2026/119: The Moor's Account — Laila Lalami

How strange, I remember thinking, how utterly strange were the ways of the Castilians—just by saying that something was so, they believed that it was. I know now that these conquerors, like many others before them, and no doubt like others after, gave speeches not to voice the truth, but to create it. [chapter 1]

The Moor's Account tells the story of 'Estebanico', a Moroccan slave who was among the four survivors of the 600-strong Narváez expedition, an expedition to the so-called New World in 1527. 'Estebanico' is the name forced, by the Spanish, upon a trader from Azemmour, Mustafa ibn Muhommad ibn Abdussalam al-Zamori, after he sells himself into slavery to save his family from poverty and starvation. And the 'New World' is neither unknown nor uninhabited.

Within a year of the expedition landing in what's now Florida, there are only four survivors: three Castilian gentlemen -- among them Mustafa's owner, Andrés de Dorantes -- and Mustafa himself. Sometimes together, sometimes not, they travel westward, living among indigenous tribes (some more welcoming than others) and becoming healers, using a combination of folk medicine, storytelling and prayer. But the Castilians never lose sight of their primary purpose -- to find gold, more gold, all the gold -- while Mustafa's experience as a trader and then as trade goods has taught him that not everything has, or should have, a price. 

Eventually, they are found by a group of Spanish slavers and taken to Tenochtitlan (Mexico City), where arrangements are slowly made for them to return to Spain. The three Castilians are asked for their accounts of the expedition: Mustafa, mentioned only once in the Castilian reports ('The fourth [survivor] is Estebanico, an Arab Negro from Azamor') and is not asked to contribute his own version of events.

Mustafa observes that the Castilians' accounts of the years in the wilderness, they omit a great deal: cannibalism, theft, rape, murder, and their Native American wives. (Not real wives, Dorantes assures him: they weren't married in church.)  Mustafa has sustained himself by dreams of returning to Azemmour: but he too has married a Native American woman, now pregnant, and is increasingly disturbed by the invaders' attitude to the indigenous peoples. Dorantes' reluctance to free Mustafa, despite all they've endured together, crystallises his determination to free himself. 

This felt long, perhaps because it was repetitive: tribe after tribe, misfortune after misfortune: it's under 400 pages in print. I listened to the audiobook, read by Neil Shah, and found the exaggerated Spanish accents rather grating. But it is a fascinating story, and Mustafa's perspective is quite unlike that of the Spaniards. The style is that of an Arabic travel text: dates are given according to the Islamic calendar, and places in the Old World are referred to by their Arabic names. The narrative switches between Mustafa's early life in Azemmour and his adventures as part of the expedition, each chapter entitled 'The Story of...': the parallel narratives show how Mustafa's response to the New World is shaped by his own past, and that of his people.

Two interesting resources I found when I was reading about the historical background: an analysis of the 'official' accounts with reference to the tribes they may have encountered, and Lalami's own set of resources.

Read because:I enjoyed The Dream Hotel, and when contemplating the 'Storygraph Reads the World: Morocco' prompt this drew my attention.

2026/118: The Magician of Tiger Castle — Louis Sachar

By the way, when the princess said the king called me Esquaveta's Leonardo, he was referring to Leonardo da Vinci. Just thought I ought to point that out in case it slipped past you. [p. 127]

We first meet Anatole -- overweight, short and hairless -- in a coffee bar in what used to be a country called Esquaveta. He's musing on the tigers that roam the castle moat, and on the history of the castle itself: then, abruptly, he's reminiscing about the arrival of the very first tiger in 1523, when he was the court magician, working on turning black sand into gold, and performing a series of proto-scientific experiments. ('In the 1500s, science and magic were virtually indistinguishable.') Gradually, he tells the story of how, tasked with ensuring that Princess Tullia of Esquaveta married Prince Dalrympl of Oxatania, he had to contend with Tullia falling in love with penniless scribe Pito. His solution? Create a potion that makes each of them forget the other.

Needless to say, it is not that simple. Oh, the potions work: they didn't have ethics in 1523, apparently, so it's fine not to tell either of his subjects what the potion does, and anyway that would negate its effects. But the potion he uses to postpone the wedding is not the lethal poison expected, and he's forced to flee, with two cantankerous lovers in tow. Can Anatole reach freedom? Can Tullia and Pito survive long enough to marry? And why is Anatole so attached to one of his laboratory animals?

This was announced as Sachar's first novel for adults, though it felt quite YA to me: the plethora of historical factoids ('In 1523 fire was started by striking flint against a piece of iron'; a description of how a hurdy-gurdy works; why ale is was healthier than water) was occasionally intrusive, and the overall tone reminded me of The Princess Bride, though rather more cynical. I didn't really warm to the characters, except Luigi the mouse. A pleasant enough read but not one I'll revisit.

Read because: it was on offer as a Kindle Daily Deal, and I was intrigued by the idea of an adult fantasy novel from the author of Holes.

2026/117: Daggerbound — T Kingfisher

"... I thought you'd be on the side of law and order."
"No, young man," said Bishop Beartongue, despite being several centuries his junior. "I am on the side of justice. If we're lucky, the two run in parallel. If they don't, we bend the law to attain justice, not the other way around." [loc. 4092]

Edmund leaves the Temple of the Many-Armed God with a mule named Sweetheart, a selection of rare books and an ancient artifact that he's been tasked with transporting to an academic in Archen's Glory. He has no intention of returning to the temple, with its misogynist priests and antiquated ways. But before he has time to make plans, bandits happen -- and he accidentally unsheathes the artifact (a sword) and releases a silver-eyed angel.

The angel is ... no angel. His name is the Dervish, and he's been imprisoned in the sword for many years: his last wielder was a sadistic priest, and consequently he has no time for religion, or indeed wielders. He is a walking mass of trauma, but (in his opinion) 'very pretty trauma'. And he helps Edmund survive the journey -- via more outlaws, an excellent gnole, a cobbled-together dragon, and a diplomat from another species -- though what the pair find when they reach the city is not what either of them expected.

This was an absolute delight: a romance, yes, but also a story about healing, and about loyalty, and about scholarship. (There is some steam. They are in a sauna.) I am happy to report that Zale features in Daggerbound, as do other characters from Kingfisher's previous explorations in the World of the White Rat. 

Daggerbound has heroism, emotional inarticulacy, gnole pronouns, the importance of books, and an exciting new use for bacon. The characters -- human and otherwise, good and bad -- have personality and motivation, and the worldbuilding is thorough without being forced.

I requested this from NetGalley despite having the Kindle version pre-ordered, which should give you some idea of my enthusiasm for this series. Already looking forward to Shieldborn...

Read because: It showed up on Netgalley, and even though I have the Kindle edition preordered I couldn't resist.

2026/116: Parallel Lives — Iain Pears

... it is difficult to believe that life during the siege of Leningrad was quite as jolly as the tone of [Larissa's] recollections sometimes suggested. [Introduction]

Larissa Salmina was born in northern Russia in 1931, daughter of an army officer: she survived the siege of Leningrad (and does indeed make it sound quite jolly, though there are horrors too: they ate the neighbour's cat, who was starving anyway) and later became a curator at the Hermitage Museum. She was appointed Commissar for the Venice Biennale -- she lost some of the artworks en route -- and met an English art historian Francis Haskell.

Francis was brought up in England, grandson of an Iraqi Jew, and seems to have had a very miserable youth, struggling with repressed (and not so repressed) homosexual urges, antisemitism, and loneliness. He was smitten by Larissa, more of a free spirit than himself: she, already married, blithely embarked on their affair, and broke the terms of her visa to travel with him -- which could have ruined her own career in the USSR.

Larissa seems to have had the gift of landing on her feet: Francis revealed unsuspected backbone in his determination to marry her, despite the bureaucratic hoops this entailed in the mid-1960s. And Iain Pears, who was taught by Haskell and befriended Larissa after Haskell's death, weaves their story together -- from conversations with Larissa, and from the diaries Francis kept from childhood until his marriage -- to depict 'a tale of a Europe that is lost. 'Not the Europe of geographical and ideological divisions, but of a certain mentality, which was common to a very few on both sides of the Iron Curtain'. He emphasises the importance of art to both, and their sense of a shared cultural inheritance: and he balances Larissa's oral history (noting that it's full of gaps and deliberate omissions) with Francis' dogged self-analysis.

I confess I was much more interested in Larissa, especially her experiences during the siege. I learnt a lot about post-war Soviet society, including the fact that Russians were legally obliged to look after ageing parents: Larissa's mother had to waive her right to this before the marriage could go ahead. I would have liked more discussion of Francis' homosexual affairs (there are delicate allusions, no more) and perhaps of their married life: but the book effectively concludes with their marriage, and I respect Pears' decision to stop there.

Read by Richard Attlee: his voice suited the narrative, and Pears' measured style, really well.

Read because: It was on offer at Libro.fm, and Larissa's story in particular sounded fascinating. Also, this is the Europe which my father's family knew.

2026/115: Under Story — Chloe Benjamin

In our world, matter that was living decomposes -- but not always. If decomposition was interrupted, a fossil forms instead... Here, a fossil is like a seed. [loc. 2988]

It's 2018, and Laurel is working as a dishwasher in Antarctica, mourning the death of her son, separated from her husband Eli -- and drawn to the Arc, an anomalous phenomenon a few miles from McMurdo Base, that manifests as an arch of light. Laurel was formerly a mycologist, and she has a scientific outlook: but when she dreams about the Arc, she can't help feeling that her dream has given her an insight. And then Eli, a renowned physicist, shows up at McMurdo. He believes that the Arc might help him prove his theory of the universe, a theory that proposes an 'antiuniverse' where 'entropy reverses on a massive scale' and time itself moves in the opposite direction.

This is a fascinating thought experiment of a novel, with elements of romance and mysticism as well as the hard (if theoretical) science underpinning it. There are octopodes! There is Antarctic life! I loved the secondary characters, especially Gloria and Louis, and I was intrigued by Laurel's experiments in mycology.

I'm not sure I fully understood some elements of the novel, and I almost gave up on the story when it seemed likely to explain some aspects solely through a mystical experience: and I am not wholly satisfied by the ending. But it was a fascinating read, with moments of beauty (both scientific and personal) that balance the occasional horrors.

Read because: I spotted it on Netgalley, where an early review described it as 'The Overstory meets Interstellar': I was intrigued.

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for the advance review copy, in exchange for this full honest review. UK Publication Date is 1st September 2026.

2026/114: After Hours at Dooryard Books — Cat Sebastian

Outside these doors is chaos. Appalling men are elected president. Every day's headlines are worse than the last. All year, it's been like that, and it isn't getting better. But it will. 

The setting is New York in 1968. Patrick is the manager of Dooryard Books, a secondhand bookstore owned by the philanthropic Mrs Kaplan. One night, Mrs Kaplan turns up with a stranger, who she introduces as 'Nathaniel Smith': a man several years older than Patrick, with a haunted look and no possessions to speak of. Patrick can relate: he was one of Mrs K's 'projects' too, years ago.

Nathaniel (who's agoraphobic) clearly has guilty secrets, but Patrick is happy to let him take his time revealing them. And he has plenty else to distract him: soon after Nathaniel's arrival, Susan -- Patrick's sister-in-law and childhood friend, a well-known singer-songwriter -- shows up, distraught, with a suitcase, a baby, and a telegram from the Department of Defence. Susan's husband (Patrick's brother) Michael has been killed in Vietnam.

How the three of them (plus baby Eleanor) create a kind of family, and how Nathaniel comes to terms with his own sexuality, is the heart of the novel: it also features delightfully spiky Puerto Rican twins, a lot of discussion of Walt Whitman's poetry (Patrick is a huge fan), plenty of gay and trans secondary characters, anti-war protestors and political radicals and folk musicians, and a dog. The revelation of Nathaniel's secret past was a big surprise and definitely something to feel bad about, but he does his best to make things right, not only with Susan and Nathaniel but with the wider world.

Great depictions of male-female friendship, alternative culture, and the second-hand book trade. I listened to the audiobook, read by JJ Hawkins (who read Patrick's chapters) and Joel Leslie (who read Nathaniel's). I felt a bit uncomfortable while listening to Leslie, who sounded as though he was choking at the end of each sentence, but both narrators brought warmth, emotion and humour to their performances.

Read because: it was in the Libro.fm sale, and I have enjoyed other novels by Cat Sebastian.

2026/113: The Sentence — Louise Erdrich

Think how white people believe their houses or yards or scenic overlooks are haunted by Indians, when it’s really the opposite. We’re haunted by settlers and their descendants. [p. 91]

Reread for book club: I had forgotten just how much it's about the pandemic. I also noticed many aspects of motherhood here, from Hetta with her new baby to Tookie bearing the name of the woman who helped her mother. Book club response was positive: we talked about the sense of community in the novel, and the low-key horror of the ghost.

My original review is here.

Read because: bookclub choice, and I was happy to reread this!