2026/085: The Cat and The Masked Woman — Colette (translated by Helen Constantine)

Though Saha, like a human, was watching Camille leave, Alain was sprawling in the chair, his upturned palm like a paw, skillfully playing with the first green prickly conkers of August. [final line of The Cat]

The Cat (original French title La Chatte, feminising the masculine noun) is a short novel set in 1920s Paris. It opens with Alain about to marry his childhood friend, the gorgeous Camille. Alain's pleasure in her company is tempered by his reluctance to leave his childhood home: the servants he's known all his life, his mother's luxuriant garden, and especially his cat Saha. The plan is for Alain and Camille to move into a nearby property, but it's not yet finished: instead, after the wedding, they stay at a friend's chic high-rise apartment in Paris. Meanwhile, Saha pines, and Alain soon decides to bring her to the apartment. Camille -- who is bourgeois, insensitive and shallow -- becomes increasingly jealous of Saha, and tries to kill her. Saha survives, Alain realises what's happened, and the marriage is over.

It's effectively a love triangle, except that one of the contenders for Alain's affection is a cat. Colette doesn't anthropomorphise Saha, or gild her essentially animal nature (litter trays are mentioned): but Saha is as much a character as Camille, and a more likeable one. The critical interpretation seems to be that Saha symbolises Alain's childhood, which he doesn't want to let go of. I am perfectly happy to take the novel as literal: I would absolutely leave a partner who tried to murder my cat.

The Masked Woman is a series of vignettes and short stories about men and women dealing with love. The stories focus on the moments that change a life, from the apprehension of a murderer to a woman who apparently revels in living alone, yet is full of regrets. The writing is perceptive, dwelling on little details (the more mundane the better) and evoking French life between the wars.

Narrated by Machteld van der Gaag, who's Dutch but grew up in Paris: her pronunciation of French names was really evocative, and she injects just the right amount of emotion into the prose.

Read because: 'Storygraph Reads the World' challenge, 'France': and I read, or attempted to read, La Chatte as a teenager, an optimistic gift from a French cousin: I wanted to see how much I remembered ... and discovered how much I had not understood.

2026/084: Heaven's Graveyard — Grace Curtis

"No one can decide if it was a mass hallucination or a -- a mir --" Her lips convulsed. "Some kind of divine event... But I know what this is. It's fuckery." [loc. 3613]

Heaven's Graveyard is a fantasy novel, set in the same world as, though long after the events in, Curtis' earlier Idolfire (which I have not read), and featuring archaeology, sapphic romance, a protagonist who mostly lives in her head, and a murder mystery.

Cod -- short for Coda -- is an archivist, working in blissful solitude in Asha's Civic Museum. One day, she receives a message saying 'historic discovery, come home urgently'. It's signed by her friend Denali Marr. Since she first encountered his Ashan Myths for Children, Cod has been captivated by the story of Aleya Ana-Ulai, and she and Marr both believe that the legendary heroine really existed. Surely it's worth taking leave of absence and heading back to Palgaro, where she grew up in poverty with an emotionally-distant mother.

Except, of course, it's never that simple. Cod encounters her ex, Sparrow, who is apparently now a travelling saleswoman; she learns more about Marr's great discovery, and makes discoveries of her own -- not least that there is, after all, some truth in the old stories.

I didn't initially warm to Cod, but as her own history was revealed, and as she began to connect to people (and indeed to the world in which she lives, which is on the brink of war; which has 'rattlers' and 'rails' instead of cars and buses; which is plagued by religious schism) I became more engrossed in her story. That said, I found the book's climax frustratingly rushed, and the epilogue -- though it provides closure to one element of the story, and opens up new possibilities -- doesn't give much idea of just how much the world has changed. Though perhaps that's Cod (who is autistic-coded) simply not paying much attention to it...

From the author's afterword: "I'd like to ask [you] to keep this book's surprises to yourself, at least for a little while. Together we can horribly betray many more people to come."

Read because: I recently read and enjoyed Floating Hotel (which is more SFnal). Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for the advance review copy, in exchange for this full honest review. UK Publication Date is 18th June 2026.

2026/083: A Trade of Blood — Robert Jackson Bennett

We have stolen secrets from the bloods of the titans and taught all of nature to grow and warp and shift at our pleasing. [loc. 545]

Cat-herders! Unexpected siblings! More of Ana's background! Another ill-judged liaison! Blue grass! And a very knotty murder mystery... This was an excellent read, and very much not the culmination of a trilogy: this series could run and run, and I for one will be grateful for each new volume.

Full review nearer publication date, but I note that the 'Shadow of the Leviathan' series is rooted firmly in the mundane world, the place where we're reading. The first novel, The Tainted Cup, explored civil servants and builders, and regulatory frameworks: the second, A Drop of Corruption, tackled autocracy, with a side order of shady banking practises. This time...

Farms are not sites of hallowed tradition. They are, if anything, laboratories for profound biological change. [Author's Note]

Read because: I enjoyed the first two books so much, and leapt at the chance to get an ARC. Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for the advance review copy, in exchange for the full honest review I'll write closer to UK publication date -- 4th August 2026.

2026/082: Generation Loss — Elizabeth Hand

I’ve lived my entire life expecting the worst, knowing it will happen, seeing it happen. Making it happen, people used to think, then photographing it and making other people see it too.

Cass Neary works in the stock room of a New York bookshop. She was a famous photographer for fifteen minutes back in the Seventies: her book Dead Girls was a hit. But her later photography, of dead or dying punks and addicts, didn't have as much impact: a brutal assault, and a series of failed relationships (her last girlfriend died in the 9/11 attacks) have reduced her to a shadow of herself. Then an old friend tells her he's recommended her for an interview with Aphrodite Kamestos, the legendary photographer who inspired Cass. Kamestos lives on a remote island off the coast of Maine, but Cass could do with getting out of the city for a bit: she pops some speed and sets out.

She winds up in Burnt Harbor, a seaside town down on its luck. The motel is unpromising, the man in the next room gives off vibes of damage, and the owner's teenage Goth daughter, Kenzie, wants to go to New York more than anything. Cass escapes to drink at the Good Tern, Burnt Harbor's one restaurant/bar, and encounters some of the locals. Due to a hangover, she's late to Aphrodite's island the next morning -- where she discovers that Aphrodite did not, after all, ask for Cass.

There's plenty else to occupy her in Burnt Harbor. Aphrodite's aloof son Gryffin; the plethora of missing pets and people (including Kenzie, who vanished the night Cass arrived); the cold; the bleakness; the occasional mysterious, beautiful work of art; the wild animals she glimpses in the woods.

This is a noirish crime novel, quite slow -- apart from the unexpectedly mainstream climax of the murder/disappearance mystery -- and beautifully written. It's hard to like Cass, whose emotional damage expresses itself in alcohol and medication abuse, rudeness to strangers, and putting art before everything else. (Her unpleasant traits pale into nothing beside the true villain of the novel, though.) And I did appreciate her devotion to photography, her respect for the craft and her sense of light and shape. 

Read because: I think someone (Mark?) recommended Generation Loss to me -- on the basis of Cass's punk days, and her appreciation of Patti Smith -- when it first came out, nearly twenty years ago. I'm glad I've finally followed up, via a cut-price audiobook. Carol Monda's laconic narration suits this novel very well.

2026/081: Gliff — Ali Smith

Every classic old horse story I’ve ever chanced upon in this brave new unlibraried world deals with the bloodiness of humanity to other creatures as well as each other and more often than not ends in dutiful sadness as if the story, not totally broken, is at least broken in. [loc. 992]

Rose and Bri come home from a visit to their mother (who's taken on her sister's job). Their mother's boyfriend, Leif, is driving the campervan, but he abandons them after they find a red line painted around the outside of their house -- and later, of their campervan. He leaves them with enough canned food to last them a while...

Bri is befriended by an elderly activist, and introduced to a loose collective of 'unverifiables', who've been excluded from the system, from society -- like Rose and Bri themselves, and likely also their mother and Leif. "One person here had been unverified for saying out loud that a war was a war when it wasn’t permitted to call it a war. Another had found herself declared unverifiable for writing online that the killing of many people by another people was a genocide. Another had been unverified for defaming the oil conglomerates by saying they were directly responsible for climate catastrophe." 

Bri is all for revolution: Rose befriends a horse in a field near the empty house they're squatting in, and names it Gliff. Bri, who loves words, finds an actual printed dictionary and discovers that 'gliff' has a multitude of meanings. 

And then Rose and Bri (the latter of who's non-binary: to the question 'are you a boy or a girl?', they answer 'yes') are separated, and there's a gap of five years when the grimness of the 'reeducation centres', and the more-or-less-forced labour awaiting the underclass, is exposed. But there's a hopeful ending, too, and a spark of revolution.

I love Ali Smith's wordplay, especially in the seasonal quartet (Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer, plus Companion Piece) though didn't quite connect with Gliff. In some ways the future it depicts felt all too probable, and horribly close: in others, it lacked detail, depth. And Bri's story didn't feel resolved. Gliff does have a companion volume (Glyph), which I own and have pushed up the TBR list. Perhaps reading that will help me appreciate Gliff as the author intended.

Read because: Ali Smith! And fits the reading challenge 'about a horse, or a horse on the cover' (both).

2026/080: A Natural History of Dragons — Marie Brennan

What sort of woman, upon being kidnapped by smugglers in the middle of the night, would jump for joy at the thought of questioning them about dragons? [p. 130]

Set in a world reminiscent of our own in the nineteenth century, where dragons live wild in the remote heights and forests. Our narrator, Isabella (née Hendemore) -- who will, we are assured, later become the world's pre-eminent authority on dragons -- is the child of wealthy gentry. Aged seven, she dissects a pigeon with her brother's penknife to see how the wishbone works. Aged fourteen, she dresses as a boy to join the hunt for a wolf-drake that's plaguing the local farms. 

She would rather not marry: but her (excellent) father gives her a list of eligible young men who own Sir Richard Edgeworth's A Natural History of Dragons, and she encounters one of them, Jacob Camherst, at a menagerie. (Where, of course, she is not supposed to be.) Marriage ensues. And Jacob proves willing to let her accompany him on a scientific expedition to the remote, somewhat Slavic-flavoured land of Vystrana. There, Isabella sees her first wild dragons, and makes some discoveries, and has plenty of adventures. Not all of these are cheerful.

Isabella, with her passionate drive for knowledge and her often-reckless decisions, reminded me strongly of Amelia Peabody (see Crocodile on a Sandbank and others), though she has the added complication of being a teenager. She's intelligent, driven and thoughtful -- though sometimes not as considerate of humans as of dragons. And she grows up very quickly in this novel. I did enjoy it, though the pacing was uneven and I'd have liked more worldbuilding: and the dragons (beautifully illustrated throughout by Todd Lockwood: you don't get that in an audiobook) were quite distinct from most fantasy dragons, being neither vocal or amiable. I got a real sense of them as creatures of flesh, blood and bone -- their bones being especially intriguing.

I think this suffered by my reading it so soon after The Signature of All Things, which also featured a female scientist and was also unevenly paced: that was a more literary novel than this grand adventure, though. I intend to read more of Brennan's series, because I'm fascinated to discover what Isabella does next.

Read because: fancied something light; the 'Exploring Science Fiction and Fantasy' reading challenge has 'Dragons' as a prompt; I bought this book in 2017, which is a long time for it to languish unread.

2026/079: A Magical Girl Retires — Park Seolyeon (translated by Anton Hur)

In an act of balance, the universe conferred power on those who had the least, and that was why magical girls existed.

The nameless protagonist of this short novel is 29 years old, unemployed and burdened with credit-card debt. She's also still mourning her dead grandfather, a watchmaker, whose trade she once dreamt of following. One night she decides to kill herself by jumping from a bridge. But she's interrupted by a stranger, a magical girl (the 'girl' is not age-specific) named Ah Roa, who believes that our protagonist is the Magical Girl of Time -- the most powerful Magical Girl of all.

Our protagnist is taken to a union meeting, and learns that magical girls -- the phrase is synonymous with 'female superheroes' -- have to deal with the harsh realities of the world, just like everyone else. Every Magical Girl gained their powers at a moment of powerlessness; every Magical Girl has to work, to pay the bills, to deal with everyday microaggressions. And some aspects of a person are deep-rooted: when our protagonist finally manifests her talisman, it turns out to be ... a credit card

This is a short, sweet novel, only 160 pages in print; the audiobook, narrated by Shannon Tyo, is under three hours, and I listened to it in a single evening. Though it's ultimately life-affirming, there are dark undercurrents: also a hint of sapphic romance, a nihilist Magical Girl who doesn't think humanity worth saving, and an exciting encounter with terrorists at Heathrow Airport. 

Read because: 'Listen to an audiobook by an author of Asian and/or Pacific Island descent' prompt in the Libro.fm 2026 Audiobook Listening Challenge. The author is Korean.