Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts

Wednesday, 17 February 2021

DOOMED

So.

It was a little over a year ago that I decided to find a purpose for this blog. With that in mind, I started The Reading the Library Challenge, with the stated aim to read one book per letter of the alphabet from our general shelves in the library.

2020 did not cooperate, y'all.

Instead of 26 books, I managed the grand total of 8. Which, y'know, isn't too bad when you consider there's a pandemic and the world is generally on fire. (Also I was reading other things as well.)

This is still a project that I'd like to pursue, because many of the issues I raised (I don't read widely enough, I am comfortable in my comfort zone, there are whole swathes of authors I've never read) are still relevant. With that in mind:

Let us continue reading the library.

I believe we got up to the I-shelves, so I immediately went to this book, which has caught my eye several times while I've been shelving:

The copy we own also has the following disclaimer on the cover: "WARNING: This book may restore your faith in human nature", which honestly nearly put me off the whole business. I'm quite glad I read it anyway, because it's really very good. And worryingly topical.

PLOT SPOILERS TO FOLLOW

An investment banker, who specialises in short trading (which, conveniently, we all learned about recently due to the Gamestop saga), accidentally predicts the end of the world by a deadly flu pandemic, and flees to a tiny Cornish village. He swims off into the sea but is rescued from drowning by a whale. The village take him (and the whale) into their hearts.

So, yeah, weirdly topical. There's also a passing reference to buying shares in AstraZeneca.

It's interesting to read this sort of book while living through a genuine pandemic, to see where the author's predictions go awry (for example, in the book, the UK Government shut the borders as soon as the first cases of the deadly virus appear) (*satirical laugh*).

It's also difficult to categorise, because it's a fairly realistic, straight-forward story, but with an added element of Mystery Whale Syndrome. It is, however, nice to read peri-apocalypic fiction which isn't constant doom and gloom and people being horrid to each other. I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say it restored my faith in human nature, but it was a nice, fun story, which stayed just on the correct side of pretentiousness.

Now, off I go into the J-shelves, in search of more treasure. Wish me luck.

Monday, 22 June 2020

Reading the Library returns!

It feels like a heck of a long time ago that I started this reading challenge. It’s weird how everything now is divided into “before lockdown” and “after lockdown”. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s been struggling to focus on reading (or writing, or anything) while the world is a flaming garbage fire.

But the good news is, I’m back in work now, which means I once again have access to our book collection and can restart my Reading the Library challenge. Now I just need to rediscover my ability to read for fun… (no joke, I’ve found it incredibly difficult to relax and enjoy any book during these last few months, which is upsetting on a lot of levels.)

Before the break, we’d got up to the letter E. So, in a bit of a hurry, I went and grabbed the first book in the F section that snatched my fancy:

THE BEST AWFUL by Carrie Fisher

As it turns out, it’s a sequel to POSTCARDS FROM THE EDGE, which I also haven’t read. And of course I didn’t realise it was a sequel before I started reading, because that would’ve involved me doing a modicum of research. Having said that, it didn’t really impact on my enjoyment, or lack of. Oooh, that sounded bitchy. I mean, it wasn’t terrible. I just didn’t enjoy this as much as I was expecting to – it’s pretty funny, with lots of dry humour, and fairly unflinching in it’s subject matter. If someone told me this book changed their life, I would completely understand. Sadly it just wasn’t my cup of tea.

Next up, it’s the turn of the Gs, and we’ve got this:

THE ARCANUM by Janet Gleeson

Okay, full disclosure: this was filed in the fiction section and, at first glance, it could be fiction. I was expecting some kind of historical court drama. Turns out it’s mis-shelved non-fiction, and details the history of European porcelain. I only realised this halfway through the first chapter. Yes, I’m unobservant.

Anyway, rather than picking a different book, I’m sticking with this one, because it’s a lot of fun. Apparently, the quest to turn clay into porcelain ran concurrent with the doomed attempts to turn lead into gold, and involved just as much deceit and chicanery. The whole book is full of people lying to monarchs, fleeing cities in the dead of night, selling their secrets to the highest bidder, being poisoned by terrible working conditions, and/or refusing to share their research even on their deathbeds.

I’ve probably mentioned that my favourite type of non-fiction is Obscure-Specific-Topic-Written-About-By-Someone-Who-Loves-The-Subject, with bonus points if it’s a topic I’ve never had even a passing interest in before. THE ARCANUM certainly ticks those boxes. I’ve been regaling my family with pithy anecdotes about 17th Century Poland all week (they’re notably less impressed than me, natch).

As soon as I’ve finished THE ARCANUM, it’s on to the H shelves, and I’ve already picked this:

THE TASTE OF APPLESEEDS by Katharine Hagena

(Apologies for the lack of choice in these matters, btw, but I kinda rushed in and grabbed whatever I could take, since I didn’t know how long it’d be till I’m back at work full time. Also, it must be noted, the library shelves are particularly bare right now, because just before lockdown we issued as many books as we could to our borrowers to tide them over. So, currently, more than 3,000 of our books are on loan, which equates to about 8% of our total stock, hence there’s far more space on the shelves than I’ve ever seen before. Plus we’ve been using the lockdown to weed out books that haven’t been borrowed in ages and remove them from stock. A librarian’s work is never done, and all that.)

Tuesday, 31 March 2020

[enforced pause]

Well. In terms of things I expected to derail this reading project, a worldwide pandemic was not one of them. It's never the apocalypse you expect, is it?

So, looking back to the beginning of March, approximately five hundred years ago, I was looking for something from the E-Shelves in our library. I started reading a couple of possible choices, but abandoned them after a few pages. I know, I shouldn't be judgmental, but I have almost zero-tolerance for cringe comedy, and if in the first few pages of a book there's a woman fumbling her important job interview in a way that'd make Daisy Steiner blush, then I'm out, sorrynotsorry.

Instead I picked up this:

It's a collection of short stories by Jenny Eclair, who by coincidence was on Celebrity Bake Off Stand-Up to Cancer the night before I had to choose a book. I don't normally read short stories because I have a short attention span (if I commit to a story, I need it to last for more than a dozen pages; do you have any idea how difficult it is to learn a whole new set of characters and plot ten times in a single book?) (for me anyway, I understand that this is my problem not a failing of the genre).

But I gave this a go, and it was very pleasant. Some of the stories had an unexpected mean streak in them. Others were the nice sort of distracting that you find in Women's Weekly. Overall, Jenny Eclair has a real gift for observing character and drawing you into an imaginary life in the space of a few short pages, and I enjoyed reading this. It's definitely the pick of the bunch from my random library shelves so far this year.

Speaking of which... the library is now closed, officially, so I'm at a bit of a loose end in terms of this project. I can't even get into the building to raid the shelves. Obviously, as soon as I can, I'll get back into things, but for now...

I think the best thing for me to do is tackle the (rather daunting) stack that is my to-read pile. This week I will weed out all my to-read books, put them in a big, alphabetical heap, and decide where to start with them.

Until then, everyone stay safe, take care of yourself and others, and go read. Because now more than ever, reading is fundamental.

Tuesday, 3 March 2020

noble assassins and ignoble witches

Honestly, you wait ages for a book about 17th Century court intrigue, then two show up at once.

(Having spent quite a lot of February without a car, I’ve decided the old saying about buses needs updating – in my experience they either show up when they’re supposed to, or not at all.)

This month I’ve got back into audiobooks, for a number of reasons. Firstly, I forgot to cancel my subscription to audible (I reactivate it about once a year, whenever an author I love releases an audible-exclusive book) (yes, Peter Clines, I’m looking at you) so I’ve got some free credits to use up this month. Secondly, I’ve been walking/bussing a lot more than usual due to the aforementioned lack of car, so it’s been helpful to use that time constructively. Thirdly, I hate my brain. All that time spent walking gives me far too much time to think, which doesn’t sound a bad thing unless your brain is prone to unhelpful spiralling and/or rehearsing arguments you intend to use online someday. Audiobooks are a proper godsend sometimes.

So, as well as browsing my way through the fiction section of our stacks at the library, I’ve also been perusing the audiobook selection. I’ve found I much prefer non-fiction to fiction, because it doesn’t matter so much if my concentration wanders. Specifically, I love love love gentle informative non-fiction where someone with a reassuring voice tells me about their deep affection for a particular subject. Two of my recent favourites have been SPIRALS IN TIME and THE SOUL OF AN OCTOPUS, and someone recommended BRAIDING SWEETGRASS to me, which is so definitely my thing that I’m saving chapters as a special treat for myself each day.

I also picked up an audio copy of WITCHES: A TALE OF SORCERY, SCANDAL AND SEDUCTION by Tracy Borman, because why wouldn’t I. It’s a pretty good non-fiction introduction to the witch hunts of the late 1500s / early 1600s, with a focus on one particular case involving the children of the Earl of Rutland. Since I don’t know anything at all about this period of history, I can’t vouch for how accurate all the information is, but it was entertaining enough. Although the narrator did keep putting on accents every time she quoted someone.

At the same time, I’ve been reading THE NOBLE ASSASSIN by Amanda Dickason, which is about courtly intrigue in the early 1600s and, by a fun coincidence, features some of the same characters as WITCHES. The only surviving child of the Earl of Rutland, Katherine Manners, married the Duke of Buckingham, who was the favourite of the king and crops up a fair bit in both books. It was nice to reference back and forth between the two books and learn more about the characters from each.

THE NOBLE ASSASSIN is probably the most enjoyable randomly-selected book I’ve read so far this year, although the plot meandered a little bit and the most interesting bit (a “fake” scheme to murder the prince) felt almost like a side note, slotted in when the main character got tired of mooning over poets.

Onwards, therefore, into the E-Shelves:

The letter E is much more restrained. Not 20+ shelves for them, oh no. Instead, a nice, manageable five shelves to choose from, which means for the first time this month I don’t feel overwhelmed.

After a small amount of consideration, I’ve picked shelf number 4, mostly because it contains a copy of THE BLOOD PRICE by Jon Evans, who once wrote a screenplay version of my book TERROR ISLAND and therefore holds a fond place in my heart:

But this shelf also contains almost too much choice. Now I’m not limited to just two or three authors, I’m dithering. I reckon it’s a choice between Harriet Evans (gentle romance), Pam Evans (historical romance, with dancing), or Lissa Evans (funny romance, I think? Possibly involving cats and snails?):

I’m also going to throw a wildcard into the mix: THE HORSE WHISPERER, on the basis I should probably read it at some point in my life:

While the Lissa Evans book looks like the most attractive option, I think I might’ve read something else by that author (if she’s the same Lissa Evans who wrote WED WABBIT, which she might not be) (no, I’ve not googled it, what do I look like a person who ain’t lazy). So I’ll throw it open to comments again, in case anyone has any strong opinions one way or the other. Or indeed, if there’s another gem on the shelf that I’ve overlooked.

Monday, 17 February 2020

cold comfort

The thing about a comfort zone, right, is that it’s comfortable.

Reading outside your comfort zone is great *in theory*but in practice, well...

I mention this only because I have found myself outside my zone for the third fortnight in a row. Which is great – that’s what this project is about, I’m supposed to be finding new books that I otherwise would overlook, books that fall outside what I would normally read. The trouble is... they’re outside what I would normally read. And that makes me uncomfortable.

This isn’t to say there’s anything intrinsically wrong with literary explorations of sibling rivalry and moths, sprawling epics about Irish family life, or gritty urban dramas where everything is always terrible. Whatever floats your boat, lady. It just doesn’t seem to be my thing.

Which brings us neatly enough to this fortnight’s book, WHAT THEY DO IN THE DARK.

Reviews for this on Goodreads are, ehhh, mixed at best. People are apparently put off, not by the unrelentingly grimy feel to the whole narrative, but to the (spoiler alert) sickening, horrendous swerve the plot takes in the last thirty pages. And honestly I have to agree with them a little. The story follows two young girls, about 11 years old, from very different backgrounds, who become unlikely friends and eventually do something almost-inexplicably terrible. Throughout the book, there’s violence and child abuse and racism and a lot of other stuff that sits uneasy with the reader. It’s all very real, don’t get me wrong, the author obviously has a talent for describing people and events in squirmingly accurate detail. But then, like I say, in the last few pages the horrible, irreversible thing happens, then it just... ends. Almost none of the plot strands are tied up at all. We don’t find out for definite what happens to the two main girls, or their families, or the victim, or any of the characters in the sub-plot about a movie that’s filming at the girls’ school. One character, who narrated at least a half dozen chapters, doesn’t even get a mention in the summing-up.

So it’s difficult to tell what everyone reacted badly to – the grim, grubby realism; the swerve into the final act of horrendousness; or the fact we don’t get proper closure about any of it. I can see why the author made the choices they did but still... it all leaves a sour taste in the mouth. Which, honestly, was probably the intention.

Anyway, onwards and onwards, into the C-section (... may need to rephrase that):

12 shelves of C authors, and the Random Number Generator picks number 6:

(I may need to find a new way of choosing these shelves, because right now it seems to be either too random or not random enough...)

And again I’m left with a choice of two authors, neither of whom I’ve read before, neither of which is anything like my usually (comfortable) reading material:

So... which should it be? Regency historical fiction (which literally has a bodice on the cover) or WWII historical fiction?

If anyone has any kind of preference, please leave a comment below. I’m gonna give myself a few days to think about this one.

Tuesday, 4 February 2020

busy busy busy

Before we do anything else, I need to tell you about this:

My next book has just been announced from One More Chapter, and I am quite giddy with excitement. LITTLE GIRLS TELL TALES is available for preorder now. Please do check it out.

ALSO! Me and a few friends have teamed up to make a podcast. It's called WELL RED and involves us drinking wine and chatting books. This month we're discussing FLOWERS IN THE ATTIC (the 40-year-old classic that I am ashamed to say I've never read until this year), and trying to decide which wine you should drink while reading it. If that sounds like your sort of thing, give it a listen on Anchor.fm or find us on Spotify. Ta.

Anyway, last week for Reading the Library, the book was THE GLASS LAKE by Maeve Binchy and, honestly, it was quite good.

It’s a big community-saga, following the ebb and flow of life in a small village in Ireland as people fall in love, fall out of love, fall in the lake, run away with shady men, and question whether true love is really all it’s cracked up to be. It’s got a perfect sheen of ‘real-life’ all over it – people occasionally make ridiculous decisions, things don’t always work out neatly, people have the same name as each other (I’m certain there were two Kevins), sometimes fate is cruel and random: just like in real life. This does become annoying sometimes (just like in real life) because there are loose ends which don’t fit with the story (did we really need the whole subplot about the fella who breaks into the car shop?), but that’s not really the point. This book is essentially a soap opera. You can cut it a lot of slack for that.

Plus the main(ish) character, Kit McMahon, has some wonderful moments – for example, when some boy starts telling people she slept with him, she promptly sues him for impunity her virtue, and wins. Hats off to you, missy.

Next week, we’re looking at the C-shelves:

25 of these buggers, including three that belong exclusively to Catherine Cookson.

The random number generator gives us shelf number 9:

Hmm. So it looks like my choice is Harlan Cohen or Jonathan Coe or... oh hey, what’s that?

Okay, this looks interesting. I’ve never heard of this book or this author (the inside flap says she was a scriptwriter on Shameless). Let’s give it a go then.

Monday, 27 January 2020

neat things

A bunch of neat things I found this week while withdrawing old books from the library shelves.

This pithy review, tucked into the flap of a hardback:

Secret codes, used by readers so they’d know at a glance whether or not they’d already read a certain book:

Many author pictures of Catherine Cookson, each of which made me think for a moment she was Carrie Fisher:

This wonderful sentiment in some of the ancient large print books:

And THE TINFISH RUN, published 1979, with its five full pages of issues, suggesting this copy may have been read by up to 200 people in its forty years of circulation:

Monday, 20 January 2020

Week 2: B Shelves

Today in the library, someone made me cry (in a good way, this is a happy story).

A local group, who assist adults with learning difficulties, come into our library fairly regularly on a Friday morning. They always manage to time it for our busiest period, when we also have a toddler group doing music time, so they often wander into the middle of a group of twenty toddlers and their grown-ups doing the hokey-cokey.

(As a side note, yeah, I think we’re quite a non-traditional library. We almost never shush people. The only time I’ve ever told someone off was when one grandpa ignored the sign saying DO NOT TOUCH THE LOBSTERS.)(That was the day we had lobsters visiting the library.)

So anyway, one of the women who comes along with the care group is super-keen on the royal family, especially Princess Diana. She has already read all the books we have on the shelves about the Royals. I always feel a bit sad when we can’t find her anything knew to read. Plus she needs a specific type of book – preferably one with less writing and more pictures. So I ducked out to the stacks in the other room, where we keep our thousands of home library service books, and had a quick rummage in the Royal section. Long story short, I came up with three nice big picture books, including one of Charles and Diana that predated Diana’s death.

I figured this was a fairly average, everyday thing to do – I mean, it’s literally my job to find books for people. But this woman was so happy to see this new selection of books that she got completely overwhelmed and on the verge of tears. She had to ask her carer whether she could borrow all three books instead of the one she usually gets (obviously the carer said yes). Usually the woman gives me a high-five before she leaves; today I got a hug. Hence why I was crying like an eejit at lunchtime.

(Also, the Charles and Diana book had not been borrowed since 1997, and I’d just been reading this thread on Twitter about neglected library books, so that set me off again.)

At the risk of sounding super-pretentious, it turns out distributing a hundred books to a hundred people isn’t necessarily as important as getting one particular book to the right person at the right time.

Anyway. Back to my 2020 reading project.

The first book of the year was THE BEHAVIOUR OF MOTHS by Poppy Adams. You can check out my less-than-comprehensive review here.

We now move on to the B shelves.

There are NINETEEN of these buggers. Nineteen. I haven’t even counted how many separate authors that includes. So, with the help of a random number generator, I picked shelf number 10:

Which is... hmm. Well, I guess this was bound to happen. Quite a lot of these shelves are taken up by just two or three authors (and sometimes just one – Danielle Steele has two full shelves to herself) so sometimes I won’t have a huge choice. This fortnight we’ve got Maeve Binchy, Tim Binding, and Charlotte Bingham. I’ve not read any of these people. None of these books look like my usual comfort zone.

I eventually settled on Maeve Binchy:

It’s a solid, hefty tome of a book.

I’ll post an update at the weekend to see how I’m getting on. At that time, I will hopefully also have SOME EXCITING NEWS about another new project we’re working on. It’s gonna be awesome.

Monday, 13 January 2020

It’s been noted that, rather like Rizzo in MUPPET’S CHRISTMAS CAROL, I am not suited to literature. Or, more accurately, I’m not suited to literary fiction.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve read smart books, I’ve enjoyed smart books, and I think I’ve understood smart books (they’re about girls, right?), but the older I get, the less tolerance I have for capital-L Literature. There’s only so often I can cope with a story about ennui and aging and the sheer thinginess of life.

(This is obviously a broad, sweeping generalisation. Literary fiction can be about so much more than the weight of life, just like genre fiction doesn’t have to be devoid of heavy themes to be enjoyable.)

The book group I currently attend was formed (in part) because everyone was fed up of reading books about middle-aged professors who are consumed with ennui and therefore absolutely must start an affair with their nubile young secretaries. If you personally happen to like those sort of books, good on you, whatever floats your boat. But speaking for myself, there’s only so much of that I can take before I start wishing the author had written in a salty dragon or a car chase or something.

Anyway, in my 2020 quest to read the library, it occurs to me that I’m going to run into more Literary Fiction than I usually consume.

Which brings us nicely to THE BEHAVIOUR OF MOTHS.

From her lookout on the first floor, Ginny watches and waits for her younger sister to return to the crumbling mansion that was once their idyllic childhood home. Vivien has not set foot in the house since she left, forty-seven years ago; Ginny, the reclusive moth expert, has rarely ventured outside it.

But with Vivien's arrival, dark, unspoken secrets surface. Told in Ginny's unforgettable voice, this debut novel tells a disquieting story of two sisters and the ties that bind - sometimes a little too tightly.

Incidentally, you can tell I read too much YA, because I was completely caught off guard on page 1 by the protagonist being an old woman (I didn’t read the blurb before I started). When was the last time I read a book about proper grownups?? But apart from that, okay, we’ve got a crumbling gothic house (lovely), dark family secrets (even better), and an unexpected wealth of information about moths (perfect!). Honestly, the level of details about moths, pupal soup, parasites and larvae might put off some people. When the narrator starts cutting open chrysalises to examine the soupy goo inside, or when she finds a caterpillar that’s being eaten alive from the inside by the parasitic larvae of another creature... it’d probably be too much of an ick-factor for many readers.

But, predictably enough, the forensic details about moths were my favourite bits of the book. The rest of it was a bit... literary for me. There are flashbacks to Ginny’s childhood, involving trauma and death and alcoholism and neglect. There’s an insistence on skipping over explanations and salient plot-points: Ginny has a habit of tuning out anything she’s not interested in hearing about, which leaves the audience to fill in a lot of gaps. And then there’s some stuff that happens at the end, explained away with a bit of hand-waving about free will (or the lack of it), and then the book finishes.

It was okay. I liked the stuff about moths. But it does make me worry that I’m going to struggle with other Literary books this year...

So, onwards into the Bs! Our library has 19 full shelves of authors beginning with B, so I’ll need a random number generator to pick a shelf for me. Update on Friday.

Friday, 3 January 2020

Welcome to week 1 of my 2020 reading challenge, Reading the Library!

Here is a summary of what I intend to do this year, and why.

(TL;DR - I'm planning to read one book every two weeks off the General Fiction shelves in the library where I work, starting at A and working through the alphabet, in an attempt to fill in some shocking gaps in my reading education.)

This fortnight, A is for:

There are six shelves of authors beginning with A, and, in a completely arbitrary fashion which will probably become the hallmark of this challenge, I've gone for the very first shelf, right at the top.

One book in particular popped out at me:

So, book number one of this year's challenge is THE BEHAVIOUR OF MOTHS by Poppy Adams. I know nothing about this book, or this author, and I don't intend to look at the blurb before I start reading. Let's see how this works out.

Progress update next Friday!

Wednesday, 18 December 2019

There’s nothing like working in a library to make you realise the gaps in your education.

I started at the Mobile Family Library six months ago. It’s delightful. For my first week, there wasn’t a spare desk for me, so I had to work in the stacks, alongside 37,000 books, which was, as you can imagine, a terrible hardship.

One thing that became abundantly clear was how little I’d read. I like to think I read quite a lot, and quite widely, but here I found whole shelves of authors I’d never even heard of. A glance at the loan records showed how popular some of these authors are (anecdotally, the library used to have a copy of a Barbara Cartland novel that was loaned out over 300 times). So why haven’t I read them?

The obvious answer is a lack of time, I suppose. And, also, I am very comfortable in my comfort zone. I like reading the books I like reading. Who has time to expand their horizons when there’s so many wonderful books and authors that you’re already familiar with?

This year I turned 40, which is nice, but it brought with it a realisation that I will never read all the books I want to. Isn’t that dreadful? If there are 37,000 books in our stacks at the library, and if I could read a hundred a year, it would take... *counts on fingers* ... 370 years for me to read them all. And that’s just the books here in this one bit of the library, never mind the Family Library next door with its shelves full of YA and MG, or the Douglas Library downtown, or my own stupid house which is full to bursting with books I haven’t yet read.

If I’m fortunately enough to live to a hundred, and I keep up my reading pace, there are only 6,000 more books that I could realistically read in my lifetime.

That’s quite a sobering thought. How on earth can I narrow down which books to exclude?

I think it’s time to start being realistic about my reading habits. I should accept that I will never read Martin Amis, or Jeffrey Archer. I should come to terms with never ploughing through all of Nora Roberts’ back catalogue. I have been trying and failing to read Ulysses for twenty-five years – perhaps it’s time to give up on it?

With that in mind, I would like to announce my reading plan for 2020. I call it READING THE LIBRARY.

Here’s the deal. Every two weeks I will read one book from the fiction section of the library stack, going alphabetically by author name from A to Z. In this way I will (hopefully) read 26 books (one from each letter of the alphabet) in 2020, while leaving me plenty of space to read books from other sources as well. I will pick a shelf within each letter at random, and choose the book that interests me the most.

A selection of rules:

1. I must read one book off the chosen shelf every two weeks.
2. I will restrict myself to the “General Fiction” section of our library, which excludes Crime, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Large Print, and Non-Fiction. If I included those shelves as well, this project would fast become unworkable.
3. Shelving is arbitrary and sometimes books get moved around or issued to other borrowers. We are a library, you know.
4. I will show a preference for authors I haven’t read over authors I have read.
5. I will show a preference for female authors and/or authors of colour (sorry not sorry).
6. Every two weeks I will post a review or an update on this blog.
7. I reserve the right to refuse to read (or continue to read) a particular book or author for any reason at all, including extremely petty reasons.

Are these rules arbitrary and restrictive and probably unfair? You betcha. There will be books and authors who get missed out, through no fault of their own. I can’t read everything.

But, hopefully, this project will help me fill in some gaps.

Check back here in the first week of January, for a random book off the “A” shelves! Who will it be??


Thursday, 3 January 2019

As usual at this time of year, imma look back over my spreadsheet for the last twelve months and provide a short breakdown of what I've been reading and why, mostly for my own amusement:

Sooooo, in 2018 I read a total of 103 books (including graphic novels but not including books I read to my son), which is the exact same number as in 2017, conveniently. Like 2017, the majority of the books were Young Adult (18 books) but that's a really sharp drop from last year, when about half the books I read were YA. Non-fiction clocked in at the next highest (16) and literary fiction surprising me with 15. I've upped my game with reading more sci-fi (11) and crime/thrillers (13), and I've had to add a separate category for feminist dystopia (4) because it's apparently a new feature of my reading pile.

Disregarding co-authored books, about 60% of what I read was written by women.

Approximately one third of the books I read were by authors I'd previously read. Which means a respectable two-thirds were from authors I'd never checked out before. From those two-thirds, the highest number (13) were chosen at random from the library. Others were recommended to me either in person or online (or by a very enthusiastic librarian), or I picked them up because they were authored by our amazingly talented local author community, or they were being discussed at our book group (hence the rise in feminist dystopian fiction). I made an extra effort to read books I considered as "classics", including three from pre-1900 (the most I've managed in any year since high school).

I'm making an effort to read ebooks (in quiet moments when I'd otherwise be trawling twitter) but I've still not renewed my dalliance with audiobooks. I've also joined Netgalley, just in case I don't have enough books.

My book resolutions this year are to read more crime/thriller, since it looks like it's my area of interest now (oh, yeah, I have news to share in a later blogpost, check back for that), and to avoid bringing more books into my house unless I have an exit strategy in place for them (because hoarding).

Wednesday, 2 January 2019

2018 top booky picks

It's been surprisingly difficult to pick my top books of the year for 2018, because there's been such a wodge of very fine reading material, even though none of my Big 5 Authors (the ones I shall defend unto death) have released new books this year. Having said that, my definite favourite book of the year is:

The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet - Becky Chambers
And I know this is a cheat, because it came out a few years ago, but the second sequel (Record of a Spaceborn Few, following A Closed and Common Orbit) came out this year so it totally counts, shut up. It's a marvellous trilogy - gentle and thoughtful and clever and often hilarious and occasionally heartbreaking, like all the very best sci-fi. My only criticism would be if you're looking for a fast-paced, plot-based romp, this might not be for you. But if you love spending time with characters then you'll heart this.

In no particular order, this is what else floated my boat this year:

Fir - Sharon Gosling
Came across this by accident in the library and it scared my pants off. Tight and claustrophobic and a lot more unnerving than you'd expect from its innocuous YA tag.

Call of the Curlew - Elizabeth Brooks
Our Elizabeth! So very, very proud of her and this marvellous time-slippy gothicky drama. Cannot wait for her next one.

Keep You Safe / Love You Gone - Rona Halsall
And our Rona too! In an apparent attempt to make the rest of us look sloth-like, Rona had not one but two amazing books published in 2018. Both are taut, fast-paced, twisty-turney thrillers, although if I had to pick a favourite I'd probably say I enjoyed Love You Gone the best. But they're both well worth your time.

Folk - Zoe Gilbert
Retelling of a bunch of folk tales, expertly capturing the dreamlike tone and feel. I'm really looking forward to reading this for a second time.

Paperbacks from Hell - Grady Hendrix
There's nothing quite so delightful as finding someone who shares your enthusiasm for a particular subject, especially if the subject is pulpy horror novel covers. I've bought three copies of this book so far this year (one for myself, two for presents) and am considering buying a fourth so I have a lending copy.

Force of Nature / The Lost Man - Jane Harper
OH MY GOD. I have a new favourite author. No, I haven't read The Dry yet (I got it for a Christmas present so it's next on my list) but based on these, her second and third books, Jane Harper is someone I'm going to talk about a LOT from now all. Her books are full of family secrets and sneaky motivations and the weather as an almost physical presence on the page. Glorious.

And a quick round up of other good things I read this year: I joined a book group, which directly resulted in me reading a lot more feminist dystopia than usual. Particular favourites were The Power by Naomi Alderman; Feminists Don't Wear Pink (And Other Lies); Circe by Madeline Miller; and Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge. Next year I might vote that we read something less weighty, however. :)

I finally read Northanger Abbey, and Middlemarch, and A Christmas Carol. No one can say I didn't. And I found out why EVERYONE raves about We Have Always Lived in the Castle (it's great, that's why).

Wednesday, 12 September 2018

our summer kills the sun

Autumn is my favourite season. Sure, it's getting colder and the weather's turning rubbish, and we'll probably not see the sun again until May, but look at all the wonderful things that are on the way. Halloween! Nanowrimo! Bonfire night! The pre-Christmas run up! My birthday! Autumn leaves! Manx Litfest! The start of Bake Off! THE START OF BAKE OFF!

Honestly, I can see why this season overwhelms people. There's a whole bunch of stuff arriving all at once, most of which either costs money or uses up time or both, and it's easy to look at the last four months of the year with dread. (Kendra at The Lazy Genius talks about how to approach this season without being crushed by it; it's definitely worth a listen. I thoroughly recommend Kendra's podcasts, listening to her is like someone putting a blanket round your shoulders and telling you you're doing great.)

ANYWAY. The Great British Bake Off 2018 has started. Let the festival of cakeage begin! This year we're doing a fantasy league at home and a bake-along at work. The bake-along is something I wish I'd heard of sooner - everyone puts £2 in, you draw out a baker, if that baker wins the series you get £24. But, if and when your baker is eliminated, you have to bring in cakes to the office. Why did we never think of this before?? Everyone's a winner, because everyone gets cake.

Manx Litfest is right around the corner and, as usual, I'm super-excited and also super-terrified in fairly equal measures, because there's so much going on and I don't feel the least bit prepared.

And after Litfest we're in the run up to Nanowrimo. I've recently made some RL friends (I know, shocking) who are hopefully organising some meet-ups and write-ins and all sorts of other proper Nano type things, which I'm all enthused about. As usual, however, I'm totally without an idea to write in November. Should maybe think about that over the next month or so.

BOOKS I'VE READ THIS SUMMER:

FOLK - Zoe Gilbert Love, love, love, love. Admittedly, I'm hardly unbiased, since this collection of short stories draws influence from Manx folklore, it's set on an island that looks suspiciously familiar, the author name-checks the Isle of Man in the acknowledgements, and she's attending our festival later this month. I am super-biased. But regardless, honestly, this is a fab book. Myth and legend and fable intertwine through the different stories, weaving a whole atmosphere and sense of place, giving it a dreamlike feel, reminiscent of childhood fairytales that you'd read or tell over and over again. It's the sort of book that'll stay with me for a long time, and which I plan to reread and recommend to everyone I know.

SUNBURN - Laura Lippman This one has been hyped to all get-out, but that's probably because it's smart and twisty and very well written. I didn't enjoy it as much as everyone else in my Twitter feed did, but it's still an excellent read.

THE HANDMAID'S TALE - Margaret Atwood Such a slim-line book for the amount of societal weight and gravitas it holds. I wish I'd read it earlier in life, not least because it feels uncomfortably like non-fiction these days.

MIDDLEMARCH - George Eliot I FINALLY FINISHED MIDDLEMARCH, goddamn that was one hefty tome.

THE LONG WAY TO A SMALL ANGRY PLANET - Becky Chambers A space romp! I've previously overlooked this book because the title made me think it was something else (curse my insistence on judging books by their cover) but I'm glad I picked it up eventually. Not a lot of actual plot happens, so if you're looking for high-octane thrills you might be disappointed, but if you like your space operas to be full of character moments and world building, this is just lovely. It's also the first book in ages that made me want to draw fan art.

Tuesday, 10 July 2018

always sunny in the desert

This month I've mostly been playing ASSASSIN'S CREED ORIGINS. And it's okay. Certainly not the worst in the franchise, but pretty far from the best either. To be honest, although I've clocked up a decent amount of hours so far, I feel like I've hardly scratched the surface of gameplay, but that might be because I've only just been given a mission that involved any sneaky assassination. I've also only recently unlocked the hidden blade, or found any building higher than two storeys to climb. Now, call me a traditionalist, but the things I associate with ASS CREED are a) climbing buildings and b) stabbing folks, and not being given either of these options at the outset felt a bit strange. No, it felt like I was playing ASS CREED BROTHERHOOD again, and nobody needs that.

Also, I suspect I'm further through the game than it looks. This sneaky assassination mission is the third main target, out of five. So... am I two thirds of the way through? That can't be right. Look at the size of that map! The rest of it can't all be filled with empty desert and weirdly aggressive hippos, can it?

Oh, wait, it can? And you're going to dissuade me from exploring by making some enemies impossible to kill (helpfully marked with a red skull above their heads) until I reach a certain level? Of course you are.

I do like the ability to "borrow" boats rather than stealing them (the rightful owner complains a bit, then settles down in the bow of the boat until you've finished scooting wherever you're going, at which point they'll take their boat back and go on their merry way, which makes a heck of a change from the protagonist randomly throwing people out of vehicles whenever the whim takes him). And I like my camel, Reginald, and the "follow road" option, where you can autopilot your camel to the next waypoint. Although obviously Reginald is not smart enough to stop BEFORE the waypoint if it is, for example, in the middle of a heavily fortified garrison full of unkillable enemies.

Every time, Reginald. Every goddamn time.

Also, who the heck was in charge of animating that poor camel? I salute Ubisoft's commitment to employing "team members of diverse religions, sexuality, and gender-orientation" (as they tell us at the start of every game, in a slightly defensive way tbh) but next time could they employ someone who knows how a camel is put together? Or who at least could look up a video on youtube? But noooo, let's just use the same animation framework as the horses, and make poor Reginald run like a lumpen horse with little-to-no sense of self-preservation, straight into prickly arrow-death.

OTHER THINGS I'VE LIKED THIS MONTH:

BOOKS:

The Tale of the Duelling Neurosurgeons - Sam Kean
Brains are weird. That's the first takeaway from this book. The other is that my absolute favourite kind of non-fiction is Extremely Knowledgeable Expert Talks About Specialist Topic in Super-Excitable Fashion. I'll read pretty much anything that falls under that heading, which this book definitely does.

Middlemarch - George Elliot
WHY IS LITERARY FICTION SO HARD. I'm 20% through this ebook. I suspect this may take a while.

TV:

Oh Asia, baby, what made you think it was a good idea to put live butterflies into a dress? My heart breaks.

Friday, 9 March 2018

IWD 2018

I was very kindly invited to speak at an International Women's Day event at Douglas Library this week, along with several other waaaay more qualified people. I figured I'd use the opportunity to blather about the history of horror and the women who've helped build it.

* * *

I was attracted to writing horror because I always loved the visceral, visual nature of it. The best horror has a kind of exuberance. And people love to be scared in a safe, controlled way. It’s reassuring that you can hide the book in the freezer if it all gets too much.

I also love how horror shines a light on human nature. It exposes our fears, our neuroses, the rotten interiors we'd rather people didn't see. It does this sometimes to highlight how awful the world is and why we should be scared or angry, but at other times it shows how these things can be confronted and overcome. Books show us the inevitable terror of the world, then invite us to believe that hope, bravery, and humanity can help us fight these things (even if we won’t always win).

Like the phrase goes, fairy stories are important not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.

Fairy stories are perhaps the original horror stories. How many people get eaten, beaten, mutilated, kidnapped or cursed in our favourite children's stories? The original tellings were terrifying. They used horrifying aspects to grab the attention, but also to reinforce the lessons they preached - bad things happen to bad people. Evil actions can be defeated by good deeds.

Back in the day, these stories were passed generation to generation by word of mouth, mothers telling children. So in a sense, the very roots of horror came from women telling stories. And it's interesting to see how that continued through the centuries. Early gothic horror, originating in the 18th Century, by pioneers like Ann Radcliffe and Clara Reeve, was written for a mostly female audience. It was considered frivolous; not proper literature. Jane Austen herself referenced this fact in Northanger Abbey - her main character is a young woman who’s filled her head with gothic fiction and subsequently developed an overactive imagination. She says:

“Such is the common cant. “And what are you reading, Miss — ?” “Oh! It is only a novel!” replies the young lady, while she lays down her book with affected indifference, or momentary shame. “It is only Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda” […] Now, had the same young lady been engaged with a volume of the Spectator, […] how proudly would she have produced the book, and told its name.”

Into the 19th Century we got Mary Shelley and Frankenstein, one of the cornerstones of our genre. However, it's worth noting that, even then people argued that women's writing shouldn't be taken seriously. Frankenstein was published anonymously for many years. And the theory persists that Mary Shelley didn't actually write the story - it was all the work of her husband, Percy. As recently as three days ago there was an article in the Guardian that suggested Mary Shelley couldn't possibly have come up with such a story, despite, y’know, having a fascination with science in general and galvanism in particular.

So the 20th Century brought a new wave of female horror writers. The perspective they brought, of domestic, psychological horror, resonated in particular with readers at this time: the sense of something terrifying at the heart of the ordinary and everyday. Authors like Shirley Jackson and Susan Hill set the bar here. Angela Carter used the oldest fairytales weaved with social and feminist issues, to teach us that external monsters are rarely scarier than what lurks in people’s souls. The worst wolves are indeed hairy on the inside.

So, for a time, horror was a more-or-less equal opportunities genre, written and consumed by both genders.

Something appears to have shifted in the latter half of the twentieth century. The idea’s come about that horror is something of a boys’ club, and the best writers are male. The other day, an acquaintance remarked - not to me, but to someone else in this room - that women cannot write horror unless it's about sparkly vampires. Obviously I beg to differ. So how have we come to this?

Personally, I blame the 80s. The market for horror movies exploded in the late 70s into 80s. A new kind of visceral horror, slasher movies, video nasties, the infamous banned list. Certain misogynistic tropes became standard - not in all movies, obviously (hastag not all movies), but enough to call a broad trend. If I say slasher movie, we all picture the same sort of trope. Now, there's a fair overlap between those of us who love horror movies and those who read horror novels. People who watched the gore-busters of the 80s looked for literature in the same vein, and found pulp horror.

The authors writing for the pulp market were predominately male. We'll name drop Guy N Smith, Shaun Hutson, James Herbert et al. And Stephen King, of course, but you can't really include Stephen King in any statistics, because he's such an outlier he drags all your arguments askew, like a super-dark star. Neil Gaiman's the same. Anyway, around about this time, male authors have adopted the frivolous gothic novel and turned it around so now people suggest women don't have the heart or stomach for such things.

I have to say at this point, I've never found the horror community to be anything other than delightful and welcoming. No one there has ever told me I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be writing this stuff, or should be writing something more suitable to girls. The only people who’ve ever suggested that were those who dismiss the horror genre in general – I was once accused of bringing down the institution of family and marriage by writing about such grisly subjects.

But when I was growing up, about 99 percent of the authors I read were male. It made me assume horror was a boy’s game. Which suited me fine, I was a tomboy, but it was only as I grew up and learned to read more widely that I realised how skewed my worldview was. I worry at how other young women would fare if they wanted to follow the same path. Wouldn’t it just be easier to write about sparkly vampires?

As to the present day, in my opinion some of the best horror writing out there is currently happening in Young Adult. Those authors have the visceral exuberance that made me fall in love with the genre in the first place. Blending genres is very en vogue at the moment, with horror seguing into sci-fi or thriller or dystopia, as in Naomi Alderman’s recent feminist novel The Power.

People do sometimes wrinkle their nose at horror – it’s viewed as commercial, unsophisticated; entertainment not art. You’ll rarely see a horror novel shortlisted for a major prize. The same critics often wrinkle noses at YA as well – it’s for kids, it has nothing to say, it’s not proper literature. Even fans will sometimes say, oh, it’s my guilty pleasure.

Let me stop the bus there for a moment. People feel guilty way too often about stuff they love. Oh, I love Eurovision, it’s my guilty pleasure. I love the Twilight books, it’s my guilty pleasure. Like you should feel bad for the things that bring you joy. You should only consume them under a blanket, in the dark, when no one’s watching. That’s what we’re taught. We feel like people will judge us.

If we can do one thing for each other and for the upcoming generation, it’s to learn to embrace the things we love. Never feel guilty about something that genuinely makes you happy. And never make others feel bad for the things they care about. We need to support and validate other people and their (questionable) tastes in literature.

I love reading horror books, and I love writing horror books. And I’m exceptionally proud of the women who’ve paved the way for me to do this thing I love.

Thank you, please buy my book.

Thursday, 4 January 2018

book stats, everyone loves book stats

Happy New Year, and welcome to me talking about books again.

In 2017, according to Goodreads, I read 103 books (up on a total of 91 last year). I'm saying this to brag, obviously, but hopefully not to make anyone feel bad about their own acheivements - if you read five books or a hundred and fifty-five books, that's awesome. Books are awesome and we should all celebrate that they've been a part of our lives this year.

I kept a spreadsheet as well as updating Goodreads (because why wouldn't you want a spreadsheet?) and have finangled some statistics out of it:

By genre, Young Adult predominated again (39 books) although not as much as last year, with Proper Grown-Up Literary Fiction coming in second (15 books). I've been trying to read a few smart, grown-up books, mostly to prove that I can. I'm still not convinced they're better than kids' books.

Sci-fi was third, with 8 books. There's been some stellar (har) sci-fi this year.

I managed 13 Non-Fiction books (great improvement from last year) and 2 graphic novels (rather shabby effort).

By author gender, it's about 50-50 female-male, which surprised me because I deliberately try to bias my reading towards women authors. More shockingly, despite my stated promise to read more diversely, only about 15% of my 2017 reading was by authors who weren't white and/or CIS-gendered.

I'm still reading very few books on my Kindle - a grand total of 8 this year. And I seem to have gotten over my brief dalliance with audiobooks.

About a quarter of the novels I read this year were by authors I was already a fan of (or who I thought deserved another chance at converting me). Which means I tried about 75 books by authors I'd never read before. 28 were random selections from the local libraries (and a couple were direct recommendations by our lovely librarians). Another 15 were either recommended by friends or I tracked them down because of positive buzz online. Word of mouth is alive and well! Oh, and 7 books were by our visiting Litfest authors, because I need to keep my fangirling up to date.

Next year, I intend to continue discovering new authors and not understanding literary fiction. I will read more diversely, dammit. And I also intend to properly update my Goodreads account, because I've just started reading the same Douglas Coupland book for what I suspect is the third time.

Thursday, 21 December 2017

best in show 2017

It's been a bit of a year, hasn't it? If like me you're feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the sorry state of the world right now, I don't blame you at all. But it's not all awful. There's been some pretty good books out this year.

Here are my favourites:

Forgotten Worlds / Forbidden Suns - D Nolan Clark
Let's get the obvious ones out of the way first, shall we? D Nolan Clark is a frickin genius, and this second and third instalment of the trilogy (both of which were released this year, so not only is he a frickin genius, he makes the rest of us look ridiculously slack) build on the superlative Forsaken Skies from last year. It's serious sci-fi that will appeal to us who appreciate solid science but also like gunfights and terrifying aliens and gratuitous explosions in space. Everything about this series made me remember why I love sci-fi.

Paradox Bound - Peter Clines
Who wants some time travel road trip treasure hunt shenanigans? That's right, EVERYONE. Peter Clines has produced another clever, funny, fast-paced, twisty-turny adventure that defies easy classification. It's a fun ride.

The Hate U Give - Angie Thomas
Alright, I know this will be on everyone's top ten list this year. But that's because it's awesome. Quite likely Book of the Year. So, yeah, get used to seeing everyone talking about how amazing it is. Even better, go read it yourself because then you'll understand why everyone bangs on about it. It's not necessarily an easy read - I'm not even sure I enjoyed reading it, exactly, but I'm damn glad I did.

Attack of the Fifty Foot Women - Catherine Mayer
One thing this year has taught me is: I was perfectly happy in my comfort zone of political apathy. I didn't want to go back to being angry all the time. But apparently the world has other ideas and apathy just doesn't cut it anymore. If, like me, you're looking for a way to direct your shouty anger towards a cause, Catherine Mayer's book is a good place to start, because gender politics is something that affects everyone, not just those of us encamped in our feminist treehouses.

Things a Bright Girl Can Do - Sally Nicholls
With that in mind, let's have some suffragette YA fiction. This is another book everyone's talking about, and again that's with good reason. Sally Nicholls has crafted a great story following the fortunes (or otherwise) of three separate girls who wind up for different reasons involved with the suffragette movement during the war.

The Night Brother - Rosie Garland
And this is... oh, more historical fiction, also with suffragettes. There seems to have been a theme with my reading this year. Anyway, The Night Brother is an unsettling, folklorish tale set in early 1900s Manchester, with strong themes about identity and gender, and it's really very good.

Desert Skies, Rebel Souls - M P Tonnesen
Exotic locations, coming of age, true love conquering all. Sound good? It is.

The Language of Thorns - Leigh Bardugo
SO PRETTY. Everything about this book is gorgeous. The illustrations - gorgeous. The cover - gorgeous. The stories themselves - a bunch of neat twists on some lesser-known fairy tales - SUPER GORGEOUS. The way the illustrations grow and unfurl throughout the course of each story is a particularly nice touch.

Long Way Down - Jason Bourne
Hoo boy. This is a tough one to describe. It's like a long-form poem story? Only much better than that makes it sound? It's exceptionally well written, it's lyrical, it's a complete emotional gut-punch, and it'll stay with you for loooooong after you finish reading. Oh, and it made me cry for three days.

White as Snow - Maxi Bransdale
A hauntingly beautiful modern-day fairy tale about identity and memory (and the loss of them both). My only complaint is now we have to wait for Book 2.

The Sun is Also a Star - Nicola Yoon
This book came out in 2016, but I didn't read it till this year, and also it's brilliant, so shut up. A proper beautiful love story, featuring pathos, heartache, deux ex machina, and a decent helping of science. Perfect.

I'll do a rundown of what else I've read this year, but that can wait until after the holidays. Have a great Christmas, everyone. Remember that books are the gift that keeps on giving.

Friday, 27 January 2017

more books what I read in 2016

Thanks to the wonder of my reading spreadsheet, I can bring you further details of what I read last year. I know, you're spoilt.

In total I read 91 books. Breaking that down into genre first:

Almost exactly half (44) were Young Adult, which is no surprise because a) I'm trying to write YA books at present so need to keep up to date, and b) because OMG it's the best genre. It bears repeating that in the broad category of YA, you've got the whole spectrum of genres - crime, horror, thriller, literary, sci-fi, fantasy, everything. I tried to read as variously as possible, aided by my random-selection process (see below).
I also read 9 Middle Grade books (as categorised by my local library), 7 sci-fi, 6 "literary" (judged by me as such, usually because they didn't fit into another convenient category), 4 thrillers, 3 women's fiction, 2 crime, 2 horror, 2 fantasy, 2 poetry compilations, and 1 historical romp. Also 4 non-fiction books and 5 graphic novels.

(This isn't including all the children's books I read with my Youngest, although to be honest a few of those were for me more than him.)

By author gender, it's pretty much a 60-40% split female-male.

Despite the hundreds of ebooks I'd acquiring on my Kindle, I only read 5 ebooks and listened to 2 audiobooks

I also kept track of the reasons why I picked up a particular book, mostly for my own curiosity. 30 of the books were by authors I'd previously read. Which means a solid two-thirds were by authors I'd never read anything by before. And it paid off, because I discovered some of my new favourite authors this year.
Of the rest, 14 books were random selections from the library. I absolutely judge a book by its cover - it's the only way, since I hate reading blurbs (I've had to stop reading tag lines on the cover as well, due to the number of books that think "you'll never guess the surprise twist at the end" is a) not a spoiler, and b) likely to make me do anything but put the bloody thing straight back on the shelf). For a few months I choose books based on cover colour (there're a lot of blue books right now, I noticed). I tried not to limit myself by genre, although obviously there's a YA bias.
13 books were directly recommended to me, either online or in person.
21 were books I'd heard mentioned on Twitter or in the Bookseller or somewhere else.
7 were for authors who attended Manx Litfest 2016, where I wanted to effectively fan-girl at them.

So looking towards 2017... I should read more non-fiction. And I've seriously neglected the crime and horror genres. Oh, and I should read more ebooks. Apart from that, I think I'll just read everything.

Thursday, 19 January 2017

books I really liked in 2016

It was rather a good year for books, don't you think? For starters, three of my top five favourite authors had new books out in 2016 (apparently in an effort to make me spend more money I haven't got), and I also discovered two new authors to add to my top ten. So here, in no particular order, are the best books I read last year:

FUTURISTIC VIOLENCE AND FANCY SUITS - David Wong
This came out in 2015, but I didn't read it till after new year, so it counts as 2016 for me. Anyway, it's brilliant - everything you'd expect from the fella who brought you JOHN DIES AT THE END and THIS BOOK IS FULL OF SPIDERS, and features my favourite female protagonist in ages.

MISTLETOE AND MURDER (and its prequels) - Robin Stevens
The fifth in a series of very English, cosy murder mysteries, which have earned a place on my best-of list because I read all five in quick succession. They're like being wrapped in a huge softy blanket with a mug of hot chocolate - comforting and delicious.

FANGIRL / CARRY ON - Rainbow Rowell
FANGIRL is an absolute delight. It's the story of a college girl who writes fanfiction about Simon Snow, who is definitely not Harry Potter. It gets right everything I love about fanfiction and the community that surrounds it. And CARRY ON is the logical conclusion - a novel-length Simon Snow fic, which I didn't enjoy as much as FANGIRL, but which does have Baz in it. *swoons a bit*

THE LIE TREE - Frances Hardinge
Oh my gosh, this was good, wasn't it? Thoroughly deserves every superlative thing everyone's said about it.

SIX OF CROWS / CROOKED KINGDOM - Leigh Bardugo
I don't think I've lost my shit so badly over a fictional work since Firefly. This duology is legitimately beautiful, with its world-building (familiar to anyone who's read Ms Bardugo's Grisha books), its cunning twisty-turny plotting, its characters... oh man, the characters. I have a girl-crush on at least three of them. It made me laugh out loud and cry like a baby. I honestly thought I was too old to have a new favourite book, but this has proven me wrong.

LONG TIME LOST - Chris Ewan
No one will be surprised by the inclusion of Chris Ewan on this list. That man could write a shopping itinerary that'd have you biting your nails in suspense. LONG TIME LOST is a great story about what can go awry with the witness protection programme. Tense, smart, super-well-paced, and set partially on the Isle of Man, wonderful.

THE FIREMAN - Joe Hill
Oh, this was great too. I've not read any of Mr Hill's other books (I'm such a slacker), but this has really turned me into a fan. It managed to be full-on apocalyptic fiction without falling into the constant doom-cycle that afflicts so many similar books.

ZEROES - Chuck Wendig
This year I discovered audiobooks. I'm still not wholly convinced, but I'll admit they are useful - I spent a long weekend painting and decorating while listening to ZEROES, which made the task a lot less horrendous. Also, I thoroughly enjoyed this smart tech-thriller. Mr Wendig looks likely to become one of my favourite authors.

EX-ISLE - Peter Clines
Speaking of favourite authors (and audiobooks). EX-ISLE is the fifth addition to the EX-HEROES saga, and Mr Clines is still on top form. Zombies and superheroes AND characters you care about so much you draft angry emails to the author when he inevitably does something unforgivable to them, hashtag angryface.

BREAKING CAT NEWS - Georgia Dunn
BCN is quite possibly the most beautiful comic strip available on the internet at present time. It's funny, it's smart, it's so true to life, and the artwork is gorgeous. I'm in awe of this lady's talents. And now it's available as a book!

EMBED WITH GAMES - Cara Ellison
Woo, new girl-crush alert! Ms Ellison writes games and writes about games and is generally everything I aspire to in life. For this book she travelled around the world, visiting independent game developers and crashing on their sofas. A wonderful blend of travel writing and game theory.

IF WOMEN ROSE ROOTED - Sharon Blackie
I picked this up because Dr Blackie was a visiting author at Manx Litfest this year, and I'm very glad I did. A fascinating account of Celtic myths and stories, told from a feminist perspective. I'd recommend this to everyone.

FORSAKEN SKIES - D Nolan Clarke
Annnnd last but most definitely not least, David Wellington is back yet again with a new pseudonym and a new genre, proving (again) that he's a terribly talented bastard who can spin story-gold out of everything he turns his hand to. I loved this epic sci-fi space-battle tale and can't wait for the next instalment.

I think that covers most of the very best books I read last year, although I'm sure I missed a couple. Next time you're in your favourite independent bookshop, please do check out some of these recommendations. At best you'll discover something wonderful; at worst... well, you can always shout at me, I suppose.