february-march 2026 books…

Gwen John (Alicia Foster): I read this book prior to attending the exhibition of the artist’s work at the National Museum, Cardiff – and it proved very useful. Although I had long been an admirer of her work, I knew only rudimentary facts about her life. Like her brother, Augustus, she attended the Slade School of Fine Art from the age of 18 – which unlike the Royal Academy, for instance, allowed male and female artists to work and study together relatively unimpeded. What I hadn’t realised was that, from 1904 until her death in 1939, she went on to spend most of her time in Paris… and, indeed, was Rodin’s lover (and frequent model) for some 10 years! I had imagined her as being something of a recluse (‘famous for painting solitary women’), but this was far from being the case. Towards the end of her life she embraced an ardent Catholicism. A useful, fascinating book that filled in LOTS of gaps in my knowledge about Gwen John and the background to some of her beautiful paintings.
The Impossible Fortune (Richard Osman): Two admissions: a) I’m appalled that ‘celebrities’ who make shed loads of money doing ‘other things’, decide to become writers, make shed loads of more money while aspiring writers struggle to make ends meet, and b) I have to admit that Osman is a very clever, gifted author! Ridiculously, I realise that this is the fifth ‘Thursday Murder Club Mystery’ that I’ve read… and, just like the others, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this “warm, wise and witty” novel (as Val McDermid has apparently described it). I love all of the Murder Club’s characters (especially Joyce!). Another very pleasurable read.
Salt (David Harsent): I came across this book of poetry at our local £5 Bookshop. I’d never previously come across the author but, slowly reading his poems out loud to myself (as you do!) as one of my early morning rituals, I came to really enjoy his ‘way with words’. The book’s dust jacket provides an apt description: “The poems in this book are a series, not a sequence. They belong to each other in mood, in tone and by way of certain images and words that form a ricochet of echoes – not least the word ‘salt’”. I rather loved it and will seek out more of Harsent’s poetry in future.
Magic In Mossthorn Bridge (Alice Broadway): Exciting to be reading a new book by our very gifted author daughter (she’s a wonderful story-teller)! The book’s cover describes it as “a sweet and cozy small-town romance” – which, on the face of it, is really not my ‘scene’(!)… and yet I found it quite compelling (I read it in 2 days!). The setting is the town and community of Mossthorn Bridge in the north of England. After 10 years’ absence, a young woman returns to run her aunt’s music shop. But there are issues: a) her ‘first love’ still lives in the town (their relationship hadn’t ended well), b) her old flame is the son of the town's biggest landlord/landowner (who thinks he rules the town), c) their respective families despise each other and d) there’s magic involved (which rather complicates things!!). The two young people are forced into taking part in a community play (a very selective retelling of the town's history – written by the aforementioned major landowner/father). A story about power, music, fable/magic and love. I’m looking forward to the sequel already!
Waterland (Graham Swift): This rather lovely – and sometimes challenging - book (first published in 1983) is a brilliant mixture of history of England, a Fenland documentary and a fictional autobiography. It’s about the changing landscape/land reclamation, social history, empire-building, brewers, sluice-minders, Victorian patriarchs, local eccentrics and family fortunes… oh, and murder, incest, guilt and insanity! Swift is a brilliant writer and I found the novel completely enthralling.

february 2026 books…

WH Auden, selected poems (John Fuller): I’m not very familiar with Auden’s poetry (understatement), but have been reading this book’s poems out loud to myself during my recent early morning reflections. I frequently don’t feel clever enough to appreciate the form/structure of poetry in general and/or sometimes the intellect to understand what a poet is trying to say (I’d find a scribbled ‘context note’ very useful on occasions!!), but I really enjoyed Auden’s way with words and will certainly seek out more of his poetry in due course.
Let Us Go Then, You and I (TS Eliot): Another attempt to familiarise myself with the work of renown poets! Another book that I read out loud to myself as the day was slowly emerging. My comments (above) about Auden’s writing could equally well be applied to these works from Eliot – although, I have to say, I suspect I’ll never really become one of his greatest fans!
TonyInterruptor (Nicola Barker): The novel (published in 2026) begins with a heckler disrupting a music gig… thanks to social media, the public interruption goes viral… this single event reverberates through the online world (trial by social media for artistic fraudulence?) and, as the book’s dustjacket puts it, “poses fundamental questions about authenticity, the internet, love and truth”. I think it’s a very funny, clever, satirical book about art and authenticity in today’s somewhat pretentious world. I enjoyed the quirky relationships of the characters (and the way they collide) and the wealth of ideas the author conjures up… but, did I enjoy it? Well, not entirely… and, once again(!), I was left thinking that my intellect (and/or lack of familiarity with how many people experience and use social media?) wasn’t quite up to appreciating it fully. My loss, no doubt.
Called By The Hills (Anuradha Roy): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup choice (theme: non-fiction). Initially, I confused the writer with another Indian writer (Arundhati!) – but soon realised that Anuradha was an acclaimed author in her own right… and also a gifted artist, potter and passionate gardener. The book tells the story of how, more than 25 years ago, she and her husband stumbled upon a derelict, tiny cottage/hut in the hill station of Ranikhet (in northern India, west of Nepal). As a result, they decided it was where they wanted to live – leaving the freneticism of Delhi behind – and so began their story of building a home and a garden on the edge of the Himalayan wilds. It all sounds rather idyllic – and indeed it is. But also full of challenges such as times of severe rains, landslips, falling trees, insects, snakes, leopards, surrounding poverty, isolation and lack of basic services. However, in these times of depressing politics, politicians and celebrities, I found this gentle, humane and beautiful book (which has several reproductions – sadly small in size – of her beautiful watercolour paintings) about her home, her surroundings, her dogs and the local characters that embellish her life rather wonderful. I absolutely loved it.
I Remember (Joe Brainard): Strangely, in recent weeks, I’ve found myself recalling brief moments from my life (and have vaguely wondered if I should start compiling a list?)… and then came across Brainard’s book (he was writer and artist who died from AIDS in 1994, aged 52), which is packed with “I remember” thoughts (more than 1,500 of them!)… so, I obviously had to buy a copy! In the event, although there were several laugh-out-loud moments, I found the book pretty mundane – full of somewhat unremarkable observations such as “I remember when I was very young thinking that shaving looked pretty dangerous”… “I remember feeling sorry for kids at church, or school, who had ugly mothers”… “I remember trying to visualise what my insides looked like”. It felt as if he’d forced himself to sit down and produce these stream-of-consciousness thoughts in one sitting while consuming several bottles of wine! The book’s cover describes it as “a literary and artistic cult classic”… but I’m afraid it left me somewhat unimpressed. 

january-february 2026 books…

The Christmas Egg (Mary Kelly): One of those ‘Bristish Library Crime Classics’ (or so it says on the book’s cover)… first published in 1958. The action starts in London on 22 December: Chief Inspector Nightingale and Sergeant Beddoes have been called to a gloomy flat off Islington High Street. An elderly woman lies dead on the bed and her trunk has been looted. The woman is Princess Olga Karukhin – an émigré of Civil War Russia – her trunk is missing its glittering treasure. All the action is crammed into a 3-day period leading up to Christmas… there were times when I felt that the pace of developments felt unrealistically swift and straightforward (with the sergeant seemingly able to receive and implement orders/pursue leads FAR quicker than the police do in ‘Midsomer Murders’ – even without the internet, mobile phones and the like!). An intriguing, well-written, easy-read, get-away-from-the-world-of-Mr-Trump, typical crime novel.
Journey Into Cyprus (Colin Thubron): Apparently, this is the first Thubron book I’ve read (well, it’s the only one since I started my blog 20 years ago… but I feel sure there have been others before that!). First published in 1975, the book is Thubron’s account of his 600-mile trek (in 1972) around the island of Cyprus – before the Turkish invasion in 1974. It’s part-geographical/travel, part-history and, crucially for me, includes accounts with some of the people he met en-route and their generosity/hospitality (he frequently overnighted in monasteries, but also often accepted a mattress in a family’s tiny, simple home). Thubron is an excellent writer and I very much enjoyed his fascinating observations and insights (eg. the island’s unhappy+unequal divisions; the contrasting Gothic+Byzantine architecture; the contrasting Greek Orthodox+Sunni Muslim faiths; the Greek+Turkish traditions… not to mention the climate and the food!).
Home Stretch (Graham Norton): I’m not (with certain exceptions) a great lover of books written by so-called celebrities, but hey! This is a novel set in a small Irish community in 1987. The local community is shattered by a terrible car accident which kills 3 young people and seriously injures a fourth. Two young men survive unscathed. Out of a sense of guilt, one of them decides he needs to leave the community, taking his secrets with him… but the awful event continues to haunt him over the course of years and, ultimately, he feels the need to confront his past. It’s a book about love, loss, and acceptance… I think I’ll leave it there (*no spoilers*). It’s an enjoyable, very readable novel (albeit maybe a bit predictable/dumbed down?). Norton is a good storyteller. 
The Nikel Boys (Coleson Whitehead): This is our next Blokes’ bookgroup selection. Based on a real-life brutal Florida reform school in the 1960s, this novel (first published in 2019) demonstrates how racism in America has long operated (in the words of one reviewer) as a “codified and sanctioned activity”. With all the horrible stuff currently happening in the US about what the current administration has characterised as a “public safety operation aimed at deporting criminals illegally in the country”, reading this novel felt like a timely reminder that some things there (albeit not so blatantly colour-prejudiced) haven’t really changed. Elwood was raised by his grandmother. He was a bright boy (getting good grades). He’s inspired by his civil rights activist teacher and by the writings of Martin Luther King… but he ended up being sent to the Nickel Reform school through an error of judgement (he’d hitched a ride with a man who’d stolen the car!). Once inside, getting out proved to be almost impossible. Rigid black and white segregation; racist staff; violent beatings (years later, they discover bodies buried in unmarked graves on the school site). It’s an incredibly powerful, shocking story which ‘brought me up short’ on more than one occasion (*no spoilers*). A devastating, moving and impressive novel.
The Soulwater Pool (Claire Williamson): I first read this 10 years ago. The story unfolds over 2 days and features five characters and is set out in short, poetic reflections (often just a single page long) – each given a heading in the form of the named character and their location (eg.”Ella: In the Park”). It’s a surprising and subtle book – enhanced by the starkness of its rather beautiful format. Excellent.   

hamnet...

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday to see Chloé Zhao’s film based on Maggie O’Farrell’s extraordinary, brilliant book (which I read 5 years ago) – which reimagines the agonising loss of a child as the source of Hamlet’s grand stage drama. It locates the play’s beginning in the imagined anguish of Shakespeare and his wife, Anne/Agnes Hathaway, at the death of their son Hamnet at the age of 11 in 1596 (apparently, there’s linguistic evidence that the two names could be used interchangeably) a few years before the play’s first performance - and long before Shakespeare had started to become recognised in London for his writing. It’s an incredibly painful and stark reminder of a time when disease was rife and childhood death common.
The performances of Paul Mescal (Will) and Jessie Buckley (Agnes) are quite, quite brilliant … and also the performances of their children (played by Jacobi Jupe, Olivia Lines and Bodhi Rae Breathnach) were beautifully impressive – as was the cinematography by Łukasz Żal and the score by Max Richter.
After having read O’Farrell’s magnificent book, there was part of me that didn’t want to see the film on the basis that it wouldn’t do the book justice… but I needn’t have worried, it’s been wonderfully adapted (O’Farrell and Zhao were screenplay co-writers).
I cried… I think you might cry too.
Just go and see it… you MUST. 

january 2026 books…

Smart-Aleck Kill (Raymond Chandler): Four short(ish), interconnected crime stories, first published in 1958, involving a private detective hired by a film studio to handle a blackmail threat against a director. Needless to say, it’s all very complicated… and involves drugs, mobsters, hit-squads and shoot-outs. Frankly, I was never really a lover of Chandler’s books and this merely confirmed my opinion. Sorry.
The Blank Wall (Elisabeth Sanxay Holding): First published in 1947, the novel portrays the everyday realities of the American home front (with all its rationing and shortages) through the eyes of Lucia Holley – a mother of two in New York with a husband serving in the Navy and a father also part of the household. She writes letters to her husband at war and generally manages all the domestic issues – but there are also darker, unexpected challenges that arise when she finds herself unexpectedly entangled in a web of criminal activity. Fiercely protective of her family, she is forced to navigate deception and danger to protect them and their reputations. The result is a compelling psychological thriller that is both gripping and unsettling. A tense start to the New Year!
The Heart Of A Goof (PG Wodehouse): First published in 1926 (100 years ago!), in Wodehouse’s inimitable style, this is a book about golf (the book’s cover defines ‘Goof’ as “one of those unfortunate beings who have permitted golf into their souls, like some malignant growth”!). It consists of a “nine-hole course of stories” told (hilariously) by the “Oldest Member” – who, these days, seems to spend all his time sitting a comfy chair in the clubhouse and grabbing hold of passing club members and insisting (against their better judgement) on recounting tales of days gone by and of “big two-fisted he-men floundering around (golf courses) in three figures”* (ie. failing to score below 100). As one would expect, it’s ridiculously dated and yet still very, very funny. A great escape from the idiocy of the present world in which we live.
The End We Start From (Megan Hunter): This is our latest Storysmith bookgroup choice (‘a book less than 200 pages long’ – after the previous 600+). First published in 2017 (and a mere 127 pages long), this futuristic fable tells of a woman who gives birth as flood waters close over London. Days later, they’re forced to leave home in search of safety… the long journey north will prove dangerous… It reminded me of Cormac McCarthy’s ‘The Road’. I started reading it on the day red alert weather warnings were being issued in the UK and with “tens of thousands without power” (not to mention the dystopian world of Mr Trump!). It’s a powerful, disturbing, thought-provoking and utterly believable book… and I loved its slender, poetic composition. One of those haunting books that stay with you long after you’ve finished it.
Let Me Be The Kind Who Weeps (Jon Swales): Jon Swales is an ordained Priest in the Church of England. He heads up Lighthouse – described as a “fresh expression of church for adults battered and bruised by the storms of life”. I’ve been using this book as part of my daily early morning reflections (and reading his poems out loud to myself!). I found his prose quite moving at times – especially his poems “from the margins” about his experiences with “those battered and bruised by the storms of life”. My own faith journey continues to run its somewhat disenchanted course, but I found this book both rewarding and, in many ways, encouraging.