Book Reviews

Welcome to my Book Reviews!
Only my last 20 reviews show up here because in the way of all things techno-babble, every new review pushes an old one into the ether. If you’re really keen, you can see all my reviews on Goodreads here.
In case you’re wondering why I don’t include synopsises synopses a synopsis, it’s because of how I read reviews.
First, when I’m deciding on the next book to read, I read the publisher’s blurb. They’ve put a lot of time and effort into getting that just right so if it doesn’t grab me, no-one else’s summary is likely to do any better, no matter how well written.
Next I scan a few dozen reviews. I like to know what people think about the book: what moved them, what put them off, whether they want to read more. So the last thing I want is a few dozen almost identical summaries to destroy the excitement.
I like to keep the review as short as I can, but as you can tell, sometimes I waffle a bit. Especially if it’s really good. Or really bad not as good.
You can click on any title to be redirected to the original on Goodreads (you don’t need to be a member): then you can access other people’s reviews and the blurb and the many versions of the synopsii I left out. And if you make it through all of this, the graceful Margot likes grasses, insects and snails, but don’t feed her bread.


  • Review: Paramedico – Around The World By Ambulance

    Paramedico: Around the World by AmbulanceParamedico: Around the World by Ambulance by Benjamin Gilmour

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    It’s funny how clueless we can be when it comes to the way other countries do things that we in the first world take for granted. I thought all ambulance services were basically the same, with only tiny differences between adoption of new drugs or new techniques, perhaps a doctor on this one but not on that one. But I guarantee I will never see ambulances used to transport live goats and butchered meat to the poor in Australia like they do in Pakistan, home to the world’s largest private ambulance service.

    Time and time again my eyes were opened reading Paramedico.

    From South Africa where anything but a five-minute-scene-time is a fail (no matter what the injury, and closely monitored by stony-faced supervisors with stopwatches); to Macedonia where an elderly dehydrated and weak patient can be left at home on a drip with instructions on how to remove his own cannula; to Mexico where an elderly patient can break every bone in her body after being hit by a high speed car but gets no pain relief (but does get a ride to hospital filled with delays and jarring bumps).

    Ambulance ‘drivers’ in London who spend their work days transporting wealthy people to doctor’s appointments. Venetian paramedics who can’t give CPR because it just doesn’t work on a little boat. A Pakistani ED that miraculously clears in only a few hours after nineteen dead and fifty injured in a gruesome suicide bomb attack.

    And the different work ethics! Honestly they’re like something from a grim, dark comedy – drinking strong spirits on the job, strapping a colleague to a stretcher and dousing her in cold water for her birthday, jumping on each other in a huge pile, or selling gory photos to journalists; at the same time as some working 48 hour shifts, or dealing with ten or twenty gunshot murders in a shift. That’s TEN or TWENTY. Gunshot murders. Per shift.

    Equipment is hard to come by in many countries: some crews have to carefully ration their disposable latex gloves, many don’t have drugs – not even the drugs that revert a cardiac arrest.

    But perhaps my favourite eye-opener was how various control centres around the world treat their patients. In Macedonia call-takers abuse callers for ‘not being sick or injured enough’ and slam the phones down. In Pakistan, numbers are barred after a hoax call. A world away from the ‘every caller wins an ambulance’ of Australia.

    If you like having your eyes opened, if you like learning about how tough others have it without actually having to experience it, then this is a must-read. The only bad thing I have to say is that the section on Pakistan went on for too long – but there was an awful lot to tell there, so I get how that can happen.

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  • Review: Seven Days of Us

    Seven Days of UsSeven Days of Us by Francesca Hornak

    My rating: 4 of 5 stars

    A whole family in lockdown over Christmas? By choice? It may sound like a crazy setting for a story, (because we all know what families are like at Christmas, right?) but the characters themselves make for a compelling read.

    Each of them is selfish in their own way – the snobbish food critic father who thinks nothing of the restaurants he destroys in his column; the shallow younger daughter who thinks only of herself and her vision of a perfect life; the self-martyred mother and her self-martyred older daughter, both of them expecting everyone else’s undying gratitude for their choices. And all of them communicate poorly with each other, resulting in secrets.

    It’s inevitable that something has to give. And it does: in a kind of coming-of-age (albeit late) and mid-life-crisis combination that’s triggered when visitors arrive (they walk right past the innocuous sign that merely says ‘Please leave all deliveries here, as we are unable to sign’) and are forced to join them in quarantine.

    The story is told in alternating third person across about half a dozen characters, so it’s not a relaxing read (the constant perspective changes require too much attention). I found it best to read a chapter or two then put it down for later or I’d forget whose point of view I was reading and come to the wrong conclusions.

    There’s also an unfortunate mistake that destroys a pivotal part and broke the implicit trust between book and reader: the text says three people walk into the kitchen for The Discussion we’ve been eagerly anticipating but the next change of perspective only features two of the three characters, discussing the third like she’s not there. It sounds small, but it was confusing enough to pull me out right of the story at the worst possible time. Something went wrong off stage and we only find this out for sure two chapters later.

    But I loved that I didn’t see the end coming – it was well concealed and had me kicking myself for not noticing – and the epilogue is the most moving chapter of the book: so short, sweet, and perfect. But don’t jump to it – it will be meaningless and spoil absolutely everything!

    All in all, a very good read and a lovely insight into why people do what they do.

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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  • Review: Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

    Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children (Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children, #1)Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

    My rating: 4 of 5 stars

    This is a good story and a great premise – an aging World War II veteran telling wild tales that couldn’t possibly be true, with the (obviously touched up to appear supernatural) photos to ‘prove’ them; and his sixteen-year old grandson who has never faced a real challenge in his easy life.

    Motivations and character quirks were believable and convincing: Jacob’s dad screeching with excitement when he spots a grace of Manx Shearwaters, seemingly oblivious to Jacob himself who’s nervous, seasick, cold, wet, and finally facing a serious challenge: birds being the last thing on his overworked mind.

    And in a good way, you can actually sense Riggs’ thought process – he finds a bunch of strange photos and wants to spin a story that balances credibility with fantasy so he creates a world behind those photos, inventing strange characters and impossibilities to match. The wights of the story are a good example that shouldn’t spoil anything: you know those old black and white photos you see where something’s gone wrong in the processing and the subject’s eyes seem all-white? They’re wights. And they have a background and a reason for existence that Riggs has created. And they’re as evil and scary as they look.

    Two parts felt forced though – without giving anything away there was a throwaway comment about an airport that jarred so much it screamed ‘clue’ and give away one of the big twists; and our attention drawn to a particular red LED light was so unsubtle it had only one obvious purpose, so I couldn’t help but glaze over the next few scenes until the purpose revealed itself.

    For the most part though the story flows nicely, reads well, and follows its internal logic. The issues relating to time are handled exceptionally well. Characters have their own unique quirks and voices and I could relate to and understand most of their motivations.

    This was definitely a book to get lost in, but I’m not driven to buy the next in the series.

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  • Review: The Light Fantastic

    The Light Fantastic (Discworld, #2)The Light Fantastic by Terry Pratchett

    My rating: 4 of 5 stars

    Pratchett’s world develops so much more in this, the second Discworld novel. The LIght Fantastic picks up where The Colour of Magic left off, following the bumbling adventures of Rincewind, Twoflower, and The Luggage.

    Pratchett’s similes are still unique, such as when describing the inside of a cloud –

    Rincewind looked around, but for all the variety and interest in the scene around him they might as well have been in the inside of a pingpong ball.

    – And so is his humour –

    Riding along with her were a number of swarthy men that will certainly be killed before too long anyway, so a description is probably not essential.

    – But his rambling has tightened considerably, such as this digression about honesty in reporting –

    Thus, if a legend said of a notable hero that ‘all men spoke of his prowess’ any bard who valued his life would add hastily ‘except for a couple of people in his home village who thought he was a liar, and quite a lot of other people who had never really heard of him.’ Poetic simile was strictly limited to statements like ‘his mighty steed was as fleet as the wind on a fairly calm day, say about Force Three’, and any loose talk about a beloved having a face that launched a thousand ships would have to be backed by evidence that the object of desire did indeed look like a bottle of champagne.

    Trust me, that’s tighter than in The Colour of Magic!

    And, (drumroll) only three footnotes!

    Also, I suspect the slip about the toothless Cohen the Barbarian ‘gritting his teeth’ was an intentional mistake because that’s just the kind of audience we Discworld readers love to discover and feel smart about.

    But it’s the foreshadowing I love the most, over short and long terms. A discussion about where Twoflower bought The Luggage introduces our first wandering shop (sorry, tabernae vagantes). Disappearing as suddenly as it appears, its passing leaves nothing behind but a blank brick wall. In our world, we probably think it’s a fly-by-night shop that shuts down almost as suddenly as it opens, a purveyor of quality $2 goods, but it has a much more fantastic reason for existence in The Light Fantastic. In the short term, we know not to trust an apparently blank brick wall our heroes later encounter, but it also comes up many books down the line in a Vimes story with far greater significance. Pratchett is a master of such foreshadowing (which helps in the rambling funny bits).

    Another talent that’s becoming stronger in The Light Fantastic is what I call the Pratchett Unsaids. You have to be alert at all times reading the Discworld novels, because while your mind is busy wandering off thinking about whether you need more chips, a paragraph with a hidden depth passes you by –

    Weems crept very cautiously through the scrubby, mist-laden trees. The pale damp air muffled all sounds, but he was certain that there had been nothing to hear for the past ten minutes. He turned around very slowly, and then allowed himself the luxury of a long, heartfelt sigh. He stepped back into the cover of the bushes.
    Something nudged the back of his knees, very gently. Something angular.
    He looked down. There seemed to be more feet down there than there ought to be.
    There was a short, sharp, snap.

    See? If you’re not paying attention, you have no idea that The Luggage just ate poor old Weems.

    All in all, The Light Fantastic is a far stronger and tighter story than in The Colour of Magic, and I can’t wait to get to reading the next one. Again. (It’s Equal Rites by the way. Yep. TP is king of the pun.)

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  • Review: The Girl With All The Gifts

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

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    Before I read this, I thought zombies had run their course. I love them, but it seemed like everything had already been done. Huh. I was so wrong.

    I was initially intrigued because the book is all about ten year old Melanie; her views on the world, her struggle to find her place in it. Yet a ten year old protagonist means a young adult audience, and is usually written in first person, but The Girl With All The Gifts was neither of those things, yet both.

    Many of the concepts are adult – nazi-like lab experiments on children with no anaesthetic, discussions on the reproduction of zombies, the eating of a person alive and how that ‘food’ feels in your belly. Hawk, even the real-life existence of the cordyceps fungus of the ant world is not the stuff of young adult stories.

    Yet so many of the concepts are childlike, or at least adolescent – smelling flowers in a field for the first time, spending a night outside in the relative unsafety alone, or lying about events to protect the deemed innocence in parental figures.

    Melanie, too, is both – mature in her outlook and knowledge, yet childlike in her reactions and hopes (a little reminiscent of Data from Star Trek actually).

    And while everything is distinctly written in third person, Carey encapsulated thoughts and emotions so well it may as well have been written in first.

    Each character grows in harsh circumstances, each of them balance issues of trust and control, and each of them plumb their own depths in the process, sometimes surprising themselves with doing the ‘right’ thing and other times finding it wasn’t so ‘right’ after all. I will not give away the saddest and most complex of these issues, but as soon as I read this I cried and cursed and questioned right along with those involved –

    She didn’t want to trouble him with this stuff when he’s dying, but she won’t lie to him after he’s asked her for the truth.

    – and read the next five pages in a single breath.

    This is a beautiful exploration of an ugly dystopian world, and exceeds all of my expectations of a zombie story.

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  • Review: The Colour of Magic

    The Colour of Magic (Discworld, #1)The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett

    My rating: 4 of 5 stars

    Firstly, a word of warning – if you’ve never read anything in the Discworld series, do not start here! I recommend you start at least seven books in, maybe at Pyramids. All good comedy take a couple of episodes to find its feet and truly get underway.

    These days, if The Colour of Magic was sent to a publisher with a covering query letter, I imagine the publisher would reject it for its rambling, its groanable puns, and its use of the most non-recommended perspective ever (omniscient third person) – and that’s without discussing the cons and cons of using footnotes and a prologue. Lucky for us this book was published in a different era, with looser restrictions and far more love-of-story and trust in a then unknown!

    For lovers (and everyone else, those soon-to-be-lovers) of Discworld, this is a nostalgic look at Terry Pratchett’s early designs. A flat earth, carried on the backs of four elephants, who in turn stand on the back of a turtle. He’s still getting some of the finer points right (Death in particular, who never again has such emotion invested in reaping a soul, who never again actually kills someone himself).

    Pratchett has a rare and beautiful sense of personification, of intent in inanimate objects; take this example of a ride on the back of a dragon by someone scared of heights –

    The flat summit of the Wyrmberg rose up at them, lurched alarmingly, then somersaulted into a green blur that flashed by on either side. Tiny woods and fields blurred into a rushing patchwork. A brief silvery flash in the landscape may have been the little river that overflowed into the air at the plateau’s rim. Rincewind tried to force the memory out of his mind, but it was rather enjoying itself there, terrorizing the other occupants and kicking over the furniture.

    – his similes are incredibly unique –

    It sounded like the sort of scream that brings muscular help.

    – as is his imagery –

    It’s a little known but true fact that a two legged creature can usually beat a four legged creature over a short distance, simply because of the time it takes a quadruped to get its legs sorted out.

    This is a series where all the non-mainstream beliefs of humans (ok, crazy beliefs – and I’m looking at you, flat-earthers) are actually real, where a tiny imp sits inside a camera and paints pictures very quickly, where the speed of light is often overtaken by the speed of dark, where things exist simply because you believe in them, and where science is something too crazy to exist, and if you keep talking about it you’re liable to get yourself looked at funny.

    This is a great ‘flashback’ story after reading a few of the others, and a great insight into how Discworldians (particularly Ankh-Morporkians) think. I’m not a fan of Rincewind himself, and even though I would have loved to meet the luggage or Twoflower again one day, I’m glad Pratchett had so many more ideas to go on with.

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  • Review: And Thereby Hangs a Tale

    And Thereby Hangs a TaleAnd Thereby Hangs a Tale by Jeffrey Archer

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    Fifteen short stories, ten of them based on truth.

    Many are scams (which lovers of Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less will recognize) – from an incredibly brazen heist, to an imaginative twist on the young-nurse-cheats-old-man’s-family-out-of-their-inheritance scam, and a cruel capitalization on being a doppleganger.

    But many more are sweet, or serve a deserving justice, are full of love, or just show the absurdity of man: as the story of a secret kept for eighty years, of being careful what you wish for, of true love starting at a set of traffic lights, or of a crazy way of establishing a new territory for one’s country will attest.

    And these are just the true ones!

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  • Review: Sully: My Search for What Really Matters

    Sully: My Search for What Really MattersSully: My Search for What Really Matters by Chesley B. Sullenberger

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    What I expected from this book was a small section of background, followed by the detail of the bird strikes and forced landing of Flight 1549, with the remaining half the book dedicated to the aftermath. Something a fly-nerd like me would love.

    What I got was so much richer! This wasn’t just a dramatization of the Air Crash Investigation episode. This was the full story of Captain Chesley B Sullenberger. This was his upbringing, his student pilot days, his immersion in flying, his dedication to bringing home his plane safe and whole, and the sacrifices this has cost him along the way.

    In short, it’s as the title says: Sully.

    Incredibly, and probably as a result of all the things he is, Sully manages to stay humble throughout. He shares the limelight with those who got him to where he is, from the test pilots who volunteer-ditched their beautiful B24 Liberators in Virginia’s James River, to Captain Ogg’s water-landing in the Pacific (I’m still crying over those canaries), to the entire crew involved in his now-famous water landing on the Hudson.

    It also contains my favourite instruction, one that I have always tried to live by (and one that should be bandied about more often, but this is only the second time I’ve ever heard it): aviate, navigate, communicate. Fly the plane, know where you’re flying it, tell someone where you’re flying it, in that order. Adaptably good advice for any stressful situation.

    This is a beautiful biography from a man of honour and I salute you, Captain Chesley Sullenberger.

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  • Review: Always And Forever

    Always And ForeverAlways And Forever by Cathy Kelly

    My rating: 4 of 5 stars

    This is the story of Leah, an enigmatic woman who works to achieve some kind of spiritual awareness in others, rather than the story of the three women around whom most of the story unfolds, and I liked the the way Kelly downplayed her role.

    Leah is kept out of most of the story and she’s very unsubtle when she does appear. In the meantime, we follow the lives of three other women, whose paths eventually cross, and who seem to have no idea of the transparent, obvious and well-meaning motives of Leah’s.

    I loved the realism of the characters, with their unrealistic ideas: Mel with her impossible workload, and low self-belief, just waiting to implode; Cleo, full of an intelligence and self-confidence that even her own family finds intimidating; and Daisy. Trusting, happy, centred Daisy. I suffered the most with her, especially during her fog-filled week of self-deluded bliss – it was so perfectly depicted.

    Kelly manages to show us these women’s journeys from two persepectives – ours, where we know or suspect the truth and foresee the imminent crashes; and theirs, where they are snug and secure, if slightly unbalanced, and have no idea of the disasters unfolding. And she still manages plenty of surprises for the reader.

    A beautiful and well-written saga, with no pat answers or resolutions.

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  • Review: Adventures of a Young Naturalist: The Zoo Quest Expeditions

    Adventures of a Young Naturalist: The Zoo Quest ExpeditionsAdventures of a Young Naturalist: The Zoo Quest Expeditions by David Attenborough

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    Reviewing Sir David Attenborough was always going to be a daunting prospect. After all, who am I? Do I really have the right to judge the greatest naturalist of the 20th century (if not of all time)? But I’m glad I didn’t let that stop me, because this is a beautiful story, reminiscent of Gerald Durrell’s expeditions to the pampas of South America, or even the Alby Mangels World Safaris (minus the women).

    Written in a time when naturalists captured more specimens than they filmed, when land was openly cleared and slashed and burned en masse, The Zoo Quest Expeditions document a different world, one rich and diverse yet inevitably heading towards the issues we face today.

    Sir David is just as humble on the page as he is on screen; and his love of nature and respect for people just as obvious. He is at times self-deprecating; at other times he crows with delight, certain in his knowledge and skills. And then, as in the ending, he’s so deadpan he’s hilarious (don’t jump to it or you’ll spoil it – you have to know why he says it first).

    At first I tried to force the distinctive Sir David voice in my head as I read, but I couldn’t do it. Not all that surprising when you compare his book self with his documentary self: think Sir David in an episode of Frozen Planet where he says nothing for whole minutes, until a polar bear enters the shot – and then he simply says ‘bears’. Now think Sir David on the page, with no such pictures to paint the story, where he is more like the Sir David of interviews, or his Natural Curiosities series.

    This is an outstanding episode in the life of Sir David Attenborough and a joy to read. No wonder it’s been resissued in time for Christmas!

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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  • Review: A Question Of Trust

    A Question of TrustA Question of Trust by Penny Vincenzi

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    What a strangely compelling story – or is it a series of interwoven stories?

    It was not written in a style I would expect for a look into the hearts and souls of people living their lives, falling in love, and going through tragedies, because it was so detached. I never once felt I was there. Instead, I was an on-looker, like a bird flitting from flower to flower. And somehow, this made it even more real.

    Vincenzi takes me to each ‘flower’ and gives me a glimpse of their lives right there and then. Sometimes a major drama is unfolding, other times I’ve only just missed it and experience the aftermath instead, before she takes me to the next character.

    She also makes a game out of each chapter opening – who are we dealing with now? Try and guess by the events or the setting because they’re the only clues you’re going to get. One whole (very short) chapter never named a soul (and it was the most moving chapter of all). Usually I’d complain about being pulled out of the story to figure things out, but this time that whole flitting flower to flower thing meant I was never there in the first place. It honestly made this a mildly voyeuristic experience.

    But while Vincenzi’s characters felt like fond memories of old acquaintances, giving me that ‘I wonder what they’re doing now’ sensation, they were also real. I loved Tom. Then I hated him. Then I forgave him, laughed at him, and decided he just wasn’t the nicest flower in the bush. I was glad I can walk away from him. And it was all because he was more human than character. He wasn’t all good, he wasn’t all bad. He held stupid ideals to his heart and stood on useless principles. He meant well.

    I should also lay acclaim at the feet of the historic side of this story – especially the medical aspect. Sometimes that history was its own drawcard: I mean, really – did doctors actually used to put a cervical stitch in place for placenta praevia?! (Oh. Wait a minute. I just looked that up. We actually still do that. See what I mean? The things you can learn by reading fiction.)

    The most moving part for me, the flower that made the entire flight of fantasy so rich and rewarding, was the children. I don’t do spoilers, and there are a lot of children in this story, but you’ll know which ones I mean when you read it. Right near the end, their very last mention. That undid me and I cried as though a whole Hollywood orchestra told me to.

    This is well worth the read, and I’m glad I savoured it, took my time with it, and made the joy last a whole 10 days.

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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  • Review: Acts Of Vanishing

    Acts of VanishingActs of Vanishing by Fredrik T. Olsson

    My rating: 4 of 5 stars

    This is an outstanding concept. It will make an amazing movie. And, without giving a single thing away, I will be attached to one character (it’s obvious who once you read it – the one I just can’t name or I will spoil everything) forever.

    The start was brilliant – so filled with action and questions and a drive to find out answers.

    But the rest was a struggle of a read. Don’t get me wrong – I have no regrets having read it and I recommend it highly. Do not just sit back and wait for the movie (because this better be a movie! are you listening JJ Abrams?). You must read it. But it was filled with confusions.

    The confusion at the opening of every scene was probably by design – it’s a bit of fun wondering whose perspective we’re in now, waiting a couple of paragraphs to find out. But the occasional head-hopping, a few sudden unexplained changes in character strength and power, huge dead-end red herring plot sub-sections, the constant reversal of motivation and reaction (so many effects were put before their causes that I couldn’t get involved with character motivations – if a character jumps at what they see, panics, runs, almost dies trying to get away, I would like to know what they saw so I can associate with them, not after them), and the often mix-ups between present tense and flashback were frustrating. All in all, this was like listening to someone narrating a movie to me. There was also the odd gaping hole that can’t be explained away as a convenient ‘mosquito bite’ – like why were the conversations in the limo never overheard despite it being the perfect vehicle and knowing who these people all reported to?

    But, now I’ve got that frustration out of the way, please believe me when I say this is interesting and compelling. In hindsight (as all great things are so obvious in hindsight) why hasn’t this ever been thought of before? We came incredibly close, a long time ago, with another outstanding movie, but I can’t name that either, or I will give everything away.

    This is a breathtaking, stupendous story, one that I can’t recommend highly enough. Sorry for the rant, but it really is.

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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  • Review: A Funny Thing On The Way To Chemo

    A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To ChemoA Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Chemo by Luke Ryan

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    This book is funny on so many levels. It’s the kind of awkward funny of ‘hey – speaking of funny, I’ve got cancer’ and the deep, almost invisible funny of looking on the bright side of life (even if sometimes in a Monty Python way) and my personal favourite (sorry) of ‘oh my god the loo won’t flush and everyone will know it was me’ funny.

    I read it in preparation for a ‘Writing Comedy’ course that Ryan is running. A sort of ‘I want to write funny, he’s going to try to teach me how to write funny, I better read his book’. And maybe because I was wearing my analysing hat rather than my reading-for-enjoyment hat, I didn’t find the ‘gag on every page’ one reviewer found.

    Instead, I found a perfect balance – about six laugh-out-loud moments in total, one intensely shocking jaw-dropping moment that I honestly didn’t know was a thing even though I work in emergency health (you’ll know which one I mean. You’ll just know as soon as you read the words. And then you’ll google it and your jaw will drop even further), and the rest was an honest look at how cancer affects a man and his tight-knit family. Twice.

    It was refreshing in that Ryan never once seemed to want to make me feel sorry for him (even though he has every right to). He may have played the cancer card to the max with friends and strangers, but he made it all into the lightest of troubles in this book. We know cancer is cruel. We know it’s tough and merciless and degrading. Yet somehow he manages to have a beautiful outlook, an amazing self-deprecating attitude, a normal let’s-get-drunk-and-have-fun sense of denial. He brings in such personality – about his inherent lack of sportiness, his apparent drive to make his twenties all about himself – and he just owns his weaknesses (love that five-year-old Hawke joke!).

    This book was the perfect length and went into the perfect amount of detail: it left me wanting to know more rather than being a slogging-to-turn-the-pages-because-I’d-be-a-heartless-human-being-if-I-couldn’t-at-least-finish-it kind of book.

    I have no idea how I’m ever going to pull off the concept of writing funny like Ryan has.

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  • Review: Everything’s Eventual

    Everything's EventualEverything’s Eventual by Stephen King

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    Forgive me, but I’m going to say exactly what I mean here!

    If you struggled with The Dark Tower series or The Stand like I did, if you think those stories are outstanding concepts but wish they’d been a whole lot shorter, if you harboured the idea in the back of your mind that Stephen King would do well to read his own On Writing after attempting/struggling/failing to finish any of those, then read this to find your way back on track to the glory that is Stephen King.

    I found myself continually amazed at how good a story-writer Stephen King is. Every story in this anthology left me with the feeling of having discovered something rich and deep, something that will stay with me forever. I literally re-discovered the joys of reading that I first discovered as a child reading the likes of Isaac Asimov’s and Ray Bradbury’s short stories.

    King is possibly the only writer I know who can re-use his old devices in new ways – paintings that appear alive in It are equally alive in The Road Virus Heads North. Undead characters from the grave are there for a hitchhiker in need in Pet Sematary and Riding the Bullet. The me that went before The Dark Tower would not have appreciated that as much as the me that came after does.

    Absolutely outstanding.

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  • Review: Secrets Between Friends

    Secrets Between FriendsSecrets Between Friends by Fiona Palmer

    My rating: 3 of 5 stars

    The opening to this story is a gorgeous and heartfelt meeting-of-soul-mates. Jess and Peter are so obviously meant for each other. So, based on the blurb, I’m thinking this is a story about frustrated love and the journey to either the acceptance of what is, or the courage to change it. And it’s exactly that, a lovely story about Peter and Jess sorting themselves out.

    For me though, the story was written in a passive style that refused to allow me to immerse myself. Bear with me, the story does redeem itself… Feel free to skip the negatives and go straight to ‘Redemption’. It’s underlined for your convenience.

    Telling not showing I’m told every step of the way what the characters were feeling and what was happening, often repeatedly: …the two were like a sugar overdose in a sun-filled room with rainbows and fairies – it’s a lovely line, but we already knew their oneness. …he was her home, her safe place…. Yep, did I mention we knew that already?

    Contradictions Often this telling was at odds with the showing: Jess and Peter are on the beach. Guilt is eating at Jess. She’s confused, she’s keeping more than one awful secret from Peter, she misses her baby, and she’s just managed to get her breathing and tears under control. But their behaviour?! arm in arm they strolled along the beach, kicking sand, towards the coffee shop. This is a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, not a cold, calculating sociopath able to keep all her troubles repressed.

    Info dumps Such as this forced sentence, a bit much for me on page 6:‘You bet,’ said Ricki van Leeuwin as she passed her colleague Jolene in the hospital corridor.

    Mixed messages …they headed for the walkway, Welcome written along it, their access to the ship. The six orange life boats stood out against the vibrant white of the ship, which she hoped didn’t have to be used. Why are you worried about the… Oh… I see now.

    Head-hopping Jess sits beside Peter, his eyes masked by dark sunglasses. He doesn’t stir, yet she somehow knows he returned his gaze to the pool.

    Weak motivations Jess, Peter, and Abbie run around frantically looking for Ricki, hoping she’s not hurt. But they can’t find her anywhere and their worry increases. So they stop looking for her. And change the subject.

    Redemption But I put these personal dislikes aside, allowed myself to be passively led to where I was supposed to go… and then I found the gem. Abbie, you star! This is not about Peter and Jess at all, but about Abbie and her depth and surprises. She was a mystery unravelling before my eyes, becoming more and more real. Initially hard to tell apart from Jess’s voice, Abbie at first appears as a victim, hiding her light under a bushel, seemingly for some kind of misplaced martyrdom. But her flower unfurls. She single-handedly does all the growing in the story.

    All in all, I’m glad to have read this story – I just wish I knew what it was really about when I started. Abbie will stay with me for some time yet.

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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  • Review: Now Let’s Dance

    Now Let's DanceNow Let’s Dance by Karine Lambert

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    For a story about two different people living life after loss, this book is striking from page one.

    For the first eight pages, Lambert uses a passive voice and a handful of paragraphs to detail a marriage of fifty-five years. Yep. Such was the marriage. This, people, is exactly how you use passive voice – to describe a dull existence devoid of emotional highs and lows, with as many spare words devoted to the funeral service as were devoted to the marriage. This told me almost everything I need to know about Maggy to understand her.

    By contrast, the next eight pages are warm and passionate, colourful and uplifting, even though they tell the technically sadder tale of Marcel fleeing his homeland. Marcel’s story is real and present, active and exciting. And we haven’t even gotten to the marriage yet, let alone the funeral.

    Already I’m hoping Maggy gets to live before she dies, and hoping Marcel is the one to give that to her.

    This is a delightful story about self-confidence and self-belief, and a timely reminder of the days where women were first something to be married off, then something to bear children.

    How hard it must be at any age to find the courage to live the life you want to live.

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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  • Review: The Light Of Other Days

    The Light Of Other DaysThe Light Of Other Days by Arthur C. Clarke

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    This is classic Stephen Baxter – the end of the world as we know it, only more positive than most (possibly the Arthur C Clarke influence?).

    It has all the hallmarks of Baxter’s fascination with geology and anthropology and explores the emotional and social changes to humanity that result from advancements to our technology. And despite its science, the result is a warm and human story with parallels to issues of the present – at least, I didn’t see a generation growing up with wormhole technology as any different to a generation growing up with social media. Every generation is misunderstood by the technology-free generation before them.

    I like the thought-provoking answers Baxter and Clarke present to long-standing issues – whether it be the cause of a neanderthal’s death or events in the time of Christ.

    The world in these pages is vivid and realistic, the actions and motivations of people and companies both scary and promising at the same time.

    As usual from either Clarke or Baxter, this story will stay with me for a long time.

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  • Review: Two Little Girls In Blue

    Two Little Girls in BlueTwo Little Girls in Blue by Mary Higgins Clark

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    This was such an elegantly simple story, beautifully written and always moving forward.

    With a scattering of red herrings and false leads, plus the thrill of knowing things the characters don’t, Higgins Clark hardly leaves me any time to try to second-guess the suspects. Of course, I did have my pick and yes, my crest fell when I was wrong.

    There were still some questions unanswered – like how did The Pied Piper know everyone’s phone numbers – but these just added to the mystery. Questions in real life go unanswered all the time.

    Anyone interested in studying the format for a whodunnit, this is a great turn-to story. A nice, easy, compelling read.

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  • Review: Traitors

    TraitorsTraitors by Frank Walker

    My rating: 5 of 5 stars

    I have often wondered, did the multi-national companies who aided Nazi Germany know what they were doing, or did they hang their heads in sorrow and shame and hope for mercy when they found out at the end of the war?

    Well, how stupid of me. They knew. And they happily took Hitler’s stolen gold in payment.

    Take Standard Oil, the giant American petroleum corporation that gave the formula for synthetic rubber to Nazi Germany rather than to its own country. But when the US government laid charges against it, its CEO forced them to drop the matter because, it said, the Allies would lose the war without Standard Oil. So, after paying a minuscule fine (and finally providing the US with the formula), this ‘American’ company continued to supply both sides. No wonder the ‘baby Standards’ today, Exxon, Chevron, and Amoco, get away with so much: it’s in their charter.

    Or take IBM. Its CEO was awarded, personally by Hitler, a swastika-bedecked ‘Order of the German Eagle with Star’. Why? Because IBM leased thousands of punch-card machines (computer forerunners) to the Nazis from the time Hitler won power to the end of the war. For thirteen years IBM knew their machines were identifying everyone Hitler wanted killed. IBM helped round them up and send them to the deadly concentration camps, even classified their deaths. How do we know they knew what they were doing? Because IBM developed the telltale string-codes: first three digits for the concentration camp name (Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Dachau, etc); more digits for reason for imprisonment (Jews, homosexuals, gypsies, antisocials, etc); even a digit for manner of death (execution, suicide, gas chamber, starvation, disease, even worked to death). They knew exactly what Hitler was paying them good money for. IBM even did the concentration camp rounds every two weeks to service the machines! Somehow managing to keep their lunches down in the process.

    Everyone involved knew what was going on. Plausible denial is not at all plausible. And it wasn’t just in the Nazi theatre:

    The US government used those same IBM machines to round up civilians of Japanese descent for the western version of race prejudice and war hysteria. And the IBM fatcats happily took all the profits and became literally ‘filthy’ rich off these extraordinary miseries too.

    Or take the Australian dockworkers in 1938 who refused to load pig iron on a ship bound for Japan, as it would be used to make weapons to conquer the south seas – the seemingly unstoppable Japanese forces had already invaded China and killed over a million Chinese troops. But the ‘big Australian’, the ‘quiet achiever’ BHP literally demanded its right to earn a huge profit. It sacked 4000 workers and cried for government help. In a dictatorial step, the Australian Prime Minister himself forced the workers to load the ship. How much of that pig iron was fired back at our brave troops in New Guinea we will probably never know.

    These examples are just a sample of what Walker has put together in this mind-blowing exposé on the hidden priorities of our leaders and our corporations in times of war, and the cold hearts of the manufacturers of Hitler’s ovens. It makes me wonder how their priorities could be any kinder in times of peace.

    It is the kind of book that will never be taught in schools – it raises too many hard questions and threatens a way of life very comfortable for some. But if German schoolchildren have to tour the Camps, then we have to read this.

    Gutsy, ballsy, and heartbreaking; this is a must-read.

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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  • Review: After I’ve Gone

    After I've GoneAfter I’ve Gone by Linda Green

    My rating: 3 of 5 stars

    What an intriguing premise! Facebook posts from the future that just keep coming, day after day, week after week. It’s the modern-day equivalent of seeing a gypsy palm-reader, only this one, in the style of Zoltar from Big, seems to be coming true.

    I like Jess’s doubts about the reality of what she’s seeing, her confusion over whether it’s her or the rest of the world who’s going crazy. On top of this confusion, Jess seems to willingly accept the gradual changes forced on her by her partner as he closes down her old way of life, makes her scared to speak in case she upsets his balance, and to consider herself inferior. In her case, it’s because she doesn’t believe the Facebook prophecies (because why would you?!), but it’s also a textbook example of exactly how mental abuse works, and how it escalates into physical abuse, and Green portrays it realistically and cringingly well.

    As for the blurb: ‘what if the only way to save your child’s life was to sacrifice your own?’ I’ve met women who have left a man they love wholeheartedly, crying as they do so because it’s tearing them apart to do it, all for a future baby. A baby that doesn’t exist, and may never exist. So as incredible as Jess’s actions may be, I know it happens.

    I also liked the true present tense of the story:

    I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Dad standing there, his eyes rimmed red, his cheeks hollowed out, hurt and pain oozing out of every pore.
    ‘I don’t want to leave her,’ I say.
    ‘I know,’ he replies. ‘Me neither.’

    Even the middle of the story, slow enough to make me consider stopping, but with hints of the ending compelling me to continue, may only have reduced the story to four stars. Even though that slowness includes overwhelming detail, such as when we trace the exact movements of a background mug of hot chocolate: from the boiling of the milk, to the mug being put on the table, to the stirring of the hot chocolate, to the shaking of the mug as her father drinks his, to Jess picking hers up to leave, carrying it upstairs ‘careful not to slop the hot chocolate on the carpet’, to putting the mug down on the landing and then coming ‘back to the landing to get my hot chocolate’. It’s the complete opposite of old sitcoms where characters never close doors behind them or need to go to the toilet!

    But the end knocked off another star. For a story that was always about how it was going to end, it lacked resolution. Unanswered questions like ‘where to next’ or ‘I wonder how that plays out’ are delicious and insightful, but unfulfilled promises of a punchy twist (that’s not a spoiler, it’s from the praise on the opening page) are not. And Green feels the same way, if her first Book Club Question is anything to go by: the very key to the story, its very reason for existence and cause for all change in all characters, was ignored from halfway through the story.

    All in all, an interesting read. Maybe a second book can pick up where this one left off: Jess’s timeline gets more future Facebook messages? Maybe Sadie gets them instead?

    I received a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

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