January Wrap Up

For ease (mine and yours), I’ve decided to strip back my monthly wrap ups a bit. Rather than re-summarise my thoughts, I’ll simply share my rating with a link to my full review if you’d like more in-depth thoughts.

Though not strictly bookish, I’ll also share any embroidery projects I finished at the end of the post, since it’s taking up increasing amounts of my time, and some of you were very kind about the previous pieces I shared. (Thank you again for that; a love for embroidery was probably the only decent thing to come out of last year for me!)

But without further ado, let’s jump into it.

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Books read: 8

Yearly total: 8

1. The Unwinding by Jackie Morris 

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ | Review

2. Butcher by Natasha T. Miller 

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ | Review

3. The Butchers’ Blessing by Ruth Gilligan 

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ | Review to come

4. No Shame by Tom Allen 

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ | Review

5. I’ll Fly Away by Rudy Francisco 

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ | Review

6. 100 Times by Chavisa Woods 

⭐ ⭐ | Review

7. The Last Unkillable Thing by Emily Pattinos 

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ | Review to come

8. Blue Ticket by Sophie Mackintosh 

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ | Review

Favourite of the month: The Butcher’s Blessing

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I enjoyed trying out a few different styles with my embroidery projects this month. The squirrel piece in particular is probably the most complex pattern I’ve taken on so far, and I’m really pleased with how it turned out!

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What was your favourite read in January? 

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Reading Year in Review & 2021 Goals

In general, the less said about the horror show that was 2020, the better, right? Thankfully, there were some great books along the way to help keep me sane. So, as we head into the new year, let’s take stock of how I got on throughout the past 12 months and set some goals for 2021.

Firstly, a look at whether I achieved last year’s goals:

• I wanted to read 100 books. Having read 121, this one gets a tick.
• I wanted to read more poetry. I read 14 poetry books in 2020, up from just 4 in 2019, so that’s a big step in the right direction.
• I wanted to do more buddy reads. I didn’t do many to be fair, so this is a fail. But with everyone (including myself) all over the place mentally and schedule-wise in 2020, I’m not going to beat myself up about it. And in fairness, my next goal kind of tied into this one…
• I wanted to read the whole Women’s Prize for Fiction longlist. Though we read them in our own time, so they weren’t technically buddy reads, I did love the experience of reading and discussing the list with a bunch of my favourite bookish people again. I read and reviewed all 16 before the shortlist announcement, so this one gets a big tick.
• I also wanted to keep reading translated lit. I definitely did this, both sporadically throughout the year and by committing fully to Women in Translation Month in August for the second year running.

In general, I certainly wouldn’t describe 2020 as one of my strongest reading years, but there were still lots of great books peppered throughout (the best of which I talked about here in my top reads of the year post). Across the 121 books I read, I gave an average rating of 3.5 stars, the same as in 2019. This seems pretty reflective of a somewhat middling reading year, but it definitely implies there were more good reads than bad ones!

As always, I never do or don’t read a book based on the author’s gender identity, but once the year reaches its end, I like to look back and see which voices I’m being drawn to. As expected, I’m definitely still reaching for female writers far more than I am male ones, and I’m more than okay with that. I’m also pleased to see my intake of non-binary voices increased slightly on the previous year (though it could certainly be higher, and recommendations would be very welcome!).

In terms of diversity of authorship within my reading, the ratio of white authors (78) to authors of colour (43) wasn’t too bad, but it could always be better. Publishing bias isn’t exactly a help on this front, but the closer I can get to a 50/50 split, the happier I’d be.

I then decided to break my reading down based on form. Amusingly, I read exactly the same number of both novels and nonfiction books in 2020 as I did in 2019. At the slight expense of short fiction and graphic novels/memoirs (both of which took a dip in numbers), I did manage to boost my poetry reading significantly, as previously mentioned, which I’m pleased about.

Given that one of my goals for the year was to keep reading translated literature, I wanted to see exactly what the numbers equated to. Though books written in English certainly make up the bulk of my reading, I was reasonably happy with the balance. Ideally, I’d love for translated works to make up at least a quarter of my reading, which seems attainable based on these stats.

As for 2021, in light of how up in the air everything still feels, I’m keeping my goals very simple:

• Read 100 books. I like that this is a round number, and that it feels achievable whilst still making a sizable dent in my ever-growing TBR.
• Read more plays. I don’t reach for plays that often, but I’ve had several end up on my reads of the year lists before. I’m also really missing the experience of live theatre, so reading play scripts may help to ease that particular ache.
• Finish Carrie Fisher’s backlist. This is very specific, I grant you. I love Fisher’s writing, both fiction and nonfiction. I’ve read 5 out of her 7 published works so far, and I’ve been putting off the last 2 because the thought of not having more of her books to look forward to makes me sad. But equally, as a big fan, I want to be able to say I’ve completed her works.
• Pace myself. My reading definitely slowed down throughout the last couple of months in 2020. As a committed reader, this stressed me out at first, but I think we’ve all learned to try and be a little kinder to ourselves recently. I tell everyone else it’s absolutely fine to take breaks from reading when you feel burnt out or in a slump, so I want to take my own advice if/when it happens to me again. It’s also true that a lot of the time I would normally have spent reading in those latter months was spent indulging my newfound love of embroidery, so it’s not like I wasn’t doing something enjoyable and relaxing with my time anyway!

The pieces I embroidered in November

A couple of festive pieces I embroidered in December

I’ll end this post as I always end my reading year in review; by bringing together every book I read throughout the past 12 months. If any covers or titles catch your eye, feel free to ask about them and we can chat. In the meantime, happy reading, and all the best for 2021! Things can only get better, right?

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

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December Wrap Up

The books I read in December

Before thoughts turn fully to the year ahead, there’s just time for one last wrap up. I read 8 books throughout December, bringing my final total for the year up to 121. Here are some brief thoughts on each of them, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Dark, Salt, Clear by Lamorna Ash

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Full review to come for BookBrowse

Surge by Jay Bernard

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] By looking at the similarities in the handling of both the New Cross Massacre and the Grenfell Tower disaster, this harrowing collection of poems exposes the persistence of systemic racism, economic inequality, and bias within the UK’s police and media. Though a couple of more personal pieces felt somewhat out of place, Bernard’s style is approachable yet compelling.

Earthlings by Sakaya Murata, translated from the Japanese by Ginny Tapley Takemori

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This discomfiting novel is concerned with those who fail to adhere to society’s norms, and the notion of storytelling as a means of self-protection. Though I found the climax’s descent into madness too extreme and abrupt to be believable, the book as a whole is gripping and provocative.

The Robin and the Reindeer by Rosa Bailey & Carmen Saldana

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A beautifully illustrated and hugely charming children’s story about bravery and trust, this offers ideal cosy escapism on a cold winter’s day for readers young and old alike.

Tidings by Ruth Padel

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This extended poem told from multiple perspectives contrasts the joy of a young girl’s Christmas with the pathos of a homeless man’s. It’s messages about remembering the true meaning of Christmas, and hope born of kindness and connection, are admirable if heavy-handed.

The Miracle on Ebenezer Street by Catherine Doyle

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A radical, modern reimagining of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, this middle grade novel about confronting grief embraces both the magic and the sadness often inherent to Christmas. It’s bittersweet yet fun and ultimately hopeful.

Dorothy Wordsworth’s Christmas Birthday by Carol Ann Duffy

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A simple, cosy poem that captures the beauty of domesticity and time spent with loved ones at Christmastime. The vivid imagery is complimented perfectly by Tom Duxbury’s gorgeous illustrations.

The Lost Spells by Robert Macfarlane, illustrated by Jackie Morris

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Another lovely collaboration that brings together the lively poems of Macfarlane and the stunning artwork of Morris. It’s a heartfelt, lyrical celebration of the natural world and the language we use to describe it.

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There we have it! My favourite read of the month was Earthlings. What was yours?

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November Wrap Up

The books I read in November

November was a bit of an odd month. I read 8 books, bringing my total for the year so far up to 113. Not only is this slightly lower than my average, but most of them were fairly short, meaning I didn’t actually do a whole lot of reading. I’m not going to beat myself up about it. Firstly, I was definitely hit by a general slump/burnout, which was inevitably going to happen at some point this year. More randomly, I also really fell in love with embroidery this month. A lot of the time I would normally have spent reading was spent embroidering, but given how much I enjoy both, I can make my peace with that.

The pieces I embroidered this month

That said, here are some brief thoughts on what I did read, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Stillicide by Cynan Jones

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This series of linked short stories is set in a dystopian future, with the climate crisis meaning water is now a commodity transported around the country via an armoured train. Jones writes beautifully, and there are some great ideas present, but its fragmented nature and lack of a driving force in the plot meant I failed to connect emotionally.

Hearts in the Hard Ground by G.V. Anderson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Following the death of her mother, Fiona moves into a new house, but the ghosts of former residents haunt her new home as much as Fiona’s guilt and grief haunt her. Evoking hauntings both real and self-inflicted, with some striking imagery and a lot of heart throughout, this is an emotionally complex story that says a lot in few words about the frustration of dementia and the pain of letting go.

Pew by Catherine Lacey

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] An enigmatic, unknowable stranger is found on a church pew in a conservative American town. Offers of help and open-mindedness are increasingly tested by the stranger’s refusal to adhere to strict societal roles regarding gender and ethnicity. This meditation on the idea of the body versus the person, and the individual versus the community simmers with tension and intrigue, but is let down by an info-dump ending that hints at so much untapped potential.

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson & Emily Carroll

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This graphic novel adaptation of Anderson’s original novel emphasises the story’s look at the importance that art can play in processing trauma. Encompassing the fallout of sexual assault, emotional trauma, depression, and social isolation, all carried by a realistically flawed heroine, this is as relevant now as it was when it was published in its original form back in 1999.

The Dreamkeeper by Robert Ingpen

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] An original tale from the renowned illustrator about an enigmatic character responsible for capturing the creatures that attempt to escape from our dreams. It’s brief, and there’s no real plot, but Ingpen’s accompanying artwork is as charming as ever.

People from My Neighbourhood by Hiromi Kawakami, translated from the Japanese by Ted Goossen

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] This collection of magical realism micro fiction falls firmly into the ‘weird for the sake of being weird’ category that sadly just doesn’t work for me. There are some visually striking ideas, but it feels like a scrapbook of jumping off points rather than a cohesive collection with any kind of narrative or thematic purpose.

All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This memoir reflects on Johnson’s experiences growing up Black and gay in modern-day America. He writes beautifully about his family and the coding of society to enforce a strict gender binary, but the essay-like, non-linear structure means it can lack a sense of overall direction at times. Still, it’s heartening that books like this will help the next generation of Black, queer youth feel validated and less alone.

Let Them Eat Chaos by Kae Tempest

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A beautifully observed and powerfully delivered full-length narrative poem that gives us a snapshot into the lives of seven strangers who all live on the same street. It explores the anxieties of modern life, commenting on our collective sense of disenfranchisement and disconnection. Brilliant, galvanising, and ultimately hopeful.

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There we have it! My favourite read in November was Let Them Eat Chaos. What was yours?

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October Wrap Up

The books I read in October

Having felt the threat of a slump hovering over me for much of the previous month, I’m relieved to say October ended up being a really enjoyable reading month. I finished 11 books in all, taking my total for the year so far up to 105. This also took me beyond my annual goal of 100, which was nice! Here are some brief thoughts on what I picked up, with links to full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Some Are Always Hungry by Jihyun Yun

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This excellent collection of poetry uses the recurring motif of food to explore the hardships of the immigrant experience and intergenerational trauma. The poems are deeply personal, but Yun also pulls back to take in wider contextual details in a way I really admired.

Sisters by Daisy Johnson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] In this atmospheric chiller, Johnson does an excellent job of capturing the paradoxical love and cruelty that teenage girls are capable of. The prose can feel a little overdone at times, but this enhances the stifling atmosphere, and there are a couple of brilliantly creepy moments that really stand out. The handling of a couple of plot points fell a little flat for me, however, and predicting a crucial twist early on hampered its ability to land with the impact Johnson was aiming for.

Malorie by Josh Malerman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This sequel to Bird Box never quite lives up to the intense atmosphere of the original, but it does a great job of building on the core themes and characterisation established in the first book. If you can suspend your disbelief somewhat, and contend with a rushed climax, this is a hugely readable, wild ride: a sequel that is enjoyable if not strictly necessary.

Poe: Stories and Poems by Edgar Allan Poe, art by Gareth Hinds

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Seven of Poe’s best known short works are collected here, with accompanying artwork that is suitably gothic and moody. In general, I enjoy Poe’s concepts, creepy atmosphere, and striking tableaus (hence why his work suits the graphic novel medium), but his actual prose and narrative arcs do little for me.

Frankenstein: The Graphic Novel by Mary Shelley, art by Declan Shalvey & Jason Cardy

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] It was lots of fun to revisit one of my very favourite novels through fresh eyes, as it were. Though the text is slightly abridged to allow the art to supplement the story (a couple of my favourite lines got the chop, hence the docking of a star), the core prose, themes, and narrative that made Shelley’s work so iconic still feel intact.

Pet by Akwaeke Emezi

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] Emezi strikes an excellent balance between due reverence for the big themes being tackled here and an avoidance of gratuity. It has a wonderfully diverse cast of characters, and some excellent things to say about the power of art and the importance of speaking out. It all felt way too rushed for me though, sadly. For a book about confronting monsters, I found it uncomfortable that the story’s victim is completely side-lined, afforded no voice or agency whatsoever. The resolution also felt problematic to me, indulging in a potentially harmful trope re: disfigurement and villainy, and contradicting many of the book’s previous themes.

Grimoire by Robin Robertson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I adored this collection of narrative poems inspired by the dark side of folk and fairy tales. Drawing on Scotland’s rich history of mythology and storytelling, the pieces often focus on those who are ostracised for their differences, meaning they pay homage to the classics as much as they resonate within the context of today’s society. Haunting and lyrical, yet always so readable, this is a collection I know I’ll return to.

One Night Two Souls Went Walking by Ellen Cooney

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Full review to come for BookBrowse.

The Doll Factory by Elizabeth Macneal

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is such an immersive gothic romp through 1850s London. Looking at art, autonomy, love, and obsession, it explores the huge limitations placed on women at the time, and builds tension brilliantly towards an inevitable though no less thrilling final act. Macneal’s prose is lush and intoxicating, and I loved every moment I spent in the vivid, sinister world she created.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I always like to revisit this haunting collection of graphic short stories at this time of year. Carroll’s art – with its striking use of colour, chilling imagery, and playful layout – is the real star, and the collection as a whole is definitely stronger than the sum of its parts.

The Hole by Hye-Young Pyun, translated from the Korean by Sora Kim-Russell

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Subtle psychological horror that looks at grief, isolation, and revenge. It has a very claustrophobic, unnerving atmosphere and taps into our fear of becoming prisoners within our own bodies, but things were never pushed quite as far as I hoped.

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There we have it! My favourites of the month were definitely The Doll Factory and Grimoire – both of which have a very good chance of featuring on my books of the year list. What was your favourite read in October?

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September Wrap Up

The books I read in September

September was a strange month (but aren’t they all, these days?). I kicked things off with some fantastic reads, and though I hit a bit of a wall and felt like I was barely reading at all for the second half of the month, I still ended up finishing 9 books overall, which I’m happy with all things considered! My yearly total currently stands at 94, so with any luck I should hit my 100 book target within the next month. In the meantime, here are some brief thoughts on what I read in September with links to full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Strange Flowers by Donal Ryan

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] In his latest novel, Ryan has created a sweeping family saga that chronicles three generations’ worth of secrets and longing, looking at how love can help us overcome even the greatest losses and the most fundamental of differences. The diversity of love and the duality of religion are also placed beneath the microscope, all tied together by Ryan’s characteristically beautiful prose.

His Only Wife by Peace Adzo Medie

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Full review to come for BookBrowse.

Peach by Emma Glass

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] With its truly singular approach, this intense, captivating novella explores the physical and psychological fallout of sexual assault like no other fiction I’ve encountered. Written in short, staccato sentences and regularly employing surreal imagery, the book’s unorthodox, bewildering style will certainly divide readers, but I thought it was a visceral sucker punch.

Leave the World Behind by Rumaan Alam

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Full review to come for BookBrowse.

Here Is the Beehive by Sarah Crossan

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Ana and Connor have been having an affair for three years when the latter dies abruptly in a traffic accident. Unable to grieve for a man no one knew she loved, and forced to properly confront her lover’s wife for the first time, Ana’s situation is fraught with moral dilemmas, and Crossan does an excellent job of fleshing out a complex character without ever sitting in judgement.

The Shielding of Mrs Forbes by Alan Bennett

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This humorous yet cutting short looks at the folly of trying to keep up appearances, as a closeted gay man marries a woman to ‘protect’ his prim and proper mother. A tangled web of secrets and blackmail ensues, and though I enjoyed the core themes at play, I thought it edged a little too close to farce.

Anything Resembling Love by S. Qiouyi Lu

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set in a world where unwanted or intense physical contact can cause insects to erupt from our skin, this short serves as powerful allegory for body autonomy, sexuality, and trauma. Lu does an excellent job of commenting on the way society conditions people (particularly girls) to fear and detest their own bodies’ natural functions, and to force themselves to placate the desires of men.

The Seep by Chana Porter

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set in a future where a strange alien presence has infected mankind, making time and existence fluid, we follow a trans woman who resents and resists this supposed utopia. It asks lots of big questions, being primarily concerned with what makes us human; if we are not comprised of our past and our memories, then what are we? It’s striking and stimulating, but with characters often becoming clumsy mouthpieces for the book’s themes, I failed to connect emotionally.

The Harpy by Megan Hunter

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] The inclusion of superfluous magical realism elements hampers this otherwise brilliant look at marriage, revenge, violence, and forgiveness. Following a woman who has been given permission to hurt her husband three times after she learns of his affair, there are several interesting themes at play. Chiefly, the disparity in society’s reaction to physical and emotional pain.

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There we have it! My favourite read of the month was Leave the World Behind. What was yours?

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August Wrap Up | Women in Translation Month

The books I read in August

August was Women in Translation Month; a time when we’re encouraged to celebrate and support works in translation from women writers around the world, to counteract how male dominated the translated literature market is. I always love getting involved in this project, and am happy to have committed my reading exclusively to it throughout the whole of August. I finished 13 books in all, bringing my total reads for the year so far up to 85. Here are some brief thoughts on each of them, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

The Bird Tribunal by Agnes Ravatn, translated from the Norwegian by Rosie Hedger

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set on an isolated fjord, this is a slow burn psychological cat-and-mouse game between two self-exiled loners; each determined to expose the other’s true nature while guarding secrets of their own. Though the outcome proves easy to predict, Ravatn is able to build tension with pin-sharp precision, imbuing even the most mundane interactions with a looming sense of threat.

Fear and Trembling by Amélie Nothomb, translated from the French by Adrianna Hunter

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] There are undoubtedly some clumsy, outdated prejudices that show through in this novel from one of Belgium’s most well-known and divisive authors, but it has some interesting things to say about culture clashes, the role of women within the workplace, and the folly of serving corporate systems that serve no one in return.

Waking Lions by Ayelet Gundar-Goshen, translated from the Hebrew by Sondra Silverston

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set in the author’s native Israel, this layered novel about guilt, blackmail, loyalty, and culpability is filled with morally complex characters and incisive commentary on pertinent social issues like racial prejudice and corrupt systems. Intelligent and compelling, it confirms Gundar-Goshen’s place among my favourite literary thriller writers.

Many People Die Like You by Lina Wolff, translated from the Swedish by Saskia Vogel

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] Several of the subtly discomfiting stories in this collection of domestic life gone awry had an interesting setup with lots of potential, but they almost uniformly fizzled out with little in the way of narrative or thematic impact.

Woman at Point Zero by Nawal El Saadawi, translated from the Arabic by Sherif Hetata

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A woman awaiting execution in an Egyptian prison relays her life story in this damning indictment of systemic sexism. For all the suffering our heroine endures, her fierce spirit consistently shines through, with Saadawi exploring the notions of abuse and culpability in incisive ways that continue to resonate long after the book was first written.

Of Salt and Shore by Annet Schaap, translated from the Dutch by Laura Watkinson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is an imagined sequel to the classic tale, The Little Mermaid. It feels fresh and original but calls on fairy tale archetypes to pay suitable homage to the stories it so clearly draws inspiration from. It’s a fun, enchanting read, but it embraces the sinister undertones inherent to original fairy tales, and incorporates interesting themes.

Igifu by Scholastique Mukasonga, translated from the French by Jordan Stump

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set mostly in the author’s homeland of Rwanda, this collection of short stories chronicles the various hardships faced by Tutsi people during the Rwandan genocide. She reflects the richness of Tutsi culture very well, but aside from a couple of standout stories, I felt the collection would have benefitted from greater variation in voice and tone.

The Dog Who Dared to Dream by Sun-mi Hwang, translated from the Korean by Chi-Young Kim

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] I get why lots of people like this, but it’s presented in a style I struggled to click with. Feeling very much like a fable about perseverance in the face of hardship, the animal characters are personified just a little bit too much for me to be able to suspend my disbelief. It has its moments, but on the whole, I found it somewhat twee.

Happening by Annie Ernaux, translated from the French by Tanya Leslie

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] An entirely unsentimental reflection on Ernaux’s experience of illegal backstreet abortion in 1960s France. For such a brief and focussed account, it manages to detail the lasting physical and emotional toll she endured, while pulling back to comment on the ongoing importance of victim testimonies, and access to safe healthcare.

Island by Siri Ranva Hjelm Jacobsen, translated from the Danish by Caroline Waight

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A quiet rumination on the intersection between place, home, history, and family, as a young woman journeys to her grandparents’ homeland in search of her roots. The Faroese setting is evoked well but I found the shifts in time and perspective a little convoluted at times, sadly.

A Fist or a Heart by Kristín Eiríksdóttir, translated from the Icelandic by Larissa Kyzer

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] An elderly woman who works in the theatre is drawn to a new, up-and-coming playwright, but her fascination with the young woman will force her to confront demons from her own past. This character study has some very interesting things to say about the healing power of the creative arts, and the conflict between duty and autonomy, but its kaleidoscopic narration holds the reader at a distance.

Ms Ice Sandwich by Mieko Kawakami, translated from the Japanese by Louise Heal Kawai

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A charming and incredibly readable novella that masks a surprising amount of thematic and emotional depth. With subtlety, Kawakami captures the trials of adolescence, when we must learn to be true to ourselves, find our people, overcome peer pressure, and face life’s most difficult goodbyes.

I Who Have Never Known Men by Jaqueline Harpman, translated from the French by Ros Schwartz

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A uniquely contemplative take on the dystopian genre, this follows a group of 40 women who must make their way in a completely deserted world when they escape the underground bunker they have been held prisoner in for over a decade. It presents fascinating ideas about the value of knowledge and the persistence of humanity in the absence of society, but several holes in plot and logic require a suspension of disbelief.

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There we have it! It was a pretty strong and productive reading month overall, but my favourite reads were probably Happening and The Bird Tribunal. What were yours? Did you discover any great new authors through #WITmonth?

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July Wrap Up

The books I read in July

Another month, another wrap up. I managed to finish 11 books throughout July, bringing my total for the year so far up to 72. Here are some brief thoughts on each of them, with links to full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Supper Club by Lara Williams

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Overall, I’d describe this as a book I liked more in concept than in execution. When it homes in on sisterhood and the concept of women taking up space unapologetically, it’s pleasingly incisive, but flat supporting characters and some clumsy queer rep stopped me from ever feeling fully engaged.

The Wicked Sister by Karen Dionne

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] This thriller about a woman returning to her childhood home to recover supressed memories surrounding her parents’ deaths requires a hefty suspension of disbelief. The twist itself is underwhelming but there’s a decent cat-and-mouse feel in the build-up, and I liked the use of a remote woodland setting. It becomes a bit silly and isn’t particularly original, but it’s a swift and enjoyable enough read.

Rest and Be Thankful by Emma Glass

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This gentle yet powerful novel is an ode to the sacrifices made by nursing staff. It may be slight but it packs quite the punch, chronicling the physical and mental deterioration of a paediatric nurse haunted by a strange spectre that lingers just beyond her grasp. It’s a compelling read with a sympathetic heroine, but there is enough nuance and perfectly pitched ambiguity to invite deeper thought. I found it oddly thrilling and deeply impactful.

Bloodchild by Octavia E. Butler

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This sci-fi short is a bizarre yet fascinating look at the fine line between love and servitude, the physical trauma inherent to birth, the reversal of gender roles, and the human fear of bodily invasion. It may be slight, but it’s certainly memorable.

Moss by Klaus Modick, translated from the German by David Herman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] Supposedly a meditation on the importance of the link between man and nature, I found this novel dry and directionless. A few nicely written passages and the potential for some interesting ideas sadly weren’t enough to elevate this beyond psychobabble.

My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Emotionally exhausting yet strangely gripping, this is an intelligent, layered look at the difficulty of facing up to historic abuse. It shows how the framing of an experience can completely change someone’s perception of it, dissecting what it really means to be a victim. I thought it was a little over reliant on literary references at times, but it’s a powerful read destined to spark important conversations.

Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set almost entirely during one elevator ride, this is a swift yet incisive look at the cycle of toxic violence born of gang warfare, and its disproportionate impact on poor, Black youth. Written in verse, it captures a sense of urgency perfectly suited to the narrative and its themes.

The Pull of the Stars by Emma Donoghue

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Full review to come for BookBrowse.

The Tradition by Jericho Brown

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] While I didn’t adore this as much as Brown’s other collection, The New Testament, it still showcases his ability to balance intimate, personal reflection with wide-reaching social commentary through concise, impactful poetry.

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Charming if sentimental, this combines Mackesy’s lovely illustrations with comforting musings on life. There’s a particular focus on the importance of friendship and kindness, making this a book that’s applicable to readers of any age.

You Are Invited by Sarah A. Denzil

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A flawed yet fun read that brings a distinctly modern touch to classic gothic-horror tropes. While some potential wasn’t capitalised on, I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent with this one.

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There we have it! This was a very strong reading month overall. My favourite picks were Rest and Be Thankful and The Pull of the Stars. What were yours?

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June Wrap Up

The books I read in June

June was as weird a month as we’ve all come to expect, but there were definitely some positives amidst the madness, including some great books! I read 10 in all, bringing my total for the year so far up to 61. Here are some brief thoughts on each of them, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

Ghostly Stories by Celia Fremlin

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] These classic tales of domestic horror are at once quintessential of their period and shrewdly observant of how stifling the female experience can be. Simple yet effective, they were a nice little introduction to Fremlin’s style.

Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This offers a seamless blend of history, case studies, research, and personal reflection to lay bare just how deep-rooted racism is within the UK, at a structural, education, social, and cultural level. Detailed yet digestible, it’s written with clear-eyed passion and would make a great starting point for those new to race-related non-fiction.

This Book is Anti-Racist by Tiffany Jewell

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] I was pleasantly surprised by how wide this book’s scope was, especially considering its relative brevity. Jewell writes with clarity, compassion and warmth, articulating her every point without condescending those who may be newer to the concepts of ingrained racism and white privilege. Her approach is wonderfully intersectional and nuanced, incorporating many factors that comprise our individual identity and socioeconomic background.

The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Written in verse, this is a coming-of-age story about the struggle to make peace with your own identity in a society so eager to pin you down with labels. It indulges in a couple of tropes, but I loved its contemporary tone and realistic yet hopeful approach to difference and self-expression.

Mother Country by Elana Bell

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] A raw and honest poetry collection about the parent-child bond at both the beginning and end of life. I’m sure many will take comfort in seeing their less-than-perfect yet deeply human reality reflected here, but Bell’s style often wasn’t for me.

The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House by Audre Lorde

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This slim volume collects five brilliantly sharp essays on the complex yet crucial intersections between race, gender and sexuality. It made me see some things in a new light, while expressing existing thoughts to perfection. I can’t wait to read more of Lorde’s work.

The Lightness by Emily Temple

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Set at a Buddhist retreat for troubled girls high in the mountains, and carried by an intoxicating atmosphere, there are lots of fascinating themes at play here, ranging from the trappings of the female body to the often fine line between love and rivalry in friendship.

Don’t Call Us Dead by Danez Smith

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This is a phenomenally well curated selection of consistently engaging, gut-punch poems detailing Smith’s experiences as someone who is Black, queer, and HIV positive. The power of Smith’s subject matter is matched by their linguistic craft.

The Color of Air by Gail Tsukiyama

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Full review to come for BookBrowse.

King and the Dragonflies by Kacen Callender

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This middle grade novel transcends age range, with enough nuance and intersectionality to resonate equally well with adult readers. The novel deals with lots of big themes, like grief, identity, friendship, internalised homophobia, and systemic racism, without ever feeling rushed.

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There we have it! I hope you’re all keeping safe and well, and that July brings lots of great books your way. My favourite read of the month was Don’t Call Us Dead. What was yours?

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May Wrap Up

The books I read in May

May was a bit all over the place for me reading wise. Things got off to a shaky start, and I felt the onset of a slump hanging over me for much of the month, but I then went on to pick up 2 five-star reads, both of which I can see being in solid contention for my books of the year list. They were also both by women in translation, which is a cool coincidence!

I read 10 books in all throughout May, bringing my total for 2020 so far up to 51. Here are some brief thoughts on each of them, with links to my full reviews if you’d like to know more.

The Man Who Saw Everything by Deborah Levy

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] There was lots to admire here, with Levy posing big questions about the nature of time and memory. She handles a complex narrative with skill, but I found much of it surprisingly alienating and don’t think I was in the right headspace to give it due attention.

Wave If You Can See Me by Susan Ludvigson

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This poetry collection is focussed on illness, bereavement, and the healing power of art. The poet’s style didn’t resonate with me hugely, but there was some lovely imagery throughout.

Praising the Paradox by Tina Shumann

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] Those who enjoy free verse poetry with a stream of conscious inspired approach may take more from this collection, but sadly I found the gems to be too few and far between.

Sea Wife by Amity Gaige

[ ⭐ ⭐ ] There is lots of potential in this novel’s setup, and there are certainly lots of great themes bubbling beneath the surface, like gender roles, political divides, and latent trauma. Sadly, I felt too much time was spent meandering around these ideas without ever saying much, with the book itself unsure of what it wanted to be.

Loyalties by Delphine de Vigan, translated from the French by George Miller

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] There is so much that I adored about this understated look at the dark side of loyalty, the nature of abuse, and ingrained patriarchal structures. Compelling characters and a tense, claustrophobic atmosphere lead us to a breathless climax, and I can’t wait to read more from this author.

The Body Lies by Jo Baker

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This clever novel is as much a thriller in its own right as it is a dissection of the genre. Focusing on women and their bodies as seen through the male gaze in genre fiction, it’s a gripping and meta read that I very much enjoyed.

The Bitch by Pilar Quintana, translated from the Spanish by Lisa Dillman

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Capturing the balmy heat of Colombia’s Pacific coast, this is a deceptively simple look at suppressed trauma, the pressures of motherhood, and man’s misguided efforts to tame nature. I appreciated a lot of what this book had to say, but felt its solid thematic foundations weren’t quite fully capitalised on.

Cold Wind by Nicola Griffith

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This dark, folkloric short from Tor Books evokes a crisp, unsettling atmosphere to great effect, reaching an otherworldly, visually striking climax befitting of the genre. The prose itself is largely suited to the fantastical subject matter, but does feel a tad overblown at times.

Tokyo Ueno Station by Yu Miri, translated from the Japanese by Morgan Giles

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] Review to come for BookBrowse.

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica, translated from the Spanish by Sarah Moses

[ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ] This horrifying dystopian from Argentina is set in a speculative future, in which a virus means animal meat has become toxic to humans, and the consumption of human flesh has been legalised. It’s deeply disturbing but richly rewarding, with complex thematic commentary on everything from power dynamics to capitalism, and from the corruption of government to the role of language.

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There we have it! My reads of the month were Tender is the Flesh and Loyalties. What was your favourite read in May?

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