Review by Olivia Peachey of "A Short Stay in Hell" by Steven L. Peck

Once I finally had the chance to read Steven L. Peck’s A Short Stay in Hell, I devoured the whole 100-pages-or-so in an evening. Peck’s existential tragedy did not disappoint.

The work is predicated on the idea of a Hell (indeed, I found the novel through a list of unique fictional Hells) that is neither eternal nor violent – in fact it provides everything its inhabitants need. It also contains, however, endless rows and floors of bookshelves: this Hell is a Library of Babel, with one of every book that has been written and could ever be written – meaning more books than there are atoms in our universe. Those within the library can only leave once they find a book that contains their complete life story, without spelling or grammar errors.

The book does not humour the goal of finding one’s life story in this library as a narrative end-goal. Rather, it’s how the humans trapped in this Hell act, and how the story is structured, that reveals the narrative’s true purpose – a meditation on the meaning of eternity, and the effects of such endless monotony on a human’s psyche. The novella sees its protagonist, Soren, reflect from billions of years in the future, establishing that everything he goes on to describe in his first weeks, centuries, and millennia in Hell are from aeons in the past. The initial hope the human prisoners feel in the first days are tinged with doom, which plays out in slow-motion as Peck jumps around Soren’s long, long afterlife.

As the novellas catches up with Soren’s present reflections, he reveals that he has done less in millions on billions of years than he did in a thousand with the people he loved and lost to the bookshelf mazes. The detailed description of human innovations, societies, cults, expeditions, celebrations, etc. fall away as the book nears its close, fulfilling the awful terror spelled out by its introductory pages; the book opens with a man in utter defeat, and pulls the reader along the journey that got him there without a single unnecessary detail, only a careful erosion of hope on a scale like infinity – even if Soren’s life does not even scrape infinity, a fact terrifying by itself.

With its deft use of structure and stark, uncomplicated prose, A Short Stay in Hell is as worthy an interpretation of Hell as any.

About the reviewer
Olivia Peachey is an English undergraduate at the University of Leicester. She’s written professionally for sites such as Game Rant and Dualshockers while focusing on writing poetry in her free time, much of which has also been published online.

This review was awarded an "honorable mention" in our 2026 Student Book Review Competition, held in conjunction with the Centre for New Writing at the University of Leicester. 

Review by Charlie Black of "Homage to Catalonia" by George Orwell

Orwell delivers a gripping and insightful read in this human, politically sharp and dare I say hopeful account of his time serving the anti-fascists in the Spanish Civil War. Orwell joins a militia soon after arriving in revolutionary Barcelona. What he thinks is a trivial choice soon has ramifications as the ideologies of each faction begin to cause friction, whether for power or moral integrity.

Orwell conveys this web of ideologies well. He names the militias but gives little explanation to their allegiances at first, evoking his own confusion, since he did not even know the philosophy of his own militia until long after he joined. Further confusion is created as he travels back and forth to the many places he is posted. Orwell seems to have the lay of the land but as somebody unfamiliar with Spain’s geography I was often left disorientated. Orwell never loses sight of the human tragedy at the heart of war. In his essay "Looking back on the Spanish war," which served as an epilogue in my copy, he ends with a verse in dedication to a soldier he met in Barcelona.

Regardless of this, Orwell still offers superb analysis of the clashes between these ideologically driven militias. It is clear where his sympathies lie but he provides fair criticism to all. Orwell is, as usual, superbly articulate, often humorous, and astonishingly relevant. It is the sections of socio-political analysis, using the context of Spain to make broader statements about fascism, socialism, and class, that kept me reading. Orwell reminds us that fascism is unsustainable; it is the working class it needs but the working class it will always betray.

What caught me by surprise was how being in the mind of someone living through the lead up to the Second World War connected with me. We live in a turbulent time, and to hear from someone living through a similarly uncertain period was oddly comforting. We are not alone in our disdain for the world. It reminds us that although many then were in the "deep, deep sleep of England," as many are now, there were those like Orwell who saw what was happening inside and outside of the country and stood against it.

I would recommend anybody who is feeling anxious about the state of the world to read Homage to Catalonia, if only for the reassurance that failure does not mean the end.

About the reviewer
Charlie Black is a mature student working towards a BA in English with Creative Writing at the University of Leicester. He really enjoys fantasy and science fiction but will read just about anything.

This review won second prize in our 2026 Book Review Competition, held in conjunction with the Centre for New Writing at the University of Leicester. 

Review by Mellissa Flowerdew-Clarke of "Wilder Girls" by Rory Power

It’s been eighteen months since Raxter School for Girls was put under quarantine after its residents began dying from a mysterious illness. The Tox affects everyone differently: the headmistress’s lips constantly ooze blood; Byatt grows a second spine that protrudes from her back; Reese’s arm becomes covered in silver, reptilian scales; Hetty’s eye fuses shut, and she sometimes feels a strange sensation beneath the closed lid.

Secluded on a small island, Raxter’s remaining inhabitants rely on the navy to drop off limited food and supplies. There is never enough. Venturing beyond the school’s fence to retrieve resources is dangerous, as The Tox continues to spread through both wildlife and landscape. All the while, the girls wait for the cure they were promised.

When Byatt goes missing, Hetty and Reese venture into the infected wilderness to find her, uncovering unsettling truths about Raxter.

In this young adult novel by Rory Power, body horror is constant and vivid but rarely feels gratuitous. Instead, it reflects the girls’ loss of control over both their bodies and their environment. At the same time, there is a strong undercurrent of female resilience. The girls are not passive victims; they adapt, endure, and make difficult decisions in a world that continues to shrink around them.

The core premise of an isolated, single-gender group has drawn comparisons to Lord of the Flies. However, where Lord of the Flies suggests that human beings are inherently savage, Wilder Girls does the opposite. Here, the true monstrosity lies not within the girls themselves, but in the forces acting upon them: The Tox, the isolation, and the institutions willing to abandon them. When violence does occur, it emerges from desperation rather than cruelty, making their relationships feel both fragile and deeply human.

The novel echoes real-world histories of isolation, from leper colonies such as Spinalonga and Kalaupapa to plague quarantine islands like Lazzaretto Vecchio. It also invites comparison with the COVID-19 pandemic, when global quarantine measures sparked debates over civil liberties and collective responsibility. The ethical tension between sacrificing a few for the many is a subtle undercurrent, though the novel resists offering simple answers.

Ultimately, Wilder Girls is not just about infection or survival, but about friendship, endurance, and the struggle to remain human even as the body becomes irrevocably altered. Beneath its horror lies the fragile hope of a world beyond containment.

About the reviewer 
Mellissa Flowerdew-Clarke is an author and dramatist with a penchant for the macabre and a fascination with literary explorations of libertinism, psychopathy, narcissism, and coercive control. She is currently undertaking a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester, exploring Terror Management Theory in relation to representations of cultism and mass suicide.

This review is the winner of our 2026 Book Review Competition, held in conjunction with the Centre for New Writing at the University of Leicester. 

Review by Mellissa Flowerdew-Clarke of "The Book of Guilt" by Catherine Chidgey

1979, England. It's been thirty-six years since Hitler’s assassination ended the Second World War and a peace treaty was signed that helped fuel great advancements in medical science. In Hampshire, three identical boys—Vincent, Lawrence, and William—wake up every morning at a Sycamore Home and tell one of their three mothers what they dreamt about. Mother Morning writes them down in The Book of Dreams. Mother Afternoon teaches them lessons from The Book of Knowledge. Their sins are written in The Book of Guilt. They rarely see Mother Night unless they are sick. And they are often sick. Dr. Roach prescribes pills and injections to help keep the Bug at bay. The boys dream of the day they will get to join all the other children in Margate—a promised land of performing dolphins and bumper cars. 

In Exeter, Kenneth and Majorie dress their adored daughter, Nancy, in a silvery-green dress that gets tighter every year. Kenneth builds an intricately detailed model railway. Marjorie fills every conceivable space with items purchased from mail-order catalogues. Nancy is never allowed to leave the house. 

The Minister of Loneliness who, herself, seems terribly lonely, is assigned by the Prime Minister to find new homes for the Sycamore boys. The Scheme is coming to an end. Meanwhile, the death penalty has been re-introduced.

Nostalgic references to stickle bricks, fondant fancies, and The Generation Game indicate that this is definitely England in the 1970s, but not as we know it. Chidgey’s novel feels quintessentially British, but this England exists in an alternate political reality. It’s a reality where the state has a God complex, and everyone is dehumanised by mass complicity in the secrets that are kept. The references to Jim’ll Fix It remind us that it’s too easy to turn a blind eye to human cruelty. 

You could compare The Book of Guilt with Kazuo Ishiguro’s novel, Never Let Me Go. Sure, they touch on similar themes of medical ethics and nature versus nurture, but Chidgey’s storytelling deserves to be observed without comparison. The richness of Chidgey’s prose and her use of provincial humour amplify the unnerving horror of it all. The slow unravelling of the plot keeps the suspense throughout, giving the reader enough time to think they know what’s going on, before unexpected connections take us to an even darker place. Bold and brilliant, The Book of Guilt deserves to be read and re-read. 

About the reviewer
Mellissa Flowerdew-Clarke is a playwright and author, with a penchant for the macabre and a fascination with literary explorations of libertinism, psychopathy, narcissism, and coercive control. She is currently undertaking a PhD in Creative Writing a Leicester University, exploring Terror Management Theory in relation to representations of cultism and mass suicide.

Review by Iain Minney of "The Day of the Triffids" by John Wyndham

John Wyndham's post-apocalyptic epic might sound somewhat underwhelming when explained as simply being about "Killer Plants" - especially when they're not even the all-singing "Audrey II" variety, from noticeably more upbeat storytellers. In fact, this particular famished flora is arguably only a bi-product of how humanity has accidentally undone itself in pursuit of advancing science and weaponry. ("A botanical Frankenstein" would, presumably, be similarly too glib and imprecise).

Waking up blindfolded in hospital, Bill Masen finds his daily routine unexpectedly and annoyingly interrupted. He soon learns he's ironically avoided the permanent blinding that affects practically everyone else, following the spectacular comet-shower that transfixed them all the night before.

At first, the blind actually do try to lead the blind, with everyone stumbling about distraught and disorientated. But, after involvement from those both good intentioned and bad, it's obvious the population simply cannot survive the complete and simultaneous breakdown of such a complicated, interconnected society that we all take for granted.

After the disoriented grow desperate, they then disappear entirely as great cities become crumbling ghost towns in the years that follow. Ultimately Bill, his companion Josella Playton, and a few others, must find safe sanctuary for the future of the human race, battling hardships both ancient and new.

Penned in 1951 (eerily pre-dating both satellites AND genetically modified crops) let's just hope no more of Wyndham's Nostradamus-like predictions come true in a world still single-mindedly bent on advancement ...

As well as being top-notch science-fiction, the novel allows the reader to indulge the dual fantasies of invisibly seeing inside a stranger's privacy, and what to pack and prioritize for the end of the world. Above all else, it's a story about preparedness, knowledge, practicality and ultimately, luck. There's also a subtle commentary on class and social standing, hinting at how perhaps this, too, is merely a fragile human construct that could so easily break down under the right conditions.

in the 70+ years since publication, the story's longevity has demanded countless reprints, spawned a number of dramatizations (of varying success) and also directly inspired Danny Boyle's zombie-ish 28 Days Later (2002). In fact, given the biggest threat the Triffids themselves pose is their inevitable recurrence akin to a persistent weed, perhaps this story gives birth to the uniquely English phobia, that gardening may one day set out for revenge.

About the reviewer

Iain Minney (B.A. in Journalism & Creative Writing pending): tall, "mature," sober, comedian(ish). He has dabbled in stand-up comedy - which he has been writing since he was teenager - as well as being involved with comedy sketches, local filmmaking groups and working on local radio for a number of years both as "Head of News" and having his own weekly 3-hour show. He has been interested in writing for some time and even tried recording a number of audiobooks of short stories he's written together with satirical rants based on the standup he never quite "stood up" with. He loves old punk and 80s rock music, all manner of movies, and Bill Hicks and George Carlin SAVED HIS LIFE. But that's a whole other conversation.

Review by Kimaya Tushar Patil of "Fourth Wing" by Rebecca Yarros

"A dragon without its rider is a tragedy. A rider without their dragon is dead."

Rebecca Yarros’s Fourth Wing plunges the reader's mind into the cut-throat world of Basgiath War College, where your only options are to survive or die. The narrative follows Violet Sorrengail, a young woman who has been training her whole life to become a scribe, only to be thrust into the elite and ruthless Rider’s Quadrant of Basgiath War College by her mother, against her own will. In a place built to eliminate the weakest cadets, Violet now faces threats and physical challenges that could claim her life every second of every day.

Albeit physically disadvantaged by her fragile body due to Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS), Violet’s strengths lie in her observation skills and her ability to think outside the box. This creates a tense atmosphere, and her resilience against all odds and the normalisation of chronic disabilities is relatable and inspiring to many readers. 

This story teeters on the edge of military romantasy with an emphasis on a coming-of-age plotline. The magical creatures a.k.a. dragons are not just portrayed as objects, but as separate, sentient entities with their own private agendas. Rebecca Yarros masterfully wields the power of foreshadowing in her book, keeping the clues subtle enough to be overlooked at first glance, but seeming to fit seamlessly into the intriguing puzzle that is Fourth Wing. Her careful crafting of not just the world, but the characters and the magic-system is nothing short of awe-inspiring. 

This book falls under the new adult fantasy category and is perfect for people who are just beginning to dip their toes into the genre. With its exciting easter eggs, and a consistently intriguing plotline it keeps the reader hooked from start to finish, leaving them wanting more. 

About the reviewer
Kimaya Tushar Patil is currently pursuing a postgraduate Master’s degree in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester. She is a dreamer, and passionate about reading and writing stories in all forms and genres.

Review by Lee Wright of "Writing Lives Together: An Anthology of Poetry and Prose"

The Centre for New Writing's Writing Lives Together: An Anthology of Poetry and Prose brings together contributions from eight writers who have been inspired by nineteenth-century works. Dickens, Coleridge, Thomas De Quincey, Edmund Grosse, and William and Dorothy Wordsworth all provide a springboard for twelve new creative pieces.
   
Inspired by Dorothy Wordsworth’s The Grasmere Journals, Richard Byrt’s "Two Bags, Two Voices" explores the similarities in homelessness between 1796 and 2017: “All I own in two bags. Only a barn for shelter .... // Now all I own in two bags. Only a doorway for shelter.” Byrt shows us how much time has passed, and yet how so little has changed.

Anna Larner, author of the novel Highland Fling, gives us two pieces in this collection. In her first poem "On Reflection," she leaves flowers to wilt at Coleridge’s door. And her prose poem, "Writing is a leap of faith," takes Dickens’ Autobiographical Fragment, and delivers a piece pumped full of sentiment: “How awful the gap, and how hopeless my attempts have been to close it.” Larner expertly explores the push-pull life of the writer between the authentic self and the "other. 

In William Wordsworth’s "A Complaint," loss is everything, and the University of Leicester’s Jonathan Taylor makes Wordsworth accessible for modern day minds with his poem, "Out of the Well": "From deep within, I hear them pleading." Taylor concludes that love is terrifying and sharpens the appetite for both Wordsworth and Japanese author, Koji Suzuki.

“She said, eat it. So, I shoved that piece of news into my mouth and chewed”: Alyson Morris describes the experience of eating a piece of acid coated newspaper in her poem, "At De Quincey’s Pleasure." She makes Thomas De Quincey’s language interesting again. Morris’ poem, like others in the pamphlet, carries more weight than expected and brings Victorian literature out from under the staircase.  

Aysar Ghassan gives us a kind of bug-hunger in his poem, "Greater Than Illiterate Love," where he powerfully combines stale rock cakes and the death of Betamax, whilst stepping on the toes of the value of love. 

About the reviewer

Lee Wright was born in Nuneaton, Warwickshire in 1980 and has been writing both fiction and non-fiction since 2008. He is taking an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester.