Uprooting, From the Caribbean to the Countryside – Finding Home in an English Garden
by Marchelle Farrell, December 2025
I absolutely adored reading this deep and gentle account of inner turmoil and determination to settle. The self-reflection is intimate, sometimes unexpected, and is rooted in the soil, the stream, the mud and the plants of the author’s new garden. The intensity of anger at the way in which colonialism robbed the author of her authentic lineage, and corrupted even the flowers that, as a child, she had assumed were genuinely native to the Caribbean, is palpable.
Above all, in a book that is necessarily slow-moving, the lyrical language kept me rapt throughout, keenly seeking the odd few minutes when I could read a bit more.
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Before the Leaves Fall, by Clare O’Dea, November 2025
Before the Leaves Fall is engaging, gentle and moving. The two main characters, Margrit, the client, and Ruedi, the representative from Depart, hold their own in this understated drama that focuses on Margrit’s desire to have an assisted death due to her ill-health.
As the reader gets to know Margrit better, her terse and unforgiving character can be better understood. She is not close to her two, very different sons, and any regrets are too late. She is weary of life, of struggling with poor health and disability, and is seeking a well-organised way to depart with dignity.
Ruedi, on the other hand, is a kind, slightly chaotic retired train conductor, filling a space in his life by being a Depart representative. He has an unfortunate relationship with his daughter and her son.
When he discovers that he did actually know Margrit from many years ago (a big coincidence upon which the simple plot hinges), he shares memories with Margrit, and they travel together on a nostalgic visit to the farm where she lived, and he stayed as a child.
I wasn’t entirely satisfied with the way in which this ‘unexpected bond’ played out. Firstly, their relationship seemed to overstep professional guidelines, although it was sanctioned by his supervisor. Secondly, to me, their interactions seemed superficial.
The tender ending in the Epilogue is effective in tying together an unresolved thread. This is certainly a book worth reading. Start with low expectations, and you will be rewarded in the reading experience. I hoped for more depth.
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The Beekeeper of Aleppo, Christy Lefteri, November 2025
The Beekeeper of Aleppo is a lyrical yet heart-breaking book. The tale is spun through the eyes of Nuri, once a beekeeper and now a migrant struggling with terrifying and poignant dreams and visions as he escorts his wife, Afra from Syria, eventually to Britain. Afra, who was an artist, witnessed their son’s death in the terrible war, and from that moment she lost her sight. Descriptions of her drawing memories that she can no longer see, by feeling the coloured pencils on the paper, are deeply emotional.
Nuri imagines he is helping a lone child, Mohammed, on their migrant journey, but it transpires, and he eventually realises, that he is really simply longing for their dead son, Sami.
Nuri’s cousin and fellow beekeeper in Aleppo has managed to reach Britain. Nuri and Afra aim to travel to join him. Their struggles through migrant camps, in hellholes and with smugglers feel all too realistic. Nuri’s descriptions are unique; his damaged mind tortures him. He finds himself unable to love his wife because he has experienced so much violence and terror.
This is not easy subject matter, but the story is told gently and empathetically. It feels just a little formulaic to me – was the book designed to tug at emotions and planned to tap into the current migrant crisis? The ending is a relief. There is too much suffering to enjoy the book, but that, sadly, is reality for many migrants like Nuri.
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The Last Toll Collector, S. S. Turner, November 2025
The Last Toll Collector is, in my mind, a brilliant and inspirational book that hasn’t quite managed to persuade me of its authenticity. The plot is simple and effective. The denouement is compelling. But the character of Valerie lacks depth, and lacks empathetic handling. The humour throughout the book isn’t my taste; it mixes deeply serious themes with crass throwaway comments, and bizarre deaths.
Although I loved the opening, and the focus on the potential harm of burgeoning AI, I simply wasn’t persuaded of the credibility of the action. Valerie’s movements seemed unrealistic, and once the hundred homeless arrived, I was sceptical, as I was when they disappeared.
The portrayal of the insidious press, the drones and massive robots attracted me, but it wasn’t real, was it?
It feels to me as if this book, which harbours so much potential in the vein of Orwell’s 1984, or Patrick McGoohan’s The Prisoner, was generated by AI itself. Is that deliberate, if so, it is genius!
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Unicorn and the Rainbow Poop, by Emma Adams, illustrated by Katy Halford, October 2025
This is the best book I have read in a very long time. Not only does it provide delightful rainbow illustrations of fairies, elves, knights and princesses in Happy Town, but it also provides a moral message, the unicorn feeling unloved, but finally enjoying a splendiferous party with her new friends. And as for the rainbow poop; to find out how it smells, you will have to read the book!
the sewing circles of herat, Christina Lamb, October 2025
… I know, but there are no capital letters in the title on my copy of the book…
This is a devastatingly moving memoir by journalist, Christina Lamb, recalling her travels through the ruins of Afghanistan over 20 years ago, when the Taliban ruled, and then fell apart.
The touching letters from an unknown Afghan teacher, Marri, provide fascinating and heart-breaking first-hand testimony of life for women under Taliban rule. In the climax of the narrative, Christina searches high and low for Marri, whom she has never met, to thank her for her letters and to deliver modest gifts such as a jar of coffee. The meeting provides a powerful denouement, all the more desperate, now the reader knows what has happened in Afghanistan in recent years.
I learnt how much I didn’t know about the history of Afghanistan, and tried to follow all the minute details of rulers and bloody fighting, famine, oppression and ruined beautiful ancient culture, described so urgently in the book. Sometimes I felt bogged down in the complexity.
The parts of the book that I loved most were the accounts of Christina travelling as a lone woman in a land where women were not permitted to exist. The risks that she knowingly took, the hardships and appalling conditions, are presented as everyday occurrences for her. She describes a world so far from my lived experience. The vignette of the sewing circles is beautifully portrayed, and the ingenuity of brave women, who stood by their beliefs despite having their identities decimated by the Taliban, is powerfully portrayed.
I thoroughly recommend this book, even though it is now dated, and even though there are dense sections of history (maybe skip the odd page, as I did). Reading a yellowed paperback with tiny text late at night was not my best move, but it is all credit to the author that I stuck with it, and will now miss joining such an intrepid journalist in another world, each night.
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No Oil Painting, Genevieve Marenghi, October 2025
I simply adored reading this warmly hilarious book; I was smiling and grinning throughout (and I have a reputation for not getting humour). The free and easy, yet precise writing style worked well for me, with the tongue-in-cheek irony winning me over every time.
The characters are endearing, the pace of the action brisk, the backdrops enticing and realistic. What’s not to like.
For those of us familiar with the world of National Trust volunteers, indeed anyone curious to find out, the setting is inspired.
I thoroughly recommend No Oil Painting; a feel-good yet wry account of an unlikely and determined hero.
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The Place of Tides, James Rebanks, October 2025
‘The Place of Tides’ is a non-fiction account of the author’s visit to some very small islands off the coast of Norway, in the hope of discovering a quieter, pre-digital world. His inspiration is Anna, a traditional duck woman, on her final stint nurturing the perilous existence of the eider ducks on the island of Færøy. Anna’s health is failing due to her age, and the author is attempting to capture something of her life before she retires back to the Norwegian mainland.
This gentle, reflective account taps depths and faces the brutality of nature head-on. It is beautifully written, rendering the day-to-day preternatural. Above all, the tantalisingly not-romanticised character of Anna, shines through as a talisman, for unexpected reasons. The author’s own development and thinking provides added interest, particularly as the narrative draws to a close. It is not over-indulgent, which lends additional authenticity and honesty to the impact of words on reader.
This is a book that you can relax into and enjoy, entering a completely different world and being nurtured through the experience. I thoroughly recommend it, and know that I will choose to re-read it one day.
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Dead in the Water, Penny Farmer, September 2025
What a sad, gripping and well-narrated real-life story documenting a family’s quest to bring the killer of their son and his girlfriend to justice across continents and decades. As the evidence accumulates, with letters, the voices of witnesses and testimonies from unlikely characters, this compelling mystery is slowly solved. How amateurish we were before the internet, and even then, how inept and isolated were police and prosecutors. The tenacity of the family has to be applauded, and also their courage to record it in the unique and troubling book, ‘Dead in the Water.’
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Leading Learning Outdoors from Birth to Seven, Kathryn Solly, September 2025
There is so much I love about this book: it covers the age range birth to seven, the content is beautifully organised into clear chapters, sections and case studies, it is bursting with enthusiasm, deep knowledge and pragmatism, and there were so many gems of wisdom that I didn’t already know.
I had no idea that ‘the radius of roaming activity by 8-year-olds has reduced from 6 miles in the 1920s to 700 yards in 2007, a decline of almost 90% and still increasing. Sadly, I am not surprised.
BUT there is evidence that young children growing up surrounded by nature (whether in urban or rural areas), can mean a 55% lower incidence of developing mental health issues as an adults.
This book is packed with guidance and examples of how to achieve this, simply and inexpensively. There are case studies from around the country, and around the world. The nursery being set up in China was particularly fascinating. We worry about children getting cold and wet playing outdoors, but in China they have to stay inside some days due to the smog. The reader is shown forest schools, desert schools, beach schools…
Having learnt all about concepts new to me, like bodyfulness, and wallowing time, having contemplated the difference between playing with a plastic apple, and a real apple, the book moves to a crescendo as the author examines leadership of outdoor learning beyond the school or setting, in the context of our changing world. While asserting that, ‘saving the planet will not simply happen because children play outdoors,’ Kathryn Solly explains how through offering outdoor learning not as an extra, but systematically included in daily provision, we could be developing future generations of avid nature-lovers, recyclers and responsible citizens. Interesting the quoted forecast social return on investment ratio is £1 invested, £4.32 gained.
This is not just a fascinating textbook for students of pedagogy, this is an engaging book for anyone involved with young children, whether professionally or personally. Our Education Secretary should read it too…
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Frankly, Nicola Sturgeon, September 2025
I was really looking forward to reading this book, hoping for new insight into the mind of a woman who I admire. I wasn’t disappointed. Indeed, the autobiography comes across as authentic and it is also very well-written, meaning it was easy to read, and so I could concentrate on the nuances of this ‘all-cards-on-the-table’ account.
Her capacity for self-reflection is huge, and often very self-critical, which is refreshing. I learnt a great deal more about the development of Scottish education policy, about the frustrations of the independence referendum, about her time as Minister for Health, about COP26, and, of course about the role that she played in the pandemic. How it nearly broke her, yet we saw a self-assured and well-informed orator day after day on our televisions.
Her reflections on gender equality are woven in, throughout the book. ‘The lack of gender balance in our society isn’t because women are less able, it’s because ingrained bias and centuries-old stereotyping make us less likely to be promoted into senior positions.’ And she offers reflections on how she would have tackled the trans debate differently, but still from a principled and ethical standpoint.
There are many wry examples of situations with well-known politicians; the kidnapping of Boris Johnson, her comment about Teresa May’s shoes… Her obvious respect for colleagues with different views, even for Alex Salmond, who clearly… well, read the book and you will find out.
She quotes Maya Angelou: ‘people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel,’ this book is about resilience, intuition, reflection and forty years in politics that I have experienced from a very different viewpoint.
This is just my sort of book. I found it absolutely fascinating.
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No Coward Soul Have I, Kathleen Williams Renk, August 2025
This is a book that under-promises and over-delivers. I confess that when I started to read No Coward Soul Have I, I hesitated to think it was a book for me. How wrong I was! Hiding within this seemingly anachronistic story, based upon nineteenth century Irish reality, is an absolute gem of a book of rebellion. Not only did I become totally immersed in the sensitively-wrought characters – especially Anne Devlin – but the harsh realities of the years leading up to the Irish Potato Famine, the persecution of Catholics, and, above all, the cruel treatment of women and children, fuelled my revolutionary spirit over two centuries later. ‘Their pet cemetery was better than anything that I had seen for the Irish poor.’
For revolutionary zeal is the central theme of this carefully constructed narrative; young, but naïve idealistic reformers realise that ‘the rich grind the poor into abjectness, and then complain that they are abject,’ whereas reflective battle-worn campaigners understand the futility of weak rebellion. The question whether human beings can overthrow tyranny without resorting to violence, is left hanging in the air.
The tight structure of the chapters, along with different fonts and perspectives, worked very well for me. It allowed the action to move on apace, with clarity, while affording time to pause and reflect. Like Harriet, I found myself waiting in rapt anticipation of more actual details from Anne Devlin. Harriet was disappointed, as Anne deliberately led her a merry dance, providing a wealth of useless information. The reader, however, is privileged to hear the authentic story, in all its gore, terror and injustice.
If, as a reader, you enjoy delving into the courageous resilience of the oppressed, this book is for you. Not only is the rampant inequity of nineteenth-century society brutally exposed, along with the tensions within organised religion, but the role of the woman, at the time, is both subtly and overtly challenged. ‘Because I am an ordinary woman, my story is not recorded in the annals of history… they always speak of what men accomplish.’
Turning to the celebrity of the piece, Percy Bysshe Shelley; he is portrayed with a kindly but slightly sardonic irony. His youthful lack of self-awareness and idealism at the expense of common sense is an effective counterpoint to the painful yet alluring naivety of his teenage wife, Harriet, who so wants to do good, and out-performs her husband with her (sometimes dishonest) ingenuity and agency.
The fact that this narrative is based upon part of the actual life of one of our renowned Romantic Poets adds to the effectiveness of the plot on the reader’s understanding of the time. The extracts of poetry woven into the action, add another layer of authenticity.
But the hero of the piece is Anne Devlin. Portrayed with intense empathy, Anne demonstrates resilience beyond the imaginable, which frustrates her persecutors. She reminded me of Giles Corey in The Crucible.
As Williams Renk says, ‘Both Anne and Harriet have stood outside of history, but now I’ve inscribed them as heroines—not saints or queens—just ordinary women working toward human liberation and political justice. And both demonstrated, in my novel, that they possessed courageous souls.’
I urge you to read No Coward Soul Have I for yourself; I guarantee you won’t regret it.
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On Time for Eco, Pam Jarvis, August 2025
I had read On Time, the pre-curser novel, and an earlier iteration of this mind-blowing account of a family, a granny, and the developing capacity for time travel using AI tech, so I thought I would do a skim read to write a review. However, the moment I dived into the fascinations of cross-century (and international) travel, entwined in a fiendishly complex and satisfying plot, I realised I wanted to read every page all over again.
On Time for Eco is massively ambitious in that it tackles complex and highly relevant issues for the twenty-first century. The degree of research invested in the detail means that everything seems plausible and strangely unproblematic. I particularly enjoyed how the AI characters evolved, grounded by NAMIS, and ultimately controlled by the future version, NAMITAS. Then, as the fluidity of the human (organic) world and AI possibilities triumph, characters emerge, blowing your brain; the young child, conceived across fifteen centuries, the researcher lost out of time, cleverly rediscovered as an essence, and planted in a new AI character, and the ultimate in my enjoyment as a reader, the shapeshifting Consiliario / Emrys / The General…
There is humour; Fran, the granny stumbles in the grass and falls at the feet of Elizabeth I, just when she is meant to be inconspicuous. There is pathos, when Dylan has to leave his true love in the fifth century. A great deal is packed into this innovative and fascinating book. If you are interested in AI, if you want to see young children play with holograms in the sandbox, if you, like me, are not quite sure where humanity is heading, and how that relates to the past, I guarantee you will love this book.
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Clear, Carys Davies, August 2025
I collected this book from the library at lunchtime, and thought I would just have a peek before putting it on my reading pile. But I literally couldn’t put it down; after several hours reading, I have reached the poignant, unpredictably predictable ending. An ending that is not the end, and leaves you hoping…
‘Clear’ is perfectly wrought, with a simplicity and yet subtlety. The three main characters are totally believable, of their time, and fascinating. The setting is wild, harsh yet understated. The description is enhanced by the way that Ivar has no language other than his own version of an ancient type of Norse Scots, explained in the author’s note. So the reader sees everything through two very distinct pairs of eyes: the island landscape, the few domestic animals and the scant possessions, as well as concepts with no single word in English, like the sense of awaiting something unknown. Ivar and John Ferguson grow closer, as their mutual language strengthens.
As for the courageous, intrepid Mary, she is a delight.
For me, this book is a perfect length, with many short totally engaging chapters. There wasn’t a single page that frustrated me. If you have a few hours to spare, dive in!
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Secrets of Micro Publishing, Katie Isbester Ph.D.
Secrets of Micropublishing is an entertaining and intimate goldmine of information for anyone interested in getting their books out there, or in supporting others to do so. The intended audience is aspirant micropublishers, but as an author puzzled by the anarchic and ungainly world of publishing, I found it to be an invaluable Bible of quiet rebellion and resilience. On a pragmatic level, this book gives the reader a zillion tips and tricks, along with insight into the writing of a submission letter, metadata, marketing, copyright, distribution, ISBNs, project management, print on demand, simple spreadsheets and much, much more.
The author comes across as dangerously honest — the book lives up to its billing — I recommend reading each chapter to unearth the hidden secrets. Many real-life examples are provided. She also paints a realistic and sometimes hilarious picture, with glimpses into a frantic but fulfilling life of cats/dogs/kids/friends, coffee/tea/wine/beer/pizza… and hot chocolate.
Options are presented to the reader; whether to go for traditional publishing, hybrid, DIY self-publishing… ‘find your passion.’ ‘Make Peace with your own goals.’
Success in publishing, according to this book, and I completely agree, is ‘complex, nuanced, negotiated and ever changing.’ It is rare to find a book that tackles such a conundrum by actually giving you a wide range of possible answers.
I thoroughly recommend this book, whether you are hoping to micro publish, or whether, like me, you are confused and frustrated by the peddled whitewash of the Big Five. This book actually proves that small can be beautiful, but the author makes sure the reader realises that it’s damn hard work just to break even.
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Is a River Alive? Robert MacFarlane, August 2025
I’m a great fan of Robert MacFarlane; his wisdom, courage and language, but I must remember that I really do not enjoy reading his books. It was the same with Underland. Is a River Alive? made me angry, but not for the intended reasons. The more I waded into the dense description and erudite poetic prose, the more frustrated I became. As I turned each page, I hoped for clarity, for principles, for evidence and passion, but it just felt self-indulgent. I’m sad not to have enjoyed reading this book, which held so much promise, and has been applauded by so many.
I did find myself settling into the final journey, the canoes, the messages, the challenges. The symbolism of tying the thread around the tiny trunk of the small sapling resonated. But overall I felt confused, my mind muddled, and I couldn’t understand how this compilation of personal adventure tales was speaking to me. Where was the grit, the pollution, the folly of the human race? The narrative meant so much to him, but the various characters and the almost mythologised settings did not speak to me.
The Epilogue was poignant, but even the ending of the book sadly rang of a cliched effort to round off a narrative that didn’t really go anywhere. It is an inspired title for the twenty-first century, but having coined the title, the chronicle needs to live up to its billing, and for me, it didn’t.
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The Postal Paths, Alan Cleaver, July 2025
This is an engaging, beautifully illustrated book that moves forward at a gentle pace, and takes the reader on a fascinating exploration of the old rural routes of postmen and women. The author provides numerous endearing anecdotes, such as the barefoot postie who ran through the bogs, and Beatrix Potter running shyly away from the burly postman, who was possibly the inspiration for Mr McGregor! Fancy, postmen and women used to have to buy their own boots, when their wage was meagre. He also has an eye for natural details, like the bird who pretended to have a broken wing, so he pretended to believe her.
I was amazed that there used to be up to 1,000 postman’s huts. I had no idea, and have never seen one, probably because I didn’t know to look, or because there are very few remaining. The sense of loss is palpable, as simpler ways of living are superseded by post vans, and then the technology of the twenty-first century. I like the way in which the author combines nostalgia and pragmatism. He confesses to using google lens!
Akin to Alfred Wainwright’s walks; The Postal Paths is an absolute gem. We are taken to village shops, we are told about the public toilets. It is as if we actually park in the car parks and accompany the author on his leisurely rambles along the much-trodden-of-old postie’s paths.
Wolf Mountain, Alice Roberts
Review, July 2025
Having thoroughly enjoyed reading Alice Roberts’ first book for children, Wolf Road, my hopes were high for the sequel, Wolf Mountain, and I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, this fresh journey as Tuuli sets out alone in the challenging winter wilderness of the Ice-Age tundra, with her tame wolf, Lupa, was even better.
Tuuli seeks the tribe of her dear friend Andar, or Ao, who had been savagely murdered in Wolf Road. On her journey, as she battles with the elements and wild animals, she falls into a trap set by the ‘Hidden’ tribe. It is this tribe that really captured my interest, as outcasts from other tribes have banded together, and the reasons for their individual banishments such as disabilities, are converted into strengths. Alice Roberts provides this subtle inclusive message, which is all the more powerful in the context of the outcasts’ wariness and lack of a common language.
Above all, this book feels that it is based upon rock-solid research. Any child, or adult reading it will learn much about the challenges of living in the Ice Age.
I’m generally suspicious about celebrity books, but this is no celebrity book, this is the eloquent creation of an academic who is completely in touch with her reader. My copy is now heading for the local school Year 5 and 6…
You can read my review of Wolf Road here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/124937990-wolf-road
This is an absolutely fascinating and very comprehensive record of children’s rhymes and playground games, beautifully organised and presented, and based on extensive research.
Although I wasn’t a child in Herefordshire or Worcestershire, many of the entries were familiar to me. This is an ideal book to explore on your own; it reminded me of many long-forgotten chants. It is also fun to read (and sing) aloud in a group.
There is a note about the cultural context of children’s language and a warning that there are some entries that include language we would not find acceptable today. I believe the author is right to include the original language, and retain the authenticity of the actual words.
Anyone interested in the chants and games of old will enjoy working through this impressive collection.
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The Way Beauty Comes Apart, by Christina Marrocco
Review, June 2025
I was fortunate to be offered a pre-publication sight of The Way Beauty Comes Apart, which I thoroughly enjoyed reading .
Totally unique in its grippingly effective structure of fourteen inter-connected short stories, the book offers a wealth of narrative gems with depths that are initially hidden, and which emerge effortlessly as the reader begins to understand exactly what is being explored. The whole concept of the book is highly successful. I found myself excited as a new story arrived, wondering whose voice it would be, and how they were connected to previous speakers. I couldn’t help myself but read straight through; I was unable to put the book down. But each story can be read as a standalone. The book lends itself to daily chapter readings, for example.
Each character speaks in their own distinct voice, all immersed in the Welsh society of the late nineteenth century, and yet all seeking to make sense of the wider world, heaven, earth, life and death. Although the characters adopt an intimate conversational style, drawing the reader into the dialogue in an Under-Milkwood way, the rustic air is simply a veneer, for each character reveals astute perceptions and loyalties, both wittingly and unwittingly.
The exploration of gender roles throughout the collection is refreshingly honest, and also amusing. Carwen Priddy assumes religious superiority over her husband, worrying that, ‘No man can get into heaven on the coattails of his wife.’ She hides the Bible under the bed if he makes advances at night, anxious that God shouldn’t see.
Most fascinating is the way that the author tackles the subject of female fertility, culminating in the tale of the herbal healer midwife, and then her granddaughter, who bridges the past and the future of midwifery. Post-natal depression, home or hospital birth, abortion, rape, teenage pregnancy and same-sex love are all subjects discussed by male and female characters.
‘There were days I wished the doctors and the ministers and the priests would all jump into the sea and drown themselves, so that we people could get on with the business of living and dying without more worry, because simple living and dying is a busy business indeed. And much of it takes a woman’s touch.’
Evaluation of whether the church, or religion more generally, was the mainstay of a life, or a source of mockery, at the time, is well-balanced. Over a whisky, a couple of the men metaphorically tear the Bible apart, saying, ‘I’m a bloody atheist and you are a stinking agnostic.’ On the other hand, Carwen Priddy says, ‘I’d been on the Big Man’s side all my life unlike those others.’ She describes Him coming to her, ‘God has a right pleasing voice, but it is not soft. It’s more like the sound of a great bear, and smoky, like the burning of the bush is still upon it.’
Tensions between Welsh and English are explored throughout. There are characters who want to escape to London, and others who sneer at such vain aspiration and talk of ‘the English poison.’ They use the word, Nain or the word Gran. Marged Dafydd says, ‘Welsh is the most natural of languages – some say it’s the first one. God’s very own.’
Poverty is largely assumed in all the stories, with some families below subsistence levels, ‘trying to make thin soup thick.’ They simply get on with their lives. The pathos is not in their economic misfortune, but in their aspirations, hopes, and ultimate, often premature, mortality.
Above all, the characters immortalised in this book want to control their own deaths.
As the reader is treated to a different perspective on an incident previously described by another character, various truths are softly revealed. The reader knows that Siôn died of an infected bite from his secret pet rat, but others believe it to have been a splinter. We therefore think that the young disabled boy successfully managed to take his secret to the grave. We even discover, late in the book, where Betsan disappears to…
This collection of beautifully wrought vignettes offers fascination, pathos, humour and a perceptive pride in a small eighteenth-century Welsh community. I invite you to discover how beauty comes apart; you won’t regret it!
Pre-order date to be confirmed – watch this space!
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Queen in the Shadows, by Liz van Santen
Review June 2025
In my review of the prequel to Queen in the Shadows, The Humble Pawn, I ended by saying; The Humble Pawn certainly took me way out of my comfort zone, and I am eagerly looking forward to the next book. I need to know what happens next…
I didn’t have a long wait, as the lyrical mind-blowing story of the unconventional life of Celine, alias for Libby, hit the shelves this week, five months later. A perfect pause between the two novels in this pacey and intimate duology.
Trying to work out why I enjoyed reading this book so much, I realise that it combines an easy, gripping narrative with deeper and engaging elusive but refined themes. Just as I begin thinking that it is simply a romp with a liberated young heroine noir, I am reminded that there are reasons for her actions, and actually things are far more complicated than they seem. The underlying exploration into the guilt that victims of domestic emotional abuse often feel, and the unravelling of the protagonist’s response to the terrifying and accidental death of her husband, is truly enthralling. But the seriousness of this by no means detracts from the thoroughly enjoyable richness in the descriptions of Celine’s intimate encounters, as well as all the mouthwatering detail imbued in the descriptions of the food of the south of France.
Two-thirds through the novel, the pace quickens, enhanced by the unexpected introduction of the fascinating character of Moni, a rebellious seventeen-year-old who turns out to be a talented artist with a gift for astute analysis of character. The juxtaposition of this storyline with the separate details of an unfortunate incident is deftly wrought; wry humour, realistically bringing the reader back to reality with a bump at an apposite time in the unfolding drama.
The sub-plot concerning the hidden diary written by Isaac Goldmann a Jew fleeing persecution during the second world war, adds depth to the narrative, and provides a credible link with Thomas, who is ultimately Celine’s confidante, supporting her to face her truths. The ingenious plot layer concerning Celine (Libby)’s bestseller The Humble Pawn is masterful.
As in The Humble Pawn, the evocation of environment is spectacular. This time we are taken through bustling Marseille to the challenging winter conditions in the alluring vineyards nearby, with such well-conceived characters, Pascal, Sophia, Luca, Nathalie… and we return to the familiar streets of Oxford for the denouement. The ending of this book is spectacular in its understatement. The relative brevity of the final chapter and the epilogue provides an authentic, subtle and satisfying conclusion. I’m not going to give away what happens; read the novel to find out; I thoroughly recommend it!
Chris Malone 