May Wrap Up

The books I read in May

As May comes to a close, here are some thoughts on the books I read throughout this past month. There are 11 of them, which took my total for the year so far up to 52.

The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Adventure, espionage, political intrigue, twists galore, and great characters; this book was a pacy and hugely enjoyable read that completely swept me up. Enigmatic and instantly likable, lead heroine, Tuppence, is one of my favourite Christie characters thus far, being intelligent, resourceful, snarky and brave. It’s lighter in tone and has a more adventurous slant than, say, the whodunnits of Poirot fame, but it still has its fair share of dark and intriguing plot points, and the trademark web of deceit and mystery that Christie fans will no doubt adore.

I am, I am, I am by Maggie O’Farrell

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] It was a treat to discover the wonderful imagery and great sense of flow that predominate O’Farrell’s writing style. Her evocative turn of phrase does incredibly well to heighten the visceral nature of the anecdotes she shares in this unique memoir, in which O’Farrell frames her life through her various experiences with death. This fantastic concept, ironically, also led to the somewhat lacking impact of the book for me, however. Some of the stories shared are haunting and emotionally charged; with others it’s a real stretch to consider them near death experiences. Personally, I would have favoured the omission of these ‘weaker’ anecdotes in favour of exploring the lasting impact of the others in greater depth.

The Power by Naomi Alderman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] I wanted to love this but was sadly left feeling disappointed. I think the concept is great, and I love social commentary exploring feminist themes, but the word that kept coming to mind throughout the whole thing was ‘bland’. The parts of the narrative that felt in any way nuanced were glossed over, whilst other parts felt needlessly forced and heavy-handed. It was predictable and offered little in the way of a fresh perspective on gender discussion. I also found its appropriation of cultural norms and like-for-like gender reversals for too simplistic. Perhaps it was hurt by the hype, but I just couldn’t’ get emotionally invested in this one at all, unfortunately.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J.K. Rowling

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I put off reading this for years, because the main Harry Potter series is such an integral part of my childhood that I wanted to leave it alone. When this gorgeous illustrated edition came out, however, I knew I’d relent. Olivia Lomenech Gill’s artwork is brilliantly expressive and enchanting, really enhancing the immersive quality of this fun and imaginative jaunt through the Wizarding World.

The Gloaming by Kirsty Logan

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I was instantly swept up by The Gloaming’s tone of melancholy and quiet magic. It explores notions of family, sisterhood, loyalty, grief, and love, whilst also ruminating on the ideas of beauty, bodily difference, sexuality, and self-acceptance. Above all else, however, this is a beautiful tale about the power and vital importance of stories; from the way we lose ourselves in books, to the lies we tell to protect ourselves from pain. The use of setting and structure are great, and Logan’s prose is wonderful; suitably ornate and enchanting but in an understated way that avoids the trap of indulging in too much whimsy. The lifeblood of fairy tales and hints of magical realism work to haunting effect here, with fantastic imagery that enhances the story rather than distracting from or undermining it.

The Vigilante by John Steinbeck

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The three stories in this little collection explore the themes of violence, racism, and female suppression. All are very readable and subtly handled, and though I thoroughly enjoyed the unsettling atmosphere that Steinbeck created, I felt they all fizzled out somewhat, and would have preferred punchier endings that hit home his point with greater power and emotion.

My Name is Leon by Kit de Waal

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set against the backdrop of racial prejudice and class tensions in 80s Britain, My Name is Leon is a story about getting lost in the care system, and the finding of family. Clearly written from an informed and compassionate perspective, it has a subtle power, and is at equal turns charming, poignant and bittersweet. My niggles included a climax that felt misjudged tonally, and a lack of exploration of Leon’s school experience, despite school being the nucleus of a child’s life in those formative years. However, I appreciated that de Waal avoided the obvious though unrealistic ‘happily ever after’ ending that many authors would have opted for, and found it an enjoyable and very readable novel overall, with a protagonist that many will take to heart.

An Illustrated Treasury of Scottish Folk and Fairy Tales by Theresa Breslin

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Exactly what it says on the tin. This was a suitably charming and nostalgic read.

Tin Man by Sarah Winman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A sense of quiet beauty and supressed melancholy hover over this moving tale of friendship, first love, lost time, and reflection on what could have been. The characters are engaging and nuanced, with the dynamic between the three main players being wonderfully bittersweet. It may not offer much that is new to the narrative of gay fiction set in the 60s-90s, but it is written with so much grace and heart, avoiding sensationalism, that it is more than worth the read.

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is a book that I enjoyed well enough in terms of plot, but loved in themes, ideas and social commentary. As with the best sci-fi, it has elements of adventure, and can be read as a bit of an intergalactic romp, but it manages to say a lot about our own world at the same time. It is essentially a look at cultural identity, and the difficulties of integrating and growing as a person without letting go of your roots; as well as the power of empathy and communication to unite seemingly disparate races. Things wrapped up a little neatly, but there’s scope for the rest of the series to delve deeper.

When I Hit You by Meena Kandasamy

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Told from the viewpoint of a domestic abuse survivor, this book is an unflinching answer to the cruel though inevitable question: Why didn’t she leave him sooner? It explores with harrowing realism the ways that abusers, and a society that shames victims, trap those who would otherwise be able to seek freedom sooner. Along the way, it also debunks nigh on every stereotype of a ‘battered wife’ in Indian culture. Politically charged and beautifully written, this book should be placed in the hands of anyone who dares to suggest that walking away is ever easy.

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Here’s to another month of great reading for us all in June.

My favourite reads this month were The Gloaming and When I Hit You – What were yours?

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Let’s Recommend | Dystopian Fiction

Let’s recommend some dystopian fiction.

This time round, I’m going to recommend a few of my favourite dystopian stories. As always with this series, I invite you all to exchange your own recommendations in return.

The Trees by Ali Shaw

Undeniably strange in places, this book is one for those who want to be swept up in a tale that is dark and unsettlingly magical in tone. The story opens when the ground erupts with endless numbers of trees, tearing apart the landscape, displacing people, and ending their way of life as they knew it. We follow a group of four characters as they attempt to understand their new world, and to navigate the now hostile environment, encountering dangers from the people, animals and strange new creatures that now call the forests home. The characters are all complex and flawed; the prose lush and vivid; and the genre-defying story a tapestry of adventure, fantasy, and mythology, whilst also being something of a fable for the modern world.

The Girl With All the Gifts by M.R. Carey

I won’t say much about the plot of this one, to preserve the experience of seeing the truth unfold, but I will say that this book manages to bring a fresh take to a much-explored sub-genre of dystopian fiction. It’s a thrilling read, and yet it poses big questions about what it truly means to be human, and what we are capable of in terms of both compassion and cruelty. It’s brutal at times, and yet always full of heart, with the story itself carried by a fantastically well-realised young heroine.

Bird Box by Josh Malerman

This is one of the most intense, claustrophobic, horrifying and captivating books I’ve ever read. It’s a masterclass in the fear of the unknown, and a fantastic example of the ways an author can toy with our senses to elicit an emotional response. Plot-wise, there is something outside. No one knows what it is or where it came from, but a single glimpse is enough to drive you to insanity and deadly violence. The pacing, plot, characters, and atmosphere are all brilliantly handled, combining to create a haunting tale that has stayed with me so strongly.

The Beauty by Aliya Whiteley

In this ethereal, hypnotic read, women have been wiped out by a fungal infection. Men await inevitable death, exchanging stories of the women they have lost, until a bizarre new species begins to grow from the bodies of the deceased. It is both beautiful and disturbing in equal measure; at once a dark and quietly terrifying dystopian, and a fascinating exploration of gender roles and the importance of storytelling. Through gorgeous prose and a fever dream of events, Whiteley ultimately asks us to question the importance we place on physical beauty in women, and the extent to which man is predisposed to revert to violence.

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What are some of your favourite dystopian novels?

My Favourite Scottish Slang

A bit of a different post today! I recently read (and loved) The Gloaming by Kirsty Logan, in which each chapter is named after a Scots word. Whilst I don’t have a particularly strong accent or think of myself as especially Scottish in the stereotypical sense, it did make me realise just how many traditional Scottish words and phrases are interwoven into my every day dialect. As a lover of stories and language, I thought it would be fun to share a few of my favourites, some of which I use regularly myself, others I just enjoy hearing.

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It’s a sair fecht – A direct translation would be ‘it’s a sore fight’, but it’s used in the context of ‘it’s a hard life’; usually said with a sigh at the end of a long day. I picked this one up from my Grandad.

Dreich – Used to describe a dull, horrible day. We have ample opportunity to use this one in Scotland.

Haud yer wheesht – This essentially means ‘shut up’, usually said with exasperation when someone keeps rambling on.

Sleekit – A great way to describe someone who is dishonest or sly.

Dwam – A dwam is a daydream. My mum often tells us that a teacher once described her as being ‘in a permanent dwam’.

Glaikit – I love this word. If someone is glaikit, they’re slow or, frankly, stupid.

Numpty – A numpty is an idiot. What can I say, we’re a very sarcastic bunch.

Peely-wally – This means pale and is used to describe someone who looks washed out or ill.

Messages – To this day, I haven’t found anyone who can explain to me why we call groceries ‘messages’, and yet, we do.

Haver – This is both a noun and a verb. If you’re a haver, you never shut up, and may thus also be described as ‘havering a load of nonsense’.

Fouter – Again, this is both a noun and a verb. If something is a fouter, it’s an annoying, fiddly task. If you’re foutering, you’re making a needless fuss over something and over-complicating it.

Swither – If you’re swithering, you can’t make up your mind.

Shoogle – If you shoogle something, you give it a good shake.

Clype – A clype is someone, generally an annoying child, who tells tales to get other people in trouble.

Coorie – Coorie means to get cosy, as in to coorie under a blanket.

Braw – This simply means ‘good’.

Couthie – If someone is couthie, they’re sweet and friendly.

Tumshie – A tumshie is a turnip. It can also be used to call someone a fool, or as a term of endearment, similar to the way the French say ‘mon petit chou’ (‘my little cabbage’) – but I’m getting into a wormhole here, because I believe some people think that phrase originally came from choux pastry, rather than cabbages…

Awa’ an bile yer heid – Okay, I don’t think I would ever use this one in conversation myself, but it does make me laugh. Literally, it means ‘go away and boil your head’; used when someone is being annoying or talking nonsense.

Lang may yer lum reek – Again, this isn’t something I would likely say, but I love the sentiment behind it. It translates as ‘long may your chimney smoke’ and it’s an old well-wish that you would typically say when parting ways with someone; the idea being that if your chimney was smoking, you had surplus wood to burn, and thus financial stability and a warm, safe home. You tend to only hear this around New Year these days, as an old-fashioned way of wishing people a long and happy life.

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Do you have favourite words or phrases from your native language or regional dialect?

The Netflix Book Tag

I fancied doing a book tag, and have seen this one floating around on and off for a while, so let’s just jump right in, shall we?

Recently Watched: The book you most recently read

The Power by Naomi Alderman (spoiler: I was disappointed).

Top Picks: A book recommended to you based on another book you’ve read

Rachel recommended A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro after I read Never Let Me Go and wasn’t sure where to go next with his books. Both are great; his work is so quietly affecting.

Recently Added: The book you most recently bought

Our Numbered Days, a poetry collection by Neil Hilborn. I haven’t been reading as much poetry lately as I usually would, and this is a collection I’ve had my eye on for a while.

Popular on Netflix: Books that everyone knows about (2 you’ve read and 2 you have no interest in reading)

Books that everyone knows about instantly calls to mind classics, so with that said: Two I’ve read (and very much enjoyed) are Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie and The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells, whilst two I have no interest in reading are War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy and Moby-Dick by Herman Melville – I just couldn’t put myself through books that long when I’ve heard so consistently how dull they both are.

Comedies: A funny book

I’m a big Carrie Fisher fan, and the anecdotes in her memoir, Wishful Drinking, crackle with her amazing wit and warmth.

Dramas: A character that is a total drama king or queen

Her by Harriet Lane is, to put it bluntly, one of the worst thrillers I’ve ever read, largely because it wasn’t remotely thrilling. What’s more, when the motivation behind our villain’s actions was finally revealed, it exposed her as quite possibly the most ridiculous and petty character of all time. To say she over-reacted to things is an understatement.

Cartoons: a book with cartoons on the cover

The Imaginary

The Imaginary by A.F. Harrold is a middle grade novel with a fantastic concept, focusing on the idea of a villain who hunts children’s imaginary friends. The cover, and the images inside, were illustrated by Emily Gravett.

Watch again: a book or series you want to read again

Harry Potter goes without saying. I really want to re-read the Chaos Walking trilogy by Patrick Ness. I loved them first-time round, but my tastes have changed so much over the years that I’m also a little scared to revisit them… That’s why I generally do very little re-reading, truth be told.

Documentaries: a non-fiction book that you would recommend to everyone

Jo Cox: More in Common. It chronicles the life of the MP and humanitarian campaigner who was killed by a white supremacist, from the viewpoint of her husband. For a book focused on a political figure, it isn’t dry at all. Instead, it feels remarkably human, capturing the essence of a woman who stood with compassion and dignity for what she believed in.

Action & Adventure: an action-packed book

Saga, the graphic novel series written by Brian K. Vaughan and illustrated by Fiona Staples is an action-packed sci-fi romp about warring factions, bounty hunters, star-crossed lovers, and all sorts of weird and wonderful creatures, but it also has a lot of heart.

New releases: A new release or soon-to-be-released book that you’re excited about

I’m excited to pick up Kirsty Logan’s new book, The Gloaming, and Louise O’Neill’s The Surface Breaks, which both just came out. As for an upcoming release, The Water Cure by Sophie Mackintosh springs to mind. I appear to be on some kind of water-based feminist kick, and that’s more than okay with me.

As a lovely bonus, they all have gorgeous covers too.

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There we have it! I wasn’t tagged by anyone, so will leave this open to all who want to get involved.

Book to Film | Annihilation

Annihilation’s book cover (left) and film poster (right)

Controversial opinion incoming right from the off; this was, for me, a rare example of enjoying the film considerably more than the book. This was due largely to the way it was adapted, focussing on a faithfulness to concept and tone, rather than feeling constrained to recreate the novel’s plotline, step-by-step. Indeed, there were several significant deviations plot-wise, but the strange, absorbing nature of the setting, and the dark, ethereal, hallucinogenic atmosphere were captured beautifully.

For those unfamiliar with either version of the story, it follows a woman who volunteers to join the latest expedition into a mysterious environmental disaster zone. Her husband has returned as the sole survivor of his own similar mission after being MIA for a year, though he has been evidently changed by his experiences. She joins an all-female scientific team, and ventures into Area X to try and uncover its secrets.

The main thing holding me back from loving the book was how distant the characters felt. The film addresses this by giving us much more distinct glimpses into their personalities and backstories, making it far easier to feel emotionally invested in their fates. This, to me, meant there was more at stake when the group dynamic began to fray and the psyches of the characters were compromised by Area X’s abnormalities. Many people’s reservation with screen adaptations is that they feel pared back, having been forced to cut significant details. In this case, however, I’d argue the film feels more fleshed out, providing a better hit of emotion and a greater sense of completeness without sacrificing its surreal side, or the air of mystique that hangs over Area X. Indeed, the film features some of the strangest and most unsettling sequences I think I’ve ever seen.

The visuals are gorgeous (I’m disappointed I didn’t get the chance to see it on the big screen), and I thought the cast all gave very good performances. The jumps in timeline and location could prove jarring for some viewers, but to me felt like a nice nod to the non-linear structure of VanderMeer’s novel.

The film’s principal cast. Top row, from the left: Natalie Portman, Jennifer Jason Leigh & Gina Rodriguez. Bottom row, from the left: Tessa Thompson, Oscar Isaac & Tuva Navotny.

I admire director Alex Garland for honouring the book’s spirit whilst putting his own distinct spin on the story and characters. I also admire him and producer Scott Rudin for sticking to their artistic guns. The film ended up getting a very limited release (only showing in theatres in the US and China, and being released on Netflix elsewhere) due to their unwillingness to placate Paramount by simplifying the ending, dumbing down the ‘intellectual’ feel of the film, or changing the development of the heroine to make her more sympathetic. It’s refreshing to see a case of art put before money and corporate box ticking, even if it was to the detriment of the scale of the film’s release.

Having sat with the film for several days, I find it greatly haunting my thoughts, like a dream you just can’t shake (I don’t think I’ll ever forget the scene with the bear…) For that alone, my appreciation for it is ever growing. It’s an unfortunate rarity these days to find a film unafraid of staying true to its original vision, and bold enough not to hand us all the answers, no matter how challenging it may be to the audience. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a big fan of ‘weird for the sake of weird’, and whilst I felt the book flirted with exactly that, the film took the source material’s greatest strengths and infused them with enough humanity for the story to connect so much more.

Whilst it can simply be viewed as an absorbing, surreal sci-fi ride for those who want to be weirded-out, there are also many different thematic layers to be picked apart, and interpretations to be made. To me, it explores notions of the human propensity to self-destruct, as well as the ideas of transformation and second chances. Not for everyone, I’m sure (but then neither was the book), I’d say it’s well worth giving a go if you’re in search of a film that will get you thinking. As far as screen adaptations go, this was one clearly approached with intelligence and style.

April Wrap Up

All the books I read in April

Somehow, it’s time for another wrap up already. Throughout April, I read 10 books, bringing my total for the year so far up to 41. Here are some thoughts on each of them, in the order I read them.

Gather the Daughters by Jennie Melamed

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This book about a secluded, cult-like community that enforces strict gender roles left me with very mixed feelings. I loved the obvious feminist slant and felt invested in the fate of the characters. However, some elements of the narrative felt like unnecessary shock factor that stretched my suspension of disbelief too far, jarring me out of the story. I also felt it majorly missed a trick by exploring gender roles without incorporating even a hint of a queer or non-cis character.

Mary’s Monster by Lita Judge

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is a fictionalised graphic memoir of Mary Shelley, written in verse. From the off therefore, I admired it simply for how much it defies categorisation. Written in first-person, it has the intimate and immersive feel of a diary, as though we’re reading Shelley’s very own words, and it captures beautifully the emotion-fuelled Romanticism of Shelley’s own work. It offers fascinating insight into her early life and the inspirations behind Frankenstein, and the black-and-white artwork is suitably gothic and atmospheric. Intelligent, original and engaging; I adored it.

The Clocks in This House All Tell Different Times by Xan Brooks

[ ⭐ ] My first 1 star read of the year, sadly. Not only was this book not what I expected in a lot of ways, but the handling of sensitive subject matter left me feeling very uncomfortable. It perpetuated harmful stereotypes about people with disfigurements and disabilities, and seemingly excused unforgiveable behaviour. I seem to be largely in the minority, but it didn’t work for me at all.

Sum by David Eagleman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is a collection of 40 pieces of flash fiction, each one outlining a different concept of what the afterlife could be. Some are amusing, others are unsettling, and though I found it playful and fascinating as an overall concept, only a handful of the stories will realistically stay with me.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is a nuanced, understated and yet masterful tale of mounting tension, and a supreme example of the ‘less is more’ approach to horror. The tangible sense of fear and outright creepy scenes punctuate a general tone that is both ethereal and oppressive. Exploring notions of sisterhood, guilt, sexuality, storytelling and belonging, the balance of how much Jackson tells us, and how much she leaves to our imagination, is spot on. This heightens the unsettling nature of the story, and means it can be read as much as a tale of madness as it can a classic of the haunted house genre.

From the Heart by Susan Hill

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This subtle novel was surprisingly effective. It explores big social issues, but does so with sensitivity, avoiding sensationalism or scandal. The punchy prose and swift pace reflected to me the idea of our heroine’s life moving too fast, beyond her control. It is, after all, about the insular pain of not being true to yourself due to societal pressures, and thus becoming a passenger in your own life. Its brevity evoked a sense of supressed emotion, lost potential and quiet reflection on what could have been; with its power lying equally in what is left unsaid.

The Breakthrough by Daphne du Maurier

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] du Maurier does sci-fi? Why not! As always, she is a master at setting the scene and creating an evocative and tangible atmosphere that instantly transports me. The juxtaposition of the rugged beauty of the landscape and the technology of a research facility worked really well. I also loved the moral ambiguity of the story, which called into question an abuse of power, and the murky problems of consent and ethics involved in scientific experimentation. The eerie feel of the story has du Maurier’s trademark of something sinister lurking beneath the surface, and it culminates in an obvious though nonetheless unsettling warning about the danger of pushing science too far and meddling with nature.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day by Winifred Watson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This was a perfectly pleasant read that made for some light, easy escapism. It’s essentially about a middle-aged woman learning to break free from the rigid routine of her daily life, and though the ‘scandal’ she finds herself embroiled in is all pretty tame by today’s standards, the heroine is very endearing, and the story itself full of cosy wit and charm.

The Lost Words by Robert Macfarlane (writing) and Jackie Morris (artwork)

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This book combines acrostic poems with stunning artwork to celebrate the relationship between the beauty of the natural world and the language we use to describe it – whilst reminding us how important it is to preserve both. The poems are highly approachable, playful and engaging, with each one focussing on a different plant or animal, the name of which is disappearing from every day use in children’s vocabularies; the idea being that we need to reconnect with the wonder of the world around us.

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This sci-fi novel follows a group of female scientists on an expedition into a strange, mysterious environmental disaster zone known as Area X, to try and uncover its secrets. The setting and general atmosphere are the biggest highlights of the book, being both ethereal and absorbing. There were chilling moments and striking images throughout that will certainly stay with me. I also really enjoyed witnessing the breakdown of the group dynamic as Area X got under the characters’ skin. The characters themselves are held at such a distance, however, that I struggled to connect emotionally. By the time we reach the climax, we have no greater understanding of the bizarre goings on inside Area X, and are left with more questions than ever, which was ultimately frustrating.

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It was a reading month of ups and downs, featuring both my first 1-star review of 2018, and two of my favourite reads of the year so far, the latter of which being Mary’s Monster and The Haunting of Hill House.

What was your favourite read in April?

Let’s Recommend | Gothic Fiction

Let’s recommend some gothic fiction

Gothic fiction is perhaps my favourite genre of all, so it feels long overdue that I recommend a few favourites. As always with this series, I invite you all to exchange your own recommendations in return.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

This, to me, is the epitome of the gothic genre at its very best. Secrets, lies, intrigue and mystery seep from the pages, as tension builds throughout. The atmosphere is enthralling and utterly immersive, with a sense of something sinister always lurking just beneath the surface. Plot wise, we follow a newly married young woman as she arrives at her husband’s estate, to find that the presence and influence of his deceased first wife still hangs over the house. At face value, it’s a fantastically gripping story, but there’s also so much else going on thematically if you want to dig a little deeper.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson

This book explores notions of madness, isolation, sisterhood and othering, in a subtly affecting and deeply unsettling tale of two sisters who have been shunned from society following the strange deaths of their entire family. The narrator is a fascinating character; one that is as delightful as she is disturbed. There is a brewing sense of unease and an otherworldly tone throughout, and understated fairy tale-esque parallels towards the end that are incredibly effective in ramping up the book’s sinister edge.

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell

This fairly recent addition to the genre features many of the classic components that have made it famous, including an isolated rural setting, a grand manor house, and a heroine out of her depth. In many ways, it could thus be seen as a love letter to the genre. There’s an undertone of witchcraft, and a flirtation between outright ghost story and possible madness in the mind of our protagonist, which I thought worked really well. There’s also a literary flair to the writing and a slight sense of whimsy that suited the tone of the novel, as well as a story-within-a-story structure that was implemented very successfully.

The Book Collector by Alice Thompson

Books, fairy tales, madness and murder – what’s not to love? This tale of obsession raises questions about what it really means to be insane, and explores the warped control that men so often had over women in the narratives of classic fairy tales; all with a deliciously sinister and feminist twist. Thompson’s writing is straight forward, and the story has a good sense of momentum and inevitability, which does well to draw allusions to the masterworks of both fairy tales and gothic literature that this book draws from and celebrates.

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What are some of your favourite gothic reads? Let’s chat about them!