Review by Kimaya Tushar Patil of "The Cruel Prince" by Holly Black

"If I cannot be better than them, I will become so much worse": The Cruel Prince by Holly Black drags the readers into the twisted realm of Faerie, where smiles equal danger and beauty hides ruthlessness. And for a mortal, most days, survival means walking a knife's edge between wit and wavering morals. The narrative follows Jude Duarte, a mortal girl who was abducted along with her twin and half-sister, and whisked to the realm of Faerie after the brutal massacre of her biological parents by the Grand General of Elfhame. 

Growing up in the realm of Faerie, Jude learned early on to tread with caution even when being protected by the General's reputation. The only way to rise above her oppressors was to gain power over them. 

Black's narrative revolves around Jude's metamorphosis from a victim to a cunning strategist fuelled by political ambition. She twists the familiar, captivating beauty of Faerie with moral ambiguity, exposing the cruelty hiding beneath. Her prose is succinct and adds deeper layers of emotions to the atmosphere of the world. And while the political intrigue is multifaceted, the pacing sometimes stutters as scenes of intimidation and violence recur. Her worldbuilding is extensive, but it sometimes focuses solely on ambiguous emotion, rather than information for the reader.

The subtle romantic tension between Prince Cardan and Jude lays a foundation for the character arc to progress emotionally in the later books. Unlike most Young Adult leads, Jude's desire for power, along with her readiness to deceive, exploit, and accept cruelty for it, adds a twist to the traditional "moral heroine."   

The Cruel Prince excels in its incisive rendering of its characters and political intricacy. Black presents us with a dark and cunning fantasy that instead of appealing to sentiments, appeals to readers who crave a morally multifaceted heroine and worlds where survival hangs between the right choice or the necessary choice.  

About the reviewer
Kimaya Tushar Patil is a graduate of the University of Leicester’s MA in Creative Writing programme. A lifelong reader, writer and poet, she is particularly interested in fiction, narrative voice, and literary craft. She enjoys engaging critically with books that leave a lasting impression. You can read more about Kimaya's work on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Jonathan Wilkins of "All the Days I Did Not Live" by Anna Vaught

Firstly, I do judge a book by its cover, and Will Dady’s design is beautiful and instantly drew me in. I wanted to see what was inside, and I was not disappointed. From the very start, the language is beguiling and sensual. Descriptions are crystal clear and haunting.

Catherine loses her husband and doesn’t show much grief, which annoys her family - particularly her daughter Martha, who, perhaps, sees herself in her mother and now resents her for it. 

Gabriel was a functional man, Catherine a sensual woman, and she had had that slowly squeezed out of her. Her father wanted her to be "pliable" and tried to persuade her husband to make her so. They didn’t realise that she had overheard this conversation, and it had festered in her mind. She already despised her father, who was a cruel man who had crushed her mother. His behaviour is alluded to, but never fully described, so we have to make our own assumptions.

Catherine's mental health is also an issue. She is at odds again with her family, who want to protect her, who want her to act in a "normal" way, to grieve "correctly." The tensions are palpable. She eschews mourning and goes out to shows, buys "unsuitable" makeup and two phones as an act of rebellion, and also wonders whether she stole something from a shop at the same time.

This is where the story turns. We had already met Alec, another widower who lost his wife slowly to illness, and is still deeply in love with her memory. He rings the phone, his wife’s old number and finds that Catherine has purchased it. They flirt; they meet and have a brief, tumultuous sexual affair in Paris. Alec is everything that Gabriel wasn’t, and Catherine delights in his bed. Paris was the scene of her honeymoon with Alec, a clever trope echoing how cold Gabriel was compared to Alec.

Alec still misses his wife. What Catherine does next is exciting. Too much information will spoil this for you, but I found it an intoxicating story. Some words jump out and shock you, but it is all the better for the metamorphosis of Catherine. 

Will her children understand? Her mother does. What will she do with her newfound freedom? Will her hopes now come true, after the constraints of her married life? It is all in the title, and we have to interpret it as we wish. This is the beauty of the tale. It is eloquent, passionate, sensuous, and wonderfully descriptive, open to so many different interpretations. It charts a dysfunctional series of relationships, some irreversibly broken over time, but others restored. 

Do read this.

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 All the Days I Did Not Live by Anna Vaught on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Kim Wiltshire of "Boater: A Life on England's Waterways" by Jo Bell

I’ve been aware of, and an admirer of, Jo Bell’s poetry for several years, so was excited to learn about this memoir she has written, all about her life living on a boat and travelling around England’s canal system. Published by Harper North, Boater: A Life on England’s Waterways is a cracking good read, and you’ll learn something about canal history too!

Living close to a canal myself, I’ve always been slightly envious of the lifestyle of the boat-dwellers as I’ve taken a walk down the towpath on a crisp winter morning or on a sunny afternoon, and as they sit with their cups of tea and biscuits, navigating through the canal systems of Greater Manchester. For a mere house-dweller like me, the lifestyle seems to offer freedom, albeit with plenty of hard work, a sense of fulfilment in spending time opening and closing locks, getting the fresh water in, emptying the wastewater out, filling up with fuel and wood for the fire. And this is pretty much the life Bell explores in her book.

However, what makes this book much more interesting than your run-of-the-mill memoir about living on a boat is the historical element she weaves through it. I now know about Telford, Rolt and Brindley, I know how locks are supposed to work, I know about the Nicholson maps. But this information doesn’t come across in a preachy "I’m teaching you something you should know about" way – although of course we should all know about it, because, as Bell highlights, it is such a central part of our recent history. No, Bell writes about the historical elements because of the way they link into her life, link into the choices she makes not just in where to go next, but why and how, and we learn that the decisions made by these genius innovators in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries continue to shape her life. 

The book is written in three parts, all with short sections, and there are small moments of repetition, which perhaps might have been edited out, but these are easily forgiven with the sheer joy and energy in the book. As a bank-dweller, sometime gongoozler and slightly envious reader, I know now never to ask a boat-dweller if it is cold in the winter, but I’ve also learned not just about Jo’s life but about the industrial revolutionary history of our waterways.

This is a joyous book, and I would say if you can hold back the envy (maybe that is just me!) get yourself a copy and settle in for a cosy read. 

About the reviewer
Kim Wiltshire is a writer and academic, Reader and Programme Leader for Creative Writing at Edge Hill University. She writes scripts, short stories and was a British Academy Innovation Fellowship researching ways of embedding arts into healthcare settings during 2022 and 2023. 

You can read more about Boater by Jo Bell on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Lisa Natasha Wetton of "Veer, Oscillate, Rest" by Carrie Etter

Carrie Etter has a way of simplifying complex and serious narratives into easily digestible, almost kindly delivered rants in this collection. Her journey into the sentence, which starts "If one can take a sentence for a walk," is where I really begin to smile - about twenty pages in, just after the main title poem. I found myself reading each poem twice or more. The expression of her words openly mirrors the endless flow of life, where there is no end and no beginning to all that is and how we move through it.

This is political poetry, yet not polemic. At the start, she delivers a cool, collected punch to the systems that govern us and observes how we respond. From stereotypical "trailer trash," she traces the literal patterns and content of life in America. With references to presidents, corporations and culture, "My America" touches on the gamut of everything American, poetically listing in a way that is at once complete and seemingly disappointed with the lot.

"Project Cannikin" goes a step further with its damning, cut-to-the-chase lines, such as "Up goes the island - twenty-five feet! Down come a thousand dead sea otters," and "(crushed skulls) (ruptured lungs) (snapped spines) / Nine-year-old Emily said, 'It was kind of like a train ride.'" This references the impacts of nuclear testing in Alaska in 1971. The casual but cuttingly direct descriptions make no bones about the disdain for such activity, simply shining a light on the same flippant casualness with which they are perceived by the desensitised child, Emily.

"Fat" and "Tornado" both have an air of critiquing the normalised, expected modes of behaviour and happenings in a damaging culture which is the result of its own addictions and consequences. By the fifth poem, "Night England by Train," the focus moves to the UK and its bleakness. The author manages to touch very briefly on significant points that sum up a place in a flash. The colour orange and a tail mentioned paint a picture of fox hunting and countryside, at least to me. The commentary triggers our own perceptions and expresses a sort of composed anger, calmly and matter-of-factly, analysing the troubles of the world in a pinpointed way. In "The Reckoning," for example, the demise of the NHS, racism, fear, lack, survival, conflict, accountability and prejudice are all addressed succinctly - almost list-like, again complete and thorough in its critique of the absolute mess that politicians are creating.

This collection made me wonder and made me laugh. Very human, social observations touch upon all the influences hitting our world, wherever we are on the planet - buzzwords normalised, behaviours that are not. There are nods to other poets, like "The Rival" after Sylvia Plath's poem of the same name, suggesting impressions of youth and possibly mild envy, and "One for London" for W.S. Graham, referring to wine and jazz and drunken moments in "milk-grey London."

Etter aptly denotes the need for expression regarding how much of the weight of the world we have to hold, in the line: "Language, I'm going to need you shortly, if I'm going to sustain the moment's teeming." This acutely describes how much we sustain without question. Narcissism, bipolar disorder, sibling rivalry, complexities and family in an overheard conversation: "Overheard in Chicago" depicts the tone of a generation of diversity and the mental health consequences of living through certain times.

These are my perceptions of what at first seems simple and then reveals a world in quiet nutshells - or eggshells, which would be more fitting for the fragility and strength that hold us all together. There is a lot in these pages. And the title Veer, Oscillate, Rest aptly relates to the way in which the author navigates the content. Reading the pamphlet left me feeling content with the chaos and transitory nature of everything in the world and how we all meander through it. This is essential contemporary poetry. Read it slowly. Read it twice.

About the reviewer
Lisa Natasha Wetton (aka Lisa Life) is a regular contributor to the English pages of L’eco de Sitges, Barcelona. She is a Creative Artist, Coach & Hypnotherapist. She is collaborating on new writing projects with American Author Will Bashor, with whom she will be refining a draft of her first completed book, It’s all Made up – A Guide to Spirituality from a Working-Class Girl. With a twenty-year history working in Dance & Theatre and based in Barcelona for the past six years, she is happy to be delving into the world of words. See: www.newlisalife.net and www.equilibrium-events.com.

Review by Karen Stevens of "The Collected Stories" by Katherine Mansfield

I’ve been unable to read fiction for a few months now due to burnout. When that happens, I eventually re-energise by returning to The Collected Stories of Katherine Mansfield (Penguin, 1981 – my very battered copy). Every time I revisit her work, I’m staggered by her ability to capture the inner lives of people and the revelations that arise from the most trivial or seemingly ordinary moments. One such moment occurs in her perfectly crafted short story "At the Bay" - my favourite story of all time.

Linda Burnell, one of Mansfield’s most beautifully drawn characters, is alone with her baby boy in the garden of their seaside holiday home. It’s a rare moment of solitude; her life is almost entirely given over to her family. Here, she reflects on her real grudge against life: "She was broken, made weak, her courage was gone, through child-bearing … she did not love her children. It was useless pretending."

But then the baby turns over and beams at Linda, instantly testing and eroding her resolve: "'Why do you keep on smiling?' she said severely. 'If you knew what I was thinking about, you wouldn’t.' But he only squeezed up his eyes slyly and rolled his head on the pillow. He didn’t believe a word she said. 'We know all about that!' smiled the boy. Linda was so astonished at the confidence of this little creature … Ah no, be sincere. That was not what she felt; it was something far different, something so new, so … The tears danced in her eyes; she breathed in a small whisper to the boy, 'Hallo, my funny!'" 

In that exchange, Mansfield enables us to experience the sweetness and anguish that shape the pattern of all our lives – the essence of good - no, great fiction. 

About the reviewer
Karen Stevens is Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at the University of Chichester and lives in West Sussex. She is an editor, critic and writes short fiction. Her debut collection of short stories Brilliant Blue was published by Barbican press in 2025. 

You can read more about Brilliant Blue on Creative Writing at Leicester here.

Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "The Subtle Art of Short Fiction" ed. Isabelle Kenyon

 

This is a concise, well-focused companion for creative writers who already understand the fundamentals of crafting short fiction and now want to work at the level of nuance, treating it as a form defined by compression and consequence. The emphasis is not on shortcuts or formula, but on the deliberate choices that allow a story to suggest a larger world while remaining tightly controlled.

One of the anthology’s strengths is the authority and range of its contributors. Essays and writing exercises from Daisy Johnson, Matt Wesolowski, Kerry Hadley-Pryce, Sarah Schofield, Jonathan Taylor, S. J. Bradley, Mahsuda Snaith, David Hartley and Farhana Shaikh offer a multi-perspectival account of craft (including an illuminating introduction by Paul March-Russell). The variety of approaches prevents the collection from becoming prescriptive. Instead, it reads as a series of intelligent, practice-based reflections on what short stories can achieve and how they generate their distinctive force.

The technical focus is consistently strong. Several chapters attend to subtext and micro-tension, showing how emotional pressure often gathers not through explanation, but through what remains withheld and unresolved. The discussion of sensory minimalism is equally effective, returning to the difficult question of when to render detail vividly and when to imply, allowing the reader to complete the image. Structure is treated as an area for experimentation rather than compliance, with contributors encouraging alternative narrative frameworks and more considered thinking about pacing, revelation and the placement of the final turn. 

Crucially, each chapter includes helpful writing prompts and exercises that bridge literary theory and creative practice. These are not incidental add-ons, but carefully designed invitations to test ideas on the page, and to translate conceptual discussion into specific decisions about language, scene and shape. I have recently returned to the short story form myself, so engaging with this book has been both timely and beneficial in deepening my own understanding of the genre, while also offering practical stimulus for new work.

Isabelle Kenyon’s editorial hand keeps the collection coherent while allowing each voice its own texture, and it is the gravitas and insight of those voices that gives the anthology its remarkable depth. The result is an anthology that sharpens attention, both to the craft of short fiction and to the pleasures of reading it closely. This is a thoughtful, highly engaging and genuinely useful book, and one that rewards return, particularly for writers intent on refining control, precision and resonance.

About the reviewer
Dr Paul Taylor-McCartney is a writer, post-doctoral researcher and lecturer. His academic and creative interests include dystopian literature, Queer studies, children’s fiction and initial teacher education. His poetry, short fiction and scholarly articles have appeared in a wide range of print and electronic media, and recent fiction titles he worked on as commissioning editor have won regional readers’ and publishers’ awards. His debut children’s novel, Sisters of the Pentacle, was published by Hermitage Press (2022), and his first non-fiction title, Cornwall Uncharted: Mapping Cornwall’s Queer History of Concealment, Culture and Creativity, is shortly to be published by The History Press (June 2026).

You can read more about The Subtle Art of Short Fiction on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Sarah Gresham of "The Final Women" by Pardeep Aujla

 

This is a great read. It’s compelling, thrilling and unpredictable. I love the way that the main characters are a group of women survivors out to get bloody revenge on a serial killer. The author cleverly and intelligently explores the characters’ different reactions to historic trauma as well as their motivations to get even.

Throughout, the action sequences are expertly done and badass, and the dialogue is cracking and witty. As for the horror content … if it’d been a film I was watching, there were lots of moments I’d have been reaching for a cushion to cover my eyes. Descriptions are inventive, novel and full of dark humour. The Silas Crowe character is menacing, creepy, chilling. 

I saw that the author, Pardeep Aujla, is an "award-winning screenwriter and narrative designer for video games." This skill shines through so well, as evidenced in the rolling climaxes that explode across that movie-screen of the mind. Think: slasher horror. Think: oodles of gory homicide. Don’t read at bedtime!

About the reviewer
Sarah Gresham’s coffee shop, Clarendon Perk, is at 249 Clarendon Park Road, Leicester, where you will find very nice coffee and homemade cakes and food. It also has a micro bookshop, and occasional literary events featuring local writers.

Review by Tracey Foster of "Muse" by Ruth Millington

What came first, the artist or the muse?

Exploring this question is the very heart of this book, looking at artists who had complex relationships with their chosen muse. They were often supported, inspired and encouraged in their art by figures whose roles have fallen into obscurity, leaving us with only an image to construct a legend about: "The perception of the muse is that of a passive, powerless model at the mercy of an influential and older artist. But is this trope a romanticised myth?"

Rather than breaking the history of the myth into chronological sections, Millington explores the role of the muse in different guises. We delve into the muse as a message, performing muses, family albums and self-portraits which give delightful juxtapositions, framing Picasso’s Dora Maar alongside Awol Erizku's photograph of a pregnant Beyonce. Millington's background in TV and radio has helped to develop her direct conversational tone that keeps the content accessible to all and avoids the navel-gazing tendency of some art tomes. 

As easily evidenced on any gallery wall, females make up the bulk of the line-up, but Millington includes a few other examples such as George Dyer, the controversial muse and lover of Francis Bacon who, the story goes, fell through his skylight to the retort from Bacon: "You're not much of a burglar are you? Take off your clothes. Come to bed and you can take what you want."

Dyer's story is one often repeated throughout history; the legend is told by the victor to the spoil. Successful artists concoct a favourable narrative to add to their allure, but if we delve below the surface, we find the truth is often far more nuanced Bacon was able to create his own version about the forty-plus paintings he made of Dyer because his muse, unable to cope with Bacon's infidelity, committed suicide on the eve of a major retrospective. Bacon took many photographs of his muse and continued to use these to create some of his most famous works after he died, only admitting much later in his career that Dyer's tortured demise was his inspiration and the story behind the images. Working through his emotions on canvas he said, "I feel profoundly guilty about his death. If I hadn't gone out, if I'd simply stayed in and made sure he was alright, he might have been alive now."

Vermeer’s "Girl with a Pearl Earring" has long been the subject of speculation and led to the writer Tracy Chevalier's novel that attempted to fictionalise the gap. Recent research, however, has exposed Vermeer’s real intention. Religious allegories reimagined by the family who commissioned the paintings have been attributed to most of the works he painted in one household. The girl sitter could then be simply a young member of the family who fills in for a sequence of biblical representations.

Challenging our expectations of the role of artist and muse is Gentileschi - a talented painter who raised up to the highest levels of painting circles but who had been born a female in a time when her abilities were discouraged and frowned upon. Raped by her tutor at the age of 17 and banned from entering the art establishment, she used her own image to stare out at us and confront our ideals of the female narrative. Reimagining the classics, she retells the tales from the woman's stance in contrast to the male gaze. Her muse is never passive; her beauty is active. "I will show Your Illustrious Lordship what a woman can do," she wrote to a patron, defiant and proud of her work. Taking her former tutor to court at a time when women were disbelieved, she swore through torture in the court: "It is true, It is true." She won her case and her tutor was subsequently banished from Rome, but a cloud followed her for rape was considered the shame of the family and she was quickly married off. The work that followed depicted women wronged, such as Salome, and allowed her to exact revenge on the canvas and leave a legacy for us to interpret: "As long as I live, I will have control over my being."

Dora Maar, Picasso’s lover and sitter for over 60 paintings, was an artist in her own right when they met. A successful photographer with her own studio, she deliberately set out to attract this older man by using a knife to stab between her fingers, whilst sat at table in a cafe frequented by Picasso. This daring game worked and he moved her in with his current lover and their child. The ensuing battle that erupted was immaterial to Picasso. He walked out telling them to sort it out between themselves. Picasso's most famous portrait of Maar, entitled "The Weeping Woman," was in response to Dora's gradual deterioration into depression: "Dora for me, was always a weeping woman," he famously exclaimed. 

But Dora had a much heavier influence on his work. Deeply political and active in the left-wing struggle against fascism, she opened his eyes to the cause. Just a few weeks before he had painted "Guernica," his anti-war masterpiece. Posing for a figure of a mother holding her grieving child, photographing the whole production and helping him to mix paints, she was a huge part of its creation. Picasso was still inspired by the experience to go on to make "Weeping Woman" as a further response to the event. To dismiss it later and to attribute it to the emotional whims of a woman is to vastly diminish the part she played and add to his allure as a lover and leaver of women: "For years I gave her a tortured appearance, not out of Sadism, and without any pleasure on my part, but in obedience to a vision that had imposed itself on me." Maar was later to reply: "All Picasso portraits of me are lies. Not one is Dora Maar."

Millington happily gives the muse the last word. These sitters often play a large part in any artistic creation but often never get any credit. Their part is frozen to a moment and their voices muted. To get a fuller picture, we need to listen to their story. Here at last is that perspective: "This book will demonstrate the true power that muses have held. Without doubt, it's time that we reconsidered muses, reclaiming them from reductive stereotypes, to illuminate their real, involved and diverse roles throughout art history." 

About the reviewer
After a long career as an Art and Design teacher, Tracey Foster wanted to refocus her creative energies into writing poetry and prose. After helping others find inspiration in the world around us, she took an MA course in Creative Writing at Leicester University and has not looked back. She finds inspiration in the past and the events that shape us. Previous work has been published by Comma Press, Ayaskala, Alternateroute, Fish Barrel Review, The Haiku Foundation, Mausoleum Press, Bus Poetry Magazine, Wayward Literature, Cold Moon Journal, Madswirl, Five Fleas, The Arts Council and she writes on her own blog site The Small Sublime found here.

Review by Karen Powell-Curtis of "Have they marked you with arrows?" by Jayne Stanton

Jayne Stanton’s beautifully crafted poems chart the stages in her journey beginning with her cancer diagnosis, through treatment, and beyond. 

In "Recall," there is a sense of both fear of the outcome, and of the stress of waiting. The repetition of "a woman" controls the pace of the poem, and the detail of each step of the appointment forces the reader to pause and consider each action. In the following poem, "After the appointment," Stanton writes of the shock and disorientation immediately after diagnosis with the lines "You try to recall what you’ve just been told" and "You both agree – the cafeteria / seems farther away than usual." 

There are hints of Emily Dickinson’s poem "Hope is the thing with feathers" in "Many-feathered." In Stanton’s poem hope is "a scalpel in a steady hand" and "an evicted ductal carcinoma." In sharp contrast to the medical terminology is the image of a "rose that grows / in a pathologist’s petri dish."

"Platitudes" begins with the line "It’s a good thing they caught it early" and continues to list the cliches often offered to someone diagnosed with cancer. The layout of the poem, with space between each line, suggests how empty and unhelpful these words might feel to the recipient. 

The short lines in the poem "Radiology of the left breast" create a clinical effect. The use of the passive voice, particularly in the lines "Careful measurements are taken / and your skin marked up" and "You are moved into the correct position," emphasises the impersonal nature of the procedure.

Strength and hope are evident throughout Stanton’s pamphlet. Her poems are both unsentimental and powerful, and whilst deeply personal, they are also relevant to many women undergoing the same experience.

About the reviewer
Karen Powell-Curtis has a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Leicester. Her poetry has been published in various anthologies and magazines. 

You can read more about Have they marked you with arrows? on Creative Writing at Leicester here.