its imagery and themes for those who care to look. It’s an amazing feeling when your appreciation for a book grows the more you reflect on it, picking apart its layers and discovering just how intricately it was constructed.

Stories about stories

Most of us read because we love stories, and I am no exception. That’s why I get excited when a book can deftly explore the beauty and power of storytelling itself. This can manifest in everything from a book being a re-telling of a classic myth, to characters that tell lies to protect themselves from the truth; and from meta works that reference other books, to characters that seek comfort in fiction. The more I look back on favourite reads, the more I can identify this as a theme that unites many of them.

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There we have it; by no means a comprehensive list, but a few of the most frequently present elements of my five star reads. What makes a five star read for you?

Underwhelming Reads

Let’s get controversial…

I love doing tags, but for the most part, they invite discussion on the books we had the strongest reactions to; the ones we loved, and the ones we loathed. This means there’s a whole load of books that often fall by the wayside, rarely to be talked about; the awkward in-between reads that we had high hopes for, but which left us feeling underwhelmed. So, in the spirit of something a little different, here are some thoughts on a few reads I found decidedly lukewarm, in spite of all the hype. I didn’t hate any of them, not by a long stretch (I think I gave them all 2 or 3 stars). Rather, they are all essentially the definition of ‘meh’. There is, of course, no offence intended to anyone who adores these books – we can’t love ‘em all.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

If I’m going to be controversial, I might as well start strong, right? This book undoubtedly has its merits, but my major issue with it is the way it is still held up as though it’s the pinnacle of feminist fiction; as though the discussion hasn’t advanced at all in the past 30 years. Firstly, it’s pretty outdated in terms of its lack of intertextuality, with little to no discussion on POC and queer characters. There are many plot threads that go unanswered; scenes that feel tonally jarring (like a single reference to Japanese tourists wandering around this supposedly closed and secretive community that is never mentioned again; and a dry, info-dumpy epilogue that erodes any ambiguity created in the climax); not to mention the obvious shock factor: I didn’t buy the fleeting excuse shoehorned in at the end that they didn’t utilise IVF in the face of a major population crisis because it was ‘irreligious’ – as though married men having sex with other women against their will isn’t? Hmm.

It’s obviously a valuable book that throws up a lot of interesting ideas, and which caused shockwaves upon release. I just wish that publishers and reviewers didn’t constantly fall into the obvious trap of likening it to every and any book with a feminist theme to this day. It earned its place in the feminist canon, but the discussion has to be allowed to move on to new, more nuanced heights.

The Power by Naomi Alderman

The Power had a lot of hype, and won a string of awards, but it just didn’t work for me, sadly. The focus felt skewed, with a lack of nuance or any fresh take on gender discussion. Its appropriation of cultural norms and like-for-like gender reversals to illustrate its obvious points felt far too simplistic, and neither the plot nor the characters grabbed me, beyond the striking initial concept. Having learned that Alderman was mentored and endorsed by Atwood, perhaps I should have been better prepared to not gel with her style.

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins

This was billed as the thriller of its time, and to this day, we see nigh on every new crime book described as ‘the successor to Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train’. With so much buzz, I went in expecting a dynamic and original take on the genre. What I found was a surprisingly generic thriller, with twists that felt disappointingly predictable. The lead character’s alcoholism seemed, at first, like a unique and interesting perspective, but soon became a convenient plot device, with Hawkins able to draw out the mystery by having her heroine black out and forget any key information she wanted. Again, it wasn’t bad, I just couldn’t see why it was being elevated above its peers.

Lullaby by Leїla Slimani

Lullaby has such a brilliantly sinister concept, and opens with a powerful gut-punch. From there, I felt it floundered, and failed to capitalise on its amazing potential. We open in the wake of a double murder, where two children have been killed by their nanny. We then go back, presumably to explore the events that could lead to such a desperate and horrific act. However, nothing really happens. None of the events preceding the murder feel convincing enough to explain why she did it, nor to properly examine her psyche. Nor do we go forward in time to explore the anguish of the aftermath. As such, the book essentially lives and dies by a fantastic concept it fails to live up to.

The Widow by Fiona Barton

This was one of those aforementioned crime books, hyped as ‘the next big hit for fans of Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train’. Like a chump, I fell for it again. My trouble with The Widow is that it spells out the obvious outcome that everyone assumes is what happened, and then… that’s exactly what did happen. There are no big twists, no clever reveals. It simply spends 300+ pages confirming everything you, and the characters, suspected right from the start. Harsh as it sounds, I couldn’t help but wonder what the point was.

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There we have it; some underwhelming reads. I’d be intrigued to hear what books you expected to love but found lukewarm.

Book Review Pet Peeves

Inspired by a great post on Zuky’s blog, I’m going to discuss some of my biggest book review pet peeves. We’re all different, so no offence is intended to anyone who may like these particular things in their reviews. On with the ranting!

1. Rating without reading

I’ve seen this several times now, and I’m always dumbfounded by it. Rating a book on Goodreads that you haven’t even read yet not only doesn’t make sense, but it skews its stats unfairly. It’s weird enough to me when someone rates an upcoming book highly because they think they’re going to love it, but even weirder when it’s a low rating with no justification. As an example, I recently saw a two-star rating accompanied by the text: “I don’t know how I feel about this book as I haven’t read it yet.” *facepalm*

2. Rehashing the blurb

Reviews are all about opinions, right? That’s why I don’t get it when someone includes little or no analysis on the book’s content, and simply recounts details of the plot that the blurb already tells us. It provides no insight, and has nothing to do with whether they enjoyed the book or not.

3. Not marking spoilers

Spoilers are the bane of many a reader’s existence. Sometimes you encounter them accidentally; sure, it’s annoying, but it can’t always be helped. But when it comes to reviews on Goodreads, there’s no excuse. The site literally has a feature that allows you to hide spoilers so that readers will need to click to reveal them, and can’t, as such, accidentally spoil a book for themselves. Even when it comes to reviews on blogs, twitter, etc., I don’t think a simple ‘spoiler warning’ at the top of the post is asking for too much.

4. ‘I don’t like the subject matter’

I want to make it clear that I’m not talking about people who are triggered by specific subjects. If something crops up in a book unannounced that causes you distress, that’s totally fair and valid. What I’m talking about is people who would leave a negative review saying, “I don’t like books set on boats”, on a book that based on its blurb, and cover, is quite clearly set on a boat; or, “I don’t like poetry”, on what is quite blatantly a poetry book. (These are both real reviews I’ve seen.) Perhaps I should be applauding them for trying to read outside of their comfort zone… but I just don’t see how a review that only tells us they knew they weren’t going to like it in the first place is very helpful. Again, triggers aside, I see a similar thing a lot with thriller and horror books, where they are marked down for being ‘dark’, or for having some violent or scary scenes, when it’s made clear in the blurb that’s what you can expect – not to mention that it’s kind of the whole point of the genre in most cases.

5. Attacking readers

We’ve all got different tastes and opinions. Life would be pretty boring if we didn’t. So, whilst it’s totally okay to say you think something is rubbish and to explain why, it’s not okay to say you think people who enjoyed it are stupid or wrong. As long as it’s not hurting anyone, just let people enjoy the things that make them happy, and read on in search of the books you do like.

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What are some of your biggest book review pet peeves?

Most Anticipated Releases of 2018

Now that 2017 is all wrapped up and resolutions have been made, we can start looking forward to what the next year has to offer. I’m actually nigh on hopeless at keeping up to date with new and upcoming releases, so to an extent, this post is a call-out for a heads up from you guys about what books I should be aware of. That said, there are a few books already on my radar, which I’ve mentioned below for anyone else on the lookout for what could be some of 2018’s most exciting new reads (for me, at least).

Some of my most anticipated releases of 2018

The Water Cure by Sophie Mackintosh

Described as a “blazing vision of suffering, sisterhood and transformation”, the opening of the blurb for this book was more than enough to hook me in, so I shall simply share it here. It’s somewhat vague and mysterious, but I’m definitely getting some feminist, dystopian vibes, which I’m all for:

“Imagine a world very close to our own: where women are not safe in their bodies, where desperate measures are required to raise a daughter. This is the story of Grace, Lia and Sky, kept apart from the world for their own good and taught the terrible things that every woman must learn about love.”

The Sealwoman’s Gift by Sally Magnusson

I adore Iceland. I adore immersive historical fiction when it’s done well. I adore stories about stories, steeped in the tradition of folk and fairy tales. This book promises to provide all of that, and I am ready for it, I can tell you. Inspired by true events, the book gives voice to an Icelandic woman who is one of 400 people seized by Barbary pirates in the 1600s and sold into slavery in Algiers, who uses the stories of her homeland to survive in a culture that feels completely alien.

Mary Rose by Geoffrey Girard

I’ve seen the J.M. Barrie play that inspired this intriguing, ghostly tale, and whilst I enjoyed it, I felt the story could have delved a little deeper, hence my excitement when I heard it was being adapted into a full-length novel. It centres around a young woman who disappeared as a child for thirty days. Though she returned unharmed, she had no recollection of what occurred, and her behaviour grows increasingly strange as time goes by, with her fiancé determined to find out exactly what happened all those years ago.

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin

This book focusses on four siblings who are all told the exact date they will die by a travelling psychic whilst in their adolescence, and explores the ways this knowledge shapes each of their lives over the years that follow. That’s all I need to know! (The pretty cover doesn’t hurt either, to be fair.)

The Gloaming by Kirsty Logan

I love Kirsty Logan’s writing, as there is a lifeblood of folk lore and fairy tales that runs through her work, which coupled with her beautiful prose and deft handling of characters swept me up with all three of her previous books. The Gloaming features an island setting, a lesbian mermaid, and themes of love and grief – AKA, sign me up.

Unbury Carol by Josh Malerman

Despite being on my list of most anticipated releases, I’m actually going into this one with a fair few reservations, not least because it’s technically a western, and that is so not my cup of tea normally. I loved Malerman’s novel, Bird Box, however, and also enjoyed his novella, A House at the Bottom of a Lake, so I know he’s capable of creating gripping plots, and fascinating characters and concepts. I love all things fairy tale-esque, and this is supposedly a twisted take on Sleeping Beauty, about a woman who slips into death-like comas, and the danger this puts her in when her husband plots to exploit her condition by burying her alive and stealing her fortune.

Whistle in the Dark by Emma Healey

Not too dissimilar to Mary Rose in basic concept, interestingly, Whistle in the Dark is about a mother’s search for the truth after her teenage daughter disappears for four days, refusing to discuss what happened, and acting increasingly strange and secretive upon her return. Healey’s novel, Elizabeth is Missing, wasn’t perfect plot-wise for me, but it was very well written with a fantastically well realised heroine, so I’m keen to try more from her.

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There we have it! What are some of your most anticipated releases for 2018?

Reading Year in Review & 2018 Goals

As we enter a new year, there’s just time to reflect on 2017 and see how I got on with my reading. According to Goodreads, I read a total of 126 books, the best of which I highlighted in my Top Reads of 2017 post.

In terms of the specific goals I had set myself, first was to finish 100 books, which thusly gets a tick. Secondly was to complete the diversity bingo chart that I put together, in an effort to be a little more conscientious about my reading. I did so, and shared a wrap up detailing the results of it in a separate post which I’ll link here. Thirdly, I wanted to read more plays. All-in-all, I read a total of five (a standalone, and four by the same writer that came in a single bind-up edition). Considering that last year I read three and in an average year I would have read none, that is technically a success, but I’m not going to go shouting from the rooftops about it, and it’s one that can very much be carried over into this year.

Again, according to Goodreads, my average rating for the year was 3.7 stars – I’m pretty happy with that! It means I’m picking up a lot more books that I’m enjoying than I am books I don’t like, which is very much a good thing.

As for new reading goals heading into 2018, I’m keeping it fairly casual this year. I’ll be setting a Goodreads target of 90 books. I definitely don’t want to be a slave to numbers and pressure myself too much, but I do like that when you set a goal, it collates all your reads into a single place, which is handy for looking back on your annual reading.

It might sound odd that I’m setting a lower target than last year, but that brings me to my second goal, which is to pick up some of the longer reads that I’ve been needlessly putting off. I have no shame in the fact that I definitely have a preference for shorter books (I love when an author can sweep me up and pack a punch without any needless faff, and I like the gratification of getting through my ever-growing TBR at a decent pace), but it does mean I have an annoying habit of putting off books I really want to read, simply because they’re a bit longer. There are some specific books in particular that come to mind for this, and I want 2018 to be the year I pick at least some of them up.

Last but not least is to allow myself to read by whim. I try to do this anyway, but there’s been a lot of chat within the online bookish community lately about reading pressures and possible competitiveness. Whilst I don’t feel in competition with other readers at all, I do tend to put pressure on myself sometimes (be it to read a book faster, or to pick something up purely because I told myself the previous week/month that I would and feel guilty for not doing so, even if I’m just not in the right mood for it at the time). That’s stupid, because reading is a hobby and something I love, and as such, I want to feel free to pick up whatever book I want to read, whenever I want to read it.

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I look forward to seeing what books 2018 will bring my way – who knows, maybe I’ll even discover some new all-time favourites! Last but not least, I’m going to share my monthly wrap up pics below so that I, or anyone else who may be interested, can see all the books I read this year in one place. If any titles or covers catch your eye and you’d like to know more, please don’t hesitate to ask. Thanks for reading, and happy New Year to you all.

All the books I read in January

All the books I read in February

All the books I read in March

All the books I read in April

All the books I read in May

All the books I read in June

All the books I read in July

All the books I read in August

All the books I read in September

All the books I read in October

All the books I read in November

All the books I read in December