2026/005: The Debutante — Jon Ronson

This is the story of a Tulsa debutante who, as a result of a series of unlikely and often very bad life choices she made in the ‘90s, found herself in the midst of one of the most terrible crimes ever to take place in America. [opening line]

I don't think this really counts as a book: it's more of a podcast, complete with hooks and a 'special bonus episode'.

Jon Ronson explores the history of Carol Howe, adopted at birth by a wealthy family in Tulsa. She was a debutante, but a rebellious one, and became part of a white supremacist group (plus swastika tattoo, 'Dial-a-Racist' phone line etc). She was involved with a white supremacist Christian cult in Oklahoma with ties to Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma Bomber. Then, apparently, she decided to become an informant for the ATF (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms) and kept a detailed diary of events. The ATF claim she was 'deactivated' because of mental instability. Howe claimed she warned the ATF about the cult's plans to bomb a major target, but was ignored.

Ronson didn't manage to track down Howe, but he did -- in the 'special bonus episode' -- discover what happened to her: dead in a house fire in January 2025, after years of paranoid behaviour. An interesting investigation, but I would have preferred a straightforward narrative to the 'tune in for our next instalment' ambience of a podcast.

2026/004: The Wood at Midwinter — Susanna Clarke

All woods join up with all other woods.
    All are one wood.
        And in that wood all times join up with all other times.
            All is one moment. [loc. 140]

A short story, more beautifully calligraphed and illustrated in print (to judge by photos online) but still lovely on a Kindle. It's apparently set in the same world as Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell^*, but I didn't spot any overlap, and it certainly doesn't require familiarity with the earlier, much longer work.

Ysolde Scott has devised a cunning stratagem: she'll arrange visits, and let her sister Merowdis -- possibly a saint, possibly neurodivergent, possibly just antisocial -- alight en route and spend time in the woods, where she is happiest. Meanwhile Ysolde will maintain the social niceties.

Merowdis does not wander alone: on this particular excursion she has for company two dogs (Pretty and Amandier) and a pig (Apple). There is also a fox, though Pretty disdains it. And, of course, there is the Wood: which doesn't really understand why Merowdis' most fervent wish is for a midwinter child of her own, but can frame it as 'the hidden Sun'. Hence a vision: hence a choice.

This story is haunting me: I'm glad I read it just as the snow was starting, and I'm happy that Clarke's 'Afterword: Snow' teased out the resonances that reminded me of Kate Bush's album Fifty Words for Snow. A lovely wintry read -- also available, in a slightly different form, in audio format (14 mins).

^* Now there's a book ripe for a reread: I haven't read it since 2004, when it was first published.

2026/003: The Salt Bind — Rebecca Ferrier

"Does your family know what you are? Born with too much salt, fey-blooded, siren-bound..." [loc. 2616]

Kensa lives in the Cornish fishing village of Portscatho, with her mother, her stepfather and her half-sister Elowen. Her father was hanged for smuggling, and she crept up onto the gallows to steal a hagstone from his pocket: that and her red hair (and the stubborn temper to go with it) are all the legacy he left. One night, a sea monster washes up on the shore, and Kensa and Elowen go to see. Kensa claims to have been the first there, and so she becomes apprentice to the local wise woman, Isolde. From her, Kensa learns about the Pact between Land and Sea, and the Bucka, a sea god also known as the Father of Storms. Isolde also attempts to teach Kensa that there are limits to the Old Ways: that wisdom is as important as witchery. But when Elowen sickens, and none of Isolde's potions can help, Kensa is determined to save her sister -- whatever the cost.

The first half of the novel is a gentle, and rather slow, historical fantasy. Kensa isn't an especially likeable character but she is determined, confident and heedless. Isolde, a fascinating character in her own right (and neither gentle nor slow), gives as good as she gets: she and Kensa become fond of one another. But then there's a sudden change, a sea-change, and the gentle fantasy develops into gory horror. The pacing picks up to match it, and the second half of The Salt Bind is full-tilt adventure.

I liked the setting -- 18th-century rural Cornwall, more or less untouched by the Enlightenment -- and was happy that the romantic subplot was secondary to Kensa's journey from lonely, angry child to responsible young woman. For me, the change of pace and tone midway through was too abrupt, and the final chapter -- a return to a sort of peace, and the introduction of new characters -- rather facile.

There's some lovely evocative writing here: stormy seas, half-ruined cottages, the carnage of the pilchard catch. And Ferrier definitely has an eye for detail, and an ear for dialogue. I look forward to reading her next novel.

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for the advance review copy, in exchange for this full honest review. UK Publication Date is 22 JAN 2026.

2026/002: The Witching Hour — various authors

No snow in forty years, no true winter, no true Christmas, just the water and the mildew; it was whatever you called the reverse of a miracle. [loc. 2134: 'The Signal Bells', by Natasha Pulley]

From the creators of The Haunting Season and The Winter Spirits, this is another collection of ghost / horror stories with a wintry theme and a historical setting. I read one a day over the Christmas / New Year period, which gave me time to reflect on each: definitely a better way to appreciate the individual stories than reading them back to back.

There are Arctic explorers, ghost-hunters, witches, schoolgirls, ageing academics and an excellent shepherd: there are also unexpected visitors, mad scientists and necromancers. A couple of the stories didn't especially hook me, but others are lurking in my subconscious and continuing to haunt.

The three I enjoyed most were Natasha Pulley's 'The Signal Bells' (unsurprisingly, as I greatly admire her work); Catriona Ward's 'Macaw' (ditto) and Imogen Hermes Gowar's 'Two Go Together'. I also liked Michelle Paver's 'Dr Thrale's Notebook', though the setting (Arctic) and characters (unemotional scientist confronted with horrors) reminded me perhaps too much of her novels.

One aspect I did like was that not all the stories were horror: many featured ghosts of one sort or another, but not always malevolent ghosts, and some examined familiar tropes through new lenses.

‘We shouldn’t really say dead any more. It doesn’t mean anything now, does it? There’s only life. More life. A different form of life. We endure. We can be brought back. Isn’t that marvellous?’ [loc. 1504]

2026/001: The River Has Roots — Amal el-Mohtar

Something, you might think, happened here, long, long ago; something, you might think, is on the cusp of happening again. But that is the nature of grammar—it is always tense, like an instrument, aching for release, longing to transform present into past into future, is into was into will. [p. 4]

A short novella from the co-author of This is How You Lose the Time War. The River Liss runs from Faerie, past the Refrain (an assemblage of standing stones) and through the Modal Lands, between two ancient trees known as the Professors, and between ordinary fields to the town of Thistleford. The Hawthorn family have tended the magical willows along the riverbank for centuries, singing to the trees. Sisters Esther and Ysabel Hawthorn are very close: Esther is being courted by unlikeable Samuel Pollard, but prefers her fey love Rin. They (distinctly non-binary) require an equitable exchange between themself and Esther.

The River Has Roots is rooted (hah) in ballads -- Tam Lin, The Two Sisters, The Riddle Song -- though it reframes 'The Two Sisters' as a story of loyalty, rather than hatred, between Esther and Ysabel. And while Ysabel loves murder ballads, Esther prefers riddle-songs, which she composes for Rin. I was also reminded of Hope Mirrlees' Lud-in-the-Mist, for the ambience: steeped in English folklore and rich with imagery, metaphor and wordplay. And a frightful pun -- a riddle! -- involving rings and swans which made me grin like the Cheshire Cat.

2025/206: The Children of God — Mary Doria Russell

What is it in humans that makes us so eager to believe ill of one another? ... What makes us so hungry for it? Failed idealism, he suspected. We disappoint ourselves and then look around for other failures to convince ourselves: it's not just me. [Prologue]

Audiobook reread, after listening to The Sparrow. It's many years since I last reread: here are my brief notes from 2007 reread. I stand by my original opinion, that this is not nearly as good or as well-structured a novel as The Sparrow. There is gorgeous prose, interesting ideas and a crowd of new characters: but there is also uneven pacing, political manoeuvring, and outright war.  There are, possibly, too many viewpoint characters, and a lack of the precise focus of the first novel. And there are several developments which felt unnecessarily cruel. ('She died last year.')

Narrated by Anna Fields, who manages the many accents and character voices -- across three species and a dozen nationalities -- admirably, with the sole exception of Northern Irish priest Sean Fein. I was especially impressed by her range of masculine voices.

I still hope for more SF from Mary Doria Russell, and I wish more of her books were available as ebooks in the UK.

2025/205: Nonesuch — Francis Spufford

...it had to be done whole-heartedly or not at all. Not at all! voted Iris the chief clerk, Iris the careful calculator of odds, Iris the prudent investor. All in, all at once, and fuck it, voted the bad girl, and the lover, and the risk-taker, and the suburban slut not willing to be defeated by some whey-faced bitch of a fascist. [loc. 3855]

Another alternate history, in a sense, from Francis Spufford. Set in London during the Blitz, it focusses on Iris Hawkins, an ambitious young woman prevented from success in business by her gender, but determined to make the most of her natural gift for finance. She's also determined to enjoy life: she's sexually active, self-sufficient and eminently pragmatic. She hooks up with Geoff, a young and innocent BBC engineer, on a night out, and finds herself drawn into an occult underworld, an anti-fascist plot, and some unexpected statues.

On the one hand, my favourite read in December and one of my favourites of 2025: on the other, these terrible words which I was not expecting: 'To be continued'. Woe!

Thanks to Netgalley and the publishers! Proper review nearer publication, which is due 26 FEB 26.

Read an excerpt here, and listen to The Coode Street Podcast featuring Spufford.