DNF at 32%, but I’m not sure what exactly is making me bail. There is a lot going on in this novel. Focused on the story of Lia, mother and wife, whose breast cancer has returned - it includes not only her process of navigating this, but flashbacks to her childhood to explore her relationship with her mother, a weird Wuthering Heights inspired first love, her relationship with her husband, and her dynamic with her daughter, and also segments told from the POV of her cancer.

A found the narrative oscillated between moving and relatable, to really silly over descriptions. The core family dynamics were great, but the young love flashbacks (so far anyway) distract from this and feel like another story, and I’m as yet to see the point of Cancer’s voice, who’s sarky and needlessly poetic. My biggest bug bear though is the way Lia and her daughter Iris are depicted. Iris is precocious in that way only literary fiction children are, and Lia is bizarrely romanticised. The latter might be addressed as the story unfolds, but I cannot escape the (probably quite mean) thought that, as the authors mother died when she was a similar age, this is a fictionalised non-fiction, and the rose tinted/idealised characterisations won’t evolve.

Ultimately I’m not in the mood to listen to a story that’s giving me whiplash between a beautiful and intensely sad tale of a mother and her loved ones looking mortality in the face, and the bloody irritating over worked prose/too many ingredients indulgence of a debut writer. I may come back to this when I’m in a better headspace for it.

If you’ve always lived life in joyous multicolour you’ll probably find this throughly depressing and monotone. If you have lived or live, partly or fully, in numb grey, it’ll be relatable, honest and sort of uplifting. Uplifting in that it reflects how even in the midst of depression there’s dry humour and human connections that break through the sedative like haze.

People With No Charisma is a time jumping mosaic novel about a woman who struggles to find her purpose. A dysfunctional childhood with a wannabe actress mother and an asylum psychiatrist father, and a coming of age arc that’s full ‘failure to launch’, both of which are notable only for their mundanity. It feels like if she’d added in a preoccupation with the pretence of external perception it would be a perfect reflection of Gen X/Millenials/ Gen Z not skewered in Latronico’s Perfection.

A short novella/long short story, for fans of horror mystery type things. It’s a bit Lovecraftian? Not 100% sure I’m using that term right, but it fits with the vibe of the one Lovecraft book I have read.

A psychic, some mercenaries and a history professor are paid a large sum by a mystery client to go to an old house on the Scottish coast and find a missing conspiracy theorist… thats about all I can say to not spoil it. Neat idea, well executed. If you go into it with a short story mindset it’s great. If you start wishing the idea was explored in more depth you’ll be annoyed by the lack of character depth etc.

Oh and I realised why it was so easy on the eyes - it’s not purely just the library’s large font copy, but part of a dyslexic friendly series for adults. Whilst I think reading on a modern e-reader probably allows for the accommodations here, it’s great for those that need it to not miss out on the joy of a physical book!

This started strong, then rapidly became incredibly dull… then picked up, then got a little weird, then a little sentimental. But I ended up loving it. I just want to give Thomas a big hug 🥺

I probably had some of you worried there, as I’ve not seen a negative review of this one anywhere! And that’s justified, despite my little blip near the start - I think I might just have bookish PTSD now for a slow book, fearing I might be reliving the tedium of The Wall et al🫠.

Incredibly atmospheric, full of longing, finding that raw and relatable inflection point when resigned stoicism opens the door to dreams and potential. You’ll find yourself left with the feeling of salt and sand abrasions sore upon your skin, and a warming ember of hope glowing in your chest.

When you picture Death, does he have a hood and a scythe? Is he silent and brooding? Godden imagines Death as an exhausted poor elderly black woman, overworked, othered and overlooked. She’s got a contentious relationship with her sister Life, and a complicated one with her lover Time. But she’s finally found someone to talk to, Wolfe, a struggling writer who didn’t understand exactly what they were getting into when they impulsively spent the rent money on an antique desk (Mrs Death’s conduit).

Sounds like a fantasy novel doesn’t it - but it’s much more of a psychological literary fiction. It’s about grief, loss, perseverance, life, trauma, courage. Godden is a poet and that’s clear in her prose and narration. The story is told in a patchwork of asides from Mrs Death (from Jack the Ripper to Syria) alongside Wolfe’s story. This is the sort of playing round with form, and the rules on what constitutes a novel, that I can broadly get on board with - the scrapbook mixed media approach if you will.

Overall a mixed bag for me - some of it hits hard and is poignant and moving, some remains just drawn out and indulgent poetic waffle (for my taste). But well worth reading if the topic or novel style appeals to you. At times dark and sad, but ultimately hopeful.