When Toby is reported ‘Missing, Believed Killed’, another secret casts a lengthening shadow over Elinor’s world: how exactly did Toby die – and why? Elinor determines to uncover the truth. Only then can she finally close the door to Toby’s room.

Moving from the Slade School of Art to Queen Mary’s Hospital, where surgery and art intersect in the rebuilding of the shattered faces of the wounded, Toby’s Room is a riveting drama of identity, damage, intimacy and loss. Toby’s Room is Pat Barker’s most powerful novel yet.

When Elinor’s brother Toby is reported ‘Missing believed killed’ during WW1 she is left devastated – and, after finding a mysterious note hidden in his uniform, becomes determined to find out the truth about his death.

Toby and Elinor were very close. He was the only member of the family that Elinor could relate to, but it was not a simple sibling relationship and was shrouded in secrecy and mystery. Elinor enlists the help of her old friends who fought beside Toby to uncover the truth, but even they have something to hide. They try to protect her from the truth, but Elinor must know what happened.

Toby’s Room initially started off very well; it jumped right into the action and made me want to carry on reading. Sadly shortly after this it went a little bit down hill. I don’t want to give too much away, but I felt that an issue that first arose in the book was never properly explored: I assumed this would be the basis of the whole story, but it sort of took a back seat after a few pages and was quickly forgotten about, like it wasn’t important.

Instead, the plot includes many different stories that didn’t really sustain my interest – it felt like the writer quickly got bored of her own storylines and moved onto something new. The book seemed to focus heavily on one story at a time rather than weaving them all together for a more complex and thought-provoking novel; instead it was simplistic and a little boring at times.

I held out hope that the truth about Toby’s time in the army and his death would bring some much needed life to the book and reveal something that might just make me enjoy it more. Unfortunately this was also handled poorly. Elinor was unmoved by the revelation, and I was left thinking “is that it?” It wasn’t shocking or particularly surprising, but it certainly wasn’t helped by a prose that came across as so average and disinterested.

For me, the only sort of enjoyable part of the novel was the way that the three main characters used their artwork to explore their feelings and what was happening in their lives. I enjoyed reading about how different they each were in their attitudes and creativity. However, after a time I also felt this was dragged on too much, as I felt that other aspects of the novel should have been the primary focus.

Toby’s Room could’ve and should’ve been a brilliant book; there was definitely potential there to write something much better than the average novel this turned out to be. It wasn’t the worst book I’ve read, but it certainly wasn’t the best, and it was the first time I felt as though the writer wasn’t really engaged with the book let alone the reader.

Rating: ★★

Starter: If twenty-six-year-old Hannah Sugarman had her way, she’d be whipping up carrot cakes and running her culinary empire. Instead, she spends her hours cooking up papers on the financial crisis. It doesn’t help that no one in her life takes her passion seriously – not even her boyfriend.

Main: When her relationship implodes, Hannah decides to jump-start her life by hosting a secret supper club out of her landlord’s flat. Her underground operation presents some problems. Running an unlicensed restaurant out of someone’s home is not, technically speaking, legal.

Dessert: As the success of Hannah’s supper club grows, so do the number of secrets she is forced to keep. Can Hannah keep her pop-up restaurant underground? When mysterious guests turn up for dinner, can she handle the heat? Or will she have to step out of the kitchen? A charming romantic comedy, The Secret Supper Club is a story about finding yourself, fulfilling your dreams, and falling in love along the way.

The idea of Hannah really appealed to me. Stuck in a job she’s not happy with, attempting to be the person her parents expect her to; it’s a familiar situation to many people (myself included). I really wanted to like Hannah, to root for her as she did everything she could to make her dreams come true and stand up for herself in the big, wide world. I’m just not convinced she did anything to deserve me standing at the sidelines shaking those pom poms.

Yes, when her relationship fell apart, Hannah started the supper club she had always wished for. But this was only after some serious encouragement and a push in the right direction from best friend Rachel. The rest of the book, to be honest, seemed to follow the same path.

I did enjoy the concept of an underground supper club, although I don’t think I’d ever be tempted to try any of the delicious-sounding recipes at the end of the book to start my own, as there were so many references to the fact that this was an illegal practice and the irony surrounding Hannah’s choice of venue for her venture. I found it incredible that, despite having no money for rent, Hannah managed to find sufficient funds for the purchase of so many expensive ingredients.

The book isn’t all bad. It’s a little predictable – sure – and none of the characters were particularly endearing to me, but nevertheless I found it a whimsical read and a nice way to while away a rainy afternoon.

Rating: ★★★

A humorous adventure story about the not-quite end of the world where a bard tries to get home to his wife after deserting from the army, and travels with a pair of suspiciously well-spoken mercenaries in tow.

A general escorts her king to ‘gods know where’ (he’ll know it when he gets there) while a witch and a wizard attempt to solve an age-old magical mystery.

A young girl with the gift of Sight discovers a race of empathic sea people, and their reappearance from behind a mysterious barrier dividing land and sea is coinciding with impending doom.

Together they all trip over history while trying to keep it from repeating itself.

When I was approached to review this book I thought ‘why not?’. I don’t read much fantasy, and am always interested in broadening my mind.

When I started reading Marchant’s Good Reef! I remembered why this was a genre I don’t read much, and why I had given up on Terry Pratchett many moons ago. There was just something about the style (and the frequent use of ellipses) that I couldn’t get on with, but for the sake of reviewing I persevered, and… I am glad I did!

The story is set amid a not-quite end of the world, and once I got used to the style and sense of humour, I found this an easy and entertaining read with an intriguing plot.

Initially I couldn’t see how the individual threads of the story related to each other, but as the novel progressed, these were all woven together as everyone makes their way to The Wall. It’s quite hard to think of a way of explaining the plot without spoiling anything, because I felt the mystery and confusion of the beginning of the story was purposeful, and as the gaps got filled in, my enjoyment of the story grew. I particularly enjoyed the story of the empathetic young girl, and her growing friendship with a newfound race of people beyond the Wall.

If I’m being honest, this still isn’t my favourite genre, and while enjoyable, Good Reef! didn’t convince me otherwise, but I did genuinely begin to enjoy the strange world created by Marchant, and read the story through in just a couple of sittings. For people a bit more used to the fantasy genre than me, I would say I enjoyed this story and am intrigued to see what else Marchant may have in store of some of these characters in a world which seems like it could be vast, and the stories many. I might not be about to rush out and buy all of Discworld, but Marchant’s amusing story has certainly opened me up to the possibility of enjoying a fantasy story, and sticking with something I initially wasn’t sure about paid off in the form of an entertaining read.

Thanks to Z. E. Marchant for sending me this book to review.

Rating: ★★★

‘What are you thinking, Amy?’

The question I’ve asked most often during our marriage, if not out loud, if not to the person who could answer. I suppose these questions stormcloud over every marriage: ‘What are you thinking? How are you feeling? Who are you? What have we done to each other? What will we do?’

Just how well can you ever know the person you love? This is the question that Nick Dunne must ask himself on the morning of his fifth wedding anniversary when his wife Amy suddenly disappears. The police immediately suspect Nick. Amy’s friends reveal that she was afraid of him, that she kept secrets from him. He swears it isn’t true. A police examination of his computer shows strange searches. He says they aren’t his. And then there are the persistent calls on his mobile phone. So what really did happen to Nick’s beautiful wife? And what was in that half-wrapped box left so casually on their marital bed?

In this novel, marriage truly is the art of war…

Gone Girl has received a massive amount of hype over the past few months and I was intrigued to find out why. The premise of the novel sounded interesting and engaging, so I gave it a go. I should have learned by now not to get excited about novels that receive rave reviews as they’re nearly always a let down, and this one was no exception.

Nick and Amy have been married for five years, but their relationship has been somewhat turbulent. The couple are both out of work and have had to change from a comfortable, glamorous New York lifestyle to a country life where Nick can look after his ill parents. Seemingly no longer in love, Nick and Amy drift through their marriage trying to score points against each other or barely speaking. However Amy’s diary begins to reveal a darker side to their relationship; she’s scared of Nick and is worried for her life.

When Amy disappears on their fifth anniversary, the evidence against Nick begins to quickly stack up: strange searches on his computer, a shed full of ‘boy’s toys’ bought on Nicks credit card, a staged crime scene, and of course Amy’s diary. But Nick swears none of it is true – so what really happened in their marriage, and where has Amy gone?

I tried my best to like this book but I just couldn’t. I hated pretty much every character, so I didn’t really care what happened to them – they had no depth and no personality. You’re meant to feel sorry for Amy in her diary but I didn’t; I found her annoying and whiny, and the language used was pretty repetitive and quite unfitting for the novel. It was something I’d expect to see in an over-the-top American teen magazine.

The novel is not particularly well written throughout; it only just scrapes being decent. At times there’s an overuse of language in an attempt to try and make the novel sound more sophisticated than it is. It took me until halfway through the book to become kind of interested in it, as the first half was slow moving and not very gripping. Halfway through it looked as though it could have turned out to be a decent story, but this was quickly dispelled as the novel reverted back to its bland two dimensional characters and repetitive language.

Perhaps the worst part of this novel was the ending, which was completely unbelievable and so far-fetched that I almost laughed at it. It left me feeling annoyed at how it ended. Overall I can’t find anything positive to say about Gone Girl. The idea was very promising, but written this way it just didn’t work. I don’t understand the hype surrounding it, as for me it’s a completely forgettable book.

Rating: ★

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

Despite the tumour-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.

Insightful, bold, irreverent, and raw, The Fault in Our Stars is award-winning author John Green’s most ambitious and heartbreaking work yet, brilliantly exploring the funny, thrilling, and tragic business of being alive and in love.

The Fault in Our Stars follows Hazel Grace, a teenage girl with terminal cancer.

For as long as she can remember, Hazel has always been ill. Her life has been filled with endless hospital appointments and support group meetings. She feels like a burden to her overprotective parents, hating the pain and suffering that she puts them through, and the people who she previously considered friends no longer know how to talk to her.

So the last thing she expects is to fall in love.

One day, a boy named Augustus Waters steps into her world and completely turns it around, leaving them both overwhelmed by their feelings for each other and the closeness that their illnesses bring them.

The Fault in Our Stars is a love story filled with trauma and happiness. Think My Sister’s Keeper, but for a Young Adult audience. Green does a fabulous job in showing us the devastation that teenage cancer patients can battle against, and the impact this horrible disease has on the people around them.  He has established his characters in a unique way that means that readers with no experience of terminal illness can still relate to their story.

Expect to shed a couple of tears while reading this book…

Rating: ★★★★

When Harold Fry leaves home one morning to post a letter, with his wife hoovering upstairs, he has no idea that he is about to walk from one end of the country to the other.

He has no hiking boots or map, let alone a compass, waterproof or mobile phone.

All he knows is that he must keep walking.

I love a good quest novel. I don’t necessarily mean fantasy quests like Lord of the Rings (although they’re great too) but any novel where the character(s) embark on some sort of physical or metaphorical journey in order to change something about themselves. The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry is just that.

The story opens on the morning that retired pensioner Harold Fry receives a letter from an old friend who is dying from terminal cancer. While out to post his reply, Harold makes a spur of the moment decision to walk across the country – from Devon to Berwick on Tweed – believing that this leap of faith can help save her and atone for some of the mistakes he has made in his life. With no compass, mobile phone or even proper walking shoes, the story follows Harold’s epic journey and those of the people he meets along the way, each with stories of their own. It also looks at the way in which his wife Maureen copes with his decision and how his pilgrimage effects their already troubled marriage.

This is an exceptionally touching book full of poignancy and painful moments yet with plenty of gentle humour too. I adored Harold – a shy, apologetic yet thoroughly decent man with a difficult past. I also loved the way that Joyce described the beauty of the British countryside. Long paragraphs about nature and wildlife don’t usually keep me interested for very long, but she uses such simple yet beautiful imagery to convey to plants, trees and fields that I felt almost able to reach out and touch them. With a heartbreaking twist towards the end, this is definitely a novel that will keep you laughing, crying and guessing all the way through.

If I had one criticism it would be that the timings of the novel seemed a little off. When I was over half way through the book and Harold had only completed about a third of his journey I began wondering how he would cram the rest in to so few pages. In turn I found the latter half of the book a little rushed. The ending wasn’t what I expected. Like Harold I had visions of him arriving in Berwick in a blaze of glory and rapturous applause, so his downbeat, lethargic arrival was (although probably more realistic) a bit of an anticlimax. However the final scenes between him and Queenie were very moving and a stark reminder about just how precious life is.

My first assumption when I finished the opening chapters was that there must have been an affair or romance between Queenie and Harold but that wasn’t the case. Their relationship was built on mutual kindness and respect. The real love story here is between Harold and Maureen and I found it refreshing to read about love and relationships in people of an older generation. I think this aspect of the novel will be something that a lot of older people will be able to relate to.

Rating: ★★★★

Domenica Ruta grew up in Danvers, Massachusetts, in a ramshackle, rundown, trash-filled house with her mother, a drug dealer and user who raised Domenica on a steady diet of Oxycontin. Growing up, Domenica knew she didn’t fit in -she was far smarter and worse dressed than everyone else she knew, and she clearly had the most flamboyant mother of anyone in town – but she found solace in writing and reading. As she grew older, though, and as her mother’s behavior grew increasingly outrageous and her home life increasingly untenable, Domenica fled Danvers only to become ensared by the demons of addiction.

A thoroughly textured and masterfully written book, layered with wildly colorful characters, a biting sense of humor, and penetrating, deeply sympathetic insights, With or Without You finally ends with Domenica’s increasing awareness that she must leave the life she grew up with in order to survive.

I found this really, really tiresome. I think in order to enjoy a ‘my tragic life’ narrative, it’s necessary that you can relate to the narrator, find them endearing, feel sympathy for them. I could not find a lot of sympathy for Ruta, given the way she presents herself in this book.

Of course I didn’t think ‘well she deserved to have such a difficult relationship with her mother’, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care about her. The way she presents herself is utterly unlikeable, which is baffling given that this is her own book. She could make the reader feel untold amounts of sympathy for her, and yet she constructs her own character in a way that just made her seem seriously unpleasant.

It almost seemed to me as though Ruta’s main problem with her mother was her weight. I lost track of just how often she writes about her mother’s weight in what seems to be a very judgemental way – the woman is a violent drug addict, and yet I’m supposed to be horrified that she weighs two-hundred pounds? Yeah, nice try. I’ve read narratives from people who hate their mother, and of course we’ve all read narratives from people who love her mother, but Ruta’s feelings towards her mother seem to be of general distaste. Ruta also thinks that she is super clever when compared to everyone else in her life, which is pretty irritating to read.

As much as variety is the spice of life, I think you should pick one way of naming someone you’re writing about and use that at least eight times out of ten. Only use an alternative name when you’re using it to make a point. Ruta cannot decide what name she wants to use: Kathi, my mother, that woman, Mom, Mum.

Near the end of the book, Ruta makes these following statements: “I will not become my mother. I will not get fat like her. [...] My ass will never resemble a large sack of potatoes.” Thus ending the memoir that could be called ‘I Hate My Fat Mom/Mum/Mother [delete as applicable].’

Only recommended if tragic memoirs are absolutely your favourite thing. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother.

A free copy of this book was downloaded from NetGalley.com. 

Rating: ★★

1913. On the eve of the First World War, a little girl is found abandoned after a gruelling ocean voyage from England to Australia. All she can remember of the journey is that a mysterious woman she calls the Authoress had promised to look after her. But the Authoress has vanished without a trace.

1975. Now an old lady, Nell travels to England to discover the truth about her parentage. Her quest leads her to Cornwall, and to a beautiful estate called Blackhurst Manor, which had been owned by the Mountrachet family. What has prompted Nell’s journey after all these years?

2005. On Nell’s death, her granddaughter, Cassandra, comes into a surprise inheritance. Cliff Cottage, in the grounds of Blackhurst Manor, is notorious amongst the locals for the secrets it holds – secrets about the doomed Mountrachet family. But it is at Cliff Cottage, abandoned for years, and in its forgotten garden, that Cassandra will uncover the truth about the family and why the young Nell was abandoned all those decades before.

I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed The Forgotten Garden - but while it was an enjoyable read, it did have its flaws. It had been sat on my Kindle for a while and I’d never really given it much thought, so I thought it was about time I got around to reading it. The book shifts between many different periods of time (from the end of the 19th century to 2005); however, as everyone is linked throughout the story, it’s fairly easy to keep up with. In fact, this aspect of weaving several different stories into one is one of the things I liked about the book.

The story centres around Nell, who was found on a boat in Australia in 1913. She is then ‘adopted’ by the man who finds her, and his wife. On her 21st birthday Nell discovers the truth about her childhood, but it’s not until her father dies when she is in her 60s that she can begin to discover the truth about who she is. When Nell dies in 2005 the mystery is still unsolved, until her granddaughter Cassandra inherits a cottage in Cornwall and sets about finishing what Nell started.

As quite a few periods of time are covered within the book it’s no surprise that there are also a lot of characters. The number of characters wasn’t an issue for me, but the lack of description was. I feel that some of the more important characters would have benefited from more descriptive writing; I couldn’t really get a sense of what they were like. At one point one of the major characters is describing how, when she looks in the mirror, all she sees is her twin brother staring back. This is meant to be powerful and emotive as her twin brother has just died. However, I was personally left feeling a little unperturbed by it, as I didn’t have a sense of what the character looked like so it was hard to connect with the scene.

Another flaw for me was the fact that I guessed the big secret probably less than a quarter of the way through the book. I won’t spoil it for anyone wanting to read it, but it really wasn’t that hard to work out. I don’t know if this was done on purpose, but I highly doubt it considering how early on in the book I was able to guess. I can see how some people would be put off by this as it detracts from the big reveal later on, but the story was still engaging enough for me to continue – even though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

Despite its flaws The Forgotton Garden really was an enjoyable book. I didn’t want to put it down even when I knew what would happen, and the different stories in different time periods went some way to make up for the other stuff I didn’t enjoy so much.  I liked how lots of the characters got their own sub plot, but that they still all linked together within the main story.

If you’ve had you’re eye on this book, it’s definitely worth reading it. It’s nothing groundbreaking or overly original but it has some really good moments, and for those parts I’d recommend it.

Rating: ★★★★

It has taken Giles Coren a lifetime to master the art of eating out. From a lonely childhood spent in pub car parks, peering in at a magical world of chickens in baskets and butter in little foil squares, to belching his way through taste clouds of prawn gas and chocolate air at ‘the best restaurant in the world’, to mock dog in Shoreditch, sperm sushi in Tokyo and delicious fricasseed field mouse in ‘Ancient’ Rome, Coren has experienced pretty much everything a restaurant can throw at you, and thrown it right back. Or at least caught it, sniffed it, and bagged it up for later.

Bad waiters, bum tables, little rip-offs, big cons, old fish, cheap meat, yesterday’s soup and tomorrow’s gastroenteritis… Coren tells you how to avoid the lot, and even come out of it with free champagne and a dish named after you by way of apology. It doesn’t matter if it’s fish and chips, takeaway pizza, a medieval banquet with Sue Perkins or a slap-up nosh at the Hotel de Posh, there is always a right way and wrong way to do it. How To Eat Out is a bit of both.

Curled up reading the Kindle edition of this book in my Los Angeles apartment, I’m pretty sure my American roommates looked around at me in dismay every time I broke out into uncontrollable laughter. I don’t think I have laughed this much at a book since reading another volume by another Times journalist: Catlin Moran and her book How To Be A Woman. Giles Coren is my favourite restaurant critic, so I already knew that his writing was funny. I’ve also read quite a few books written about food and eating written by skilful writers, but none I have read so far has so perfectly blended good, honest descriptions of food in the way you can almost taste them off of the page, and witty and amusing quips and edible anecdotes in such a way.

With discussions on everything from tips on how best to tackle Dim Sum, to what it is like to be a restaurant critic and be recognised in the restaurant you’re visiting, or the food and eating out cultures of other countries, if you have ever, ever eaten outside your home (that is basically everyone, even a picnic on Hampstead Heath counts) this book is for you, and I promise that you will enjoy it even if you are not someone who would normally label themselves as a ‘foodie’.

The only think I think I should point out about this book is while most British readers will find it brilliant and entertaining, its reading will be enhanced tenfold if you happen to be familiar with the London restaurant scene. You’ll know exactly where Giles means when he is talking about a restaurant based on its cuisine and its location without actually naming it, and anyone who has ever tried to have a meal somewhere like Meat Liqueur or Burger & Lobster will be shaking their fists when they reach the chapter about Polpo, realising if they did not already know that they were the restaurant who started the equally exciting and irritating trent of ‘no reservations’.

Rating: ★★★★★

Judith and her father don’t have much – their house is full of dusty relics, reminders of the mother she’s never known. But Judith sees the world with the clear Eyes of Faith, and where others might see rubbish, Judith sees possibility. Bullied at school, she finds solace in making a model of the Promised Land – little people made from pipe cleaners, a sliver of moon, luminous stars and a mirror sea – a world of wonder that Judith calls The Land of Decoration. Perhaps, she thinks, if she makes it snow indoors (using shaving foam and cotton wool and cellophane) there will be no school on Monday…

Sure enough, when Judith opens her curtains the next day, the world beyond her window has turned white. She has performed her first miracle. And that’s when her troubles begin.

With its intensely taut storytelling and gorgeous prose, The Land of Decoration is a heartbreaking story of good and evil, belief and doubt. Its author, Grace McCleen, is a blazing new talent in contemporary literature.

This book remained on my wish list for too long before I finally caved in and bought it. My biggest regret is not reading it sooner.

I’m all for a book that packs an emotional punch, so The Land of Decoration by Grace McCleen was the perfect antidote. The story revolves around a young girl called Judith McPherson who lives an isolated and lonely existence with her father. Together they follow the Bible to the letter and under the watchful eye of the Sect, they preach God’s word to the rest of the town. However, Judith’s life is one full of misery as her relationship with her father can only be described as troubled and she is mercilessly bullied at school. The bullying soon goes beyond the school gates and follows her to her front door, where she and her father are subjected to further physical threat.

Judith’s only escape is in a world called The Land of Decoration that she has made on her bedroom floor. She eventually believes that if she can make it snow in her homemade land then maybe it will happen in the real world, and sure enough, the next morning school is cancelled due to a heavy snow fall. Soon after this event takes place the novel takes a more sinister turn as she starts to believe God is talking to her and telling her she can make things happen. As these developments started to take place, I first thought it was an innocent attempt from a little girl to try and cure her loneliness. However, as the story progressed it became apparent that the voice Judith can hear is not one that she is in control of and becomes hard to switch off.

The style and language are plain, but McCleen writes with so much depth and understanding that I found it hard not to be affected by Judith’s misery. The description of the model world Judith creates is outstanding and colourful which add to the believability of her character.

Though Judith’s world is one that is so far removed from my own, I found something about her character so relatable. The growing tension in the novel is broken up in equal measures by her tremendous humour and her tragic observations of her relationship with her father. During the novel I felt their relationship was put under a microscope and I found it fascinating and heart-breaking to see it develop and deteriorate to such devastating extremes. It was fairly easy to assume that the tension I felt when reading the book came from Judith’s bullies and various other conflicts in her life. It was only after finishing that, through an eye full of tears, I understood that the tension revolved largely around her and her father.

McCleen writes with such clarity and precision that it is difficult not to find something in her cleverly developed characters to love and relate to. I will say it is not the type book to read if you need to be cheered up! However, I challenge anyone to put it down once you begin.

Rating: ★★★★★