Review by Jonathan Wilkins of "A Thousand Souls" by Catherine Tudish

When I was sent this book, I was due to attend a tedious round of tests. My wife, who was accompanying me, hijacked the novel, and she enjoyed it so much I asked her for a short review:

"Loved this book; read it in one day. It was an easy read as it was written so well and each chapter was one part of the whole. By that I mean that this is the story of a small town and each chapter relates to those living there and their stories. It deserves a wide audience as it could easily be a best seller. I’ll certainly be recommending it to my friends."

In A Thousand Souls we have a collection of fourteen stories intervolving the lives of three generations in the isolated American town of Neptune, Vermont. The fourteen stories in Tudish’s beautifully crafted book intertwine the lives of three generations of Neptune as they inevitably touch the outside world. We read of a boy born of an illicit romance travelling to South Carolina for a first-time and meeting with his  father. We encounter a widow and friend who solve the mystery of a missing girl. The local sheriff breaks up a drug operation, only, in a nod to current American affairs, to get arrested for helping undocumented workers evade ICE. The frustrated wife of a mail driver presents him with a nude portrait of herself. A magical section sees a shy girl lose her stutter when she speaks to a black bear. In another chapter a boy has strange nightmares that appear to represent the memories of a stranger’s tragedy.

As in any small town, loyalties and traditions are tested through loss, betrayal and day-to-day living. The town’s characters epitomize the belongingness that comes from a close-knit rural community.

These  charmingly written,  wryly observed, delicate stories give us a view of life that is relatable, conveying the costs of interrelationship and kinship as the years pass. All of them demonstrate how seemingly ordinary lives can take unforeseen and unpredictable twists and turns.

About the reviewer
Jonathan Wilkins is 69. He is married to the gorgeous Annie with two wonderful sons. He was a teacher for twenty years, a Waterstones’ bookseller and coached women’s basketball for over thirty years before taking up writing seriously. Nowadays he takes notes for students with Special Needs at Leicester and Warwick Universities. He has had a work commissioned by the UK Arts Council and several pieces published traditionally as well as on-line. He has had poems in magazines and anthologies, art galleries, studios, museums and at Huddersfield Railway Station. He loves writing poetry. For his MA, he wrote a crime novel, Utrecht Snow. He followed it up with Utrecht Rain, and is now writing a third part. He is currently writing a crime series, Poppy Knows Best, set at the end of the Great War and into the early 1920s.

You can read more about A Thousand Souls by Catherine Tudish on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Siobhian R. Hodges of "Scablands and Other Stories" by Jonathan Taylor

Each story  in this collection was uniquely captivating, and the various lengths created an overall pace that matched the book's genre, a kaleidoscopic symphony of its very own. With such a busy life (like most of us have) and not nearly enough free time as I'd like, the book was perfect for me to dip in and out of. It may sound clichéd but Scablands and Other Stories truly was the type of book that I could not put down.  

Every night for the past week, I found myself wanting to read "just one more story" - like my daughter regularly asks me at the end of one of her Disney bedtime stories. Being an adult, however, I was able to make my own (hypocritical) decision and would continue reading Taylor's book long into the night, enjoying the fully immersive worlds and (mostly) endearing characters.

I especially loved "A Sentimental Story," "Heat Death," and of course "Scablands" - the final story that will stay with me for a long time, just as, I imagine, the memory of Mr Chandler will stay with the boy-who-is-no-longer-new.

Thank you to the author for this collection of bittersweet escapism. I'm looking forward to reading more of your work!

 

About the reviewer
Siobhian R. Hodges is a Leicestershire multi-genre writer, author of the supernatural thriller Killing a Dead Man and coming-of-age anthology Untitled Decade. She has an MA in Creative Writing and was shortlisted in 2021 for the Page Turner Book Awards. She lives with her graphic designer husband, their two chalk-and-cheese children, and their dog-like cat.

Review by Millie Jackson of "Everything I Know About Love" by Dolly Alderton

Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton is an internationally bestselling memoir following Alderton’s experience of growing up, adapting to adulthood and navigating love, loss, friendship and the hardship of work. Resembling the likes of Bridget Jones’s Diary, Alderton's memoir recounts personal anecdotes and stories alongside lists, recipes and observations to create a book that has resonated greatly with contemporary women of all ages. 

I absolutely loved Everything I Know About Love. It pulled me in from the first few pages; I ended up reading it so quickly because I was engaged the entire time. What stood out most to me was how honest and personal it felt. The book is open and relatable, and I felt connected to both Alderton and the stories she shares.

The book captures friendship, growing up, heartbreak, love, and the uncertainty of your twenties. So many moments were relatable – whether funny, emotional, or awkward, and that made the reading experience comforting and genuine. I also loved the balance of humour and vulnerability throughout the book.

Overall, this book felt like listening to a close friend tell stories about life in the most entertaining and heartfelt way possible. Everything I Know About Love is an essential read for all women navigating the challenges of adulthood. 

About the reviewer
Millie Jackson graduated from Oxford Brookes University with a BA (Hons) degree in Social Work. She is passionate about supporting others and currently works for a local charity. In her spare time, Millie enjoys spending time with animals, especially dogs, along with arts and crafts, reading, and playing video games.

Review by Rebecca Nolten of "Female, Nude" by Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett

Female, Nude hooks its readers with the promise of a sun-soaked, escapist holiday fling, but grounds them in the relentless persistence of classism, misogyny, and power imbalances that shape our relationships with others — even our nearest and dearest.

In her tense yet deeply funny novel, Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett asks one fundamental question: is a woman ever truly able to have it all? The marriage, the dream job, the success, the baby, the artistic talent, the beauty, the virtue, and, of course, the dreamy holiday villa in Greece.

While soaking up the sea and sand with her claustrophobic circle of privileged university friends, the protagonist, Sophie, reflects on what it is that prevents her from being happy. Her boyfriend — the "lovely" Greg — is desperate to have a baby, while Sophie, an artist, sees motherhood as a hurdle standing between her and artistic success. Having grown up caring for her disabled sister, Sophie knows very well that the burden of care almost always falls to women. Her own career has stalled at a retail position in Greg’s art gallery, and she begins to question why certain doors remain closed to her while opening so easily for those belonging to the upper echelons gathered on this Grecian retreat.

When the wealthy Alessia commissions Sophie to paint a nude portrait of her, she introduces her to Kai, a local man with whom Sophie begins a hot-blooded affair doomed from the outset, as the days count down to the arrival of "the men" — Greg included. The push and pull of class, desire, and romantic tension culminates in a calamitous act of violence, prompting the reader to consider what forces led to this devastating outcome.

While the novel follows the progressive unravelling of Sophie’s life, what truly sets this book apart are the thirteen artist "tableaux" — short passages mapping Sophie’s engagement with nude self-portraiture by female and non-binary artists throughout history. These sections read almost like conversations: discussing the lack of representation of disabled bodies and miscarriage in art with Frida Kahlo, the objectification of the male gaze with Artemisia Gentileschi, and the erasure of Black bodies with Zanele Muholi. These glimpses into the lives and work of these artists serve as a methodical reminder of the socio-political forces that shape artistic production and determine what artwork is exhibited, studied, and valued.

Beautifully written, well researched, and infinitely witty, Female, Nude leaves behind a lasting impression. Cosslett masterfully uses the erotic to expose the workings of class structure, patriarchy, and ableism, culminating in a novel that feels both intellectually incisive and deeply human.

About the reviewer
Rebecca Nolten is a Modern and Medieval Languages graduate from the University of Cambridge (Girton College). She has worked across editorial, copywriting, translation, and arts publishing, with a particular focus on storytelling and visual culture. She is especially interested in translation, art history, and the ways in which stories move across languages, cultures, and media. Outside work, she enjoys illustration, reading, and visiting galleries and exhibitions.

Review by Anna O'Sullivan of "Open Throat" by Henry Hoke

Open Throat by Henry Hoke is a profound and experimental piece of literary fiction that will linger with you long after reading it. The novel follows an isolated, queer mountain lion living under the Hollywood sign, observing the insular, self-centred conversations between passers-by, whilst navigating the complexities of their own identity. Inspired by P22, a mountain lion who lived in Griffith Park after successfully crossing two major freeways, and monitored by researchers until his death in 2022, Hoke creates a powerful story that can be digested in one sitting. 

Hoke writes in evocative and lyrical prose, comparable to a work of poetry; the lion’s stream of consciousness is non-linear and uninterrupted by punctuation, creating a real sense that readers are experiencing the lion’s deep thoughts. The combination of humour, through the lion’s misinterpretation of words, alongside the emotional turmoil of yearning for connection, adds to the story’s emotional depth and Hoke’s literary brilliance. 

What stands out about Hoke’s novel is his ability to draw from a diverse range of social issues in contemporary society. This is not just a story about a lion losing its way. Hoke discusses the importance of "human" connection, as the lion struggles with segregation from society, and the hierarchical way in which humans regard the animal kingdom as inferior. Another important theme throughout is ecological grief, and the depressing reality of climate change and human impact on the environment; Hoke leans into real-world anxieties, integrating the terrifying destruction of the LA wildfires and the homelessness crisis. 

If you are looking for something different to read, Hoke’s novel offers a new and compelling narrative. Readers of Weird Girl Fiction, a genre expanding in popularity, may be drawn to this novel, as although it does not follow the experience of a "Girl," it has similar components of complex relationships, strong emotions and unconventional themes. Open Throat has earned its strong and unique presence in the genre of literary and contemporary fiction. It offers something new – the point of view of a complex mountain lion, viewing barriers in society through a symbolic lens. If this doesn’t entice readers, then the gripping first line of the book is sure to: ‘I’ve never eaten a person but today I might."

About the reviewer
Anna O’Sullivan is a University of Leicester graduate with a BA in English and MA in Modern and Contemporary Literature and Creative Writing. She enjoys travelling, and recently returned from five months of backpacking across Latin America. Anna’s predominant passion is books; she is an avid reader, BookToker, attendee of literature events and employee at Hachette UK. She is currently guest editor of Everybody's Reviewing. 

Review by Gary Day of "Our Weird Regiment" by Martyn Crucefix

There’s something about Martyn Crucefix’s poetry that reminds me of a theremin, an early electronic musical instrument that was played without being touched. Two antenna detected hand movements and translated them into eerie, vocal sounds. So these poems, without quite touching the substantial world, nevertheless register it in all its oddly ephemeral density. "Our Weird Regiment," the title work of the collection, recounts a visit to a stately home. It is an exquisite poem, mixing up past and present in images of quiet but devastating power. Who are "the weird regiment"? Tourists, the dead, the conformist crowd and more, all forming a splendid enigma. 

"Heal Thyself," a reference to Christ’s remark in Luke 4:23, serves as a preface to the three sections which make up the collection: "Ida Belle," "Flint" and "Homespun." The poem articulates themes of, among others, direction, displacement, timing, loss, self-disintegration and self-renewal. The imagery is a mixture of the surreal, the matter of fact, the biblical and more. Metaphysical poets were known for their startling conceits and Crucefix is part of that tradition. In an ICU "the emptying beds / cleared swiftly as a busy table service" ("Olly and Pepper Are Safe"). He is also a brilliant imagist. In the same poem we have "the dazzling fireflies of raised phones" and in "He Made This" "naked willows / will be upholstered in inches of snow." 

No contemporary poet makes more use of allusions than Crucefix. St Augustine, Bede, Easter Island statues, Breughel, Brecht, Henry de Montherlant are just a few examples. They are integral, not decorative, stitching together past and present, amplifying the value of both. Crucefix is a highly intelligent poet acutely attuned to the multiple disintegrations of our time. He offers little in the way of consolation but these poems, these oscillations, are one reason not to despair. 

About the reviewer

Gary Day is a retired English lecturer and author of several books including Literary Criticism: A New History and The Story of Drama: Tragedy Comedy and Sacrifice. He is also co-editor of The Wiley Encyclopedia of British Literature 1660-1789. His poetry has been highly commended in a number of competitions, most recently in the Write Out Loud Echoes competition. His poem "Spooky Action at a Distance" won last year's International Brilliant Poetry Competition. His work has appeared in The High Window, The Seventh Quarry, The Dawn Treader as well as various other magazines. 

Review by Jonathan Taylor of "Walter Benjamin's Ark" by John Schad

 

“The Angel of History,” philosopher Walter Benjamin claims, is witness not to a “chain of events” but rather “one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage … in front of his feet.” No doubt this “pile of debris ... [which] grows skyward” consists mainly of human wreckage, the dead; but, as John Schad’s weird and hallucinatory new book, Walter Benjamin’s Ark, demonstrates, it also includes language, texts, the very ability of human beings to communicate. The catastrophe that is mid-twentieth-century history, in particular, reduced texts to a “huge-and-disorderly-heap-of-unsorted BOOKS, a kind of rubble,” such that “words had been muddled,” often in disastrous ways. 

Walter Benjamin’s Ark brilliantly picks its way through that rubble, trying to salvage something from the cataclysm. It pieces together an upcycled collage of historical fragments, philosophical and literary texts, impossible conversations, in order to tell the imagined story of Walter Benjamin’s son, Stefan, and his journey as a deportee from England during the Second World War. In 1940, Stefan was forced onto the HMT Dunera and deported, ultimately, to Australia – along with 2000 other “enemy aliens,” some of whom were devoted Nazis, but the majority of whom were Jewish refugees.

Herein lies the first sign of the disintegration of language: the disastrous collapse of the words “German,” “Nazi,” “enemy,” “alien,” “immigrant” and “Jew” into one another. Many other instances of linguistic collapse and miscommunication follow: a Jewish author’s unfinished novel is discovered by the British soldiers on board, and thrown into the Mersey; the letters between Stefan and his mother are lost; Stefan loses touch with his father, Walter; a manuscript Walter claims to have in his suitcase (“a manuscript more valuable than I am,” he says) disappears on his death; his final letter to his son is mysteriously destroyed; a Jewish poet, Gertrud Kolmar, is silenced – initially by being forced to work in a German munitions factory, and subsequently by deportation to Auschwitz. 

The deportation of the Jews, whether to Auschwitz or to Australia, is itself facilitated by failed communication. As Schad points out, on 8 August 1942, the World Jewish Congress sent a telegram from Geneva to New York warning about the Final Solution. “This telegram,” Schad notes, “would, initially, be dismissed as a falsehood.” As Schad suggests, miscommunication and misreading can have deadly consequences: excommunication all too easily slips into extermination. 

There is still hope, though, according to Schad: “in all its desperation,” Stefan’s situation, is “not devoid of hope.” And Schad’s quasi-biography itself represents an act of hope, in its piecing together of a new kind of language, its revelling in Joycean-Woolfian streams of consciousness, its staging of impossible dialogues,  its textual and generic contortions, its bizarre juxtapositions of slapstick with horror. After the war, Stefan became an antiquarian bookseller; and towards the end of Walter Benjamin’s Ark, he is seen straightening the books with “the gentlest touch,” as if rescuing them from the rubble, “lest they topple, fall, and crash” once more. Texts, language, communication persist, just about, and Stefan is doing his bit to restore them, saving them from the wreckage of war. 

About the reviewer
Jonathan Taylor’s most recent books are A Physical Education (Goldsmiths, 2025) and Scablands and Other Stories (Salt, 2023). He directs the MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester. 

You can read more about Walter Benjamin's Ark by John Schad on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Sally Shaw of "Things We Found in the Ground: A Metal Detecting Journey through Britain" by Eleanor Bruce and Lucilla Gray

Things We Found In The Ground, written by cousins Eleanor Bruce and Lucilla Gray, is a book about how chance and circumstance leads to discovery. The introduction tells of childhood memories of the cousins. Bruce recalls weekends spent with grandparents in rural Lincolnshire, "natural wild landscape tamed into cultivated fields and pastures. It’s a vast, wide, flat patchwork of land that remains relatively unchanged today, and is utterly perfect for our weekend family tradition of an afternoon walk, topped off with a picnic diligently prepared by Mammette." It’s on one such picnic that Bruce discovers a piece of pottery peeking up through the earth. When her grandmother declares it’s Roman it leads to weekends full of wonderment, bonding with her grandparents as they search for more Roman sherds. On the other side of the world in New Zealand, Gray searches the shoreline for and finds "artefacts we call taonga, skilfully carved from stone, wood and bone many centuries ago by Māori craftspeople, that hold the greatest stories." Both girls keep their childhood wonderment of time absorbed, feeling safe with their discoveries and stories they tell.

In 2020, COVID-19 brings tragedy and circumstance for change, and both find themselves together for the first time since childhood, discovering in each other hope, purpose and metal detecting. They obtain permission to detect in the fields and land of the Lincolnshire village of Bruce’s grandparents. Lady-H is the eccentric landowner who grants the permission and with it gives the cousins her energy to find the history and people held within the land. 

Once they have the permission, for me this is when the journey through time begins. The cousins took me to metal detecting meets, to the inside of Lady-H’s home, to the patchwork fields of Bruce’s childhood and beyond. The beyond includes being taken to the time of the Roman invasion through the unearthing of a Roman military buckle and then I’m returned to the present by a Coca-Cola can. At times the cousins get stuck in the mud both literally and metaphorically. The writing kept me wanting to stay walking alongside them in those fields of mud, rain and digging. Willing them to keep going, they did: a thimble lost over 300 years ago tells of a time when a women had no right to personal property. They could, though, own domestic articles like "just a thimble": "it’s one of the few objects a woman had agency over in a world that was generally entirely out of her control." An enamel Royal Navy badge with a suspension ring, from which hangs a tiny blue metal ribbon, told the story of the the giving of miniature regimental brooches to loved ones, known as Sweetheart Brooches. These were symbols of love, waiting, not knowing and grief. The story of the Sweetheart Brooch uncovered the reality of life for those left at home. 

Bruce and Gray demonstrate that metal detecting is a way of life, a commitment made to finding artefacts that will teach us about the people who came before us, no matter how long ago. They have taught me about coinage, life in a medieval village and the importance of the past. They took me to Egypt and to the gold rush of America, on their journey to the end of the rainbow. 

About the reviewer
Sally Shaw has an MA Creative Writing from the University of Leicester. She gains inspiration from old photographs, history, childhood memories, and is inspired by writers Sandra Cisneros, Deborah Morgan, Liz Berry and Emily Dickinson. She has short stories and poetry published in various online publications including the Ink Pantry, AnotherNorth, Roi Faineant Press. Sally lives in the countryside. 

Review by Anupriya Sisodia of "The Life and Times of Agatha Christie" at Literary Leicester Festival 2026

I wasn’t entirely sure what I was walking into when I signed up for Literary Leicester 2026. It was my first ever literary festival, but I knew it would be something I’d remember.  

Wednesday 18th March began with "The Life and Times of Agatha Christie" in the Attenborough Arts Centre. I remember noticing how carefully I was taking everything in. Even before it started, the room already had its own atmosphere. It was full in that warm, expectant way: people gathering in clusters, coats coming off, festival pamphlets being flicked through, that quiet pre-event energy where everyone is just waiting for it to begin. And I even saw someone dressed as Hercule Poirot, moustache and all, which made me smile before I could even stop myself. Poirot, one of my earliest literary fascinations, was the kind of character I grew up thinking of as untouchable in his brilliance, so seeing him casually walking through a modern arts centre struck me as surreal in the best way.

I’ve always had a soft spot for Agatha Christie. I started reading her books when I was around twelve or thirteen. I didn’t realize then how long they would stay with me, quietly threading themselves into how I understand narrative, suspense, and character, or that I’d end up in a different country years later, listening to someone unpack her life in front of an audience. 

Dr Mark Aldridge led the talk. The way he spoke about Christie felt grounded and engaging rather than distant or overly academic. He walked us through her life as if her story still pulsed with warmth and movement. I realized I was listening more than writing; my notes turned into scattered fragments. When I listen, my attention naturally shifts to thought, and my imagination crafts its own scenes alongside what I’m hearing.

At one point, he mentioned The Mousetrap and its extraordinarily long-running history since 1952. Immediately, my mind connected it to home: I thought of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, a popular Bollywood film that has been showing for decades at Maratha Mandir in Mumbai, India. Two very different stories, two very different worlds, yet both enduring, because people keep returning to them, generation after generation. It seemed like one of those cultural overlaps your mind makes without asking permission, where distance doesn’t matter as much as shared longevity, shared affection. I didn’t say any of it out loud, obviously. I just let the thought sit there for a moment, like a small bridge between places I carry in me.

The Q&A session carried a particular sense of meaning. People were asking questions with such care, such curiosity, as if they weren’t just seeking answers but trying to understand the texture of Christie’s legacy from different angles: her narrative arc, structure, the psychology behind her characters. There was something very communal about it, not performative, but shared. Like everyone in the room was gently adding to the same unfolding conversation.

By the time the session ended, I felt something subtle settle in. Christie’s work lives on not just because people read it, but because it is constantly re-entered and re-imagined. Each reader brings something new to it, and in doing so, keeps it moving forward. I left carrying that thought: stories don’t belong only to the past or the page. They find new rooms, over and over, just like this one.

About the reviewer
Anupriya Sisodia is a published romance fiction author, pursuing an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester. She is an avid reader who loves writing stories with realistic, relatable characters who experience emotional and exciting journeys on their way to a happy ending.