Fantasy Books

I received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

A Killing Cold by Kate Alice Marshall

Mogsy’s Rating (Overall): 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Mystery, Thriller

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: Macmillan Audio (February 4, 2025)

Length: 9 hrs and 41 mins

Author Information: Website | Twitter

Narrator: Karissa Vacker

Another Kate Alice Marshall thriller! Not only did I add A Killing Cold to my TBR the moment I learned about it, I also went in with absolute confidence that, no matter what the story was about, it was going to be an entertaining and twisty ride. I can’t be more pleased to report that my instincts were correct, and that this book also surprised me in ways I didn’t see coming.

In this chillingly atmospheric novel that blends psychological expense with generational secrets and an isolated setting, readers are introduced to Theo Scott, a young woman traveling to meet her fiancé’s family following a whirlwind engagement. A relationship where two people fall in love and move through the milestones so quickly is always bound to raise some eyebrows, but it’s worse when the man you are marrying is Connor Dalton, whose family is richer than sin. As the couple makes their way to Idlewood, the Dalton family’s winter retreat in the mountains, Theo knows she will be placed under intense scrutiny. All of Connor’s immediate family members will be there, ready to pry into her life with their probing questions—questions that Theo dreads, either because her adoption leaves her without the answers or because her past is too painful to share.

As expected, Theo immediately feels like an outsider at Idlewood. Other than Connor’s older sister Alexis, everyone else feels as distant and cold as their remote surroundings, all but accusing our protagonist of shamelessly marrying Connor for the money. Theo is also anxiously hiding the fact that she has been receiving threatening text messages ever since the engagement, cautioning her to stay away from the Daltons. Now, the warnings appear to have followed her to the snow-covered retreat, as someone begins leaving her similar notes outside her cabin—implying that the mysterious sender is one of Connor’s family members. On top of this, the sprawling property makes Theo uncomfortable. Certain sights bring back disturbing snippets of memories, even though she is sure she’s never been here before. But that certainty is shattered when, in a shocking moment, she discovers a picture of herself as a child, taken right here in Idlewood.

Marshall’s storytelling is immersive and has a intimate quality, like you are watching everything play out like a movie in your head. Thrillers set in cold, remote places are also like catnip for me, I just can’t resist them, and Idlewood perfectly hit the mark. The atmosphere of the secluded estate feels both lonely and claustrophobic, emphasizing Theo’s status as an interloper in this place filled with dark family history. This even lends the story a classic Gothic vibe, where the past refuses to stay buried and isolation breeds paranoia.

Perhaps the biggest hurdle was keeping track of the characters and understanding how they are all related/connected. It’s inevitable that with a large cast and complex relationships, there will be challenges to determining who’s who and how they fit into the story. Some of Dalton family members stood out immediately, such as Alexis, her wife Paloma, and their son, Sebastian, or Connor’s wayward younger brother Trevor. Others took more effort to register, such as the Dalton patriarch (already, his name escapes me), Connor’s mother Rose and his Uncle Nick. However, as the story progressed, their individual personalities became clearer, making them more distinguishable and adding to the intrigue.

This leads to the novel’s greatest strengths—all the twists! Just when you think you have the mystery all figured out, the plot hurls another curveball and leaves you reeling. The pacing is deliberate but fast, allowing the tension to build naturally, ramping up to an ending that is shocking—and, okay, maybe a little over the top. But at least it was presented in a way that felt satisfying, with a resolution that ties together the story’s many threads and, more importantly, delivers happy endings for the people I felt deserved it most.

While A Killing Cold does tread familiar territory within the genre—and avid readers of psychological thrillers will definitely feel this—Kate Alice Marshall’s carefully executed plotting and her expert use of the setting still made it an engaging and fun read. This story had everything, including but not limited to slow-burn suspense, unreliable memories, heart-stoppingly close calls, and scandalous family drama. Fantastic reading by Karissa Vacker, one of my favorite narrators, also made this one an addictive, unputdownable audiobook.

Once again, I have scoured the internet for speculative fiction books coming out this year and compiled a list of works I wanted to highlight. After looking through book descriptions, early reviews, and any available excerpts, I’ve put together a list of 17 fantasy and science fiction books coming out in 2025 that sound particularly compelling to me. (Of course, some of these are mainly here due to my having enjoyed other work by the same author!) As always, this […]

The post Anticipated 2025 Speculative Fiction Releases first appeared on Fantasy Cafe.

Here are 7 Author Shoutouts for this week. Find your favorite author or discover an…

The post 7 Author Shoutouts | Authors We Love To Recommend appeared first on LitStack.

You’ve heard. I know you’ve heard. And I know what your reaction was — first, surprise… shock, even. Then sadness, and probably anger too. “Please, not again, Goddammit! And not him!” (And if you really haven’t heard, forgive me for being the bearer of bad news.)

Those were my reactions, anyway, when I read about the New York Magazine story that was published early this year (“There is No Safe Word,” by Lila Shapiro; the article may be paywalled), a story that contains appalling, sickeningly detailed accusations from multiple women of thoroughly vile conduct (up to and including outright sexual assault) by Neil Gaiman, one of the most successful and admired writers in contemporary fantasy.

Whatever the results of the inevitable adjudication, civil or criminal, I think it is safe to say that Gaiman (who has naturally denied everything, because that’s what a guilty and an innocent man alike would do) has, at the still relatively young age of sixty-four, entered the “public and professional pariah” stage of his life. This has been confirmed by the panicked corporate scramble to cancel any and all Gaiman-related film, television, and literary projects that were in any stage of discussion or production when the accusations began to surface.

I don’t know the truth about any of these allegations, of course, but given their number and scale and specificity, it’s extremely difficult to believe that the predicament Gaiman finds himself in is merely the result of a “misunderstanding” (his characterization). What I do know is how depressing and disheartening the whole thing is.

The strength of my reaction surprised me because I don’t have a deep relationship with Neil Gaiman’s work. He came to prominence writing the Sandman for DC, but that was in the late 80’s, after I had quit reading comics and before I started up again, so I’ve only read a few of those issues. Beyond that, I’ve read a half a dozen short stories and four of his books — his adult fantasy novels Neverwhere and Stardust, both of which I liked a lot, and his children’s fantasies Coraline and The Graveyard Book, which I liked more than just a lot.

The Graveyard Book (which I read last summer, right before the first cracks began to appear in Gaiman’s reputation) was, I thought, absolutely magnificent — deliciously eerie, bloodcurdlingly frightening, genuinely wise, deeply humane, flawlessly imagined and above all, beautifully written. I had tears in my eyes when I finished it, and I immediately began enthusiastically recommending it to anyone I knew who hadn’t read it. The Gaiman book that most people think is his greatest achievement, American Gods, is one that I’ve never gotten around to, though a copy has been sitting close to the top of my TBR pile for the past few years; I was thinking that maybe I would finally read it this summer.

My feelings about this awful news are based as much on the attractive public persona that Gaiman has so successfully projected as it is on his work itself, of which I’ve read only a fraction. I personally experienced his charm and magnetism at the San Diego Comic-Con once, where he was a guest at the annual Jack Kirby Tribute Panel; I was sitting just a few feet away as he spoke about his regard for the King, and talked movingly about how heartbroken he was for Kirby when he first read the 1970’s Eternals series and reached the point where it became clear that Kirby had, because of Marvel’s editorial interference, just given up on the story and characters he had invested so much in. (It was issue #15, actually.) I thoroughly approved of Gaiman at that moment — we all love it when a smart, successful, famous person echoes thoughts that we’ve had ourselves. (I too had noticed the big change in issue #15.) We’ve probably seen the last of that witty, convivial public figure.

I guess my dismay mostly stems from a feeling that I (and a lot of other people) had, that Neil Gaiman was one of the Good Guys, someone who championed all the right things, someone emblematic of all that’s best about the genre, a big-hearted, generous mentor, a major writer who always took the time to encourage and support other writers everywhere. Certainly no one was ever readier with an appreciative forward or an enthusiastic blurb. I’m not sure which author I’ve read the most of in my life, but I know I’ve read more blurbs by Neil Gaiman than by anyone else, by a couple of orders of magnitude; if I added them all up, they’d probably make a whole book in themselves. (The first thing I read this year, V.E. Schwab’s The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, came emblazoned with a rapturous Gaiman recommendation. We’ve probably seen the last of those, too.)

This news has sparked so many emotions (always understanding that the real victims here are not paperback readers with hurt feelings) — the shock, sadness, and anger that I mentioned before, along with disappointment and resentment, too, resentment at being reminded of something that I would rather not be reminded of, something that all of us who love books and writers (any art, really) would much rather forget. You know what it is.

Baldly stated, it’s this: there is no necessary connection between a person’s moral character and the quality of his or her art.

In practice, this means that second-rate books (or mediocre music, or uninspired paintings, or worthless films) may very well be the sincere productions of otherwise admirable people, upright, honorable men and women of unshakeable integrity.

Good character, in other words, is no guarantee of talent. We know that and don’t have too much trouble acknowledging it; even if it doesn’t seem altogether fair, it’s something we can live with. There’s an obverse side to the coin, though, and that’s something we’re not nearly so comfortable looking at: a morally bad person may nevertheless be capable of producing great art, and we definitely don’t like that. We feel that it shouldn’t be so, because it somehow seems wrong in a way that the other side of the principle doesn’t. But the paradox is still true, even though we may wish it were otherwise.

We’re happier when the two halves come together neatly, when the artist and the art perfectly mesh, as in the case of Mary Anne Evans, who was, by all accounts, one of the finest people ever, and who wrote (under her pen name George Eliot) what I think is the greatest novel in the English language, Middlemarch, a book that glows with the decency, compassion, and generosity that exemplified its author’s private character. Mary Anne Evans poses us no problems.

Not everyone is Mary Ann Evans, though, and the number of people with very serious marks against their character who have produced great works of art is legion. (Dickens treated his wife abominably, Tolstoy was a monster of selfishness, Caravaggio was a murderer, and don’t even get me started about Roman Polanski.) For that reason, I guess this story shouldn’t have surprised me at all — but I’m glad it did. Though Gaiman may have played us all for suckers with his glowing public persona, I’d rather be a sucker than be so cynical that I couldn’t be shocked and depressed by such revelations. If you’re taken off-guard by something like this, it at least means that you still have faith in people; you don’t automatically expect everyone to be a hypocritical scumbag.

Now that this dreadful news is out, though, I’m stuck with the question — how can I reconcile the Neil Gaiman who could write the wonderful, uplifting, life-affirming Graveyard Book with the Neil Gaiman who could commit the atrocious acts that he is accused of?  How can they be the same person?

I don’t know… but it looks like it may be necessary for me to make room for both the revulsion that I feel towards Neil Gaiman the man, and for the genuine joy and pleasure I received from this strange thing that he was somehow able to separate from himself, The Graveyard Book. I can do it, I guess. I’ll have to.

I’m not sure, though, if now I’ll ever read American Gods; I’m not sure I want to anymore.

Thomas Parker is a native Southern Californian and a lifelong science fiction, fantasy, and mystery fan. When not corrupting the next generation as a fourth grade teacher, he collects Roger Corman movies, Silver Age comic books, Ace doubles, and despairing looks from his wife. His last article for us was In Dreams: David Lynch: 1946 – 2025

 

 

The Chaos Weaver (The Chaos Chronicles #1)by Aubrey Winters
What is it about:A dragon took my brother.I’m going to get him back.
My entire world changes when a scheme-gone-wrong results in my brother being taken by a dragon.
I’ve followed them into a strange and dangerous world filled with magic and enemies, but its handsome king has promised to help me hone powers I never knew I had.
Can he help me find my brother, or will I lose my heart—and everything I ever knew—in the process?
What did I think of it:So on social media the author was giving people the opportunity to sign up for an Advance Reader Copy. At her mention of necromancy and a mysterious king, I immediately signed up. And I got an ARC!
This is a really cool read!
I loved Everly from the start. She and her twin brother had a bad start in life and are surviving by conning people and stealing. I didn't really like her brother, but to Everly he is the world. So I could understand she follows and wants to do anything to get him back when a dragon drags him off to another world.
I really enjoyed getting to know this other world together with Everly. She immediately lands in trouble, manages to get out of it, to fall in the next mess. At times she is a bit too trusting, but as the world she landed in has very different rules and she's on her own for the first time in her life, I could understand .
And then there's the mysterious king! 
Without giving away too much I can tell you he was my favorite character (although long time blog followers might be fearing for his life now, I know I do). 
The ending although not a complete cliffhanger was exciting, leaving lots of questions, and made me hungry for more!
I might need to get this in print when it releases (ebook releases January 31st, go preorder!), and I already got a book from another series by this author to try soon.
Why should you read it:Necromancy and a Mysterious King!Need I say more?!

 

Buy A Letter to the Luminous Deep

OFFICIAL AUTHOR BIO: Sylvie Cathrall writes stories of hope and healing with healthy doses of wonder and whimsy. She holds a graduate degree in odd Victorian art and has handled more than a few nineteenth-century letters (with great care). Sylvie married her former pen pal and lives in the mountains, where she dresses impractically and dreams of the sea. 
FORMAT/INFO: A Letter to the Luminous Deep was published by Orbit Books on April 25th, 2024. It is available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook formats. 
OVERVIEW/ANALYSIS: One year ago, a disaster struck the underwater residence known as the Deep House, leaving its two inhabitants, E. and Henerey, presumed dead. After a year of grieving, E.'s sister Sophy and Henerey's brother Vyerin begin to investigate the events that led to their siblings' death. Sifting through correspondence between the many individuals involved, the two begin to uncover a much more ominous mystery than they expected.

A Letter to the Luminous Deep is a charming underwater tale that ultimately dragged too much to keep me hooked. This is a very slow-paced affair, told largely through letters written in the style of the late 1800s. This is certainly a difficult form of novel to pull off. For one, there are occasional moments where the author has to do some narrative contortions to explain why certain events or conversations were put to paper. While I understand the necessity in order to convey certain key information to the reader, it does strain the credulity a bit in some places.

That said, there were also numerous ways the narrative structure worked. I did enjoy the subtle ominous foreboding that builds up over the course of the story. Certain innocuous observations of things that are "off" in the world begin to create an unsettling pattern, especially as we have a rough idea of how events end. Several people each have a piece of the puzzle, but it's only in assembling those pieces by collecting these letters that they (and the audience) start to see the whole picture.

I also liked the slow romance between the two characters of E. and Henerey. Each is a shy or reticent person for various reasons. Through the letters, however, we can see two people being understood in a way they haven't before. The use of aborted "first drafts" of letters also lets us see a little glimpse of their respective nervousness as they try to fumble through how to address a person they've developed feelings for, even though they've never met in person.

The author has also built up a fascinating maritime culture. Some calamity 1000 years ago left this fantasy world with minimal inhabitable land. As a result, whole peoples live one boats or floating collectives. As our focus in this story is on the colleges and scholarly life of these people, most of the details do remain frustratingly out of sight, but perhaps not unreasonably. The people writing the letters are focused on their own narrow slice of life, not on the workings of society as a whole.

CONCLUSION: While I did enjoy my read of A Letter to the Luminous Deep overall, I found it struggled to hold my attention towards the end. The narrative structure of letters just dragged events out. We have a good idea of what happened some thirty pages or so before the ending, with the rest of the characters trying to catch up through their long-winded missives. As someone who struggles with slow books, ultimately this just didn't click for me. While the set up for part two of the duology is intriguing, this tale simply isn't my cup of tea.

  

Image by Ervin Gjata from Pixabay

Good afterevenmorn (or whenever you’re reading this)!

Welp, what a start to 2025. Personally, it hasn’t been great. I kicked off the year very ill (thanks, Covid), languishing in bed wondering if this was the moment I drown without ever touching water. ‘Twas not pretty. Looking wider, the world appears to be literally on fire, or underwater, or deliberately reduced to rubble. It’s not been a good time for a whole lot of folks. I have been taking care of myself by largely staying off social media (sorry if I was missed. But I was already overwhelmed and unable to cope with my own busy-ness, let alone the worries of the world at large), and engaging in art. Not creating physically, as I’ve been very unwell, but consuming, art. Okay, I’ve been watching lots of Chinese dramas (some of which I don’t remember because I was in a feverish haze). That still counts, though.

I’ve also been daydreaming a lot, which is usually the important first step in my creative process. I have a new book in my head. All I need to do is finish the book I’m working on now, and then sit down and draw out this story word by word. I expect that it will become my next free online serial.

Though I’m sick… again (not Covid this time, just an annoying flu)… I’m in a much better place, coping-wise. And I owe that to art.

Some art, to cheer up the page.

It has been a recent (or not so recent, depending on your perspective) trend toward denigrating the arts; removing funding for it, making absurd claims that those who provide it should not be properly compensated, or ignoring complete just how important the arts are and how much we rely upon them.

Think about it.

What usually happens when we’ve had a rough day? Most folks will go home, mix themselves a drink, and then turn on the television, or fire up that console or gaming PC. Those shows that you watch? Art. Those games you play? Art. Someone wrote, blocked, shot, and edited those episodes/games. Actors and voice actors stepped in to fill those roles. Composers created the score. This is also true for those of us who turn to films to make us feel better. I often watch movies that make me cry when I’ve had a rough time. It helps me get the angst out (as I usually struggle to feel at all. Yay, depression!). Sometimes, I’m not in the mood to cry, so I’ll put on a really dumb action flick because explosions and absurd situations make me happy. Sometimes it’s to laugh at the movie. Sometimes it’s to experience the catharsis of evil getting what it deserves. We so infrequently see that in the real world.

From the game Detroit Become Human – a fantastic exploration of AI what makes a person a person.

Television and film aren’t the only way we interact and lean on art.

I cannot tell you the number of times I have been struggling with, well, everything, and unable to find a way to express or clear it away. Then the right piece of music hits, and suddenly I’m a puddle on the floor, or my mind is hijacked and taken on a really impressive adventure. I lean on music a lot for coping with the world. It is even an incredibly important part of my writing process. I have crafted entire novels off a single song (the most recent example would be Skylark, which was written the moment I listened to a song, and then also with that one song on repeat for the three months it took to get that story out onto the page). I have listened to a song, and a critical scene plays out like a movie in my head, guided by the music. The most striking example is this song:

One day, if that story is ever published, I’ll let you all know which scene in particular this song engendered.

Books, of course, including audio books and comics, are other ways the arts create space for us. There are so many reasons and ways literature of all kinds can help. The simplest is a brief escape. I’m no longer me, sitting on the sofa, utterly destroyed by the state of the world. I’m a silent observer; part of adventuring party, or even the main character in another story. And in this story, however high the stakes may be, I am still safe on my sofa. It doesn’t matter what kind of escape. A low stakes, cozy read? Excellent escape. A dire, world-ending threat full of struggle and grief? Excellent escape (and also an opportunity to let those tears out at last). Escape is so important. It’s not forever. And it won’t solve the real-life problems for you.

Image by Mystic Art Design from Pixabay

But rest is important. If you don’t have a rest day in your workout regime, your muscles will have not time heal, recover and grow. If you do not get adequate sleep, your cognitive function will be severely impacted. It’s no different for your mind/heart. If you don’t take a break from what is causing you distress, you’ll collapse beneath the weight of it all. It’s important to escape. Do it, and don’t feel guilty for it.

Literature also helps navigate terrible situations and scenarios for those of us who struggle with doing so in the real world. It helps give voice, using someone else’s words, to our experiences with enough separation that we remain safe. And sometimes, sometimes it can unlock the tings we need released in order to move forward. I have often been struggling with a completely separate grief, read a particularly tragic incident in a story that has nothing to do with whatever is weighing on me, and then cried. And cried. And cried. Not about the events in the book. But about the situation I’m facing. It’s just that the book helped unlocked the emotions that were trapped behind a dam I didn’t know I had built. Visual media has also helped with this; more with videogames than television shows or films of late, admittedly.

It’s no mistake that nearly all of us turn to the arts when things start going wrong. The arts are important and necessary.

So this is how you survive these interesting times. Consume art.

Image by Jose Antonio Alba from Pixabay

And make it.

I know it’s incredibly difficult to create with the world literally on fire. Or if you’re sick in bed with all the energy of a sloth after a big meal. All the same, human beings are creators by nature. It doesn’t matter what art you create. Or if other people think that art is good. You don’t have to share it at all. It’s just for you. Just create.

That can mean something as simple as buying yourself a colouring book and going to town with crayons or pencils. Hell, even a ball-point pen will work if you’re in a pinch. Got some time between tasks at work? Doodle. Write a short poem. A piece of flash fiction. It doesn’t have to practical. It doesn’t have to be monetized. It does not have to appeal to anyone else. It’s just for you, unless you want otherwise.

If you want, share your art. But that is not required.

It is hard right now. It’s alright if you’re struggling to create. Lord knows, I am. Finding motivation is tough in the current clime. Sometimes I think that’s by design. If you’re too busy trying to stay afloat, how can you imagine anything better for yourself, your neighbours, or the world? So, if anger, frustration and rage is all you have left, use that. Create from that.

Create out of spite.

Create. Make it a giant middle finger to the people who are trying to hold you down, make it hard, steal your joy, stop you from imagining.

Create art. Consume art. It is good for your soul, and the world could use more soul, I feel.

And if you have the means, consider tossing a coin to your Witcher (artist), for their skills have kept the monsters at bay for a little while longer. And in a world full of monsters, that is not nothing.

When S.M. Carrière isn’t brutally killing your favorite characters, she spends her time teaching martial arts, live streaming video games, and cuddling her cat. In other words, she spends her time teaching others to kill, streaming her digital kills, and a cuddling furry murderer. Her most recent titles include Daughters of Britain, Skylark and Human. Her serial The New Haven Incident is free and goes up every Friday on her blog.

Dive into Vanishing Treasures, by Katherine Rundell, exploring the delicate balance between cultural heritage and…

The post “Vanishing Treasures: A Bestiary of Extraordinary and Endangered Creatures” by Katherine Rundell appeared first on LitStack.

 

Our realm, splintered and broken, yearned to be united under a single ruler. The Witches may have won and put one of their own on the throne, but even they had suffered.

(page 1, The Queen's Blade by Evelyn Ward)
---------
Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, previously hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following: - Grab your current read - Open to a random page - Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!) - Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their  TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

The finale to John Gwynne’s Bloodsworn, The Fury of the Gods, brings the Norse epic to a grand conclusion. The conflagration of warriors, wolf-gods, dragon-gods, rat-gods, and other various and sundry supernatural entities comes to a head as the dragon god, Lik-Rifa, seeks to take over the world and expunge her sibling gods while Varg,…

 

From the BLURB: 
Polly, Annie, Elizabeth, Catherine and Mary-Jane are famous for the same thing, though they never met.
They came from Fleet Street, Knightsbridge, Wolverhampton, Sweden and Wales. They wrote ballads, ran coffee houses, lived on country estates, they breathed ink-dust from printing presses and escaped people-traffickers. 
What they had in common was the year of their murders: 1888. 
Their murderer was never identified, but the name created for him by the press has become far more famous than any of these five women. 
Now, in this devastating narrative of five lives, historian Hallie Rubenhold finally sets the record straight, and gives these women back their stories. 
⦾
The Five: The Untold Lives of the Women Killed by Jack the Ripper by Hallie Rubenhold, read on audiobook by Louise Brealey. 
“Poor women were expendable …”
I listened to the audiobook of this, via my library's BorrowBox app - even though I've also owned the B-format paperback since about 2020, I could just never bring myself (or my heart) to pick it  up and read it of my own volition, but on audiobook I tore through it. And under the talent of Brealey's narration, who could bring out various regional accents to really help things along - it was superb. 
This was such a tough listen but I’m really really glad that I finished this book and I found it to be an extraordinary non-fiction work and by far one of the best non-fiction books I’ve read in a long time. 
I was completely upended, however to discover that this book has pissed off so many people and specifically “Ripperologists” to the point that Hallie Rubenhold has been horribly abused and harassed because she did to research into the canonical five victims of Jack the Ripper - and put fourth credible evidence that not all of them were prostitutes as the sick lore of this madman murdering spree dictated for so long. 
Her book is a gracious and human examination of what it meant to be a woman in the 1880s and the impossible position that they were put in to either be Madonna or whore. She digs into the Victorian mindset of the time that insisted that their murders had to somehow be prescriptive to the wider public and so they were painted as Scarlet women. Their stories absolutely broke my heart and patterns did emerge in all of them — domestic violence, alcoholism (if only to have some alleviation from the drudgery of being a woman at the time) …  the way people were kept impoverished and women in particular who had to bear the burden of childbirth and child rearing. Lack of education being the lightning rod overarching issue for so many people of this time. Just an incredible historical examination of everything never said about these women that I found to be so touching and crucial.
As I was reading, I was repeatedly struck by the realisation of how true it is now - just as it was in 1888 - that all it takes is a bad bout of luck, illness or injury for any one of us to experience houselessness and our fate to be completely undone. I thought that about each of these women at so many points in their life as Hallie unpicked them for us ... and my god, did my heart go out to them - across space and time. 
The very final chapter in the book is the Author listing all of the items found on four of the victims upon their death; in one of their pockets was one red mitten — and that visual is just touching and heartbreaking, as was the entire book.
5/5

 

From the BLURB: 

A BOY MEETS A GIRL. THE PAST MEETS THE FUTURE. A FINGER MEETS A TRIGGER. THE BEGINNING MEETS THE END. ENGLAND IS FOREVER. ENGLAND MUST FALL. 

In the near future, a disaffected civil servant is offered a lucrative job in a mysterious new government ministry gathering 'expats' from across history to test the limits of time-travel. 

Her role is to work as a 'bridge': living with, assisting and monitoring the expat known as '1847' - Commander Graham Gore. As far as history is concerned, Commander Gore died on Sir John Franklin's doomed expedition to the Arctic, so he's a little disoriented to find himself alive and surrounded by outlandish concepts such as 'washing machine', 'Spotify' and 'the collapse of the British Empire'. With an appetite for discovery and a seven-a-day cigarette habit, he soon adjusts; and during a long, sultry summer he and his bridge move from awkwardness to genuine friendship, to something more. 

But as the true shape of the project that brought them together begins to emerge, Gore and the bridge are forced to confront their past choices and imagined futures. Can love triumph over the structures and histories that have shaped them? And how do you defy history when history is living in your house?

'The Ministry of Time' is the debut novel from British-Cambodian writer and editor based in London, Kaliane Bradley. 

So, this may well be my favourite book of 2024. WOW-ee. What an enjoyable read, especially for a low-science fiction girly whose particular proclivity is time-travel tales (those are always my fave 'Doctor Who' episodes, the back-in-time ones). So, some random observations; 

⦿ I am very fond of 2005 YA novel 'The White Darkness' by Geraldine McCaughrean, which is about a teenage girl who is genuinely in love with (the long-dead) Captain Lawrence 'Titus' Oates from the doomed Terra Nova Expedition. So when I read the blurb for 'The Ministry of Time' about Britain having harnessed time-travel and successfully bought six travellers from various eras to the modern-day, including Commander Graham Gore from the doomed Franklin expedition - I was all in. *Especially* when the blurb hinted that Gore's present-day "bridge" - the protagonist of the novel who is tasked with helping him acclimatise and who maybe starts to develop feelings - I was *ALL IN*. 

⦿ Time-travel has always been my bag. Modern-day women falling for out-of-time men is my particular favourite sub-genre ... I know exactly when this started; 'Playing Beatie Bow' by Ruth Park, and the time-travelling Abigail falling for Judah in the 1800's. This was particularly cemented when I read 'Outlander' by Diana Gabaldon as an 18-year-old; WWII army-nurse Claire passing through the stones to Jamie Fraser in the 18th century. No doubt there's some Marty McFly 'Back to the Future' Michael J. Fox appreciation thrown in there too. But this sub-genre of sci-fi and time-travel is my jamboree. And 'The Ministry of Time' gave it to me in HEAPINGS of timey-wimey goodness. The romance is slow-burn but makes up for it because our protagonist (whose name we don't know, but we get an intimate first-person account from) crushes HARD on Gore and that amps up the burn. But I was also very sucked into the mechanics and politics of the time-travel itself, so it wasn't like I was ever cooling my heels and checking my watch for the low sci-fi to get good ... it was ALL good. 

⦿ The politics of time-travel in this book reminded me of the Norwegian sci-fi series 'Beforeigners', about people from different time-periods suddenly randomly appearing in Oslo, becoming refugees of time that the Norwegian government has to deal with. It's also a little bit like the (brilliant) Aussie TV series 'Glitch' set in a small outback town where; 'Seven people from different time-periods return from the dead with no memory and attempt to unveil what brought them to the grave in the first place.' I like this connection in particular because there's a shady organisation linked to the raising of the dead, a big-pharma laboratory called "Noregard" (best in-universe name for a corporation, ever.) It's also a wee bit like the 2001 rom-com starring Hugh Jackman and Meg Ryan, 'Kate & Leopold' about an English Duke from 1876 falling for a modern-day New Yorker when he's unceremoniously dragged into the future. If any/all of those recs are your picnic; this book is for you. 

⦿ He filled the room like a horizon ... the writing was sumptuous, and gorgeous at times. Sometimes Bradley had a turn-of-phrase of description that made me go "ohhhhh." When something changes you constitutionally, you say: ‘the earth moved,’ but the earth stays the same. It’s your relationship with the ground that shifts. 

⦿ I actually first heard about this book, in a Guardian round-up of British debuts to look out for, and the description of Kaliane Bradley's idea made my spine sizzle and then I Googled her even more and found that she partly wrote the idea for 'The Ministry of Time' during Covid and lockdowns and because she kinda fell in love with the only photograph of Graham Gore. No, really. 'Kaliane Bradley Fell in Love With a Dead Man. The Result Is The Ministry of Time' ... if that's not an *amazing* sales-pitch I don't know what is. 

⦿ I just loved this. It's extremely cinematic and I wouldn't be surprised to find it is being developed into a movie or limited-TV series. It both feels appropriately head-nodding to plenty of other fabulous low-sci-fi time-travel that will make aficionados happy, but also sparkly-unique enough to keep adding to the conversation about the space-time continuum. Even if I guessed the small twist that comes, I did so because I know this sub-genre so well and expected certain markers along the way and Bradley did not disappoint. I loved this so much, I was only one-chapter in when I knew it'd give me the best bookish hangover and be hard book to follow-up, probably throwing me into a reading-rut.

5/5

 

From the BLURB: 

Nova Weetman’s unforgettable memoir reflects on experiences of love and loss from throughout her life, including: losing her beloved partner, playwright Aidan Fennessy, during the 2020 Covid lockdown; the death of her mother ten years earlier; her daughter turning eighteen and finishing school; and her own physical ageing. Using these events as a lens, Nova considers how various kinds of losses – and the complicated love they represent – change us and can become the catalysts for letting go.

This is a moving, honest account of farewelling a partner of twenty-five years, parenting teenagers through grief, buying property for the first time at the age of fifty, watching Aidan live on through his plays, and learning to appreciate spending hours alone with only the household cat for company. Warm and wise – and often joyful – Love, Death & Other Scenes ultimately focuses on the living we do after losses and what we learn from them.

At one point while reading Nova Weetman's memoir, I said out loud to the empty room; "Geez, you're good Nova."

Such was the power and force of certain sentences, ideas, inflections and offerings throughout. "As writers, we are stealers of other peoples memories, bowerbirds of story," she writes at one point - and then puts that ability to collect on full display throughout as she recounts the life she built with her partner, playwright Aidan Fennessy, who battled and then died from prostate cancer in 2020 during Melbourne's numerous lockdowns and waves of Covid.

I know Nova as a colleague, a fellow middle-grade author and someone I greatly admire, and whose books I truly - hand on heart - believe helped me in tapping into my own voice for this age group. I think it's a little odd that I feel like I know-her, *know* her now after reading 'Love, Death & Other Scenes,' though. And especially because I have a tangential understanding of the loss she and her two children experienced in 2020. My uncle died after his third bout of cancer - having beat the other two, it was pancreatic in the end, third time unlucky - and unlike Nova's partner who had the option but didn't use it; my uncle chose Voluntary Assisted Dying and went out on his own terms, at home, December 2020. We were all there. I'm both surprised and not at all by how much reading Nova's perspective of a death like that during Covid - which I watched my aunt and cousin go through, one of the helpers minding children and looking for ways to ease their pain - I needed to reexamine and feel.

But I'm also surprised at how beautifully romantic this book was too, as Nova writes about how she and Aidan first met - how she fell first, and pursued ... how so much of their relationship felt like it needed balancing, especially in their creative exchange; ‘He introduced me to albums I’d never heard, to singers dead before my time, and the way that songs stain your memories giving them meaning they don’t have in silence.'

In this too, I feel weirdly intimate to the story because Nova writes about Aidan's final play he ever wrote - 'The Heartbreak Choir' - finally being staged, but only after his death. His final work he never got to see fully-realised. It's because I know Nova and am a fan of hers, that I was aware through social media what she was going through - and when tickets became available for 'The Heartbreak Choir' debut performance in Melbourne, I snapped them up for both myself, my mum, and my aunt - also knowing that she in particular may find some comfort in both the story, and its background. And she did - we all did. I saw 'The Heartbreak Choir' in May 2022 and loved it! A play my Aunt still talks about, has triggered her love of theatre to the point that she and my mum will now spontaneously ask me to check out what's on and what's coming up, book something for us all.

'Love, Death & Other Scenes' feels like another chapter to that play, in a way. How apt, that Nova muses towards the end of her memoir; ‘And it is in words that I can find him,' and it's in both her words and his that I feel something being unlocked, and another story I want to share with my family. That I want to press this book into their hands and say; 'It's us, a little bit.' We're not so alone, I think.

5/5

 

From the BLURB: 

A seriously FUNNY, seriously CLEVER history of our early kings and queens by one of our favourite comedians and cultural commentators.

This will be the most refreshing, entertaining history of England you'll have ever read.

Certainly, the funniest.

Because David Mitchell will explain how it is not all names, dates or ungraspable historical headwinds, but instead show how it's really just a bunch of random stuff that happened with a few lucky bastards ending up on top. Some of these bastards were quite strange, but they were in charge, so we quite literally lived, and often still live, by their rules.

It's a great story. And it's our story. If you want to know who we are in modern Britain, you need to read this book.

 ♛ ♛ ♛

This just *delighted* me and had me running to find any other audiobooks of David Mitchell's on my Library's BorrowBox app (and yes, I am forever disappointed when somebody says "David Mitchell" and means the bloke who wrote Cloud Atlas. I want 'Peep Show' David Mitchell, 'Upstart Crow' David Mitchell - and this book proves why!)

I listened to this while I walked the dog, and I must have looked like a King George III-level maniac laughing and guffawing as I picked up his poo (with a bag) and walked blithely along, nodding and laugh/crying ... but it was truly just *that* good!

David Mitchell's injections and rants are next-level (at one point he manages to tie in the absurdity of awards for art; like the year that the theme song for 'Shaft' was up against 'The Age of Not Believing' from 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks' for best song at the Oscars, to which he says you may as well compare a fish-finger to a ladder for all the good it does to categorise and quantify two pieces of art like that ... and he's not wrong!)

Mitchell only takes the book up to King James-ish because he says that was the last time that monarchy had true, absolute power before Parliament, Prime Ministers, foreign Governments and such started interfering with what the royals had bamboozled England into thinking was "divine rule," ... I do hope he decides to write a second-book about the waning royals (is it too much to ask that he give a full-throated debate on why a Republic would be better? Throughout the listening of this I could feel his tension to rein in what could have been an 11-hour long rant on the subject!)

As such, this was perhaps the most enjoyable new read I've encountered this year so far. Amazing!

5/5

 

From the BLURB: 

Legend goes that long ago a Flores woman offended the old gods, and their family was cursed as a result. Now, every woman born to the family has a touch of magic. 

Sage Flores has been running from her family—and their “gifts”—ever since her younger sister Sky died. Eight years later, Sage reluctantly returns to her hometown. Like slipping into an old, comforting sweater, Sage takes back her job at Cranberry Rose Company and uses her ability to communicate with plants to discover unusual heritage specimens in the surrounding lands. 

What should be a simple task is complicated by her partner in botany sleuthing: Tennessee Reyes. He broke her heart in high school, and she never fully recovered. Working together is reminding her of all their past tender, genuine moments—and new feelings for this mature sexy man are starting to take root in her heart. 

With rare plants to find, a dead sister who keeps bringing her coffee, and another sister whose anger fills the sky with lightning, Sage doesn’t have time for romance. But being with Tenn is like standing in the middle of a field on the cusp of a summer thunderstorm—supercharged and inevitable.

I am a seasonal reader, and that’s a very hard thing to be in Melbourne at the moment where we’re swinging between heatwaves and downpours. So I find it interesting that in a bit of a reading slump, I randomly decided to reach for a witchy book that includes a character whose mood can change the weather … 

This is my first read by Gilliland - and it’s her third book, but first adult romance. Her second YA book - ‘How Moon Fuentez Fell in Love with the Universe’ - won and was shortlisted for a slew of awards, and was already on my radar. But TikTok actually put me onto ‘Witch of Wild Things’ - about a Mexican woman who returns to her hometown where her dead sister haunts her, another curses her, and the boy who made her swoon over AOL until he broke her heart has grown into a hot man with forearm tattoos.

The fact that we come from dirt, and eventually turn to dirt, is spooky and incredible to think about it at the same time. My sister is dirt by now, surely. All of our ancestors are, too. This must make dirt holy, holy enough for the old gods to walk upon it from time to time. Holy enough that Nadia gives it a little cup of espresso to drink every single morning.

 I’m so glad I started with this book because it *hit the spot* - was lovely and spicy, but also made me weepy and tender-hearted. Our protagonist Sage has a particular story-arc about being the oldest sibling to her two sisters, and defaulting to a parental responsibility role that’s so rarely explored in fiction like this … imagine Luisa Madrigal’s ‘Surface Pressure’ song from ENCANTO, made into a novel. 

It’s also very ‘Practical Magic’ by Alice Hoffman (BUT - it’s actually more of the 1998 Sandra Bullock/Nicole Kidman classic movie ‘Practical Magic,’ with its cottagecore-comfy and whimsy, whereas the book is … not? It’s darker. So if you prefer movie ‘Practical Magic’ then *this* is the book for you … not the actual Hoffman book, FYI and lol) 

You can *kinda* tell that this book struggled to find a strong plot, however. And Gilliland hints at this in her acknowledgements, where she talks about a severe bout of writer's block from which this story was borne, from the scraps of an abandoned and unworkable idea. It does have a little bit of that feeling, like; she was immersed in this town and this family, the universe, and an actual strong through-line of story had to be somewhat shoehorned in. 

So while I loved this - I maybe would have liked a few threads to be more deeply explored and wrapped up, and *maybe* it got slightly too easy by the end … but those are minor quibbles in an otherwise very sparkly and lovely book.

4/5

 

From the BLURB: 

When Yael Silver’s world comes crashing down, she looks to the past for answers and finds solace in surprising places. An unconventional new friendship, a seaside safe space and an unsettling amount of dairy help her to heal, as she wrestles with her demons – and some truly terrible erotic literature. 

Funny and tender, Everyone and Everything is about friendship, grief and the deep, frustrating bond between sisters. It asks what makes us who we are and what leads us onto ledges. Perfect for fans of Meg Mason, Nora Ephron and Victoria Hannan, this is an intimate, wry and wise exploration of one woman’s journey to the brink and back.

---

'Everyone and Everything' is the 2023 debut by Australian author, Nadine J. Cohen - from Pantera Press.

I've just come off an absolute roll with a certain type of new (millennial?) women's fiction. I've been calling it 'Fleabag'-esque. I don't like the term "well-dressed and distressed," for how some of the covers are often stylised - but I'd take "Women's Fiction with Bite." So I was in a bookshop the other day with a legit legend bookseller (Jaci from Hill of Content) who knows I have devoured 'Crushing' by Genevieve Novak, 'A Light in the Dark' by Allee Richards,' and 'Search History' by Amy Taylor ... when we were browsing the shelves and she just gently placed Nadine J. Cohen's debut into my hands and said; "Trust me," and reader - she was right. 

This is the story of Yael Silver who joined the 'orphan's club,' far too young, and when the book begins has just made an unsuccessful attempt to end her life because of her latent grief over the deaths of both her parents and Nanna, an f-boy who emotionally wrecked and ghosted her and a general feeling like she's become a burden to her older sister, Liora. 

Yael is on a long and slow pathway to recovery that largely begins in earnest when she starts regularly visiting the McIver's Ladies Baths in Coogee - perched on a cliff-face and offering her a scenic place to cry and read bad erotic fiction in peace. Until she meets older woman Shirley and they form an odd and healing friendship. 

At one point Liora asks Yael; 'Is that what it's like in your head all the time?' after she shares another random and disturbing thought, to which Yael replies; 'Yup.' And this is essentially the book, too. Chapters are broken down by months spanning a whole year, but they're made up of almost vignette fragments; wisps of memory and tangents (sometimes deeply emotional, recounting her childhood or the lead-up and come-down of her Nanna, mother and father's deaths - other times pop-culture heavy; "Pacey Witter cures all ills.") It's all cogent, I must stress, and brilliantly done for reading like a patchwork of a healing mind, and the memory-squares amounting to so much insight as to who Yael is as a person. She's deeply funny and relatable (from Cher Horowitz praise to 'Gilmore Girls' marathons, she reads like a friend) but also very broken and fragile, and I found myself both smiling and crying in equal measure. 

Jewish identity is also tenderly touched on in this book in a way that I really don't feel like I've read much in contemporary Australian fiction. Like how Yael looks back on her Nanna, mother and father's mental states at various times in their lives - how she retrospectively wonders what her grandparents being Holocaust survivors must have done to those lines of generational trauma;

I think about her often fraught relationship with mum, who, like all children of survivors, grew up with irrevocably damaged parents, and six million ghosts. 

... and musing on how comfortable Jewish people are with death, compared to gentiles. 

I absolutely adored this book. It wasn't easy, but it was beautifully wrought and Yael was a fine companion.

5/5

 

From the BLURB: 
Gwen, the quick-witted Princess of England, and Arthur, future lord and general gadabout, have been betrothed since birth. Unfortunately, the only thing they can agree on is that they hate each other. 
When Gwen catches Art kissing a boy and Art discovers where Gwen hides her diary (complete with racy entries about Bridget Leclair, the kingdom's only female knight), they become reluctant allies. By pretending to fall for each other, their mutual protection will be assured. 
But how long can they keep up the ruse? With Gwen growing closer to Bridget, and Art becoming unaccountably fond of Gabriel, Gwen's infuriatingly serious, bookish brother, the path to true love is looking far from straight …

'Gwen and Art Are Not in Love' by Lex Croucher is; "an outrageously entertaining take on the fake dating trope."
I know, I know - I am forever forgetting about my first bookish social platform love, my blog. I can't promise I'll be any better about updating on here in 2024, but I don't want to let the cobwebs entirely take over so I wanted to at least shout out a *little* something.
This 2023 YA historical queer title is my first Lex Croucher read, but it won't be my last by the British author because I absolutely fell head-over-heels in love with this book! 
It exists in a post-King Arthur world, where the legend of Camelot and the Round Table still live on as myth and legend and the latest crop of teenage young royals are dealt the unfortunate blow of being politically and patriotically moulded into the second-coming of that once-great reign. Down to the political marriage alliance between princess Gwen and wealthy Lord, Arthur - who have been betrothed since childhood, and hated each other since then too. 
Their feelings towards each other are particularly clouded because both are queer and develop feelings for others throughout the timeline of a tournament that Gwen's father has thrown to highlight the prosperity of new Camelot. 
For Arthur, it's Gwen's brother and the next King of England - Gabriel - who perhaps feels the weight of Arthur Pendragon more than anyone. For Gwen, it's the only female knight competing, Bridget LeClair. 
I cannot stress enough how much I loved this book; not least for the wide themes it addresses about weight of expectation, what history highlights and hides, and how much of courage takes fear. 
'To be truly brave, first you must be afraid—and to be afraid, you must have something you cannot bear to lose.'  There's also plenty in here about how cruel families can be, and how your chosen family can come to mean more and see you so much clearer than you see yourself; 

‘You know … fathers aren’t always right, just by virtue of being fathers. Or even … just by virtue of being king.’

This was also a deeply, deeply funny book. One of my favourite character's was Arthur's steward, Sidney and the brotherly/jovial relationship they had with one another. 
But hands-down, the romances are stand-out. I was swept up in Bridget and Gwen, Arthur and Gabriel and every heart-palpitating glance, kiss, up-against-a-wall make-out session ... all of it! I actually loved them all so much, I'd have been fully onboard had Croucher announced this as an ongoing series following the foursome as they stand to rule over a very new England. 
Alas, she's moving on to another queering of a beloved myth next; Not for the Faint of Heart, a Robin Hood re-do! *squeeeeee*!

I can't wait! 
5/5

Daughter of The Moon Goddess ( The Celestial Kingdom #1)bought on Audible
Synopsis from Goodreads
Growing up on the moon, Xingyin is accustomed to solitude, unaware that she is being hidden from the feared Celestial Emperor who exiled her mother for stealing his elixir of immortality. But when Xingyin’s magic flares and her existence is discovered, she is forced to flee her home, leaving her mother behind.
Alone, powerless, and afraid, she makes her way to the Celestial Kingdom, a land of wonder and secrets. Disguising her identity, she seizes an opportunity to learn alongside the emperor's son, mastering archery and magic, even as passion flames between her and the prince.
To save her mother, Xingyin embarks on a perilous quest, confronting legendary creatures and vicious enemies across the earth and skies. But when treachery looms and forbidden magic threatens the kingdom, she must challenge the ruthless Celestial Emperor for her dream—striking a dangerous bargain in which she is torn between losing all she loves or plunging the realm into chaos.
A captivating debut fantasy inspired by the legend of Chang'e, the Chinese moon goddess, in which a young woman’s quest to free her mother pits her against the most powerful immortal in the realm. Daughter of the Moon Goddess begins an enchanting, romantic duology which weaves ancient Chinese mythology into a sweeping adventure of immortals and magic—where love vies with honor, dreams are fraught with betrayal, and hope emerges triumphant.
8.5/10* * *
This turned out surprisingly good! I started the book rolling my eyes hard at sugary romance between the prince and his companion. Classic xinxia setup! 
However, they both proved me wrong with their level of maturity. Basically, both ML and FL got over themselves pretty quickly and went on with their lives like adults. 
The secondary romance developed so fast I must have blinked and missed its onset, but it definitely added tension and depth, especially when two men had to work together. * snort* Oh, the antagonism!
I'd say the action sequences were the most interesting and best written and I wished the author elaborated more about Xingyin's missions in the army as I was entertained the most with their descriptions.
Overall, a solid four star read. Will be checking out the next book in the series. 

 

From the BLURB: 

Full-cast BBC Radio 4 dramatisations of the first five Falco novels by Lindsey Davis, starring Anton Lesser as Marcus Didius Falco.

The Silver Pigs:

 One fine day, AD 70, Sosia Camillina quite literally runs into Marcus Didius Falco on the steps of the Forum. It seems Sosia is on the run from a couple of street toughs, and after a quick and dirty rescue, PI Falco wants to know why. Hoping for future favours from Sosia's powerful uncle, Falco embarks on an intricate case of smuggling, murder, and treason that reaches into the palace itself.

Shadows in Bronze:

 Rome, AD 71. Against his better judgment, Marcus Didius Falco secretly disposes of a decayed corpse for the Emperor Vespasian, then heads for the beautiful Bay of Naples with his friend Petronius. But this will be no holiday: they have been sent to investigate the murderous members of a failed coup, now sunning themselves in luxurious villas and on fancy yachts in Neapolis, Capreae, and Pompeii. 

Venus in Copper:

 A small accounting error has left Marcus Didius Falco sharing a cell with a large rat. But the Roman Empire's most hard-done-by investigator is finally bailed out and promptly accepts a commission to help a family of freed slaves fend off a professional bribe....

The Iron Hand of Mars:

 Falco is dispatched to one of the most hostile parts of the empire to deliver a new standard, an iron hand, to one of the legions. Germania is cold, wet, dismal and full of dark forests inhabited by bloodthirsty barbarians, but Falco has an even bigger problem to worry about: he has forgotten Helena Justina's birthday, and she is being pursued by the Emperor's son Titus Caesar. 

Poseidon’s Gold:

 Returning to Rome after his mission to Germania, Falco finds that his mother is being harassed by a centurion named Censorinus, who says he is chasing a debt owed to him by Falco's late brother, Festus. When Falco refuses to cough up the money, he and Censorinus end up fighting...and later, the centurion turns up dead. Under suspicion of murder, Falco must confront his past and uncover his brother's secrets before he can clear his name and solve the mystery.

These funny and fast-moving adaptations are a treat for all Falco fans.

***

Ahhhhh!!

Okay, I started listening to the first X5 'Marcus Didius Falco' books by Lindsey Davis, adapted for BBC radio (Dramatised by Mary Cutler, Directed by Peter Leslie Wild) because my library had them on the BorrowBox app.

I'd been vaguely aware of this series as a great recommendation of a Historical Crime - but given that they were first published in 1989 and there's currently 32-instalments across two series, it just seemed like a huge investment of time, money and resources .... step in local library and BorrowBox, not to mention how entertaining and *wonderful* this condensed BBC Radio Play was!

I think this series is absolutely brilliant; a gumshoe Roman-noir detective series set in AD-70 and featuring a wiry, jaded and sleazy 30-something ex-soldier who is somewhat scarred from his time fighting against the Boudica-uprising.

The first book in the series 'Silver Pigs' has Falco getting entangled with a Senator's family with a missing daughter whom Falco stumbled across and tried to help ... this has him becoming embroiled in a far great conspiracy scandal against the Roman Empire that Falco finds himself being hired to investigate (difficult, since he's also an avowed Republican - given he still has memories of Rome under psychotic Nero).

From the first book he meets the missing girl's cousin, Helena Justina - and she becomes his HEA and one-true-love throughout the rest of the series. I absolutely *love* this aspect, since I can only get invested in ongoing crime-series if there are relationships and romances established from the jump (hello, Karin Slaughter) and I rather love that Helena is far too good for Falco (and he knows it) but she sees and brings out the best in him, and the two spar and sizzle on the page.

Lindsey Davis does a marvellous job of bringing Rome to life and moulding her crime-of-the-week plot-lines around fascinating tidbits of Roman history; from their Legions to their love of art and culture, all within the seedy underbelly of Rome - the literal centre of the universe and first Empire. It has actually made me want to visit Italy for the first time, if only because the history Davis paints is so vivid I feel compelled to reach out and touch what's left of it ...

The BBC Radio Play truly is marvellous, and with a rich acting list;

Falco — Anton Lesser

Helena — Fritha Goodey/Anna Madeley

Petronius — Ben Crowe

Ma — Frances Jeater

Pa — Trevor Peacock

Vespasian— Michael Tudor Barnes

Titus —Jonathan Keeble

I cannot even begin to tell you how awks it is that I found Anton Lesser's voice to be so sexy in this (he who played Qyburn in 'Game of Thrones') and now that I'm getting deeper into Falco fandom, I also appreciate that many of them Fan-Cast Andrew Scott in the role, if it is ever adapted (and that is *spot-on*!)

I do know some fans were disappointed that to condense the books down to 2-4 hour radio-plays, much of Falco's interiority got cut for pacing - and that's apparently where he truly shines, and we see his cleverness and humour - so I am most looking forward to hunting down secondhand copies of ALLLLLLLL these books (R.I.P. my wallet) and getting stuck into a book-reading of the series to properly meet un-edited Falco. I might skim-read the first 5 books, just to make sure the BBC put me in good-standing and foundation for the rest of the series, but overall I'm just so grateful that they offered me a taster into this far-reaching and epic series and now I know for sure that it's right up my alley.

5/5

 

Butterflied Lover (2023)

22 episodes, watched on Viki

Synopsis from MyDramaList

Inspired by the romance of Liang Shang Bo and Zhu Ying Tai, the story revolves around two lovers who will overcome all obstacles to remain together. 

Ling Chang Feng is an honourable general and has been in a passionate marriage with his wife for the past 3 years. 

However, a strange disturbance hits their city on their third anniversary, and "madmen" run wild in the town, attacking innocent citizens violently.

 Ling Chang Feng leaves his wife behind to protect the people, but when he returns, finds that his wife has been infected by this phenomenon. 

He refuses to reveal this, as he knows that anyone who turns mad will be killed. He keeps her by his side in secret while trying to solve the cause of this frightful phenomenon.

8.5/10

* * *

It's an exceptionally well made bite size drama, folks (each episode is only 15 mins). You can see they had a very tight budget but they used it so, so well. The plot is fresh, the scenes are carefully crafted and the cinematography is masterful. I watched other two short dramas from the same director, and they were both fantastic (The Killer is Also Romantic, A Familiar Stranger). So, please, don't hesitate to invest your time in this drama.

It starts with Chang Feng and Qian Yue happily married in a fictional Chinese city state. She keeps having a recurring dream about reliving the same day until it actually happens and she gets embroiled in a tragic attack by this world's equivalent of vampires. 

After that we are taken into the past, where it shows how Chang Feng met his future wife and how their relationship developed. As she says, her memory starts from him. So she herself is full of secrets and has no memory of her past, a woman who literally had to learn anew everything. 

Their relationship develops from him looking after her as this almost childlike creature until she slowly matures and finds her strengths turning into a woman who loves fiercely. Chang Feng himself is a reticent workaholic who keeps away from politics or anything that doesn't require him just to guard his city. Qian Yue slowly changes that, and it's very sweet to see them together.

For once, the second couple's love story here is also touching and very cute. Considering that last time I saw the second male lead, he was playing the main villain in Blood of Youth, and he started as an antihero here as well, I was ready to dislike him, but he went from one dimensional, cold man to a shy, confused and hilariously out of sorts young lover pretty fast, and this melted my resolve to not like him.

Phew, I don't know how I managed not to give you any spoilers! Here is a fan vid to show you the beauty of this drama, folks. I hope after this you will give it a chance. It was great. Humorous, humane and lovely. Two thumbs up from yours truly.