2026/023: Universality — Natasha Brown

What allowed some people to ‘make it’ while others faded away, as Hannah herself almost had? She knew it wasn’t a matter of hard work; she couldn’t have tried any harder than she did those last few years. Luck was a possible answer, but it seemed too callously random. Increasingly, Hannah felt another, truer word burning in her throat: class. The invisible privilege that everyone tried to pretend didn’t exist, but – it did. Hannah knew it did. She recognised it, and saw its grubby stains all over her own life. [p. 63]

A short novel about class, truth and culture wars. It begins with a 'long read', journalist Hannah's account of a lockdown-busting rave on a farm at the height of the Covid pandemic, and the drug-fuelled attack in which a radical anarchist is bludgeoned by a young man named Jake, wielding a gold bar. Except, of course, it's not quite as simple as that. Hannah's article takes considerable liberties with the truth, ruins the reputation of the farm's owner -- wealthy banker Richard Spencer -- and attracts the attention of anti-woke columnist Lenny, who is Jake's mother.

This short novel unravels and recolours the events described in Hannah's article, and shows us Hannah, Richard, Lenny and Jake in their natural habitats. (Also Pegasus, the victim of the attack.) Unfortunately, I didn't find any of them likeable, and though I appreciated Brown's satirical take on late-stage capitalism and cancel culture, I didn't find this an enjoyable read. Structurally interesting: mercifully short.

2026/022: Boy, With Accidental Dinosaur — Ian McDonald

Under a high blue heaven, under the zealous sun, the kid and his dinosaur travel a hot, empty highway. [first line]

Tif (short for Latif) is an orphan of Arab descent, whose ambition is to become a buckaroo at one of the dino rodeos. The novella's opening presents him, with his dinosaur, on a journey: only gradually are we shown where he's going, and why -- and where he's come from.

This is the post-apocalyptic future of the country formerly known as the United States of America, now a dangerous wilderness of miliciano gangs, religious states, and aggressive Dominion raiders. Tif's parents were killed in the South Dakota purification. He's recently been sacked from Dino! Dino! after a Timursaur escaped and wreaked havoc. Subsequently he's undertaken to return an old, maimed Carnosaur to the B2T2 time portal in the mountains of Colorado, and let it live out its remaining years 'under its own sun'. En route, he joins Memphis Red’s Tatterdemalion Circus; falls in love (or lust) with its star, the enigmatic Prince; and, perhaps, finds family.

That's the novella in a nutshell, but there's a novel's-worth of worldbuilding and characterisation here. McDonald doesn't waste time explaining the post-Chaos future, or the cyberpunk-flavoured Silver Clowns, or the Dust Tarot with which a Clown reads Tif's future. The B2T2 portal is a natural phenomenon, 'a place where two times lay up against each other, close as kittens, separated only by the finest layer of space-time fur, that could be stroked, and parted' [loc. 515]. That's where the dinosaurs are captured, and where they must be returned: 'leave no dangling timelines'. Naturally, the approach to the B2T2 is festooned with various flavours of protest camp.

There is danger, chaos and glamour; there is a strong sense of the cruelty involved in parading living creatures for entertainment. And there is so much emotional honesty and truth, in the backstories of the characters Tif encounters as well as his own journey. I would have loved this even more at novel length: but kudos to the author for keeping it tightly focussed and leaving the reader wondering about the wider world, the stories that happen outside the scope of Boy, with Accidental Dinosaur.

Something wild and magnificent and innocent is trapped and caged. Betrayed. For stardust, for floodlights, for the ronda and the roar of the crowd. For beer and nuts and nachos. [loc. 958]

2026/021: The Earl Meets His Match — T J Alexander

“The fact of your existence is a miracle,” Harding said in a tone that brooked no argument. “... the scrutiny that you must have lived under...”
“Well, I also have pots of money,” Christopher pointed out, “so let’s not pretend it’s all been a chore.” [loc. 3139]

Delightful and cheering Regency romance. Lord Christopher Eden must, according to the terms of his inheritance, marry before his twenty-fifth birthday. That gives him four months to find a bride -- which is the last thing he wants. For Christopher is no ordinary man: he has a singular secret, which only his tailor is privy to.

In order to present the proper appearance to the Ton, Christopher must engage a valet, even though he's never allowed another man to dress him. Enter James Harding, handsome and stoic and surprisingly understanding. Harding has secrets of his own, though, and their mutual attraction can never come to anything.

Or can it? ☺

Apart from a third-act crisis which gets the prize for 'most ridiculous miscommunication of the year' (yes, I know it's only February), this rolled along merrily, with some interesting insights into gender roles and practicalities in 19th-century England. Excellent female characters, too. I particularly liked the twist at the end, which was perfect for both Christopher and Harding.

Recommended to me by a friend: thank you, Nina! I shall look out for more by this author.

2026/020: Once Upon a Time I Lived on Mars — Kate Greene

What if a mission to Mars didn’t have as its main goal a barrage of scientific studies, or the demonstration that humans can build ships to send us to faraway lands and keep us alive in the harshest environments? What if it’s not driven by the fear of our eventual extinction or by opportunities afforded it by current economic systems—mining for resources, etc. Or what if it is those things, but also, in its design, it contains questions about what it means to be a human being alive and alone and unable to achieve contact with others in this universe? [p. 131]

In 2013, Kate Greene spent four months as second-in-command of the Hawai’i Space Exploration Analog and Simulation (HI-SEAS) mission, which was designed to simulate life on Mars. The six crew members lived in cramped quarters, with artificial communication delays, pre-packaged food, constant surveys for one another's experiments, and compulsory spacesuits for excursions beyond the habitat. The essays that comprise Once Upon a Time I Lived On Mars -- subtitled 'Space, Exploration and Life on Earth' -- are all rooted in Greene's HI-SEAS experience: but that's a launchpad to discuss climate change, the breakup of her marriage, the history of space flight, and the thorny questions of whether humans should go to Mars, and who gets to decide.

In some ways this book, published in 2020, feels very dated. There's such a sense of hope for the various planned Mars missions (some of which were cancelled or postponed due to Covid) and for the possibilities offered by spaceflight. Reading in 2026, after Trump's cuts to the NASA budget and the damage to Russia's only launch facility at Baikonur, it feels like a lost future. And though Greene has major reservations about Elon Musk's role as cheerleader for the space programme, the book was clearly written before his more egregious exploits.

Yet there is a great deal of interest here. Greene is a science journalist, and her background shows in areas such as the assessment of whether all-male crews are the best option. (They're not: small women use half as many resources as large men, according to former NASA researcher Alan Drysdale.) I also learnt that Neil Armstrong's spacesuit was designed by Playtex, that Jeff Bezos 'dumps roughly $1 billion of his Amazon stocks into Blue Origin to keep the company in cash' [p. 175] and that, four billion years ago, the Moon was only 20,000 miles from Earth.

Often lyrical, often hopeful, but more about life on Earth than life on Mars.

I wonder about the arguments against going to Mars that claim we need to first focus on fixing problems here at home. Might going to Mars be a way to help us see our planet and ourselves anew? Couldn’t a human expedition to Mars be good for those on Earth too? Though, as with many things, it could very well depend on who does the going. [p. 162]

2026/019: Helm — Sarah Hall

There they are, the exuberant, flamboyantly dressed couple, petting beneath a gargantuan inflammable. Helm is buoyed by the aerial company, and oddly nauseated. Something about the creepy, crêpey surface of the inflatable, and the oo of the balloon, and the balloon itself, its potential to burst and issue forth a loud, deflationary, unfunny raspberry. Cue, globophobia. [loc. 1090

A luminous wild tale whose protagonist is Helm, Britain's only named wind, an accident of geology and meteorology who's as vivid a character as the humans with which Helm interacts. (Helm's pronouns are Helm/Helm's.) After an intensely lyrical opening that depicts Helm's existence before the coming of humans, the novel skitters backwards and forwards in time ('Time happens all at once for Helm, more or less') focusing on a handful of individuals. These include a Neolithic seer, a medieval warrior-priest, a nineteenth-century meteorologist and his wife, a neurodiverse child growing up in the 1960s, a glider pilot, and a researcher studying microplastics in the environment. Helm likes to collect what Helm calls 'trinkets', souvenirs of encounters with humans -- 'so fun and terribly worrying'. These include an ejector seat from a Tornado jet, an iron skullcap, a tobacco pipe, an iPhone... And Helm is not always invisible to humans: some think of Helm as a demon, others as a friend, or a deity, or a fragile natural phenomenon, or a wild destroyer.

All of these are valid.

Hall's prose is marvellous, literally and metaphorically. Each of her characters has a unique voice (I liked Helm best) and each character's arc -- not always told sequentially -- could have been a novel in itself. I loved the Cumbrian dialect (cowp, spelks, glisky) and the sense of place. The chapter from the perspective of glider pilot Jude is an excellent evocation of the joy and terror of unpowered flight, too. And Janice, who draws Helm for the doctors at the asylum, has a unique and profound connection with Helm, which Helm clearly reciprocates.

Perhaps the division of narrative was slightly uneven, but researcher Selima Sutar, whose narrative is most detailed and subjective, serves as our modern viewpoint, coming to understand that Helm is under threat by humans. Helm, I think, knows that: when Michael, a priest sent to exorcise the fiend of the fell, asks in a dream how long Helm will live, the answer is 'Eight more centuries. Until you kill me.' [loc. 2319]

I was delighted to see this novel on the British Science Fiction Association Awards Longlist: it is about climate, and arguably about non-human intelligence and making contact.

2026/018: Tools for Life: 10 Essential Therapy Skills Everyone Should Know — Dr Kirren Schnack

Our environment can influence the way our genes are expressed through a process known as epigenetics, with both positive and negative experiences influencing how our genes work... nature and nurture are constantly working together, reminding us that who we are is not set in stone. [Chapter 1]

Read by the author, who has a warm and restful voice, this is an overview of some common psychological issues and how to address them. There are ten chapters, ranging from 'How You've Become Who You Are' (which examines the role of genetics, culture and trauma in shaping personality, and discusses attachment theory) to 'Healing from the Pain Caused by Others' (which focuses on relationships ending, forgiveness and closure, and how to move on). 

Along the way, there are many useful techniques, examples and case studies: while not all of these were relevant to me, I really appreciated the sensible and straightforward way in which Dr Schnack presented them, and her encouragement to those who felt stuck with their own issues. 'You are not broken and you can change.' There are also good guidelines on how to identify and live by your own values, and how to deal with intrusive thoughts.

This was a pleasant and interesting listening experience, though I think I'd have found a paper copy more useful: it feels like the kind of book one wants to mark up, to scribble notes and exclamation marks and check marks. On the other hand, the meditation guides at the end of the book work very well in audio format.

Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for the review copy, in exchange for this full honest review. UK Publication Date was 01 JAN 2026.

2026/017: The Scholars of Night — John M Ford

'...through the grace of God and friendly governments we are allowed a certain number of immoral acts, but we are obliged to avoid merely stupid ones.'[loc. 1878]

Long unavailable, Ford's Cold War spy thriller with added Christopher Marlowe is a delight. There are two major plots, very much entwined: the discovery of an unknown Marlowe play, 'The Assassin’s Tragedy', and the theft of some cutting-edge military hardware. Marlowe's play deals with spycraft, a mysterious fellow who might have royal blood, and the narrow line between patriotism and treason. The modern narrative also explores these issues, via role-playing games, divided loyalties, and scholarly imagination.

The Scholars of Night begins with the assassination of college professor and Soviet agent Allan Berenson, and the theft of the Marlowe manuscript from his office. (I would love to read the excellent forgery left in its place, which apparently features a Big Mac.) Berenson's lover, a spy known as WAGNER, and his protege Nicholas Hansard -- who reads the Marlowe manuscript 'reading not for content but for inference, looking for the mind behind the lines' and mentally recreates scenes from its author's life -- both have good reason to regret, and avenge, Berenson's death.

There are riddling codenames, wargames in several formats, feints and counterfeints, and a number of excellent secondary characters, each of whom has a fascinating backstory and a web of connnections. Ford revels in the revealing detail, in vividly-described locations (I especially enjoyed the scenes in London and Cambridge) and in the fine nuances of character. This is a complex novel, which rewards close attention and probably a reread -- soon.

Written and set in the mid-1980s, which feels like a very different world. (Charles Stross's introduction describes some of the differences: "the weirdest, most alienating difference a time traveler from the world of 2021 to that of 1986 would notice is not the bipolar macho politics of nuclear superpower confrontation, but that nobody saw the victory of capitalism as inevitable. History had not yet turned a very important corner. In 1986 there existed a globe-straddling colossus, a revolutionary superpower that—with its satellite states and fellow travelers like China—represented a third of the planetary population and held two-thirds of its weapons. The Soviet Union...") Thus, characters marvel at 'a notebook-sized portable computer': nearly all telephones are fixed landlines: CCTV is not present. On the other hand, plus ça change: AI, not yet a reality when the novel was written, is a Bad Thing.