Sue's Book Reviews

Mini shopaholic (by Sophie Kinsella)

2026-10-14T16:45:31.768+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

The fifth book in Sophie Kinsella’s classic ‘chick lit’ series, ‘Shopaholic and baby’, features Becky Brandon going through pregnancy; the baby is not born until the end of the book. And its immediate sequel, ‘Mini shopaholic’, which I last read in 2012, begins a couple of years later. As with most books which I haven’t read in a decade or more, I had entirely forgotten the storyline.

One can’t forget Becky, however, or her hard-working and generous husband Luke. They are living with Becky’s parents at the start of the book, hoping to buy a place of their own. But one after another, the houses they want have problems. It looks as though the perfect one is available, however, so they’re hopeful. They’ve taken over rather a lot of her parents’ house with Becky’s huge collection of clothes and shoes, not to mention little Minnie’s equipment, toys and clothes…

Becky has been trying to cut down a bit on her own shopping, and even agrees to start wearing the things in her closet at least three times before buying anything new. And she’s also set up a new system for Minnie to buy things with her pocket money, although Minnie loves shopping as much as her mother does, and it’s clear that already she’s many years in debt…

Becky would like another baby, but Luke insists that Minnie is a handful, and that if they can’t deal with one toddler, another baby would be a nightmare. So they decide to get some professional advice. At least, Luke does; Becky doesn’t really think there’s a problem, although she does realise it’s a bit unusual for a toddler to be banned from more than one Santa grotto.

Meanwhile, Luke’s birthday is approaching, and Becky wants to throw him a surprise party. Being Becky, she doesn’t do anything by halves, although she hopes to do a lot of preparation herself, and not spend too much on the party. But the guest list keeps increasing, as do the requirements… and when she tries bartering, it’s not very successful.

It might sound like a rather frivolous, trivial plot, and of course in one sense it is. But Becky is a delightful character: naive, perhaps, and a compulsive spender. But she’s always optimistic, and she cares deeply about those around her. She hates having arguments or disagreements with anyone and sometimes resorts to half-truths (or outright lies) to keep the peace.

So when their house move is delayed yet again, she doesn’t tell her parents. And she doesn’t tell Luke that his birth mother - who has said unforgivable things to him - really wants to see Minnie. She doesn’t tell her boss about her new initiative to encourage clients to keep shopping… and yet trying to keep the party a secret from Luke becomes increasingly difficult.

I didn’t think I was enjoying this book quite as much as the previous ones; the party preparations felt a bit contrived, and nothing much was working out. But then I realised I was totally drawn into the story, which is very cleverly written with surprises for the reader as well as for Luke. There are some quite poignant scenes as well as some that made me laugh aloud. And I was sorry when I turned the last page.

Yes, it’s chick-lit, and yes Becky can seem shallow and caricatured. Her life and lifestyle are nothing like mine. But despite everything, I like her very much. And I appreciate these books, which are light-weight but well-written, with very little bad language and no detailed scenes of intimacy.

Recommended if you like this kind of book, but it’s best to have read some of the earlier ones first.

Last term at Malory Towers (by Enid Blyton)

2026-10-10T19:59:47.694+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I started rereading Enid Blyton’s ‘Malory Towers’ school series back in May. I’ve continued reading one per month and have just finished the last in the original series, ‘Last term at Malory Towers’. I say the ‘original’ series because I’ve learned that there are some extra book written by a different author which fill in some of the gaps. However I don’t have any of those, and have not read them.

I last read ‘Last term at Malory Towers’ in 2014, but as a teenager I read it every few years, and occasionally as a young adults, so I was reasonably familiar with some of the storylines. Darrell Rivers is now head girl of Malory Towers, and - with most of her friends - in her final term. She, Sally, Alicia and Betty are all off to university in the autumn, and are looking forward to it. But inevitably there’s a lot of nostalgia as they go to their beloved boarding school as pupils for the last time.

Darrell’s younger sister Felicity is in the second form, and she features somewhat in this book, along with a rather unpleasant girl called Jo who has even more unpleasant parents. Jo’s father tells her he was always bottom of the class, and encourages her to do as little work as possible. He sends her money and extravagant food, and she tries to manipulate her classmates as a result. But the only person who seems to like her is a timid first-former called Deirdre.

To everyone’s surprise there are two new girls in the sixth form - Suzanne, who is the niece of Mam’zelle Rougier, and Amanda, whose school burned down so it had to close. Suzanne is likeable and friendly, though she keeps pretending she doesn’t understand English very well. She’s a bit caricatured and reminded me of Claudine in the St Clare’s books, and I’m not really sure why she was introduced at this late stage; she doesn’t play much of a part in the story.

Amanda, on the other hand, is excellent at sports; her former school excelled in all team sports as well as swimming, and Amanda is tall and very strong. Unfortunately she’s also very arrogant. She turns her nose up at Malory Towers; she’s expected to enter the next Olympics, and likely to win at least a couple of prizes. But she has little team spirit: she’s unwilling to help or coach any of the younger girls, until she decides to prove the other sixth formers wrong, by taking on Felicity’s classmate (and Alicia’s cousin) June.

Then there’s Gwen, who never really got any less selfish, who’s had a huge argument with her father, and some ‘tricks’ played by the second-formers (since the sixth-formers are far too mature…)

So there are some interesting storylines in quite a fast-moving book, which perhaps reflects Darrell’s feelings that her last term is racing by. It’s couched in Blyton-ese, of course which irritates some; there are author intrusions, and a bit of repetition. But I grew up with these books, and still feel that they’re good stories with mostly believable main characters, even if the misfits are somewhat caricatured.

I picked up a lot of my ethics from reading school stories like these as a young teenager. I intuitively understood schoolgirl honour: the importance of owning up when one did something wrong, for instance, and the value of things like generosity and hard work. I understood about team spirit, and loyalty, and integrity without knowing the words. Fiction can be excellent at helping children (and adults) see into other people’s minds, and feel their emotions.

Of course, this being children’s fiction, bad behaviour usually has negative consequences, even if not directly imposed. When someone is in serious danger, rescues always comes. Perhaps this is unrealistic, but I think even at eleven, when I first read the book, I understood the difference between fictional idealism and the real ideals and morals that underpinned these stories.

Overall, I thought this an excellent conclusion to the series, and am glad I reread it. I’m also pleased to know that young children still read (or listen to) these books - probably mostly girls, as it’s set in a girls’ school. Suitable for anyone from the age of about eight and upwards.

Mr Brightly's evening off (by Kathleen Rowntree)

2026-10-08T18:24:41.780+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

It’s over twenty years since I read Kathleen Rowntree’s novel ‘Mr Brightly’s evening off’. So, unsurprisingly, I had entirely forgotten the story and the people. It was more than time for a reread.

There’s a prologue which doesn’t seem to make much sense at first: three unconnected women watching a TV show where some silhouetted women are asked how they feel about a situation, and a particular person. I’m not quite sure why this prologue is there, other than to give a bit of mystery to the novel; it’s not until towards the end of the book that the scene takes place.

Chapter one introduces us to the elderly - but spry - Mrs Parminter who wakes up to find herself lying in her garden, in the rose bed. She comes to consciousness gradually, and then starts to wonder why she’s there. She then worries about how she’s going to get up, until she remembers that it’s Wednesday, and Mr Brightly is going to pay her a visit. It’s his evening off, he has told her, when his wife is at choir practice. And although Mr Brightly is much younger than Mrs Parminter, in his early fifties, the two of them are very good friends.

Mr Brightly rescues his friend when he discovers her, and makes her promise to call her doctor. He’s nicely shown as a pleasant, respectful and helpful man who likes to walk in the village, where he knows almost everybody. He’s a lay reader in the local church, and has been responsible for it since their last vicar left, though a new one should soon arrive to take over.

Mr Brightly’s wife Ginny is a polar opposite to him - she moves at rapid speed, talks a lot, and likes to fill every moment. They seem an ill-sorted couple, but he is responsible and faithful, and very fond of their teenage daughter Harriet.

We then meet Cressida Reece, a woman in her thirties whom Mr Brightly has seen and admired as she looks after her disabled teenage son Alex. She’s just won a large amount of compensation money after a medical mishap (hers, not her son’s) and Mr Brightly - who owns a finance company - goes to advise her. He’s just as charming to her as he is to Mrs Parminter, although less formal. And he gets along very well with Alex, who is quite a computer whizz.

These are the main characters, but there are several other people with whom Mr Brightly has had business transactions. He’s known variously as Dick, Ricki and Richard, and is good at adjusting his style to suit whoever he is with. There are a few slightly shocking implications about his past, but he’s clear that he’s now a Christian believer, and will thus resist any female lures - and there are several of them. He’s a good-looking man as well as being excellent company.

Right from the start there are hints that Mr Brightly’s finance company isn’t as reliable or watertight as he implies. And it’s cleverly written so that I could feel the confidence of the women he deals with, and Mr Brightly’s personal charm, yet also had a growing suspicion that he’s doing something dodgy with the money they are persuaded to invest…

I liked the book very much. The characters are perhaps a bit caricatured, but they’re three-dimensional and quite distinct. It’s essentially a village story, but with a lot of undercurrents and little side stories that add to the main plot. I didn’t find it funny, but there are wry observations that made me smile from time to time.

There’s a somewhat inevitable dramatic conclusion, in which Mr Brightly continues to behave in a placid, helpful and friendly way. I couldn’t help liking him, as well as most of the other characters. And the last scene in the final chapter is really quite moving.

I’m very glad I reread this, and hope it won’t be another twenty-three years before I read it again. Definitely recommended if you like women’s fiction with a bit of tension and drama.

The garden of evening mists (by Tan Twan Eng)

2026-10-06T19:57:10.566+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I had never heard of Tan Twan Eng. And while the cover of the book ‘The garden of evening mists’ is quite appealing, with some excellent reviews, I doubt if I’d have picked it up to read by chance. However, it was the allocated book for this month’s reading group, so I bought it (used) from the ‘World of books’ site last year, and read it over a few days before the meeting.

The first chapter is a bit confusing, though it’s confidently - and, in places, poetically - told. The whole book is in the first person, narrated by a Chinese woman called Yun Ling. The opening paragraph mentions her seeing the Emperor of Japan when she was twenty-seven, and that terrible things were done to her and her sister.

Then the action moves forward by thirty-six years. Yun Ling has retired early from a high-powered job as a judge. She’s come to a house where she used to know a man called Aritomo used to leave. There’s a Chinese servant living there, who remembers her from over three decades earlier. She hasn’t returned there since. Yun Ling is about to meet an art expert who is going to examine some of Aritomo’s work.

The action moves forwards and backwards regularly; I quickly realised that the ‘present day’ section, involving the retired Yun Ling in her sixties, is all written in the present tense. But it’s not always obvious when the ‘past’ sections take place; it would have helped to have an indication of the date, or at least the year, I think.

Not that it mattered all that much, as (in my view) the narrative becomes really very slow and rambling after the introductory chapters. Indeed, if it hadn’t been a book club choice I might have abandoned it. It wasn’t the kind of book I wanted to dip into at every odd moments, and even when I had an hour to myself I couldn’t read for more than about half an hour as my mind wandered.

There are lots of themes in the book, including Japanese gardens, and memories, and the struggle of women to be heard in a male-orientated society. Much of it is set in a period of which I knew almost nothing, in Malaysia (known as Malaya at the time) when the Japanese had occupied the country and were treating many of the inhabitants brutally. We don’t learn exactly what happened to Yun Ling and her sister when they were teens until almost the end of the book, but by then it’s fairly obvious what is coming.

The second half of the book is a bit more interesting, although there’s a lot of description and the pace is really very slow. It’s beautiful writing - quite poetic in places, but I found myself wishing that the author had written a lot of it as poetry and kept it out of the novel. I skimmed several paragraphs, sometimes whole pages when my mind was elsewhere, and didn’t lose any of the story, as far as I can tell.

I also found it difficult distinguishing the different places and people. Some of the characters had quite similar names, and at times I found it very difficult remembering who was whom.

But I think my main problem with the book is that the characters are all rather two-dimensional, and Yun Ling herself is not a very nice person. She had terrible trauma as a teenager, and has had to fight for everything she has; she’s clearly courageous, determined and highly intelligent. But she harbours anger and grudges, and she admits to being casually promiscuous.

Much of the writing is beautifully evocative (if long-winded), and it’s a story that was worth telling - based on some of the realities of war, set in a culture I knew little about. It even prompted me to do a bit of research, to find out something of the situation. As such it’s a useful book from the historical point of view, demonstrating how even the best of people from any nation can behave appallingly in war situations.

If you’re interested in this period of Asian history, or love poetic writing in novels, then may be worth trying. It's very highly reviewed in general and has won some prizes. But it didn’t move me, and I couldn’t relate to anyone; so it’s not one I’m likely to read again.

Jane and the Chalet School (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

2026-10-01T18:13:15.448+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

It’s nine years since I read ‘Jane and the Chalet School’, 51st in the original series by Elinor M Brent-Dyer. Before that it had been at least a couple of decades, and I found I had no memory of it. This time, I vaguely remembered that one of the girls, known as Jack, took a dislike to a new girl called Jane. But I had entirely forgotten the details. Evidently this is not a book I have read regularly.

The book opens at the start of a summer term in Switzerland. The first chapter is quite dramatic. Jack Lambert, who is fourteen but seems young for her age, is in a furious temper. She’s been moved from the dormitory where she has slept since she came to the school, and she will no longer be able to ask constant questions of her favourite senior, Len Maynard.

For most girls this would be a minor frustration, but Jack is an all-or-nothing person, and she is determined to dislike the new girl who is taking over her cubicle. And Jane Carew is about as different from Jack as possible. Jack - who hates her full name of Jacynth - likes what were then considered ‘boyish’ activities: mechanics, cars, woodwork and so on. She has short hair, and a short temper.

Jane, by contrast, has long fair hair, and a rather gushing way of speaking. She’s the daughter of two well-known actors and has toured with them, educated by a governess. So this is the first time she’s been at school. She’s a friendly, likeable person who soon learns that she shouldn’t address staff (or, indeed, classmates) as ‘darling’ or ‘poppet’. And while she’s excellent at languages, well-read and extremely good at memorising poems, she loathes maths and knows almost nothing about science.

Very often there are new girls at the Chalet School who struggle to fit in; Jane has no trouble doing that, and quickly makes friends. She turns out to be an excellent actress, too, when called in to take over a role in a play at the last minute; but she’s not the least bit conceited about it.

But Jack nurses her grudge, and is determined to hate Jane. She even starts to bully her until Len takes a hand. And in a sense, although this book is about Jane, it’s more significant in Jack’s life as she finally starts to mature and think things through. It makes for an interesting plot, and I really didn’t remember any of the details.

I even enjoyed reading the detailed description of the play in which Jane demonstrates her skill; sometimes Brent-Dyer gives lengthy details of a Nativity play or pantomime, and my mind tends to wander. But for some reason I liked the detail of this play, and enjoyed Jane’s success.

Inevitably there’s a dramatic rescue, in an episode that is really the start of Jack’s starting to question her attitude. Then there’s a potential tragedy for Jane, and a few pages that I found extremely poignant; not everyone who reads these books likes Joey Maynard, mother of eleven, who ‘butts in’ and involves herself with school life whenever she can. But she’s an excellent person to provide a bit of mothering to anyone going through a difficult patch.

Even the annual sale, towards the end of the book, is written about in a more interesting way than is usual, so I didn’t skim that. All in all, I enjoyed this book very much.

Recommended to fans of the series - and this might even make a good introduction to the Chalet School, as quite a bit of it is seen through Jane’s eyes. There are several references to previous books, but it wouldn't matter if one hadn't read them, though it feels more well-rounded (at least, to me) to read the books through in order.

I have an Armada paperback edition of this book, but, happily, the last ten or so books in the series were not abridged from the originals when they were reprinted in this format. Unfortunately, it's quite hard to find and used editions are often pricey.

There are no strong people (by Jeff Lucas)

2026-09-30T19:24:11.268+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

It’s ten years since I read Jeff Lucas’s book ‘There are no strong people’. I recalled being somewhat disappointed when I first read it. Jeff Lucas, a British pastor who lives mostly in the United States, usually writes more light-hearted content. Most of his books contain self-deprecating anecdotes and wry observations alongside thoughts from the Bible and thought-provoking commentary.

This one, however, is more serious. But I decided to read it again, having forgotten what it was about and what was said. As so often happens, I found that I liked it rather more this time around.

The book is about the story of Samson, as given in the book of Judges, chapters 13-16. It’s divided into four sections, and each one starts with a couple of pages quoted directly from Judges. The author suggests that the reader read each biblical quotation thoughtfully, even if one is familiar with it already, and then perhaps read it again. I thought this was good advice.

The bulk of the book is then commentary on the text, and it’s quite extensive: each broader section is divided into four or five chapters, each with around ten pages. It was easy to read a chapter - or sometimes a bit more - each day, and there’s plenty to think about.

Samson is a very strange character, and reading Jeff Lucas’s book made me realise just how unusual he was, even amongst a rather varied crew of Old Testament heroes. I do think the author makes a few assumptions which he treats as absolutes - that Samson’s father was somewhat downtrodden, for instance, because it was his wife who received the angelic message that she was going to have a baby who would be a ‘nazarite’ from birth.

However, I hadn’t really thought about the fact that a nazirite vow is something that an individual used to commit to for a fixed period; there don’t seem to be any other instances where parents are told that their son must be a nazirite from birth. Samson’s uncut hair is a well-known feature of his life, and that’s one part of the vow which he evidently kept.

We don’t know if he abstained from alcohol (again, Jeff Lucas assumes that when he hosted a large feast, there would have been alcohol flowing - but the Bible doesn’t state that Samson actually drank any). On the other hand, we do know that he touched the corpse of a lion, and of many of the people he killed.

Samson’s unusual strength is a well-known feature, one which, for some reason, relied on his hair being uncut. And his behaviour as a young man is quite boorish - perhaps killing a lion was to save his own skin, but his demand for a heathen woman sounds very self-centred. And this despite his parents’ advice, and without having even met the women whose looks caught his fancy.

It’s an interesting book, and while I didn’t agree with all the author’s assumptions, he makes a lot of good points. Samson is more than a flawed hero; indeed he doesn’t seem to do much that’s heroic at all, at least until the end when his strength has been sapped and his eyesight destroyed.

In one sense it’s encouraging that God can use the most unlikely people for his purposes. It’s also a warning that being called does not mean that someone always follows the paths they are supposed to. And Samson doesn’t appear to have any sense that he’s done anything wrong. Perhaps he was somewhat spoiled as a child, or perhaps his personality is what we might call ‘entitled’ today. He doesn’t come across as an appealing person; yet he’s still included in the list of ‘judges’ who ruled Israel for a couple of decades.

The book isn’t in Jeff Lucas’s usual style, but it’s very well written and gives a lot to ponder. I’m very glad I decided to read it again. And that despite the weird layout of the book with some huge typed sentences, apparently at random. I disliked that intently the first time I read it. This time I mostly ignored it.

The five-minute marriage (by Joan Aiken)

2026-09-28T21:23:24.973+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

It’s well over a decade since I last read Joan Aiken’s historical novel ‘The five-minute marriage’. This author is probably best known for her children’s classic, ‘The wolves of Willoughby Chase’, but she wrote quite a few books for adults too. I don’t like all of them; she has written some ‘gothic’ style thrillers which don’t appeal to me. But I did recall that I had very much enjoyed this book.

The heroine is a young woman called Philadelphia Carteret - known as Delphie - who lives with her mother. Delphie is a musician, and earns her keep by giving piano lessons to wealthy children. Her mother was widowed some years earlier and is not good at sticking to a budget. And she’s been quite unwell recently. So the medical expenses - in these pre-NHS days - have taken up most of their rather scanty savings.

One of Delphie’s clients is the wealthy, outgoing Mr Browty. He has two daughters who take piano and singing lessons from Delphie and they adore her, though neither is very talented. He finds her interesting and wants to help; he learns that she and her mother are estranged from her mother’s family. And in one of those unlikely coincidences (which seem quite believable when reading) Mr Browty is acquainted with her great-uncle Mark, Lord Bollington.

So although Delphie received a curt rejection when she wrote to him once before, she decides to pay her great-uncle a visit, armed with a note of introduction from Mr Browty, who vouches for her character. So she sets off, accompanied by Jenny who works in the shop below the flat that Delphie and her mother are renting.

They eventually arrive, only to be greeted with Great-Uncle Mark’s imminent demise, and the discovery that there’s someone else also claiming to be his great-niece Miss Carteret. The other Miss Carteret - Elaine - has been supported by the family for some years, and is engaged to be married to the heir, Gareth Penistone. If he is to inherit anything other than the title, he must be married before his uncle dies… but Elaine has refused to be there.

So Gareth and his cousin Mr Fitzjohn suggest an astonishing deception, offering Delphie and her mother an income if she will agree. And despite the gravest reservations, she somehow goes through with what she believes is a false ceremony, only to learn, later, that it was legitimate…

It’s a plot worthy of Georgette Heyer, with three dimensional characters as well as authentic descriptions and dialogue. There’s an excellent pace to the novel, and several surprises which I had forgotten about. Of course it was inevitable that the hero and heroine would eventually fall in love; that’s a given in this kind of novel. But it was hard, at times, to imagine how it would happen since he disapproves of and distrusts all women, and is rather rude to Delphie at first.

There are twists and turns to the story, and it’s not immediately clear who can be trusted. There are plenty of minor characters, but they’re well enough developed that they’re easy enough to distinguish, even when they don’t appear very often. I liked Delphie very much; I also liked Jenny and her sister. There’s some humour in the book - including the attitude of a bankrupt poet who plays a part - and there are some quite tense scenes, too.

I didn’t entirely grasp the details of the family connections that are explained - but it didn’t seem to matter much. And it’s a clever plot which works very well, with an entirely satisfactory ending. I enjoyed rereading this book very much: once I started, I could hardly put it down. Definitely recommended for anyone who likes the Georgette Heyer style of historical romance.

I'm delighted to see that this book, and others by Joan Aiken, was reprinted a couple of years ago, so can be bought new as well as second-hand. It's also available in Kindle form.

The Saturday place (by Alice Peterson)

2026-09-26T15:47:00.000+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve acquired most of the novels by Alice Peterson over the past couple of decades, and reread them about four years ago. Then I discovered that I didn’t have ‘The Saturday place’, so I put it on my wishlist, and was given it for Christmas 2024. I’m not sure why I haven’t picked it up before now, but finally I did take it from my to-be-read shelf a few days ago.

The main character is a woman in her early forties called Holly. We meet her, first, on a beach with Jamie in a prologue, set twelve or so years before the main story. We learn a bit about his history, and that he and Holly are planning a life together. He talks about where he wants his ashes scattered, and she tells him not to be morbid..

Then in the first main chapter - a very short one - Holly opens her door to a policeman, telling her the terrible news that Jamie was killed in a car crash. This was not a surprise, given the prologue, and it’s spelled out in the blurb on the back, too. The novel isn’t about their marriage: it’s about Holly gradually finding new meaning in life, as she comes to terms with what’s happened.

The second chapter starts eighteen months after Holly has had the news. She’s been back at work, she sees her friends… but she dreads evenings alone, and weekends. She eats junk food and drinks too much wine. And now she’s decided to do some voluntary work, to give her a focus for Saturday mornings. So she goes to ‘Soul food’, a community project where ingredients are donated, volunteers cook meals and up to sixty or more people are able to eat. Many are homeless, but everyone is welcome. Anyone who can afford to give a financial contribution usually does so.

Holly is quite anxious at first but she used to love baking. So she’s assigned to desserts, and quickly finds that doing this gives her something to look forward to, a new challenge, and a way to meet people whose lives are a whole lot worse than hers. She isn’t wealthy, but she’s never had to sleep on the streets or go without a meal.

All of which is a worthy and potentially interesting story, but I felt it dragged a bit after the early chapters. Holly meets a lot of people, both volunteers and regular diners at Soul Food, but they mostly feel rather two-dimensional. We do get to know Angus, a large guy who is living with his brother who is the main chef, Scottie; Angus drinks and smokes too much and is unmotivated to do anything much. Inevitably he changes, but it’s not entirely clear why he is suddenly so eager to get fit again.

Possibly the most interesting person is Lauren, a nineteen-year-old who was living on the streets but is now in a homeless shelter. She has a social worker who brings her to Soul Food as a reluctant volunteer; both Holly and Angus befriend her. Her story is very sad, rather sordid in places, but she’s a person of integrity and refuses to descend to the lowest depths. She’s also rather stubborn and won’t even consider giving up smoking…

It’s a very readable book, and the pace is mostly good, if a bit rushed in places. But despite some quite serious issues, I never felt really involved with any of the characters. And there are a lot of issues: quite apart from the many homeless people, or those with depression and lack of any motivation, there’s a child with severe anaphylaxis. It feels almost as if the author wanted to include as many different problems as she could, then ends up somewhat skating over most of them.

There’s a lot of conversation, and Holly is quite introspective at times, in a somewhat repetitive way. She does change her attitudes somewhat over the course of the book and by the end is somewhat ready to move on. But so many other people have problems too that her - quite natural - grieving often feels pushed aside.

I still liked the book, and found it quite thought-provoking in places. But it’s not one of my favourites by this author.

Anne's house of dreams (by Lucy Maud Montgomery)

2026-09-22T18:01:09.460+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I’m enjoying rereading the ‘Anne’ books by LM Montgomery, at a rate of around one per month. I’ve just finished the fifth in the series, ‘Anne’s house of dreams’, which I last read in 2008. I read these books as a teenager and probably at least once as a young adult, so the storylines are familiar to me. But I don’t tend to remember a lot of details, and like them afresh each time.

This book opens with Anne getting married to Gilbert Blythe. It follows directly on from the previous book, ‘Anne of Windy Willows’, which I reread last month. Gilbert has finished his medical training, and Anne has given up her teaching post; as a woman in Canada a hundred years ago, she would no longer work outside the home once she was married. She liked teaching, but she’s glad to have given it up.

The wedding scenes are nicely done, and we meet some old friends who are delighted to see the happy couple married at last. Then the two set off for their new home, sixty miles or so away, where Gilbert has been appointed as the local doctor. He’s found a house, which he has described to Anne in detail, but she hasn’t seen it until this point.

Anne falls in love with the house immediately, as Gilbert knows she will, and gradually starts to turn it into the kind of home where she is comfortable, and can entertain. The only disadvantage, as far as Anne is concerned, is that there are no immediate neighbours. But they slowly get to know some of the other locals; in particular the outspoken Miss Cornelia, and the old sailor known as Captain Jim.

Then there’s Leslie, who doesn’t live far away, and is not much older than Anne; but she seems resentful, unwilling to be friendly at first. Anne realises she’s hurting inside, and full of envy, and one of the most interesting threads in this book (in my view) is the way they gradually develop a deep friendship.

There are a lot of different storylines in this book, and I have to admit to some skimming. As with other books in the series, people Anne meets like to tell their stories, and those of the neighbours. Each one by itself might be somewhat interesting, but I find the endless digressions and complex storylines a distraction from the main plot: that of Anne and Gilbert in their first few years of marriage.

The writing is good, if rather rambling, and the descriptions nicely done. Anne is a three dimensional person, still inside the same Anne that she was as a child in ‘Anne of Green Gables’. But she’s matured, and developed, and learned a great deal about people since Matthew and Marilla adopted her. She has learned to be more tactful and to temper some of her enthusiasms. But she remains thoughtful, imaginative and kind.

Leslie, too, is an interesting character full of courage and loyalty despite some awful circumstances which Anne only gradually learns about. I found, towards the end of the book that I remembered some of her story, and how it concludes; it’s a very satisfying ending.

Anne’s apparently charmed life has a poignant, tragic section which I had also remembered about; something that perhaps helps her understand others better although it seems a strange incident to include in what is still, essentially, a book for teenagers. But a hundred years ago it wasn’t such an unusual happening though I remember being shocked the first time I read it; I couldn’t believe the author would have included something so awful.

But it’s part of the reality of life in that era - as such the book good from the social history point of view, describing day-to-day activities and experiences from the point of view of someone who was living at that time. There's even a bit of humour here and there, with rivalries between political parties ('Tories' and 'Grits') and even between the Methodists and the Presbyterians, although I didn't entirely understand why two Christian denominations would be so exclusive.

All in all I liked this book - even if I skimmed a few of the extraneous stories and descriptions - and look forward to reading the sixth in the series next month. Recommended to teens and adults who like this kind of thing; but it's best read after at least some of the earlier books in the series.

This book, like others in the series, remains regularly in print; it can often be found second-hand, too. And as it's now out of copyright, it can also be downloaded free in electronic form from Project Gutenberg.

The woman he loved before (by Dorothy Koomson)

2026-09-21T17:11:49.676+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I’m glad I decided to reread the novels I’ve acquired by Dorothy Koomson. I don’t have her most recent ones, which - so the reviews tell me - are quite dark thrillers. But I like her earlier books very much. I hadn’t read ‘The woman he loved before’ since 2015, so - unsurprisingly - I had no memory of it.

The characters, as is the case with most of this author’s books, are believable, rounded people even if some of the things that happen to them are way beyond my experience or knowledge. And the main two characters in this are a married couple called Jack and Libby. However the book opens in a dramatic way with what is obviously an excerpt from a diary, saying that someone has most likely died…

Chapter one is even more dramatic. Libby is falling in and out of consciousness, trapped in a car after a crash. There’s a fireman cutting her free, and also talking to her, so that she stays awake. She’s aware of Jack, but he isn’t in the car with her. We’re not sure if she’s going to survive, at first - but then we meet her in hospital, swathed in bandages, and in a lot of pain.

Jack, we learn early on, was previously married to a woman called Eve whom he loved very much. Sadly she died, and he didn’t think he would ever fall in love again, though he starts having brief one-night stands with a lot of women in reaction to her loss. There are quite a few flashbacks to the time when he meets Libby, and their relationship also starts with an episode that has far too much intimate detail for my tastes, and feels almost violent - although she is a willing participant at the time.

Thankfully this is the only ‘18’ rated section of the book, or I might have given up. There’s a fair amount of bad language, and a great deal that’s implied, but mostly the author manages to give the gist without extraneous detail. The chapters alternate between Jack and Libby at first.

After Libby returns home she’s interviewed by a rather unpleasant police officer who seems to think that Jack might be trying to kill her. She suggests that he killed his first wife, though Libby can’t believe it. Jack is a likeable, peaceable man - yet in Jack’s sections he mentions something that happened in the crashed car which Libby has clearly forgotten about. And he doesn’t want her to know.

So there’s doubt - and I still didn’t remember anything about the outcome, though Jack does everything he can to help Libby recover. Then Libby discovers Eve’s diaries, and starts reading them. From that point, her perspective, as told in the diaries, intersperses with Libby’s chapters and Jack’s rather shorter ones.

Eve had a stressful time as a young teenager, fending off the advances of her mother’s new boyfriend, and she leaves home at fourteen. She goes to London where she finds that there are very few jobs that she can take, even if she lies about her age. So gradually things go from bad to worse…

Eve’s situation seems almost unbelievably sordid to me, although she somehow remains a likeable person, forced by circumstances to take on employment that she hates. It was hard to believe that there was nowhere she could go to; but she’s quite naive at first. And I really didn’t foresee one shocking twist in her story before Libby reaches the end.

The writing is excellent, the pace perfect for my reading style. There’s tension but it’s never chilling - or not until nearly the end, and then the suspense only lasts for a few chapters. Jack, Libby and Eve all have faults, and all keep secrets and tell half-truths at times. But they’re usually doing so to avoid hurting someone else. They all, in their different ways - and their voices are quite distinct - come across as kind, empathic and generous.

There are a lot of issues that come up. Quite apart from being uncertain about how Eve died, and whether Libby’s life is in danger, there are questions about when teenagers can be believed, how far people go to protect and help each other, and when it might be best to withhold some information. There’s the question about whether Eve could have done anything different, at each point in her life; and there’s the question about whether Jack loves Libby as much as he loved Eve.

Overall I found it gripping, emotive and unputdownable writing. I already look forward to reading this again in another decade or so.

Family matters (by Helen Parker)

2026-09-16T16:24:11.964+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I started reading Helen Parker’s books for teenagers because, years ago, she was part of our local writers’ group. I read ‘Hide and secret’ a few years ago and thought it both interesting and well-written. I enjoyed the stand-alone sequel, ‘Island treasure’ too, when I read that a year or so later, although I would have liked more about the characters in ‘Hide and secret’.

So when the third book, ‘Family matters’, was published, I put it on my wishlist and was given it last Christmas. I just finished reading it. I hadn’t really remembered the characters from ‘Hide and secret’, but realised after a few chapters that some of them were in this book: in particular Ruth, whose early years were spent in Cairo. She is now 14 and goes to a high school in Edinburgh. She still doesn’t feel entirely at home there, but she’s reasonably settled. Most of her local friends are ones who also belong to her church youth group.

One of Ruth’s friends is Lucy, who is excited that her mother has a new boyfriend, Zak. He’s very generous, and she hopes he might be her stepfather. Ruth has other friends with stepfathers, and they all like them very much; some of what Lucy says feels a bit strange, however. Not that he’s behaving inappropriately to Lucy, but she isn’t quite sure how to deal with a new man in the family - and one or two of the things she says don’t quite ring true.

So Ruth has to make some hard decisions: whether to keep confidences or share concerns with people in authority. Her two closest friends aren’t in Edinburgh. Chris - who was the main character in ‘Island treasure’ - lives on a remote island, and Cami is still in Cairo. She often messages them, and there are several brief exchanges given; they didn’t seem entirely authentic to me as ‘gen-Z’ or ‘gen-alpha’ teen messages, but perhaps that was deliberate. Ruth’s upbringing has been somewhat unusual.

I liked the overall story, which I thought was well told, with a bit of tension (though short-lived) towards the end. I appreciated Ruth’s relationship with her widowed mother, too. Ruth is a likeable, three-dimensional character and I was glad she reappeared as the main protagonist of this story.

I found it more difficult to distinguish between the people Ruth knows, both in her school and her youth group. We don’t actually hear much about the school, other than in a play for which she’s written the script. There’s quite a lot of build-up to this activity, which Ruth and her classmates perform without any direction from any of the school staff. But then when it’s performed, it seems very short - no more than about ten minutes.

I didn’t particularly like the many ‘rap’ sections of the book - Ruth’s friend Chris likes to rap, and she does her best too - most of her play is written in this style. It’s not something that appeals to me, and I couldn’t see how many of the lines could scan; perhaps they’re not supposed to. I hadn’t realised that rap was still popular, or that it was used by white people - and it’s clear from descriptions and from images on the front of the books that both Ruth and Chris are white.

It’s a book for younger teens, or perhaps more for older children, since Ruth is only fourteen; perhaps this would be suitable for the 9-13 age group. There’s quite a bit of Christian content, with Bible verses and prayer for guidance and wisdom. I thought it well done, without being preachy, but those with no faith or a different faith might find it too much.

I didn’t like it quite as much as the earlier books - ‘Island treasure’, in particular, is faster paced and has more plot. However, I’m glad I read it, and may reread at some point. I’ll probably do so immediately after rereading the other two, so I can keep more characters in mind.

Like the others this is a standalone book, but I think it’s still better read after at least ‘Hide and secret’; some of the situations in that are referred to in this book as well as several of the people.

Recommended in a low key way to fluent readers of about eight or nine and upwards who like Christian fiction.

Blessing the church (by Clifford Hill)

2026-09-13T20:42:02.794+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

It’s over twenty years since I read the book ‘Blessing the church?' It’s written by four different people: Clifford Hill, Peter Fenwick, David Forbes and David Noakes. I acquired the book after meeting Clifford Hill briefly at our church, and the first time I read it I was very impressed. So I thought it was time for a reread.

The overall idea of the book is to give a general overview of the ‘charismatic movement’ over the course of the 20th century. It particularly looks at how it was presented and accepted in the UK, and it leads up to discussion of the ‘Toronto blessing’ which was controversial in the 1990s.

This book was published in 1995 so it’s now thirty years out of date. But the history is well-written and interesting, as is the examination of the different streams of the charismatic movement. The authors are careful to compare everything with Scripture, looking at the work of the Holy Spirit through the book of Acts, and Paul’s advice and warnings in some of his letters.

For this is not an anti-charismatic book at all, although it casts a lot of doubt on some of the apparent manifestations. The authors believed that the original Pentecostal movement in the early part of the 20th century was inspired by God and inhabited by the Holy Spirit. But, as with any denomination or group of believers, the initial excitement and fervour died down, and by a decade or so later some (though not all) were following routines and expectations that they had developed, without necessarily listening for God.

The first chapter is a general introduction, explaining the background to the book and giving a broad overview of what will be covered in the rest of the book. Clifford Hill wrote that, and he also wrote the second chapter. That looks at life in general in the UK in the latter half of the twentieth century. In the aftermath of the war there was a lot of rejoicing, and positive governmental moves to introduce - for instance - national health care.

But by the 1960s there was a rebellious air; people wanted more freedom, to break out of tradition and expectations. Some of this was positive, but better birth control led to some people experimenting with ‘free love’, and some opted out of society altogether. Perhaps this is where the ‘me’ culture started, the feeling of being entitled rather than putting others first.

Chapter three, written by Peter Fenwick, looks more specifically at the church in this period, and the start of the ‘Toronto blessing’. He notes that the work of the Holy Spirit may well include healing, prophecies and more; but that in Jesus’ time and in the early church, it wasn’t ever flamboyant. In many cases people who were healed were asked not to tell anyone else.

The other two authors wrote one chapter each, taking a slightly different perspective each. Inevitably there’s a bit of overlap, but they express things in diverse ways, and it’s all drawn together by the two other chapters by Clifford Hill. He looks specifically at the role of prophecy - in Biblical times, it was intended to give warnings, and he’s very sceptical about general ‘God is blessing us’ prophecies. But more dangerous are specific ones which have been proven false.

Clifford Hill also wrote the final chapter which summarises the findings, and look at the future. He speculates about how the 20th century will be perceived by the church of the future. After quarter of the 21st century has passed, I don’t know how much people think about 20th century culture in the church at all, so books like this provide a valuable service, with background from people who were involved and - in my view - a well-balanced approach.

I didn’t find this as excellent as I did when I read it the first time, but then I’m further removed from charismatic circles, and haven’t heard anything about the Toronto blessing or other dubious phenomena for - probably - twenty years. I still enjoyed rereading it, but twenty pages at a time was sufficient.

Recommended for anyone who would like an overview of the charismatic movement - both positive and negative - during the 20th century. I don't know that I agreed with every word, and was a tad surprised at the many people quoted with negative commentary. But I thought it was still an interesting read.

Shopaholic and baby (by Sophie Kinsella)

2026-09-11T20:57:42.389+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I am thoroughly enjoying rereading the ‘Shopaholic’ series by the late Sophie Kinsella. I was surprised that I liked them when I first picked them up, around fifteen years ago; they are well-written with a lot of humour, and some quite poignant moments too.

I finished ‘Shopaholic and sister’ last month, so it was time for the next in the series, ‘Shopaholic and baby’, which I previously read in 2012. I hadn’t remembered anything about it, other than that it was mostly about Becky’s pregnancy rather than her life as a new mother. She had just discovered that she was pregnant at the end of the previous book, so this one is set not long afterwards.

Naturally, Becky - a compulsive shopper - is excited at the thought of new purchases for her baby, even quite early in her pregnancy. She peruses catalogues and visits shops and specialist showrooms… she’s in the fortunate position of being married to a wealthy businessman, Luke, who doesn’t seem to care what she spends on baby equipment.

So Becky goes a little crazy, and there are some places where I even laughed aloud as she considers pros and cons of different prams and other essentials, determining that she needs several of everything. One of her books has told her only to buy a few basic clothes for a newborn, but she’s not going to be tied to that… this baby is having designer clothes and every possible extra.

To house all this equipment, and because the baby is coming - and because Luke has a new, lucrative contract - they start house-hunting and eventually discover the perfect place. The only problem is that someone else has already put in an offer.

Meanwhile Becky’s sister Jess is convinced that she’s given up her passion for shopping, and that she’ll be happy to make wipes and clothes from scratch. And her parents are very excited at the thought of their first grandchild.

Luke wants Becky to go to his family obstetrician, but Becky’s seen a more modern clinic, and adverts for a woman called Venetia who delivers babies for celebrities. She persuades Luke to visit this other place… and learns that Venetia is an ex-girlfriend of Luke’s, from their college days. She also becomes increasingly sure that Venetia would like to get back with Luke… and that Luke seems quite keen on her, too.

There’s a whole lot more in this book, which is admittedly fluffy and silly in places, but has some depth too. And I haven't even touched on the subplot involving Becky's workplace. She is extravagant and can’t resist special offers, but she’s also observant, intuitive and extremely kind. She leaps to conclusions too quickly, and tries to hide some of her purchases, but she is loyal and caring. I like her very much.

The narrative is punctuated by letters to Becky from banks and investment advisors, which add a bit of extra humour; they’re a clever device. There are also a couple of letters from a classics lecturer, which I found more amusing than I should have done.

The writing, in my opinion, is excellent. The pace is just right, and the plot of this one kept me wondering what exactly was going on. Sometimes it’s clear to the reader that Becky has the wrong idea about something, but in this book it was hard to know. I found the story - and the various subplots - so interesting that I finished this in not much more than 24 hours, despite it having nearly 450 pages.

When I first read these books, it was over the course of a couple of years as I acquired each one, mostly second-hand. This time I’m rereading them in order, at a rate of about one per month (in between other books). I wondered if I would find them too samey, but somehow each one feels fresh: ‘Shopaholic and baby’ is the fifth in the series, and I’m already looking forward to rereading the sixth.

This series is not for people who like books with responsible heroines. But if you’re willing to suspend reality somewhat, and enter into Becky’s somewhat chaotic life, I would recommend the series. Each book stands alone, but reading in order builds on the previous narrative, and I’m enjoying them even more.

In the fifth at Malory Towers (by Enid Blyton)

2026-09-10T16:24:30.094+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I’m a bit surprised to find that it must be at least thirty years since I last read Enid Blyton’s ‘In the fifth at Malory Towers’. The six-book series was my favourite as a teenager; apparently I read it three times in the 1970s, and I’m sure I must have read it at least once or twice as an adult… but I had not remembered most of the details.

This book takes place in the term immediately after the previous book, ‘Upper fourth at Malory Towers’, which I reread last month. Darrell and her friends have passed the School Certificate (a kind of precursor of GCSEs) and have moved up to the fifth form. Alicia and Gwendoline did not pass the exam, but Alicia was ill and Gwendoline was faking illness, and both are now too old to stay in the fourth form.

Darrell’s younger sister Felicity is in her second term, still in the first form, and is passionate about lacrosse. Darrell is delighted to be put in charge of sports for the younger girls, but worries that she’s showing favouritism if she puts Felicity in one of the teams.

New to the story are Moira and Catherine who are not old enough to move into the sixth form yet, and Maureen whose former school has closed. It’s not clear why she is the only girl to come from that school. She makes herself unpopular from the start by trying to exaggerate her talents, and talk endlessly about how much she loved her old school. She decides to befriend Gwendoline, who is shocked to learn how similar they are…

Moira is a good leader, but does not have great people skills. She tends to be overpowering and bossy, and expects people to do as they’re told. This does not endear her to younger girls in the school, and annoys her classmates. When they’re told they can put on a performance at the end of term, Moira appoints herself head of the committee, and producer.

Catherine is a caricature of an over-helpful, rather obsequious person who always offers to do any little task that’s going, and wants to find the best in everyone, no matter the circumstances. They’re not bad traits in themselves, but Catherine overdoes it. It’s not clear why none of her previous classmates managed to persuade her to be less saintlike and more human.

These books are character-driven, primarily, although there are several subplots involving school-related issues. The one part I had remembered was that the fifth formers decide to put on a pantomime - they have several talented people who can deal with music, set design, costumes and so on, and Darrell undertakes to write the script. I hadn’t remembered how this all pans out, or that Moira causes some stress by being so domineering. I thought it was well-handled, however, and liked the way that Moira isn’t portrayed as unbearable - she has a good heart under her pushy exterior.

I hadn’t remembered anything about the lacrosse games mentioned; sports have little interest for me, so I was quite surprised to find one of the scenes oddly moving. Neither had I remembered about the ‘trick’ played by some of the first formers, or that Mam’zelle decides that perhaps she will play a ‘treek’.

And there’s more… some light-hearted dialogue, quite a poignant ending, and a gradual maturity in most of the fifth formers, as compared to the previous years. While some of the girls’ traits are exaggerated, the author still shows a sympathetic understanding of many types of personality. Nobody is perfect. Despite the fact that this book was first published 75 years ago, the people remain - mostly - believable.

For instance, Darrell, who is the main character in all the books, has a very hot temper. It’s not displayed in this one, though she gets close to losing it more than once. Alicia, who can be quite hard and unfeeling, is unfailingly honest and courageous. Irene and Belinda, the form’s musical and artistic geniuses, are absent-minded in the extreme.

It’s easy-reading, of course; originally intended for girls between the ages of about nine and twelve. My book has only 150 pages, and I read it in a couple of hours. It’s not the greatest of writing, and there are some minor annoyances, when people tell each other details that they all know perfectly well, for the sake of readers who might not know. But while this might irritate me if I came across the book for the first time, I like the characters and the stories so much - when I want something lightweight - that I skip over this kind of thing.

Adults like me who recall these books fondly from our childhood are probably the main readers of Malory Towers books nowadays. But they have remained almost constantly in print, and I love the fact that some of today’s children enjoy them too. They’re popular in audio book format, too.

An innocent diversion (by Kathleen Rowntree)

2026-09-09T18:25:03.367+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

It’s a bit of a shock to realise that it’s twenty-four years since I first read Kathleen Rowntree’s novel ‘An innocent diversion’. So it was more than time to reread. I had, unsurprisingly, forgotten everything about it - all the people and storylines felt entirely new to me. I quite like that feeling, knowing that I did enjoy the book first time around.

There are two main characters, and the author succeeds in making them quite distinct. Fran is the one I related to the most. She’s in her fifties, and married to a farmer. She looks after the house, cooks for whoever needs meals, and also does some of the farm chores. Her husband, Steve, is a decade older than she is, and a very likeable man. The two are still close.

Fran has some bad days, particularly the anniversaries of events from her teenage years which are still poignant to her. It’s fairly soon clear what has made her depressed at the start of the novel, though we don’t get the details until much later in the book. But Steve is understanding, and kind; and Fran appreciates him. They have two daughters: Heather, who works in an upmarket shoe shop, and Janie, who is in her mid-teens and rather geeky. Heather and Janie are totally unalike, and don’t get along.

The other main character is Sonia. She’s more of a caricature - she’s a bit older than Fran, but makes every effort to look after her appearance. She lives alone, supported by her ex-husband David who travels widely and is very wealthy. David not only gives her financial independence - sufficient to buy expensive new clothes regularly - but emotional support, too. Their friends find their relationship rather odd, and I did too. But Sonia likes being an ex-wife a lot more than she liked being married.

Sonia also has days when she wakes up feeling miserable, but she never has a lie-in. She likes to keep up appearances; she goes out with friends, or goes on a shopping spree if she feels really low. Other times she works in the garden or cleans her already spotless house. Sonia knows Heather because she likes her shop; Heather is a very helpful, observant worker.

Into the picture comes a bank worker called Jason, who had an unhappy childhood but is building his own life after graduating from university. He’s bought himself an elderly car, and lives in a small bedsit. And one day, Sonia - struggling with new shoes - bumps her expensive new car into the back of Jason’s car. It’s totally her fault, and she insists on taking him to her garage, paying for everything herself, without involving insurance companies.

Then he offers to do some work in her garden, and she invites him for a meal…and a friendship begins. But it’s not an equal one, and she has no idea that Jason has subconsciously been looking for a mother figure to spend time with.

Just to complete the circle, Heather has got to know Jason as they sometimes eat in the same place for lunch. She’s rather keen on him and would like to be more than friends. But any time she suggests something, he backs off, as he keeps hoping for a phone call from Sonia.

It’s cleverly written, following the two main characters in their daily lives, seeing them deal with those around them. Sonia’s really rather a thoughtless person who likes to be seen as generous. She also dislikes boredom, and Jason is an interesting young man. Fran has a lot more depth.

I did wonder if there was going to be a huge coincidental discovery late in the book; I think the author was trying to lead the readers on to this possibility. But I had no memory of whether or not it was going to happen. I also wondered if Fran and Sonia would ever meet.

The writing is excellent, the characters three-dimensional, even if most are a tad caricatured. I liked Fran’s annoying father-in-law Hal, who constantly repeats stories, and I liked her moody teenager Janie, though Janie is really very rude to Heather at times.

It’s not exactly a village saga; we don’t get to know neighbours or take part in village activities; it’s more a town saga, I suppose. Entirely character-driven, really, and exactly the kind of novel I enjoy reading.

I just hope it won’t be another twenty-four years before I read this again…

Recommended if you like women’s fiction with some light-hearted sections and some that are decidedly poignant. Sadly Kathleen Rowntree's books are long out of print, but they can sometimes be found second-hand at reasonable cost.

Go set a watchman (by Harper Lee)

2026-09-06T21:33:47.936+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I read Harper Lee’s classic novel ‘To kill a mockingbird’ when I was in my teens at school. I don’t know that I really understood it, and was not inspired to read it again. Not until last month, that is, when I read it with an open mind, and very much enjoyed it. The reason was that the author’s other novel ‘Go set a watchman’ was chosen as this month’s local reading group book.

I did understand that it’s not - and was never intended as - a sequel to the first book. It was written first, and the publishers asked Harper Lee to write about earlier events. She did so, and the subsequent book became highly popular and is now considered a classic. ‘Go set a watchman’ was thought to be lost until it was discovered and then published about a year before the author died.

I read it over the past few days. It features many of the same characters as ‘To kill a mockingbird’, and almost functions like a sequel although there are a lot of flashbacks. The girl formerly known as Scout is now twenty-six and goes by her full name of Jean Louise. She’s been working in New York, but is travelling back to her home town of Maycomb for her annual vacation.

Jean Louise’s father Atticus is now 72 and getting a bit frail. His sister Alexandra keeps house and looks after him. Calpurnia, their black maid and housekeeper, has retired. And - which shocked me - Scout’s brother Jem has also died. I’m not entirely sure why he ever existed in this original book since he only appears in Jean Louise’s flashback memories. However, Jem’s friend Henry is still around, and is courting Jean Louise. He would like to get married; he’s trained as a lawyer and works with Atticus. But she likes her independence and really doesn’t want to come back to live in Maycomb.

The first part of the book builds characters, moving fairly seamlessly into anecdotes from the past as Jean Louise sees reminders of events from her childhood, or talks to local people who recall her as a somewhat wild child. I can see why the publishers asked for a book about her childhood, as they’re possibly more interesting than the ‘present day’ story in the 1950s. But there’s not a lot of overlap, other than a reference to a court case which Atticus took on - and in this book, where it’s only referred to in passing, the outcome is given as the opposite to the outcome in ‘To kill a mockingbird’. A reminder that it isn’t a sequel; it’s an alternative version from an older perspective.

However, I wasn’t at all happy when something happened that made me upset with Atticus - something that upset Jean Louise, too. He was absolutely my favourite character in ‘To kill a mockingbird’. Not perfect, but full of compassion, with time for his children, and without the terrible racism that was rife in the south of the United States in the earlier part of the 20th century.

But suddenly he falls from his pedestal; Jean Louise is so disturbed that she becomes physically ill, and can hardly bear to look at him. Her reactions seems somewhat extreme to me, but then I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who seemed to be without any faults or failings. And I could certainly feel some of her shock - I found it very disappointing, although I did also wonder if the author deliberately changed him when she rewrote the book.

However, it’s mostly well-handled, if a tad complex politics-wise. I even looked up some of the references to organisations and movements I’d never heard of. And I was quite shocked at the apparent belief of the author that black people were less intelligent and developed than white people. This is something that even Jean Louise appears to think is the case, although she’s mixed with people of all colours and ethnicities in New York, and barely notices who sits down with her.

I’m glad that I didn’t grow up in this kind of environment, or with any awareness of these prejudices and false beliefs. It still shocks me that segregation in parts of the US still continued as late as the 1950s, and that people were worried when new laws were passed saying that this was no longer allowed.

‘Go set a watchman’ is well-written, and excellent from a social history point of view. I didn’t like it quite as much as the author’s better-known classic, but I’m glad I finally read it. I did appreciate the low-key humour in some of the interactions, and the three-dimensional characters. However I didn’t like the use of offensive language, even though it was probably used in this way in that era.

Strangers in company (by Jane Aiken Hodge)

2026-09-03T17:26:10.163+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve been reading some of my books by Jane Aiken Hodge over the past few months. She wrote some historical novels, which were very well researched (if a tad too political for my tastes, at times). She also wrote some contemporary fiction, mostly light thrillers. One of this latter category is ‘Strangers in company’ which I last read in 2008. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t remember anything about it.

Marian Frenche is the main character in this book. It was published in the mid-1970s, so that’s the era in which it’s set. Marian, who is in her late thirties, has taken on an unusual job: she’s going to be chaperoning a young woman called Stella on a Greek coach tour. She’s paid very well for this, and she needs the money: her eighteen-year-old twins have left home, travelling to live with their father in the United States. And his financial support has stopped.

I’m not quite sure why so much is made of the twins and the fact that their father is quite famous: other than missing them desperately at times, they don’t have much relevance to the plot, and we never meet them. But their absence sets the scene for an intelligent motherly woman who needs a job and is willing to try almost anything. Stella is known to be moody, and Marian is told not to let her get too close to any other members of their tour party.

Much of the story takes place in Greece, in hotels and on the coach. Inevitably they do get to know several members of the group, which is led by a rather worried man called David. He has taken on the responsibility at the last minute; he is quite knowledgeable, but has no experience of being a tour coordinator. There’s a local guide called Mike who is charming and regularly talks about Greek myths and history, but strictly avoids politics.

Marian sometimes feels as if she’s being watched, but she mostly brushes it off as paranoia. Her doctor thought she was being silly, and prescribed tranquilisers to help her sleep. And while this sense of being watched could have felt a bit tense, I found it quite hard to relate to anyone in the novel. I thought Marian probably was being watched, but was pretty sure she would be all right in the end…

The coach party appears to be somewhat cursed with bad luck. Going through a cave, one of the women falls and can’t be saved. There are rock-falls around Marian when she’s out with others, and a couple of near tragedies as well as another person losing their life. But the tour has to go on, although Marian begins to wonder whether she is in fact being targetted. She doesn’t have any rational idea about why that might be the case, however.

Meanwhile she’s become quite friendly with a classics professor who can tell plenty of stories about Greek legends and heroes. He seems a likeable person. But by about half-way through the book it’s hard to know who can and can’t be trusted. Most of the tour group are somewhat caricatured. They include: a short-sighted and clinging mother with a 16-year-old son who longs to have some freedom; several young teachers; two middle-aged spinsters who keep insisting they have separate rooms; a honeymoon couple who seem to be very mismatched.

It’s quite a cleverly written story, and the eventual denouement is quite surprising - I don’t think there were any hints that could have suggested what was coming. And even when Marian learns what’s been happening, she still doesn’t know who (if anyone) she can trust. The writing is good and the pace just right to keep my interest.

There's an action-packed finale with more surprises and revelations, and it all ends quite neatly, if a tad abruptly. There’s even a low-key romantic thread alongside the tension. I quite enjoyed reading it again, but expect that in another decade or so I will have completely forgotten it again.

Recommended if you like this kind of 1970s light thriller.

Naked spirituality (by Brian McLaren)

2026-08-31T16:13:15.721+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I have appreciated the thoughtful - if sometimes blunt - writing by Brian McLaren for nearly fifteen years now. He’s an American Christian leader - formerly a pastor - who thinks outside the box. He expresses things in unusual ways, sometimes, and is eager that believers learn to know and trust God fully, rather than just following rituals or perceived rules.

In this book, ‘Naked spirituality’, which I last read in 2014, McLaren proposes twelve ‘words’ which, he claims, can help us move closer to God. The title refers to stripping away the practises of organised religion - not necessarily to opt out altogether, but to see beyond or inside symbols, concentrating instead on our soul and its communion with God in solitude.

As an introvert myself, I could resonate with quite a bit of the content of this book. Probably everyone could benefit from some of it, but I think it might be more difficult for extraverts who draw their energy from people around them. Still, we all need private space as well as time with people, and prayer often begins when we (metaphorically, if not literally) close our doors and pray silently, as Jesus instructed us.

Brian McLaren talks about different ‘seasons’ of spiritual experience. I could see what he meant, although I didn’t entirely relate to any of them. In the ‘spring’ - the season of spiritual awakening, which he also calls simplicity, he uses the words, ‘here, thanks and O!’

The first is a basic acknowledgement of who we are, whatever we think of God - and our understanding is never going to be perfect or even close to the reality anyway. The author says that what we need to do is calm our thoughts, sit comfortably, and let God know that we’re here and ready to listen. It’s that simple. There are a couple of chapters expounding on this, with examples, and I thought it interesting and probably a good way to start any devotional time.

The second word opens us up to be thankful - always a good thing to do - for what we have, whether big things like health and shelter, or small gifts or experiences. Many writers about prayer express that gratitude should be expressed regularly, if only to help us get problems into perspective and to see just how much we have to be thankful for.

The third word, used at the start of a lot of hymns, is more about what’s traditionally called ‘adoration’ - praising God for who he is, for wider aspects of life such as nature, the way the earth spins on its axis, the weather cycle, and more. It’s broader than the more self-oriented ‘thanks’.

The other words in subsequent seasons - which the author calls, respectively, ‘complexity’, ‘perplexity’ and ‘harmony’ - work similarly, and are of particular use to people in these periods of life or faith. Simplicity is good when we’re new to Christianity, or when we’re young and things are going well. It may be all we need.

In ‘complexity’ we start being aware of what we’ve done wrong (‘sorry’ is the fourth word), and the need for God’s grace and help, both for our own concerns and for those around us. In ‘perplexity’ we start questioning what is happening - something necessary for our sanity, sometimes, essential for teenagers and others realising that life is not straightforward, and that faith does not always work as we expect.

These four seasons of life, the author tells us, are likely to apply to all of us at some point, though not with the regularity of the natural seasons. The words themselves are not essential - indeed, he gives alternatives to most of them, and one of them isn’t a word at all; what matters is the understanding behind them. If we practise the principles regularly, we are able to cling to God even when things are falling apart, or when we can’t begin to understand what is going on, or why.

It’s quite a thought-provoking book, one that I had to take quite slowly. I mostly read just one chapter at a time - around 10 pages per day. The writing is clear, with scriptural backing and examples, and some anecdotes too from the author’s life.

So on the whole I’d recommend this to anyone looking for a deeper or more honest relationship with God. At the back are suggestions for movements or poses for kinaesthetic learners to pray these words, also some prayers to be used, and some ideas for use in groups.

The Chalet School reunion (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

2026-08-30T16:03:56.367+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

In my gradual, one-per-month reread of Elinor M Brent-Dyer’s lengthy Chalet School series, I reached the one noted as 50th in the original series. I last read ‘The Chalet School reunion’ about nine years ago, although before that I hadn’t read it for at least a couple of decades.

Indeed, it’s not a book I really recall at all; possibly because it’s one of the non-school ‘holiday’ books which I appreciate all the more as I get older. This one is mainly about Grizel Cochrane, one of the original members of the school who returned, for a while, as a music teacher. She’s spent the last few years in New Zealand working with a friend, but is about to return to Europe after the business folded.

Before going to the UK to wind up some business affairs, Grizel plans to visit Joey Maynard at her home in Switzerland - which appears to expand any time guests are expected. Grizel and Joey were the two founding members of the school, so Joey decides to host a mini reunion with other ‘girls’ who were around at the start - not that all of them are available.

However she senses that Grizel is tired; she talks about needing a break, so Joey does at least delay her party for a week. Grizel, in the meantime, has been keeping to herself on a small ship, until she gets to know Dr Neil Sheppard, a likeable, friendly man who offers to lend her a book. They don’t have much chance to get to know each other, but she agrees to contact him once she’s in London.

The bulk of the book features the week-long reunion that Joey plans. There are quite a few people, some staying at her house, some who live locally, and some who stay at hotels. Indeed, Joey counts the whole group as twenty-four, including herself and her 16-year-old triplet daughters. The plan is that each day they will divide into four groups of six, each led by Joey or one of the triplets, to do different trips and explorations.

It could have been a bit dull; in the school stories, I often skim through details of half-term trips. But somehow this book makes them more interesting. Possibly because the author is not trying to make them overly educational; instead there’s a lot of human interest. And while there are evidently a lot of different outings, the book follows the ones that Grizel goes on.

On the first day, they all go together on a fairly short outing to the famous ‘Auberge’ where there are amazing echoes. Those who don’t know about it are - as always happens - delighted. But there's a near disaster involving Bruno, Joey's large and beloved dog.

On the second day, Grizel is part of the group that Con leads, on a fairly innocuous outing to a local village in the mountains by train. There’s plenty of interesting conversation, and another near disaster… but basically all goes well.

On the following day, Margot takes the group with Grizel, and they do a bit more walking; the worst thing that happens is a temporary power cut that stops a lift they’re on. Once again there’s some good interaction between characters, most of whom I remembered quite well from reading about their schooldays.

There are other incidents between outings - lots of broken china, for instance, and a game of charades. And then the outing led by Len, which includes a lot of walking along mountain paths; we know from the start that something is going to go wrong as the author tells us. So this adds to the tension. It seems to me a bit surprising that Len is the one who leads her party - who are not all young and fit - along a quite difficult terrain, one which I would have disliked heartily. Len is generally the most thoughtful and responsible of the triplets.

It’s all very well done, I thought, and some scenes were surprisingly moving. I didn’t much like Grizel as a character when she was younger, but life has not been great for her so it’s not surprising she’s built emotional barriers around herself. I thought her personality was very well covered in this book; we see her gradual recovery from despair and disillusionment, albeit due to a near tragedy and a lot of physical pain.

There’s even a romance in this book, low-key as ever with Brent-Dyer’s books, and right at the end - but I thought it was well handled and surprisingly moving.

I don’t suppose I liked this book much when I first read it as a teenager, but now I appreciate it all the more, and would count it as one of my favourites.

Definitely recommended if you have read others in the series, and like books set outside the school itself. But this wouldn’t be great as an introduction to the Chalet School as there are so many references to former books, and so many ‘old friends’ who are involved.

Unfortunately, this book is quite difficult to find; reprints by Girls Gone By publications are limited, and second-hand editions can be very expensive. The Armada paperback version was apparently uncut, unlike many of the earlier Armada editions; however it's also very hard to find and often pricey.

The book club (by Mary Alice Monroe)

2026-08-27T19:08:27.145+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I hadn’t heard of Mary Alice Monroe when I saw her novel ‘The book club’ on a church bookstall nearly two years ago. But the cover looked appealing, I liked the sound of the title, and the blurb on the back sounded exactly like my kind of book. I finally picked it up to read a few days ago.

It should have been very appealing: all the ingredients are there. There’s a brief prologue that hints at the rest of the story. Then quite a dramatic first chapter, where it’s obvious what’s going to transpire, but the tension is nicely done. We meet Eve in that first chapter, a reasonably happy and comfortably off housewife with two teenage children. She’s feeling as if something isn’t quite right in her marriage, but her husband Tom is about to go on a business trip. So she hopes to sort everything out when he returns.

It’s no spoiler to say that Tom doesn’t return: this is what we know, from the start, is going to happen. And much of the novel is about Eve, how she grieves, what regrets she has, and how she eventually starts to find new meaning in her life.

The book is set in the United States, mostly in a small town, at the end of the 20th century. The other members of the book club are Doris, Gabriella, Midge and Annie. They’re distinct enough that I didn’t have any trouble remembering who was whom. They’re all in their forties or early fifties.

Having said that, Gabriella is rather two-dimensional and I never really got to know her. She’s a working mother with four young children, and her husband has just lost his job. So she increases her hours and tries to keep going with her super-mom and perfect-house mode. Inevitably she burns out.

Doris has been Eve’s friend for years; her husband is rather controlling, and she’s feeling as if he ignores her except when he wants her to host parties or dinners for his colleagues. He cares more about money than anything else, and clearly has other women on the side although Doris doesn’t want to risk losing her security by confronting him. She knows she’s letting herself go health-wise, but she can’t be bothered with exercise or healthy eating.

Annie is a dynamic lawyer, happily married to John, although they married when she was forty and he was just a few years younger. She suddenly decides that perhaps she would like a baby, even though she’s over forty. John is delighted… until he realises just how mechanical their love-life will become. And when nothing happens, Annie has tests which reveal something very worrying.

Midge is also rather shadowy; she’s a free spirited artist who lives alone, and is always willing to help out with babysitting or a listening ear. She’s contented with her life… until her mother announces that she’s come to stay. And her mother (a caricature whom I never really believed in) is always on at her to find a new man.

So there’s lots of potential for interesting dynamics and interweaving stories as these five women meet monthly in each other’s homes to discuss books. At the start of each chapter, there’s a quotation from a classic - and it appears that they only read classics - but there’s never very much about the actual book club meetings. It’s more a device to show how they all met.

But somehow, it doesn’t really work. There are lots of intriguing subplots, but some of them just disappear without resolution. And there are tensions - such as Eve’s children being very unhappy about the thought of her dating someone else - which also just go away without any motivation or reason. Alice and Doris don’t much like each other at the start of the book, but it’s not clear why - nor is it really clear why they become friendlier later on.

And some of the writing just tells us what people are thinking rather than showing what’s going on. When five different people are viewpoint characters, it’s hard to get inside any of their minds or hearts - so I didn’t find myself in any way emotionally moved.

It’s not a bad book; it made a pleasant enough light read, without too much ‘adult’ content. But it’s not one I would recommend, nor am I likely to read it again. But don't necessarily take my word for it: the author is a bestselling writer in the US, so evidently there are plenty of people who like her books immensely.

Goodnight, beautiful (by Dorothy Koomson)

2026-08-24T19:57:21.700+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

In re-reading my novels by Dorothy Koomson, I wondered if I should skip ‘Goodnight, beautiful’. I first read it in October 2014 and didn’t remember anything about it; but glancing at my rating on LibraryThing, I’d given it fewer stars than any of the other books by this author. And a comment saying I wished I hadn’t read the blurb on the back of the book, as it had too many spoilers.

I decided to reread it anyway, and am very glad that I did. I didn’t look at the back of the book this time; I don’t know if the blurb changed in subsequent reprints of this book, but in my view it gives away far too much of the plot. I had to figure it out this time, and it did feel a bit confusing at first.

The story is told by two different women, Nova and Stephanie. Nova is married to George, and Stephanie is married to Mal. The main connection is that Nova and Mal grew up together, almost like brother and sister, and were extremely close friends. They both insist that this friendship never turned into a romantic relationship.

Throughout the book is an ongoing, poignant thread featuring seven-year-old Leo, who is Nova’s son. We meet him - sort of - in the first chapter, and through the book there are a handful of pages in italics, as if written by Leo at different ages. Indeed, the timeline flips to and fro in ways that are somewhat confusing at first. But in the present of the story, Leo is in hospital. He’s in a coma following an operation, hooked up to a lot of different devices. Nova and George take it in turns to spend time with him.

Nova comes from a warm, loving family. Her parents are still alive, and she has an outspoken younger sister who adores her. They all stick together and care deeply for each other. It can be cloying, but Nova appreciates it on the whole. Her parents live close to Mal’s mother, Meredith, who was widowed some years earlier. Meredith has a problem with depression, and Mal rushes to her side, dropping everything, if he’s needed.

I liked Nova. She makes some difficult decisions in the course of the book, and has some major disappointments. But she’s a hard worker, and something of a visionary; even somewhat psychic at times. She makes friends easily and has a lot of support, although, unlike her sister, she tends to keep a few secrets. And there are many secrets that unfold over the course of the book. I guessed some of them - I don’t know if my subconscious memory somehow recalled them, or whether the author intended the reader to know some of what was going on before the characters did.

I liked Mal, too, though his growing up wasn’t so easy. His father was in prison for his early childhood, and his mother subject to terrible depressions. He had to grow up too fast, and perhaps relied too much on Nova as the recipient of his worries, and a general comforter.

George is also a likeable person, though he’s a bit shadowy. Nova doesn’t really know what he does as a career, and they have a lot of arguments.

And then there’s Stephanie. Apparently I didn’t like her at all the first time I read this book. But I felt a lot of sympathy for her this time. She had a difficult time as a child, including some traumatic experiences as a teenager, though we don’t learn any details until almost the end of the book. She loves Mal very much, but can’t believe he would choose her; no matter how much he reassures her, she’s jealous of Nova.

The book moves forward and backwards in time, seamlessly, switching viewpoints without any indication of whose perspective we’re going to read, or what year. But although I did find this somewhat muddling at first, it soon fell into place in my mind; the current situation with Leo in hospital runs through the whole book, and we’re gradually filled in on his life, and the situations with both the main women.

I thought it very well written, cleverly plotted so that revelations happen gradually, mostly in the form of conversations. I don’t think the characters were quite three dimensional, but as this is plot-driven as much as character-driven, it doesn’t really matter. And towards the end there are some very poignant scenes where I felt quite teary.

There are a couple of epilogue sections, which I appreciated; not everyone likes lots of ends to be tied up, but they give some closure to the novel, and encouragement for the future.

So I would recommend this, now, to anyone who likes women’s fiction with some depth, and who doesn't mind a very emotional conclusion. But don’t read the blurb on the back of the book until you’ve read the story!

Anne of Windy Willows (by Lucy Maud Montgomery)

2026-08-21T17:03:55.756+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

Although I have dipped into many of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s ‘Anne’ books fairly regularly over the past few decades, it must be close to thirty years since I read ‘Anne of Windy Willows’. My only memory of it was that it involved rather a lot of letters, and in general I’m not a fan of epistolary novels.

However, I’m reading the series in order at present, about one per month. Since I finished the third book, ‘Anne of the Island’, at the end of July I decided to read the fourth one - which is also sometimes known as ‘Anne of Windy Poplars’ - in the past few days.

This book covers Anne’s three years as head of a school, working and saving money as she waits for her fiancé Gilbert to finish his medical training. And while there are several letters to Gilbert expressing Anne’s personal opinions and impressions, there’s also plenty of direct narrative.

The first year is the most interesting, I thought. Anne’s letters explain the people she has met, and how she found her delightful boarding house with Aunt Kate, Aunt Chatty and Rebecca Dew. These feel like comfortably caricatured people, reminding me somewhat of people from Elizabeth Goudge’s novels. Their home is called Windy Willows; Rebecca is their housekeeper and confidante. She works hard, although she isn’t much younger than the aunts.

Anne’s first few months are plagued with difficulties, as she encounters the powerful Pringle family. They had wanted someone else to take the headship, and they have a lot of influence. Anne is particularly stressed by fifteen-year-old Jen Pringle, one of her students, who is brilliantly clever and also rude; yet Anne cannot introduce any kind of punishment or disciplinary consequence without one of the family overruling it.

She does manage to win one battle when Jen pulls out at the last minute from a starring role in a play; but it doesn’t endear her to the family. It takes something quite different for the mood to change, and it does so just in time. Anne was set to resign at the end of the year as she was finding them so difficult to deal with.

Then there’s Katherine, the deputy head, who is dowdy, bad-tempered and totally resistant to any overtures of friendship. Yet Anne’s intuition tells her that Katherine is lonely and hurting. She’s not sure she’ll ever discover why, but her natural generosity and compassion eventually find a way through.

Anne gets to know a young girl next door, who is brought up by a strict grandmother and even stricter housekeeper. Yet Anne knows at once that little Elizabeth is a kindred spirit. She’s full of imagination and creative ideas, and longs, above everything, for her father to come and find her. Her mother died when she was born, and her father went to work abroad.

Although Anne is a teacher, there’s not a great deal about her time in the classroom, other than a few snippets in her letters featuring amusing anecdotes, or mistakes that children have made. Once the Pringles have become benign to her, life at school seems to progress without much of interest.

The book is in three sections; the first one, covering Anne’s first year, is the longest. Her second year progresses with fewer problems, and she’s in familiar surroundings. So there isn’t a whole lot to report. And in part three, her third year, threads are tied up, people are reunited, and she returns to Green Gables and the prospect of getting married.

It’s not the most exciting book; it almost feels like Anne’s story is on hold, and I don’t think it would have mattered if it had never been written. Apparently it was something of an afterthought, not written until there were six others in the series. It’s all character-driven; some of the plots rely on coincidence, and some of the people Anne meets are extremely talkative - more so than she is - imparting pages of information which do nothing to advance the plot, nor reveal anything about any of the main characters.

And yet it’s a nice, gentle read, with one or two scenes that are extremely moving. I enjoyed reading it - other than skimming some of the lengthy monologues - and look forward to continuing the series next month. Recommended as part of the series, if you like reading about Anne, but it can easily be left out.

To kill a mockingbird (by Harper Lee)

2026-08-18T17:20:04.430+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I had to read Harper Lee’s classic novel ‘To kill a mockingbird’ when I was a teenager - I guess about fourteen. I don’t think I enjoyed it all that much. But I’m not sure I really understood it. The issues of segregation were completely new to me, in the UK in the 1970s, and I didn’t get why there was so much dialect even amongst the supposedly educated white people.

I’ve had a copy of this book sitting on our shelves for the past thirty or so years, and kept thinking that maybe I should reread. But I only got around to doing so this week, and the reason is that the recently discovered sequel, ‘Go set a watchman’ is next month’s local reading club choice. I’m not quite sure how a sequel can have been written before the main book which shot the author to fame, but perhaps I’ll find out more when I read it.

In the meantime, I’ve been reading ‘To kill a mockingbird’ over the past few days. I knew, vaguely the story - that a white lawyer in a town in the deep south of the United States was defending a black man, accused of a crime. But I hadn’t remembered any of the details, nor the outcome. And I found it quite a gripping storyline.

The novel is told in the first person by Jean Louise Finch, known to her family and friends as Scout. She’s nearly six years old when the story begins, and it’s clear that she’s telling it from the perspective of an adult. She adores her older brother Jem, and they usually spend their summers playing and exploring together. Their mother died when Scout was two, and they live with their father, whom they refer to by his first name, Atticus. He is a lawyer, and is a likeable, caring person. He’s a good father, and compassionate to all.

The book is set in the 1930s, in a fictional town in Alabama. The Finch household employs a ‘domestic’ - a black woman called Calpurnia. She has brought up the children, she does all the cooking and housework, and she returns to her family each evening. Atticus treats her with respect, as he does all black people. But he’s in the minority in this town, where racism is rife.

I found it quite disturbing that a word now considered highly offensive is banded about, not just by white racists but by the black people themselves. And they see themselves as somehow inferior. Many are not literate, and they see it as right and normal that there are ‘black’ churches and schools, separate from the ‘white’ ones.

A gentle, married black man called Tom has been accused of raping a 19-year-old white girl, who comes from a poor, often violent family. The book leads up to the court case, where Atticus - by his questioning and deduction - make it quite clear what actually happened…

I had realised early on what the outcome was going to be. This book was written, in part, to expose the horrors of racism, and the unfairness experienced by so many people of colour. The author based a lot of Scout’s experiences on her own childhood; perhaps that’s why it all feels so authentic. And apparently there were real-life cases similar to the one in the novel.

But there’s a lot more to it, too. Scout and Jem know most of their neighbours, but are very curious about one who is reputed to be a total hermit who never leaves his house. They have a friend known as Dill who lives in another state, but comes to stay with his aunt in the holidays. There are scenes when Scout starts school, too; she hates it because she can already read and write, but is told that she’s doing it wrongly.

There are some light-hearted scenes as the children banter with each other, and a lot of warmth between Atticus and his children. This is excellent social history, bringing to life a small town in the deep south of the US in that era. But it’s so much more. And when it was written - published in 1960 - there were far fewer books about racism than there are today. Indeed, in the 1960s, there was still some segregation in parts of the US, as I discovered when I read the excellent book ‘The Help’ by Kathryn Stockett about fifteen years ago.

More than once it becomes clear that adult prejudices and bigotry are learned. The children in the book see far more clearly how important integrity and honesty are than many of the adults. There's a very thought-provoking short scene where the rise of Naziism in that period is compared to the way black people are treated in Alabama. Most of the adults brush it off and seem unable to see it.

I’m not sure it was an entirely appropriate book to read as a teenager in the UK in the 1970s, as I was quite ignorant and didn't appreciate it. Then again, some of my classmates loved it. But I am very glad I have finally got around to reading it again. Definitely recommended, despite the offensive language used; I assume it really was used in that way at the time, and it certainly helps to make the point.

Shopaholic and sister (by Sophie Kinsella)

2026-08-12T18:00:00.142+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

I’m thoroughly enjoying rereading the ‘Shopaholic’ series by the late Sophie Kinsella. Undoubtedly ‘chick-lit’, with a heroine who has almost nothing in common with me, lifestyle-wise. And yet the author managed to create, in Becky Brandon, a thoroughly likeable young woman despite her addiction to shopping and general self-centredness. She can also be extremely generous, and she cares deeply about her family and friends.

I finished ‘Shopaholic ties the knot’ last month, in which Sophie and Luke finally get married, after a lot of indecision and confusion, and potential disasters. I love the way that no matter how deep a hole Becky manages to dig for herself, there’s always some way out. Often something related to her personality or her previous professional skills.

Shopaholic and sister’ is the next in the series. I first read it in 2007, and as far as I recall it was the first novel by Sophie Kinsella that I had read. I didn’t expect much, but thought the writing style excellent and the story well-crafted. It didn’t matter that I started part-way through the series and collected the other books somewhat at random.

This time I’m reading through in order. And just before I started this, I remembered that there was a short story, ‘Shopaholic on Honeymoon’, which I read on my Kindle not long ago. So I reread that, which recounts the early part of Luke and Becky’s honeymoon experience, as they discuss how long it might actually last.

‘Shopaholic and sister’ starts when they have been travelling for ten months. They’ve had a wonderful time, and Luke has relaxed, as Becky hoped, and embraced new cultures. They’re currently on a yoga course and Becky appears to be doing extremely well, though her mind is often on completely different topics. Including the many souvenirs which Becky has bought and shipped to the UK. Luke knows about some of them, but not all…

Then several things come together, meaning that they decide to return to the UK almost immediately rather than complete the year. Becky is homesick, and excited about seeing her parents, and her best friend Suze.

But Becky’s parents are rather nervous about something, and Suze, who has twin babies as well as a toddler, has made a new best friend called Lulu. Becky tries to be friendly with her, but realises that they have nothing in common. So she feels that she’s lost her friend. Then her parents tell her something astonishing… which would have been shocking to the reader, too, if it weren’t strongly hinted from the book title what was going to happen.

I had remembered this incident, but none of what follows. Becky goes a bit overboard trying to be friendly, and seems to fail at every count. Then she thinks she’s helping Luke with a business decision, only to find out that she has totally the wrong idea, and he’s not happy at all. As ever, she overreacts and is convinced their marriage is on the rocks… so she travels north in the hope of finding help and advice, without letting anyone know where she is. She doesn’t suppose anyone will even notice she’s gone.

I found it a surprisingly moving book in several places, as well as laughing aloud more than once. The author had an excellent way with words, and Becky feels entirely believable, if somewhat naive, and unbelievably prone to overspending. She truly behaves like a shopping addict, if such a thing exists; she is determined to stick to a budget, then can’t resist a bargain. Even if it’s something she doesn’t actually want.

The pace is just right for my tastes, the people - even the minor characters - mostly distinguishable. We see Becky at her most vulnerable emotionally. We also see her as in a potentially very dangerous situation, after she decides to go on a mountain climb in unsuitable shoes. And we see her loyalty, her belief in being positive (even if somewhat misplaced) and her vulnerability, as she is scared to admit to some of the things she has made.

I had no idea how the complex situations were going to be resolved, and didn’t see another potential disaster that occurs in the final chapters. I thought it all handled expertly, and think this is probably my favourite of the books so far.

This book and others in the series are not to everyone’s tastes. They’re light, and fluffy, and Becky is, at times, remarkably frustrating. But she got under my skin to the extent that I wanted to talk to her, to point out where she’s being ridiculous. I did like the fact that, in this book, another character does that. I love her relationship with Luke, too, and the way he adores her while also acknowledging how reckless, extravagant and irrational she can be.

So, for anyone wanting a very light, but well-written book with nothing unsuitable for teenagers, I would recommend this. It works as a standalone, but I’m liking them even better reading them in order.

Upper fourth at Malory Towers (by Enid Blyton)

2026-08-11T14:27:58.381+03:00

(Amazon UK link)

In the past few decades I’ve dipped somewhat randomly into Enid Blyton books from time to time, particularly the school stories. But this year I’ve been reading the Malory Towers books in order, at around one per month. I was surprised how much I enjoyed ‘Third year at Malory Towers’ in July; I’ve just finished (almost in one sitting) the fourth book, ‘Upper fourth at Malory Towers’, which I last read in 2015.

I’m familiar with most of the storylines, of course; I read these books almost every year when I was a teenager; but with more than ten years since my last read, I had forgotten a lot of the details.

This is the year when Darrell’s sister Felicity finally gets to go to Malory Towers. She’s been ill - we don’t know what the problem was - so her first term is the summer term, Darrell’s last in the upper fourth form. Darrell is very excited about showing her sister around, so feels a bit annoyed when Alicia’s young cousin June decides to take Felicity under her wing.

There are some new girls in Darrell’s form: the non-identical twins Connie and Ruth, and a shy girl called Clarissa, who has glasses and a brace; Gwendoline decides to befriend her having learned that she has a title. There are also the girls from other series such as Darrell’s calm, intuitive friend Sally, whom I like very much. Then there’s the somewhat arrogant Alicia who is very bright and never has to do any work. She has quite a part to play in this book, and learns a difficult lesson towards the end.

The musical Irene and artistic Belinda are both absent-minded, and cause hilarity amongst their peers; but their antics are a bit repetitive, much the same in each book (other than where Irene has managed to lose her health certificate). Mary-Lou barely comes into this; she’s still nervous, but is good friends with Daphne. And Mavis, who lost her voice in the previous book, is now a much nicer person.

Indeed, the only continued unpleasant person is Gwendoline, who is still spoilt tremendously by her mother and former governess when she’s at home. She writes them endless lies about how good she is at everything; and in this book she also comes up with a very unpleasant tactic in the hope of getting out of the major public exams which the class are all sitting.

These are the days of General Certificate, before O-levels, and a pass is considered necessary before moving up to the next form. So there’s a lot of studying and revising, but the staff are fair, and ensure that everyone gets plenty of time outdoors, and even a day off now and again to do something different. There's a midnight feast, as seems to happen regularly at this school, and quite an amusing trick played towards the end.

Perhaps the most interesting subplot of this book involves the twins, who are different in personality as well as in looks. Connie is outgoing and confident; she’s also taller, and spends a lot of time looking after her twin. Ruth seems shyer and much less sure of herself, but gradually the other girls realise that Ruth is never allowed to speak or do anything much - Connie takes over all the time. Yet Ruth seems to be brighter, and often has to help Connie with her work. It’s an unusual dynamic, but it’s shown realistically.

Enid Blyton was a prolific writer, and many of us who grew up with her work have continued as avid readers well into adulthood. I can see, now, why parents and teachers disapproved - she used stereotypes, prejudice and clichés, as well as some authorial asides which don’t read well. The language isn’t well structured, and in places seems quite stilted. Some of the people are caricatured, too, particularly the French ‘mam’zelle’ staff.

And yet Darrell feels three-dimensional; she’s far from perfect as she still struggles with her hot temper. I could empathise with both her and Sally in this book, and I admire their positive traits. The ethics and principles of this book are of 1940s British ‘sportsmanship’, which included integrity, honesty and fairness. I absorbed a lot of positive beliefs from books like these as a child, and I’m pleased to know that they’re still regularly in print, and that some young children today like them as much as I did as a child.

Recommended for fluent readers of about eight and upwards.