2025/037: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks — Rebecca Skloot

Black scientists and technicians, many of them women, used cells from a black woman to help save the lives of millions of Americans, most of them white. And they did so on the same campus – and at the very same time – that state officials were conducting the infamous Tuskegee syphilis studies. [p. 97]

I've owned this book for a decade, and I wish I had read it sooner. It's the story of a Black woman in 1950s America, who died of cervical cancer, and whose cells (or rather whose cancer's cells) were taken and used for research. It's not clear what level of consent, if any, she gave for this. The HeLa cells grew very rapidly and, unlike other cultured cells, did not die: this made them ideal for experimental purposes. The polio vaccine was developed using HeLa cells, and HeLa cells have been sent into space, subjected to radiation, and used for medical and pharmaceutical research.

Lacks' family knew nothing of this until the mid-Seventies.

Skloot worked with the Lacks family, especially Henrietta's daughter Deborah, to explore how Henrietta Lacks' cells had achieved this semi-life of their own. It's a damning depiction of bioethical mispractice, as well as a story of systemic racism. Skloot treats the Lacks family with sympathy and sensitivity, and helps them to understand the science of the HeLa strain. They're mostly only educated to a basic level, and they are very religious. (One of the family theorises that HeLa cells are the 'spiritual body' of Henrietta Lacks.) And they are angry: "...if our mother cells done so much for medicine, how come her family can’t afford to see no doctors?" [p. 10]

This was immensely readable, with clear explanations of the science and vignettes of Lacks family life. I was a little uncomfortable about the repeated reference to 'Henrietta's cells': they were cancer cells, and their DNA is not the same as hers. But this is a world where a dead woman's cells have birthed a billion-dollar industry, and I think it's important to remember where those cells came from.

[The Marvel character Hela:] part dead and part alive, with “immeasurable” intelligence, “superhuman” strength, “godlike” stamina and durability, and five hundred pounds of solid muscle. She’s responsible for plagues, sickness, and catastrophes; she’s immune to fire, radiation, toxins, corrosives, disease, and aging. She can also levitate and control people’s minds...When Deborah found pages describing Hela the Marvel character, she thought they were describing her mother, since each of Hela’s traits in some way matched what Deborah had heard about her mother’s cells. But it turned out the sci-fi Hela was inspired by the ancient Norse goddess of death, who lives trapped in a land between hell and the living. Deborah figured that goddess was based on her mother too. [p. 254]

2025/036: Daughter of Fire — Sofia Robleda

Father’s story gods had names like Hephaestus and Hera. Mother’s were Auilix and Xbalanque. [loc. 59]

Catalina de Cerrato is 'the only legitimate mixed-blood child in town'. She grows up in Guatemala, a generation after the Spanish Conquest: her Spanish father is the Governor, her Mayan mother was executed for heresy. Catalina is a strong-willed young woman, and she's determined to honour her vow to her mother -- to preserve the Popul Vuh, a sacred text which recounts the history of the K'iche' people. In an uneasy alliance with the handsome Juan de Rojas, a Mayan descended from kings, and with her own cousin Cristóbal -- and the use of psychedelics -- Catalina transcribes the ancient legends. But her father is strict (though fair) and it's hard for Catalina to reconcile the two halves of her heritage: the Mayan myths which live vividly in her mind, and the Spanish genocide still celebrated by the older generation.

I found the historical elements of the novel more convincing than the romance, and I wasn't comfortable with the catalogue of disasters that befell Catalina. Well-written, and with vivid descriptions, Daughter of Fire includes a bibliography, and an afterword explaining the historical context. Catalina's father is not very nice to his children, but "by implementing the New Laws almost single-handedly, Don Alonso López de Cerrato achieved one of the most extraordinary feats of administration in the New World. Yet, he has been largely forgotten by history."

2025/035: Rocannon's World — Ursula Le Guin

...there were no words. Yet it asked him what he wished. “I do not know,” the man said aloud in terror, but his set will answered silently for him: I will go south and find my enemy and destroy him. [loc. 1632]

Le Guin's first published novel (1966), and not nearly as distinctive or profound as her later work: it's more readable than a lot of mid-Sixties planetary romance, though, and there are traces of themes that would appear in her later novels, such as sacrifice and colonialism.

Rocannon is a 'middle-aged' (43!) ethnologist, who -- in the opening chapter, a variant of Le Guin's short story 'Semley's Necklace' -- encounters a beautiful alien woman who has been brought by dwarven Clayfolk to retrieve an heirloom from a museum. Semley's story ends when she returns to her world and discovers that her husband is dead and her daughter an old woman: though the journey took 'one night' for her, decades have passed. It's as though she's been taken to Fairyland, and Rocannon's subsequent journey to her world has many of the trappings of a fantasy novel: a quest with a varied group of companions, a gift that is also a curse, the realisation that one can't go home again.

The main narrative begins some years later, after Rocannon has travelled to Fomalhaut II (Semley's planet) to do a survey: a stealth attack has destroyed Rocannon's spaceship and killed the rest of his team. He is stranded, and he needs to get a message to the League of All Worlds to report the ship's destruction and the presence of the lightly-sketched Enemy. He travels south, accompanied by Semley's grandson Mogien, a couple of servants, and an elven Fiia given to prophesy: his technology is mistaken for magic, and he himself for the mythological 'Wanderer': he encounters monstrous winged creatures, rough piratical types, intelligent rodents and an unseen entity who bestows a double-edged gift. And then, when his mission is accomplished, the novel concludes in less than a page. Yes, it's a short novel (originally half an Ace Double), but the pacing is ... uneven.

I did enjoy reading this, despite Rocannon's single-note character. I liked the way that the world is shaped by Rocannon's own decision to put the planet in a kind of quarantine. "...after I met Lady Semley, I went to my people and said, what are we doing on this world we don’t know anything about? Why are we taking their money and pushing them about? What right have we?" [loc. 469] And I liked the occasional phrase that rang true, that reminded me of Le Guin's later work:  "this world to which he had come a stranger across the gulfs of night" [loc. 843]

This was technically a reread, though very little felt at all familiar: I bought Rocannon's World for my father one Christmas in the ?1980s, and very likely devoured it pre-gifting. I inherited that paperback, too, and kept it until 2007. This time round I bought the compendium Worlds of Exile and Illusion, which contains Le Guin's first three novels: I'll get around to Planet of Exile and City of Illusions at some point...

2025/034: The Orb of Cairado — Katherine Addison

...one of Ulcetha's main tasks was writing fake provenances for the fake elven artefacts that came into Salathgarad's hands... It was a terrible use of second-class honors in history, but Ulcetha gritted his teeth and did it anyway because he was paid extremely well. He even came to find the work perversely interesting. [p. 8]

The events of The Goblin Emperor are triggered by the crash of an airship, which kills the emperor and all but one of his heirs. The Orb of Caraido tells the story of disgraced scholar Ulcetha Zhorvena, for whom the airship crash was a very personal tragedy: his best friend Mara was the pilot of the airship. From Mara, Ulcetha inherits a puzzle with a very academic twist that leads him back into the Department of History, from which he was expelled after being framed for the theft of the priceless Orish Veltavan. Working with historian Osmer Trenevar, Ulcetha discovers a murder, a secret love affair, and the possibility of clearing his name.

The Orb of Cairado is only about a hundred pages long, but there's a lot of plot in those pages. Ulcetha -- who likes trashy adventure novels, a taste which saves his life -- is vividly characterised, and he comes to look at his world and himself quite differently by the end of the story. I liked the backstabbing and politicking of the University, and Ulcetha's technique for gaining access to family archives: I'd happily read a whole novel about him, and it felt as though I had. The Goblin Emperor is a dense novel (I just checked the page count and was surprised to find it was under 500 pages!): The Orb of Cairado, though it has a simpler structure, is just as tightly woven. I find the Osreth books fascinating, not least because the author seldom explains much about anything. There is a weight of worldbuilding lurking beneath the surface.

2025/033: Yule Island — Johana Gustawsson

I thought, or rather I hoped, there was a man in this horrifying equation. A man who manipulated [her], perverted her, preying on her weaknesses to turn her into a monster. But the missing part of that equation was a woman... [p. 219]

Set on Storholmen, an island in the Stockholm archipelago, this is a chilly and twisty crime novel by an author who, despite her name, is French: indeed, she's known as the Queen of French Noir.

Emma Lindahl is employed to appraise the art and antiques collection of the Gussman family, whose manor house dominates Storholmen. Nine years ago, Emma's sister Sofia died on the island, her body found hanging from a tree with a pair of scissors hanging around her neck in a manner suggestive of Viking ritual. Emma does not advertise this connection, but she's keen to discover what really happened. When another young woman is murdered nearby, she encounters Detective Inspector Karl Rosén, who investigated Sofia's death and who's mourning the disappearance of his wife. The third viewpoint character is a woman named Viktoria, a housekeeper at the manor house: she's worried about her daughter Josephine, and especially Josephine's friendship with Thor, the teenaged son of her employers.

Two major twists, both of which were built on solid foundations and were credible within the story: both of which had me gaping and paging back to see how, where... The relationships between Karl, Emma, Anneli (who runs a cafe on the island), Freyja (Karl's wife) and others occasionally felt shallow, but there were also moments of great emotional complexity. Very atmospheric, and good at explaining (sometimes overexplaining) Swedish idiom, culture etc. In particular, Swedish expostulations are followed by their translation. "För helvete. For God's sake."

I did not predict the outcome, even after the twists and their sub-twists: the Viking element was neither super-intrusive nor horribly anachronistic. A shame, though, that the victims were almost all young women. And I'm not wholly convinced by the motivation behind the 'sacrifices'.

2025/032: Nowhere Else — Felicia Davin

“You know people who can travel across the universe in the blink of an eye and all you want from them is to feed your cats.” [loc. 1752]

The conclusion to the Nowhere trilogy (which began with Edge of Nowhere and continued with Out of Nowhere), this novel focuses on the scientist who caused the rift into the Nowhere: Dr Solomon Lange. He came back out of the breach greatly changed, having acquired an ability to move things with his mind and a conviction that the Nowhere provided an escape from 'the misery of embodiment'. Lange doesn't like anyone else on QSF17, except for (a) his cats and (b) possibly engineer Jake McCreery. He can hear and see the breach, which nobody else can, and he's probably the only person who can close it: but he needs a break, some time to recover from his ordeal in the Nowhere. Lange and McCreery take a trip back to Earth, to a Canadian an Alaskan shack in the wilderness: the landing pod is damaged, and he and McCreery (plus Lange's three cats) are stranded. They come to know and understand one another rather better than before.

It was initially hard to warm to either of the leads. Lange is the epitome of arrogant, asocial scientist: McCreery is preternaturally imperturbable, easy-going, and kind. In fact, the two have quite a lot in common, including a reluctance to form romantic relationships. Their time in Alaska brings them closer together, but it can't last forever. The breach is still threatening the fabric of the universe, and QSF17 -- a hollowed-out asteroid in lunar orbit -- may also be harbouring an alien intruder. Turns out it's a lot easier to save the universe if you're not working alone.

I found Lange's background, and his scientific approach to his lack of meaningful relationships, rather moving, and I liked the unexpected connection between Lange and Kit. The Lange/McCreery relationship was satisfying (as was Lange's obvious affection for his cats): however, I didn't feel that the SFnal elements of the broader plot were explored as fully as I'd have liked. A very enjoyable read, though.

2025/031: Out of Nowhere — Felicia Davin

Caleb didn’t want anything to do with that. His double wreaking havoc on a stranger’s reputation wasn’t his problem. The whole fucking multiverse was falling apart, and more importantly, so was he. [loc. 2434]

Sequel to Edge of Nowhere, which I enjoyed enough to immediately buy the rest of the trilogy: Out of Nowhere avoids middle-volume syndrome by picking up the story with different characters and with a different mode. This is more romance-with-SFnal-elements than SF-with-romantic elements, and it's also a tale of the multiverse, complete with exact doubles, different histories, and an ambitious heist.

Caleb took a job at QSF17 (a secret research lab hidden in a captured asteroid) to rescue his childhood best friend Aidan, who's a runner -- someone able to teleport and to take things with them -- and who was abducted by representatives of Quint Services. The rescue was accomplished (see Edge of Nowhere), but Aidan is no longer able to teleport. While Aidan recovers (and broods about being in unrequited love with his straight childhood best friend) Caleb encounters his own double, realises that the multiverse is a thing, and comes up with a scheme to make Quint pay by having his double confess to Quint's crimes.

What could possibly go wrong?

Actually, most of the things that I thought might go wrong didn't: instead Davin presents a delightful, and surprisingly successful, heist, complete with a celebrity spiritualist (last seen taking delivery of a vomitous dog), a new serum, and a life-saving drug. Also identity porn, activism, fake dating, and a trillionaire getting his just deserts. There are some dark moments (and quite a few points where I wanted to yell 'just talk to him!') but the finale was very satisfactory.

2025/030: The Runaways — Elizabeth Goudge

They had the charming surname of Linnet, and it was a pity it did not suit them. [p. 19]

First published in 1964 as Linnets and Valerians, those being the surnames of two entwined families: reissued as the winner of Hesperus Press's 'Uncover a Children's Classic Competition'. Four children, sent to stay with their autocratic grandmother while their father is soldiering in Egypt, flee her draconian rules. They find an unattended pony and trap outside a pub, plunder the bags of shopping therein, and climb in -- only to find that the pony knows its way home. Arriving after dark at a house they've never visited, they are greeted by an elderly gentleman who gives them beds for the night. He turns out to be their Uncle Ambrose, and sends a note to their grandmother to let her know where they are: she's quite happy for him to take charge of and educate them.

And life with Uncle Ambrose is quite idyllic. His employee Ezra (who had to walk all the way back from the pub on his wooden leg) takes to the children; Uncle Ambrose's reclusive neighbour Lady Alicia regards them as 'inevitable as the sun and rain' and her servant Moses Glory Glory Alleluja befriends them -- as do the bees. Not everyone in the village is wholesome, though. Emma Cobley, who runs the village shop, possibly sets her possibly-monstrous cat Frederick on them. (‘A sweet cat. A dear, pretty, loving, gentle cat,’ she insists, though Timothy, the younger boy, is still smarting from the scratches of a tiger-sized beast.) And there's a man known as 'Daft Davie' living in a cave under the tor (this is Devon) and a spell-book full of nastiness and a missing child and a lost husband and a publican who's up to no good...

I wish I'd read this as a child: I'd have loved it. It's very traditionally English, and feels Edwardian. Each child has a different and decided character: Robert who has all the ideas, Nan who deals with the aftermath of those ideas, Timothy who is frail but determined, and Betsy whose curiosity is matched by her kindness. There's a definite threat, which has blighted the village: there are adults behaving like adults, several unexpected reunions, and happy endings for all. And the writing is delightful, never too scary but sometimes quite dark, and peppered with mythological references.

Poor Frederick, though...

Bought in 2014, only just read!

2025/029: The Cosmic Serpent: DNA and the Origins of Knowledge — Jeremy Narby

I was now of the opinion that DNA was at the origin of shamanic knowledge. By “shamanism,” I understood a series of defocalization techniques: controlled dreams, prolonged fasting, isolation in wilderness, ingestion of hallucinogenic plants, hypnosis based on a repetitive drumbeat, near-death experience, or a combination of the above. [loc. 1410]

Narby's hypothesis is that shamanic ritual, and in particular the use of botanical hallucinogens ('plant-teachers'), allows indigenous peoples to access botanical and medical knowledge imparted at the molecular level via DNA. He's a hands-on experimenter, and his own experiences of ayahuasca -- a complex preparation, which shamans claim was taught to them by the plants -- inspired his theory that hallucinations and visions of entwined snakes, vines etc actually represent DNA. He theorises that the rituals and preparations allow humans to perceive the weak, colourful photons emitted by DNA.

I am not at all sure what I think about Narby's theories, but I am willing to accept that there are ways of understanding the world that do not conform to the scientific method. Narby writes "The problem is not having presuppositions, but failing to make them explicit. If biology said about the intentionality that nature seems to manifest at all levels, 'we see it sometimes, but cannot discuss it without ceasing to do science according to our own criteria,' things would at least be clear. But biology tends to project its presuppositions onto the reality it observes, claiming that nature itself is devoid of intention." [loc. 1818] Some of the studies he cites, and some of the arguments he makes, seem credible: at other points, such as his discussion of the role of 'wise serpents' in mythology, I was less convinced.

The book itself could have done with better proofreading and better conversion to ebook format: I was especially vexed by the rendering of large numbers, which did not superscript the powers. 'there is 1 chance in 20 multiplied by itself 200 times for a single specific protein to emerge fortuitously. This figure, which can be written 20200, and which is roughly equivalent to 10260, is enormously greater than the number of atoms in the observable universe (estimated at 1080)' [loc. 1023] ... Or 20²⁰⁰, 10²⁶⁰, 10⁸⁰...

An interesting read and an intriguing theory, but perhaps not as engaging (or convincing) as the author intended -- and more about his personal experience and beliefs than about the science of hallucinogens and the visions they create. Kudos to Narby for openmindedness and rejection of colonial mindsets.

an interesting interview with Narby, including accounts of some researchers asking ayahuasca specific questions.

2025/028: Kif: An Unvarnished History — Josephine Tey

I'm almost frightened for him sometimes, and I don't in the least know why. I think perhaps because he is so tremendously in love with life. People who are that are simply asking to get hurt. [loc. 1075]

A flawed but fascinating novel about Kif, who joins the Army at 15 (he's big for his age) to escape the grinding monotony of rural life as an orphan; makes friends with his fellow soldiers; doesn't adjust well to post-war civilian life, and -- after a disastrous business failure -- falls in love with Baba, sister of a friend from the war, whose family induct Kif into a shadowy world of crime.

This is nowhere near as well-written or as well-observed as The Expensive Halo, but Tey's understated account, and her depiction of a young man almost entirely alienated from his fellow humans, kept me reading to the tragic finale.

I do wonder if Tey intended some of the loose threads -- the spiritualist's vision, the culpability of Collins,  Hough's involvement in the business failure -- to be picked up later in the novel. It might have made Kif's story twistier and more interesting.

The edition available as an ebook from Amazon is not great (for one thing, someone has been through and done a global replace of 'arni' to 'tingle': look at the Amazon cover!) but Kif is in the public domain, so can be acquired from Project Gutenberg etc. Meanwhile, I shall keep Tey's other novels for future reading.

2025/027: The Expensive Halo — Josephine Tey

On Sara the riot of peacock greens and blues and iris yellows [of her silk offcut dressing-gown] looked barbarically appropriate. Every time her eye lighted on the splendour and the subtlety of them she had a moment of pleasure, and each time her eye lighted on herself in the splendour her pleasure was renewed. She was Egypt, she was Diana, she was Circe. Sara’s dressing-gown was one of the things that helped to make life bearable for Sara. [loc. 404]

Published in 1931, this standalone, non-thriller novel by Josephine Tey is the story of two brother-and-sister pairs -- one aristocratic, the other working class. The actual plot (bored socialite Ursula Deane falls for Gareth, a penniless but ambitious violinist, while her brother Lord Chitterne falls for the violinist's sister Sara, a dressmaker: Sara persuades Ursula to give up Gareth so he can marry his childhood sweetheart) is fairly thin: what made this such a compelling read was Tey's descriptions of her characters, and her depictions of family life. Sara and Gareth's father is a monstrous authoritarian, and their mother 'still loved [him], because she had never analysed herself sufficiently to find out that she didn’t'. Ursula's friend Daphne is prone to cocktails and shrieks of mirth. And Mrs Marsden, who cleans for the Ellis family, 'had four absorbing interests in life: contraception, the price of boiling beef, the rent money, and the Duchess of York.' 

I'd have liked more examination of the differences between Ursula and her brother -- why the brother is a decent prospect for Sara despite the gaping chasm of class difference, while Ursula's love for Gareth is to be set aside before she gets bored of him -- but Tey seems more concerned with the horrors of working-class life.

Many of Tey's novels (some, like this, published under the name 'Gordon Daviot') are now in the public domain, and therefore available very cheaply. I shall read more...

2025/026: Edge of Nowhere — Felicia Davin

Kit was afraid to speak aloud what he’d seen—a man, trapped and screaming—because it sounded so crazy. And yet this was his life: teleportation, asteroids, other realities. What was one more thing in the mix? Why not a tortured ghost? [loc. 1966]

Kit is a runner, which means he can teleport to any coordinates he's given, usually with some illicit package, or a mob boss's gift (a stressed and vomitous dog) to his girlfriend. Runners, who teleport by moving through a dark featureless space called the Nowhere, are rare: they've made limited space colonisation possible. Dr Solomon Lange, a scientist working at QSF, an orbital facility in lunar orbit, has vanished while running experiments on the Nowhere: the sole witness to the accident, Emil Singh, has been thoroughly questioned by Quint Services. Now he's due to be returned to QSF, sedated and blindfolded -- and Kit is the runner chosen to transport him. But the Nowhere isn't empty...

Edge of Nowhere is an effective combination of M/M romance and science fiction. Emil is a sensible botanist who's loyal to his team, while Kit is a purple-haired, flamboyantly-dressed orphan who lives under the radar, mostly working on the wrong side of the law, unwilling to trust anyone. As Quint Services' nefarious schemes come to light, and Kit is menaced by some kind of entity in the Nowhere (could it be connected to the 'poltergeist' that haunts QSF17?), both men have to reassess their assumptions and prejudices -- and consider the possibility of a multiverse.

I liked this enough to immediately buy the sequel. There is a delightful (though outrageously neglected) cat named Niels Bohr; a former pop star who runs a bar with her wife; some extremely extra fashion choices; a lightly-sketched future (the end of the 21st century) in which climate change seems to have destroyed New York City; an appalling techno-trillionaire; and a light sprinkling of romance tropes. The science-fictional side of the novel was satisfactory -- yes, the science of the Nowhere is a bit handwavy but that's as much to do with our viewpoint characters as with the underlying logic -- and the romance works nicely. I'm not sure who recommended this to me, but thank you!

2025/025: Ludo and the Star Horse — Mary Stewart

You mean to keep faith with your friend... lead him as best you can along the path the sun is taking, through the good lands and the bad... The sun left my house this very day. If you can catch him before he reaches this spot again, your life's wish will be granted -- or else it will not, and who is to say which of the two will bring more happiness? [p. 54]

Audiobook (read by Paul Eddington) via the Internet Archive, as this childhood favourite seems to be unobtainable in ebook format. I adored this book when I was at primary school, and it holds up pretty well half a century later. 

Ludo is an eleven-year-old boy who lives in Bavaria, probably some time in the 19th century. One winter night, while he's alone at home, the family's elderly horse Renti escapes from his stable. Ludo is sure he'll be blamed, so he sets out through the snow to find Renti, who he's known all his life: who he loves. He falls into a cave and meets the Archer, a centaur, and is told that Renti is a star horse, like the horses who pull the sun's chariot. Ludo and Renti must follow the sun through the twelve houses of the star country, encountering perils and wonders -- not all of them predictable even by a reader who, unlike Ludo, is familiar with the houses of the Zodiac.

Ludo's not the brightest protagonist, but he is loyal, humble and kind -- all traits that stand him in good stead with the creatures and entities he meets. I had forgotten many of the details, such as the archer who restrains the Twins, and the rather dull embodiment of my own birth sign: but I remembered the book's climax, and it was just as compelling this time. I think the text was somewhat abridged for this audio version (which comes in two files, possibly from an LP) but the story remains intact, and Paul Eddington's narration is excellent. (Yes, he does voices, but not silly ones. The Scorpion was really chilling.)

I also noticed aspects of the story that I probably didn't recognise before. When Ludo meets the embodiment of Aquarius, he's a lad named Gula, which is the Babylonian name for the constellation. That archer who hangs out with the Twins, who introduces himself as Lykeios, is Apollo. The Archer is probably Chiron, since his pupils include Peleus. Even at nine, I was familiar with some Greek myths, but I'm not sure I spotted every reference.

An absolutely lovely 'reread', which has tempted me to re-skim a scan of the actual book. (Thanks, Internet Archive!)

2025/024: In the Land of Giants: A Journey Through the Dark Ages — Max Adams

Perhaps post-Roman Britain, far from the desolate, ruinous, plague-ridden chaos of Gildas’s portrait, was a genteel, faded seaside town of a land. Perhaps. [loc. 344]

In which Max Adams travels -- on foot, or by motorbike or car or boat -- through the British Isles, exploring early medieval sites and discussing their context. In the Land of Giants is as much a travel book as it's history in action: though there's little documentary evidence for life in Britain between the departure of the Romans and the time of Alfred the Great, there remain buildings, artefacts, monuments and landscapes from the 'Dark Ages'. Adams discusses the population decline in this period, but makes clear it wasn't a chaotic apocalypse of sword, fire and famine. 'People survived; some thrived; some left in the hope of a better life...' [loc. 775]

As well as the narrative of a country living amid the ruins of Romanisation -- Dark Ages armies marched on Roman roads, but town life had disintegrated -- this is a book full of fascinating facts. I learnt that Baldock, in Hertfordshire, was named after Baghdad; that Viking ships sailed up the Lea all the way to Hertford, and were stranded there when the river was dammed and drained; that the Scillies were a single landmass in the early days of the Roman occupation; that brewster and baxter are surnames deriving from female occupations (a baxter is a female baker, a brewster a female brewer)... And Adams' writing about walking to quiet one's thoughts, walking to regain a sense of the landscape, make me want to leave the city and head for the empty places.

A few typos, which really should have been fixed by now (it was slavers, not slaves, who took St Patrick to Ireland) and a few references to page numbers rather than locations. Most of the photographs are rather dark and indistinct in the ebook, but it's easy to find online images of the sites Adams visited.

I bought this in October 2016, and finally read it (very slowly) as part of my 'Down in the Cellar' self-challenge, which riffs on the metaphor of to-be-read pile as wine-cellar rather than to-do list.

2025/023: Mr Mustachio Gets Collared — Dawn McKinnon

There was little about Sam’s life anyone would believe. A gay ex-cop orphan living in a mansion owned by his ... boyfriend and their adopted litter of kittens? Nah. Couldn’t happen. Sam kissed his ... boyfriend as their children swarmed over him and thanked his lucky stars that sometimes fairy tales really did come true. [closing paragraph]

Third, and apparently final, novel in the 'Mr Mustachio' series. Engaged to investigate a mysterious lack of profit at Peabody's premier restaurant, Gourmand's, PI Sam Jones and his boyfriend Algernon have ring-side seats to the attempted murder of an annoying socialite, Meghan Wallach. Meghan has also accused Mr Mustachio of fathering her prize-winning cat's forthcoming kittens: but Mr Mustachio is gay^*... Sam and Algernon find themselves dealing with suspicious deaths, further outbreaks of 'food poisoning', and Mr Mustachio (who does not have a collar, a microchip or a current rabies vaccination) getting locked up by Animal Control -- and there's more than one tough decision to be made about feline welfare.

Fun, and twistier than the previous novel, but part of the entertainment was the build-up to the Big Reveal in Mr Mustachio Sings Like a Canary: the events of this novel couldn't have happened without that reveal, though. I think I read all three novels within 24 hours; they were the perfect antidote for low mood and gloomy weather. Mr Mustachio's chapters are splendid, the found-family theme is strong, and there's a subtle dry humour that suited the characters very well.

^{*"He doesn’t know what gay means, but he knows how it feels. Girl cats are only friends." [loc. 322]}

2025/022: Mr Mustachio Sings Like a Canary — Dawn McKinnon

"...Once he gets fixed, his face will thin out some.” That didn’t sound desirable. Mr. Mustachio’s face was Mr. Mustachio’s face. Sam didn’t want it changed. He only wanted Algernon to be a responsible pet owner. Representative, he corrected himself, because Algernon hated the word owner too.
...Celine Levesque had left her millions to Mr. Mustachio instead of to Algernon specifically for the purpose of giving Mr. Mustachio the right to remain intact. [p. 43]

The primary plot here is about the unexpected demise of Joan Peabody, an old lady with a heart condition and a bad temper. Her will has gone astray, and PI and author Sam Jones becomes involved when the dead woman's niece asks him to help find it. Features an exploding mailbox, unpleasantly healthy baking, and small-town politics.

I enjoyed this one a lot (though the mystery of Mrs Peabody's death was not especially mysterious), and the scenes from Mr Mustachio's perspective were great. There's also further character development for some of the other residents of Chez Celine, and the central mystery -- which seemed apparent to me from the first chapters of Mr Mustachio is Falsely Accused -- is revealed late in the novel.

A quick, cosy and enjoyable read, so on to the next one!

2025/021: Mr Mustachio is Falsely Accused — Dawn McKinnon

“This is for the cat?”
“We don’t call him the cat,” Hannah said quickly.
“This is for Mr. Mustachio?” He’d moved in with a bunch of delusional cat-fiends, but as long as he was here, he would have to cater to their delusion. At least he liked cats. Better than he liked people most of the time. [p. 28]

Quintessential cosy crime: stoic ex-cop Sam Jones has moved into Chez Celine, an artists' cooperative, where he hopes to write detective novels and maybe have a sideline in private investigation. Sam is surprised to find that his landlord is a cat -- the eponymous Mr Mustachio, a splendid orange Persian -- but intrigued by Algernon, the late owner's cute ward, who signs things. ("Mr Mustachio doesn't have hands.") When Mr Mustachio is accused of breaking a million-dollar vase, Sam discovers the unsavoury undercurrents of Chez Celine. 

This was great fun, with a vividly-written cast and a central mystery that ... well, seemed obvious to me, but the individuals concerned didn't know they were living in that kind of novel. I read this in a couple of hours, on a cold and gloomy day, and went straight on to the next in the series.

2025/020: The Glow — Alistair McDowall

Even if everything else is stolen from me, I'll remember you. Always.
I'll chain you to my thoughts and drag you through time. [p. 90]

I saw 'The Glow' at the Royal Court Theatre in 2022, when it opened, and bought the playscript the next day -- not least for the additional material.

The play opens in 1863, with spiritualist medium Mrs Lyall selecting a nameless girl from the local asylum to 'amplify' her own mediumistic talents. Mrs Lyall's son Mason finds the girl disturbing, even before her first séance, when she begins to chant Latin amid unsettling crashes. After that, things become stranger and bloodier.

1979, and a dropout named Evan is telling the girl about a mysterious figure who appears in old manuscripts: 'She looks a bit different each time but you can always tell it's her.' His source is an obscure book of folklore or mythology, by Dorothy Waites, called The Woman in Time. (Excerpts from this imaginary book are included with the play text.) The Woman -- immortal, invulnerable, singular and infinitely lonely -- knows that love matters more than anything. Her story unfolds from 1345 to 346AD to prehistory and into the future: but some characters are constant.

I did find the Afterword, in which a fictional academic is rather scathing about Waites' book and McDowall's play, entertaining: it definitely fleshed out the underlying myth of The Woman, while poking fun at conspiracy theorists and ambitious young playwrights. But the text of the play works without any of that context, and even without the impressive staging I recall.

For the 'genre picked by someone else' prompt of the 52 in 52 (2025) challenge: Nina picked 'a play' for me.

brief review of the play, from 2022.

2025/019: When the Moon Hits Your Eye — John Scalzi

We are confronted with a seemingly impossible proposition, that the moon has turned to cheese. And we live in an age where disinformation not only exists, but is actively used as a tool by pundits and political parties. [loc. 514]

Scalzi's latest novel, very much in the vein of Starter Villain and The Kaiju Preservation Society, takes a light-hearted concept -- here, it's the moon (including moon rock samples) suddenly turning into cheese -- and explores the consequences in twenty-eight sections, one per day of the lunar cycle, recounting the experiences of ordinary Americans.

We begin with the director of a small Air and Space Museum: other stories feature a retired philosophy professor, two assistants in two cheeseshops both alike in dignity a small town in Wisconsin, a Sunday School teacher, an appalling billionaire (when asked what he'd say to other billionaires with space companies, his answer is 'Hey, Elon and Jeff? Ha ha ha lol suck it dudes'), a Vice-President of development in Hollywood^*, a sex worker in Las Vegas...

I recall several novels, a while back, examining what would happen if the moon suddenly disappeared or had never existed: Seveneves, The Fifth Season, to name but two. (I'm sure there were others which I cannot recall or locate. Any suggestions?) This novel also fits the premise, albeit with more comedy. It reminded me, in parts, of the film Don't Look Up, and of Ben Winters' Last Policeman trilogy: but the scope is broader, and so is the humour. It's sometimes tragic, sometimes (surprisingly?) profound, and a very good read.

Interesting post about translating the title for audiences unfamiliar with the Dean Martin song.

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for the advance review copy, in exchange for this full honest review. UK Publication Date is 25th March 2025.

^*This is where Scalzi stashes most of his appalling puns.

2025/018: A Radical Act of Free Magic — H G Parry

Something terribly important had happened, she thought. Some great and wondrous step toward magic that didn’t control, didn’t restrict or confine or destroy or even burn the world on its way to freedom, but liberated. [loc. 7079]

I liked A Declaration of the Rights of Magicians very much, so dived straight into the second volume of the duology. A Radical Act takes place from 1797 to 1807. While magical war engulfs Europe, the Saint-Domingue slave rebellion continues. Fina continues to support Toussaint L'Ouverture in the Caribbean; Wilberforce, in London, continues to fight for abolition; Pitt continues to conceal his deadly secret. In France, a young battle-mage from Corsica, working with a mysterious 'friend', has summoned a kraken to lay waste to the British navy. Other new characters are introduced, too: Kate Dove and her brother Christopher, mudlarking orphans who were tested for magical ability at birth, and forced to wear bracelets to suppress their magical talents. But in wartime, Britain will take all the magical help it can get ...

This is a fast-paced and thrilling account of the Napoleonic Wars. In this volume, we're shown magic having more effect on the history of individuals and of nations: this is not quite our history, and there are more opportunities for women and for Commoners. It also highlights the conflict between Pitt and the centuries-old 'enemy' (Bonaparte's 'friend') and explains why the Templars have turned a blind eye to Pitt's difficult heritage. It's exciting and hopeful and heroic.

That said, I didn't enjoy it as much as the first novel: towards the end, events seemed tumultuously hasty, without enough foreshadowing or description. (The splendid Lady Hester Stanhope has a crowning moment of glory that's barely a page long.) And there are elements of the story which, though they are foreshadowed, seem to fade away (vengeance of bound shadows, for instance). Still a splendid read but less satisfying than A Declaration. Despite a vague sense of disappointment, I did enjoy this book and I'm still looking forward to reading more of Parry's novels.

2025/017: This Way Out — Tufayel Ahmed

'Maybe I don’t want to always be a learning experience for you. Maybe we just haven’t realised how different we are, how different our worlds are.’ [loc. 2083]

Amar Iqbar is Muslim, gay, and about to get married to a white guy. His family learn the latter two facts from a message in the family WhatsApp. They are not impressed: elder sister thinks he's mentally ill, younger sister cries, one brother stays quiet and the other says he 'can't have no faggot for a brother'. Their father tells him 'Look to God to forgive you'. All of which demonstrates why he hasn't come out to them before, and also provides a concise summary of typical attitudes in a second-generation Bangladeshi family in contemporary London.

Amar is still dealing with grief after his mother's death, and has always been troubled by the conflict between his faith and his sexuality: and then he discovers he's about to lose his job at a small independent bookshop. It doesn't help that Joshua, his boyfriend, stands by while Amar is (as he sees it) insulted by his future mother-in-law, Josephine. Luckily, Amar still has friends, and one suggests therapy...

This was an easy read, often repetitive, but a good window onto a culture that isn't my own. The least credible aspect of it for me was the therapist who never says the wrong thing or suggests anything unreasonable! I liked the sense of Amar discovering who he was without the filter of family or relationship, and I liked his new 'found family' and his realisation that there's more to Islam than the faith he grew up in.

I read this in sync with a friend and felt more sympathetic towards Amar than she did. I also found the culture clash more interesting -- the sense that at least some of Amar's behaviour (such as avoiding difficult conversations) is cultural. At one point when therapy is suggested, he replies 'it just seems like kind of a white people thing. They feel sad and then they go and see a therapist and pop a couple of antidepressants. No offence. That just isn’t how we do things in my family, in my culture. There aren’t just some magic words that make everything okay.' [loc. 970]. And yet the therapy is what saves him.

I bought this in June 2022, and finally read it as part of my 'Down in the Cellar' self-challenge, which riffs on the metaphor of to-be-read pile as wine-cellar rather than to-do list.