2026/135: The Exorcist — William Peter Blatty

The terror drifted over Georgetown like the sun over a blind man's eyes.

I have not seen, and have no intention of seeing, the film. The novel is another matter. Set in Washington DC, it focuses on Regan O'Neil, who's twelve years old, and her mother Chris, a famous actress. Regan starts playing with a Ouija board, talking to an entity she calls 'Captain Howdy'. Soon, her behaviour changes dramatically. Meanwhile, Chris's director is murdered, and there are instances of desecration at a local church.

Chris seeks the help of Father Damien Karras, a Jesuit who's struggling with the death of his mother and the loss of his own faith. Karras applies rigorous methodology to the task of determining whether Regan is truly possessed. Meanwhile, Detective Kinderman is investigating the murder and the desecration, and suspects Karras himself...

Karras may not be the titular Exorcist -- he's deemed lacking experience, and an older priest, Father Merrin, is brought in to perform the ritual -- but he is the central character of the novel. Trained as a psychiatrist, he's adept at applying the scientific method to matters of religious doctrine. He's also a man who cannot turn aside from someone in need (one can read events at the end of the novel as the story of someone driven mad by lack of sleep) and whose loss of faith has left him profoundly lonely.

Precise, characterful dialogue throughout: Blatty (a professional screenwriter) fleshes out secondary characters such as Chris's housekeeper Karl, and conveys each character's story through their speech and actions rather than description. The scenes featuring early 1970s electronics (for instance the tapes used to record the demon's utterances) gave me a shudder of familiarity. And it is plain, in this novel, that good and evil are real. I found the story compelling, and the characters fascinating: I would happily read more of Blatty's fiction.

Read because: I recently read another novel in which a character reads The Exorcist aloud, to entertain. Coincidentally, this audiobook (read by the author) was on offer...

2026/134: The Old Drift — Namwali Serpell

Trust our biology, it teaches you better. If you grip too tight, you'll lose the fight. If you stay in one place, you'll fester and waste. When young ones grow full, they must drift from the pool, lest it turn to a watery grave.

The Old Drift tells the entwined, tangled stories of three generations of Zambians. It begins in 1902, with 'Percy M. Clark, a wanderer, a brute, a cad, the forefather who started it all.' (When I first acquired this novel in Kindle form, I never got past that section.) The rest of the novel, though, focuses on more intriguing individuals, spanning the years from 1939 to 2023 -- which was, when this was published, The Future.

There are Italian immigrants, one with magic-realist hair; a blind girl who falls for an engineering student without knowing that he's black; the Zambian 'Afronauts'; sex workers, revolutionaries, immigrants, doctors... The novel is split into three sections -- 'The Grandmothers', 'The Mothers' and 'The Children' -- each with three viewpoint characters: this structure made it easier for me to appreciate each section individually, as well as the wider context in which the characters overlapped. The focus is very much on women and girls, though in 'The Children' two of the three protagonists are young men. And throughout the novel there's a strong sense of seizing possibilities, of repurposing and reworking the legacies of colonialism. A swarm of mosquitoes provides a lyrical, omniscient chorus bracketing each section. (They're quoted at the top of this review.)

I was ignorant of Zambia's history, and found this educational as well as immersive. I found myself drawn into stories that I would normally not have wanted to read, and appreciated Serpell's knack of blending historical and cultural facts with well-paced plots. And, on reflection, I think the sense of dissatisfaction I had with the final few chapters was because the time at which they're set (2023) is already in the past: the future depicted in those chapters felt, feels, as though it would be further away, maybe mid-21st century, but of course that wouldn't work with the 'three generations' structure.

Brilliantly narrated by Adjoa Andoh, with Richard E. Grant (doing Percy) and Kobna Holdbrook-Smith (doing mosquitos): Andoh produced a myriad of distinct voices for the characters, and made them easy to distinguish.

Namwali Serpell's New Yorker piece on the Afronauts can be found here.

Read because: this novel won the Arthur C Clarke Award ('for the best science fiction novel first published in the United Kingdom during the previous year') in 2020: I purchased a copy as soon as I learnt that it featured, among other narrators, a swarm of mosquitoes... but bounced off the initial 'white male colonist' section. I found the audiobook more accessible.

2026/133: The Mischievous Letters of the Marquise de Q — Felicia Davin

... what etiquette exists for an androgynous novelist paying a visit to the escaped convict she’s hosting at her lover’s request... [p. 205]

Second in the series that began with The Scandalous Letters of V and J (which I really should have reread before starting this): it's the story of Delphine, in love with scandalous androgynous novelist Camille Dupin ... and also with the father of her child, Ari, who vanished mysteriously before she could break the news of her pregnancy. Delphine is married to an abusive husband, but after his death she's free to be with Camille. And then Ari returns...

This is a polyamorous romance, and a magical adventure set in a nineteenth-century France where magical artifacts are collectors' items, and at least two characters seem to have discovered, if not immortality, at least extremely long life. It's told almost entirely through letters and diaries: Delphine's to Ari, even after his disappearance; Delphine and Camille's correspondence; Ari's melancholy journal. It features Victor and Julie(n) from the previous volume, as well as the mysterious Isabelle and some villainous aristocrats. And it has happy endings for those who deserve them ... though the third volume, which I plan to read soon, will focus on the continuing crisis of the collectors.

The author, in her afterword, describes this trilogy as 'Balzac, but horny and queer and magic': now I'm almost tempted to tackle Balzac...

Read because: I fancied a historical romance with fantasy elements, and remembered how much I'd enjoyed Scandalous Letters... though, as I quickly discovered, I hadn't remembered much of the plot!

2026/132: Other Minds — Peter Godfrey-Smith

If we can make contact with cephalopods as sentient beings, it is not because of a shared history, not because of kinship, but because evolution built minds twice over. This is probably the closest we will come to meeting an intelligent alien. [loc. 131]

Sometimes lyrical, sometimes very technical, this is an account of octopus intelligence -- its origins, its manifestations, its implications -- by a philosopher with a scientific background and a passion for scuba-diving.

The common ancestor of humans and cephalopods has been dated to 750 million years ago (more than twice the separation between humans and any other vertebrate). If octopuses are intelligent, then evolution came up with intelligence not once but twice. Octopuses, and closely-related cephalopods such as cuttlefish and perhaps squid, show intelligent behaviour in a variety of ways: they play, they manipulate their environment, they communicate. Their brains are very different from vertebrate brains, being more distributed. And they have very short lifespans, which seems tragic.

I enjoyed Godfrey-Smith's accounts of his encounters with octopuses and giant cuttlefish, including being led by the hand by one curious individual. The philosophical elements -- what is it like to be an octopus? echoing Nagel's 'What Is It Like to Be a Bat?, which was a set text when I was a philosophy undergraduate -- were less interesting to me, but I read the scientific studies with fascination... while cringing at some of the experiments performed on sentient creatures. ('Sentience comes before consciousness,' writes Godfrey-Smith: and he also makes a good case for consciousness.) A truly fascinating read, with compassion and empathy as much as science and philosophy.

Narrated by Peter Noble, whose enthusiasm and warmth kept me listening through the more theoretical sections.

Read because: I've owned the Kindle version since, er, May 2018: the audio version (from the library) was easier to get into, and then I alternated between text and audio. I have wanted to read it, but I think was put off by the dense philosophising -- though, on initial reading way back when, I got far enough to make me swear off eating octopus.

2026/131: What Happened That Night — Nicci French

...while I’ve been in my own particular hell since Leo’s murder, you don’t seem to have lived the lives you longed for when we were young and full of promise. [loc. 1388]

Tyler Green has spent nearly 29 years in prison, found guilty of the murder of his friend Leo Bauer at a post-exam house party at university. He claims he is innocent, and asks a friend to organise a reunion of the guests at that house party. They haven't kept in touch, and all have changed a great deal -- Tyler's girlfriend, Ali, is now married to Will; Beatrice, who's hosting the reunion, is a KC married to an MP; Marco's musical career has descended into pub gigs. And by the end of the (horrible) dinner party, there's another death.

That's the first third of the book. Then we get to meet DI Maud O'Connor and her DS Carrie Kessler, investigating the death. Maud's bosses are convinced Tyler has struck again, but she's not so sure.

I spotted the murderer at 41%.

Good on toxic interpersonal relationships, the ways in which people change between university and middle age, and the dangers of police prejudice. I would have liked more of Tyler's viewpoint, and I felt very sorry for Conrad Bauer, crusading for penalties after the death of his son. There was some interestingly subtle clues that led Maud to her conclusion. But really, very few likeable characters and unexceptional prose -- and a couple of jarring moments, such as Maud making a veiled comment about the personal life of one of the characters, and a throwaway, improbable line intended to distract attention from the actual murderer.

Read because: one of my challenge prompts was 'two authors, one pseudonym': Nicci French ('the pseudonym of English husband-and-wife team Nicci Gerrard and Sean French ') seemed a popular choice, and I'd never read any of their books.

2026/130: Uprooted — Naomi Novik

I knew, suddenly, why the Dragon took a girl from the valley. ... We were of the valley. Born in the valley, of families planted too deep to leave even when they knew their daughter might be taken; raised in the valley, drinking of whatever power also fed the Wood. [loc. 4176]

Agnieszka, seventeen, is certain that her friend Kasia will be chosen by the sorcerer known as the Dragon: will spend ten years in his stone tower, and will afterwards leave the valley where they've grown up. Agnieszka -- who is clumsy, ungainly, prone to dishevelment -- is extremely surprised to be chosen instead. 

But it turns out that she's a witch: and though her powers are quite unlike the Dragon's, he's obliged to teach her... though not to be kind or patient with her. Most of what Agnieszka learns is from an ancient spellbook written by a legendary witch. (The Dragon tries to convince her that the spells are nonsense, since he'd never been able to get them to work.)

I first read this in 2015 (my original review) and had forgotten much of the plot. This time round I noticed that almost all of the major characters -- Agnieszka, Kasia, Queen Hanna, the sorceress Alosha, the forest queen -- are female; that each magic-user has a different style of magic (Agnieszka's is often described as fluid or wandering, the Dragon's is crisp and precise); that Agnieszka re-roots herself in village life, unlike all the girls before her. 

The depiction of Agnieszka and Kasia's friendship was a delight -- including the nasty pettinesses that creep into even the best of friendships. The book club discussion also focussed on the romance: the age gap felt insignificant beside the inherent power dynamic of the teacher-student relationship. I'm glad to have revisited this, but it's not my favourite of Novik's novels -- though I now have a strong urge to reread the Scholomance books...

Read because: book club selection.

2026/129: Dionysus in Wisconsin — E H Lupton

"...since you met him you keep getting attacked by demons.”
“Twice!” Sam said. “It’s happened twice.”
“It’s been two weeks!”
Harry was looking back and forth between them nervously. “Ellen, every relationship has trade-offs.”[p. 193]

Audiobook of a novel I enjoyed very much last winter (original review from January). Dionysus in Wisconsin is set in Madison in 1969, in a reality where magic works and ghosts walk. Ulysses Lenkov is a 'human lightning rod', a magician who can attract and talk to spirits (but can't decide a subject for his dissertation). Sam Sterling is a mild-mannered archivist who's moved back to Madison to be near his family, who he doesn't especially like. Warned by a fellow magic-user that something big is coming -- something connected with the god Dionysus -- Ulysses seeks out Sam and discovers that his first name happens to be Dionysus ... and that there's a strong mutual attraction between them.

Narrated by Scott Paige, who gives each character a distinct voice (and manages a very spooky ghost-Abi at one point). I really liked the loucheness of his Ulysses, and the way that Sam and Ulysses' voices changed over the course of the book. Ulysses is much more fun after he's lightened up a bit and allowed himself to be emotionally involved with Sam, and Sam's dilemma. And Sam sounds much more confident by the end of the novel.

Read because: I noticed that E H Lupton was offering free review copies, and leapt at the chance. And now, of course, I want to reread the rest of the series...

Thanks to the author for the advance review copy, in exchange for this full honest review. The audiobook is available now.

2026/128: The CIA Book Club — Charlie English

"A book was like fresh air. They allowed us to survive and not go mad.”

During the 1980s, the Solidarity movement in Poland (expanded from the original Solidarity union) was the main opposition to the Soviet-backed Communist regime. Even before martial law was declared in 1981, the CIA were quietly funding the import, publication and distribution of subversive literature, from Solzhenitsyn's Gulag Archipelago to Orwell's 1984 ... as well as fashion magazines, the Guardian Weekly, and novels by Vonnegut and Le Carre. America also funded underground printing initiatives, such as Mazovia Weekly and Kultura.

English's book is well-researched yet reads like a thriller, with vivid characters (ex-pat Jerzy Giedroyc in Paris, whose CIA codename was QRBERETTA; Mirosław Chojecki, self-appointed Minister for Smuggling; Helena Łuczywo, editor of Mazovia Weekly, who relied on the innate chauvinism of the secret police to keep her and her mostly-female team safe) and a compelling account of the key events of the period, from the founding of the Solidarity union to the election of Lech Wałęsa as President in 1990.

I remember some (though not all) of the major events covered in this book, but very much from the perspective of a teenager with little interest in politics and less understanding of what it might be like to live under an oppressive regime. I certainly wouldn't, then or now, have associated the CIA with such a hands-off, benevolent approach to undermining communism! (It's harder to imagine it happening in 2026.) And I found English's account of underground activism uplifting, even inspiring: people's time, money, effort, even lives, dedicated to a greater cause.

Narrated by James Parsons, who (as far as I can tell) pronounced Polish names correctly and clearly, and highlighted the occasional black humour of the book.

Read because: I bought the ebook when it was on offer -- I think it was at a time when my interest in the Cold War peaked -- but didn't get around to it until I noticed that the library had the audiobook. I combined the two, which worked very nicely.

2026/127: Yield Under Great Persuasion — Alexandra Rowland

...maybe finally he’d be a different person, someone he liked more than the person he was now. Someone who could let sweetness and softness happen to him without his throat closing up in fear and suspicion. Someone who could be loved. [p. 163]

Tam Brocken runs a tea shop in a village. He's lonely, if you discount -- as he does -- the more-or-less weekly occasions on which he has sex with Lord Lyford. He always leaves hastily, and it's just sex, so that's all right -- even if Lyford (who he's hated since childhood) keeps flirting with him. And then Tam and Lyford are assigned to run the matchmaking tent at the village festival. Together.

Then Tam, trying to escape the village gossips, meets the goddess Angarat on the road, and she imparts a few home truths ... including that Tam is stuck in a rut of his own devising, and that he should keep an open mind about Lyford, and give him a chance to redeem himself.

This is a story about second chances, divine favor, and trying to be a better person. It's a sweet story, though Tam is often far from sweet: and it's also a rural idyll, with gods walking the world and interacting with humans, and with a really strong sense of Lyford and Tam's love for the land. A gentle and life-affirming novel that's often very funny and (usually at other points) very steamy.

Read because: wishlist hit, plus I'd just finished a book by Rowland's fellow Serpent Freya Marske. Though the two are very different writers, there's a commonality of timbre. I also felt that the explicit sex scenes qualified this as a fill for the 'erotic fantasy' prompt on a book challenge. Also, 'set at harvest time'.