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.

Review by Anupriya Sisodia of "Red, White & Royal Blue" by Casey McQuiston

Imagine this: the First Son of the United States falls in love with the Prince of Wales. Yup. That’s basically Red, White, & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston, and I cannot even begin to explain how obsessed I am. From page one, I was hooked, half the time laughing so hard I nearly cried, the other half swooning so much I was basically gasping through the pages, unable to put it down. 

Alex Claremont-Díaz is chef’s kiss. He’s witty, chaotic in the best way, over-the-top, and somehow manages to be both obnoxiously charming and painfully relatable. The kind of guy you’d want to be best friends with but also low-key fangirl over. And then there’s Prince Henry. He’s all poise and perfection, very "prince-y," but he’s secretly this soft, dorky, totally lovable and hilarious human once you see past the crown - definitely the kind of guy who makes you just want to hug him forever. And their dynamic? Electric. That whole "enemies who kind of hate each other but maybe also kind of don’t" thing that starts as a staged truce. Absolute chaos in the best possible way. Watching their friendship grow, sneakily morph into something heart-stoppingly romantic, had me internally screaming like a maniac the entire time. And the teasing! The banter! I swear, it should be illegal how adorable it all was. 

But it’s not all swoons and drama. What really gets me is how real their journey was. Alex struggling to balance being the First Son while actually being himself, Henry questioning everything he’s been taught and learning to just be, and watching them figure it out together, with all the mistakes, the secrets, the little victories, it’s just so raw and human, and messy in the best way, full of moments that made my chest ache and my heart swell at the same time. And beneath all that laughter and tension, the novel doesn’t shy away from the deeper themes: identity, family, self-expression, and what it really means to be yourself, learning to stand in your own skin when the whole world is watching, making it so much more than just a romance. Add in the interplay of American politics and British monarchical traditions, and McQuiston’s signature humor, and every chapter feels bigger, juicier, and somehow more romantic. And the side characters? They are absolutely unforgettable. There’s fierce June Claremont-Díaz, protective Bea, supportive genius, aspiring data analyst and VP’s daughter Nora Holleran, goofy Pez, brilliant Zahra, formidable President Ellen Claremont-Díaz, endlessly loyal and dependable Shaan, and many more. .. each bringing their own personality and presence, making the world feel full and alive. 

By the end, I was a blubbering, laughing, fangirling mess, and honestly I didn’t even want it to end. Red, White & Royal Blue is messy, beautiful, hilarious, devastatingly heartfelt, and swoony. It’s the kind of book that makes you stay up until 2 a.m., the kind you text your friends about in ALL CAPS, the kind that makes you believe that love can actually feel like it’s changing the world.

Honestly? I’m never letting go of Alex and Henry. Not now. Not ever. 

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.

Interview with Annabelle Slator

Annabelle Slator grew up writing stories in the depths of the British countryside. After achieving a degree in Creative Writing, she spent most of her twenties working with brands and start-ups in London and New York. Nowadays, if she isn’t spending time writing, you can almost always find her obsessing over niche internet drama, practising her fencing parry or mooching around vintage fairs and flea markets. Annabelle’s first contemporary romance novels, The Launch Date and Risky Business, were inspired by her time working in the wild world of dating apps and the tech industry. You can read more about Risky Business on Creative Writing at Leicester here. Annabelle's website is here. 

Interviewed by Anupriya Sisodia

Q: Tell us more about the Risky Business: what inspired you to write a modern, fast-paced romance set in the tech start-up world? 

AS: Risky Business is inspired by my experiences not only working in the tech and start-up industry, but working exclusively for women-run and female-founded companies. It admittedly is not the sexiest world to set a romance, but it was an area I felt was relatively unexplored in the romance genre and something to which I can bring a unique perspective. 

Q: Were there any scenes or moments that were especially fun or challenging to write? 

AS: The set-up and opening chapters were the most challenging to write, and were rewritten several times during the drafting process. I was trying to hit a balance between a dynamic main character with plenty of agency whilst making sure she "stumbled" into the circumstances of the story instead of actively choosing to deceive everyone from the start. The chapters I found the most fun to write were the meet-cute chapters, the first carefree, flirty night Jess spends with Oliver. I found those chapters to be incredibly cathartic for a character who had spent so long focusing on her own anxieties instead of living her life to the fullest. 

Q: What genres or topics do you enjoy writing about the most? 

AS: I love romance! First kisses and romantic tension are always the most enjoyable parts of the process, but blending self discovery and growth is the most satisfying part of writing, even if it’s not as fun as flirty banter and hijinks in the moment! 

Q: How do you approach blending humour, tension, and romance in your storytelling?

AS: I like to champion the idea that romance is inherently hilarious and should be treated as such. Having a crush makes you do and say things you never thought you would, that you would laugh at somebody else doing, and often look back at and cringe. I approach humour, tension and romance in the same way. Whether they are clashing or in sync, they often work hand in hand to create something magical on the page.  

Q: How do you handle writer's block or creative doubt?

AS: For me, writers block has never been a massive issue because I am always working on multiple projects as once. If I’m stuck on a part of a story, I will focus on another for a few days until the knot in my mind becomes untangled. I also find working on something physical, like cooking or even going for a long walk, helps immensely if I’m really stuck. Ultimately, creativity is a muscle; it can get tired and that’s okay but it needs to be exercised regularly to keep working.  

Q: Are there specific messages or feelings you hope your readers take away from your story?

AS: I hope my readers feel inspired to take their dreams seriously, but also not be too hard on themselves. In the past I have felt a lot of the feelings Jess (and Grace in The Launch Date, my previous novel) experience, and I learnt a great deal through them. I hope readers have the same experience. 

Q: Did you draw on any personal experiences or observations about gender dynamics in tech or in general while writing Jess’s journey? 

AS: Not necessarily direct personal experiences, but witnessing how female founders are treated in the space was a huge inspiration for the story. I think most women can relate to the experiences Jess has in the book, or know someone who has. In particular, Risky Business was inspired by the real-life story of two female entrepreneurs who created a fake male CEO called Keith Mann to dodge tech industry sexism. Ever since reading a news story about this in 2017 I had wondered what would happen if you took that concept further, hiring a man to be the face of a company who was nowhere near qualified. 

Q: You set the story across Rome, Paris, and Vienna. How did these locations shape the plot and the characters’ personal growth? 

AS: Originally, this story was just set in London like my first novel, The Launch Date, but with the mechanics of the story being punctuated by rounds of a tech competition, the idea of just going back to the same hotel events hall every few chapters seemed very boring. I also wanted to make the competition as expensive as possible for Jess without it seeming ridiculous. Tech is a very pricey industry to enter and often excludes people who have great ideas but no financial backing. Making these an international escapade not only made the competition more dynamic but also gave me the opportunity to have fun and flirty scenes between Jess and Oliver outside of a hotel foyer, like the aeroplane bathroom, the French countryside cafe and the Italian dive bar. 

Q: What is your favourite part of being a writer? 

AS: Apart from the obvious of fulfilling a childhood dream of being a published author, it’s amazing to have a job that is so creatively fulfilling. The personal freedom is also a huge part of being a full-time author that I did not anticipate being one of my favourite parts. It can be stressful, not always knowing what the next year will hold and waiting on publishers for feedback etc, but it’s the best job I’ve ever had. 

Q: What personal advice would you give aspiring writers?

AS: Writing to a schedule was one of the best decisions I made when I first started writing full novels. If your goal is to be published, your first book is most likely the only one you will ever write on your own schedule. When writing The Launch Date, I deliberately gave myself a year to plan, write and edit the manuscript before querying, as I knew that was the rough timeline a publisher would give me. As it turns out, I had even less time to write and edit Risky Business, so I’m really glad I had the experience of a tight turnaround before things got serious! 

Q: Finally, what are you currently working on?

AS: I can’t reveal too many specifics right now but I’m currently finishing up something a little bit spookier than The Launch Date or Risky Business, but just as exciting and tension-filled. You can follow me on instagram @annabelleslator or tiktok @annabelleslatorauthor for future updates! 

About the interviewer 
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.

Review by Anupriya Sisodia of "Calling Sehmat" by Harinder Singh Sikka

I still remember walking out of the theatre after watching Raazi in 2018 feeling … unsettled. My chest felt tight, my mind restless. I couldn’t stop asking myself: could someone really live like that? It stayed with me for weeks, until I finally picked up Calling Sehmat. I didn’t expect it to affect me the way it did, but it left me quieter than I was before I started reading.

Sehmat doesn’t enter the story like a hero. She feels like someone you could know, just a regular college girl from Kashmir, studying in Delhi, living an ordinary life. And maybe that’s what makes everything that follows so hard to process. There’s nothing exaggerated about her, nothing cinematic. Just a quiet strength that reveals itself slowly.

What really stayed with me was how her life changed because of her father’s last wish. Being married into a Pakistani military family, not for love, but for a mission, feels like something out of fiction, but knowing it’s rooted in reality makes it heavier. As she steps into this role during the 1971 India-Pakistani war, you can almost feel the tension settle in. Every moment of her life becomes deliberate. I think what struck me most was how different she felt from her portrayal in the film. In the book, she isn’t unsure or passive. She’s alert, thoughtful, and incredibly composed. The way she adapts to her new environment, builds trust within her in-laws’ family, and carries out her responsibilities, it all feels so controlled, so precise, that it’s almost intimidating. And yet, underneath it, you can sense the pressure she’s constantly under. One mistake could undo everything. There’s also something deeply unsettling about how normal everything around her seems. People are living their lives, forming relationships, trusting her, while she’s holding onto secrets that could destroy them. It made me think a lot about how war isn’t just fought on battlefields. Sometimes, it’s hidden in everyday spaces, in conversations, in silence.

Sikka’s writing is deceptively simple, almost like a personal conversation over tea. There’s no dramatic build-up or heavy language, but somehow that makes it hit harder. You’re not distracted by how it’s written, you’re just there, inside her world, feeling everything with her protagonist - her fear, her loneliness, the constant awareness that she can never really relax.

And then there’s the aftermath. When Sehmat returns to India, it’s not relief that defines her; it’s the profound weight of everything she’s done. You can feel how much of herself she’s lost along the way. It’s not just about what she gave up in the moment, but what she can never get back. Her life doesn’t simply go back to normal, and I think that’s what makes her story feel so real.

By the end, I didn’t feel inspired in the usual sense. I just felt … still. There’s admiration, of course, but also a kind of sadness that lingers. Sehmat gave everything without expecting anything in return, not recognition, not peace, not even a sense of closure. I think that’s what this book changed for me. It made me see patriotism differently. Not as something loud or visible, but as something deeply personal, often carried alone. Even now, thinking about it, Sehmat doesn’t feel like a character I read about. She feels like someone whose life I briefly stepped into, and couldn’t quite leave behind.

If you do pick up Calling Sehmat, don’t expect a dramatic spy story. It’s quieter than that, more reflective and deeply human. But it stays with you in a way that’s hard to explain, and even harder to forget.

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.

Review by Lisa Natasha Wetton of "Writing Elegies for Dead Men I Didn't Meet" by Cathi Rae

This is everyday life, simply depicted, suicide taken in a stride, elongated spaces between the words giving breath where there is none. The reader is given space to pause to reflect and then continue, taking in the gravity of this subject matter in as easy a way as possible. 

          "Is this real?"
          "Shit, I think it’s real"
          "He really really did it"
          running in real time
          while time has stopped for you.

Writing Elegies for Dead Men I Didn't Meet is a series of poems based on real-life stories, creating a narrative that shines a light on issues around men's mental health and the tragedy of male suicide. In her preface, the author refers to it as "a 21st century tragedy." She brings home the finality of life-ending decisions made in everyday circumstances, in order to make individual men visible in a culture that, as the collection quietly argues, has made them very easy to overlook.

Every kind of suicide and situation weaves through this collection. Teenage boys, middle-aged men, drunken fathers snatched from life in a moment that cannot be taken back. Some planned, some more spontaneous, all terminal and unchangeable. The sadness and tragedy are stark and unrelenting, with a wish that it could be something other. 

The simplicity of descriptions mirrors the commonality of suicide. Men of all ages are taking their lives under the compounding weight of circumstances that ground them down - feeling unseen, carrying shame they were never equipped to name, or simply exhausted by the effort of continuing. 

In the opening piece, "Slicing Through the Information Superhighway with a Scalpel," Rae writes about the process with which she created the content:

           my computer glitches
           won’t stop scrolling page after page
           name after name after name
           until I have to look away block away the tears
           writing elegies for dead men I didn’t meet.

Poem after poem, man after man, the weight of it builds and builds. These are not isolated failures, not men who simply couldn't cope. They are every age, every background, every circumstance. "Club 18 to 35" feels like the collection's breaking point. This is an almost-angry reckoning with what we are doing to men, and what we are allowing to continue.

Male suicide is becoming an often silent, global epidemic, with men dying by suicide approximately three to four times more often than women. Rae reaches out to shed light on an issue that must be addressed. These poems provide perspectives of people choosing to take their own lives and how, as well as acknowledging those left behind. 

In "Finders," Rae bluntly puts it, 

          your discovery       just a delay
          in the everyday of commuting home
          a flicker of frustration
          and then reset
          Someone has to find you ... 
          someone who will keep that memory
          forever
          even if they wish they couldn’t
          who might prefer that you had stayed
          unfound.

Here, she acutely presents the devastating impact that ripples out from suicide. Lights go out on a life, as the world inevitably, indifferently, keeps on turning. This is a collection that deserves to be read widely - not as a comfortable experience, but as a necessary one. 

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 collaborates on Writing Retreats with American Author Will Bashor, with whom she co-authored Soul to Pages - A Weekend Journey to your Novel/Self-help book, a process used to support budding writers that incorporates meditation and visualisation sessions. She is currently refining edits on her first completed book, A Guide to Spirituality from a Working Class Girl. She has a twenty-year history working in Dance & Theatre and has been based in Barcelona for almost seven years. You can find Lisa at https://linktr.ee/NewLisaLife.

You can read more about Writing Elegies for Dead Men I Didn't Meet by Cathi Rae on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "The Language of Now" by Anne Caldwell

Anne Caldwell’s The Language of Now is a collection of prose poems that moves quietly but insistently through memory, landscape and the fragile textures of everyday life. Rooted in a northern sense of place, the book also engages with illness, ecological unease and the emotional afterlife of recent years.

Caldwell has become one of the most assured contemporary practitioners of the prose poem, and this form suits her especially well. These pieces are compact but spacious, lyrical without becoming vague. They unfold in paragraphs that seem at first conversational, then deepen into something more meditative. Her work returns repeatedly to bogs, backstreets, moorland, weather and overlooked urban edges, yet these are never simply settings. They are charged spaces where memory, vulnerability and the more-than-human world meet.

Caldwell’s restraint is one of the collection’s greatest strengths. She lets emotion gather around an image until it becomes quietly affecting. In "Wasp’s Nest," the speaker listens for "the ragged edges of our lives," a phrase that captures much of the collection’s mood: vulnerability, endurance and the sense that contemporary life often feels slightly frayed. In "Widdop Gate, High Summer," the moorland is described as "egg-shell delicate," and later as "a map of the whole world in miniature." These small phrases open outward with surprising force.

Some of the most moving poems connect strongly with questions of class, culture and language. "Boundary Lane, 1974" in particular stirs that recognition. Its backward glance towards a childhood street, and towards the social world carried in place and speech, suggests how deeply early surroundings shape us. Caldwell’s attention to ordinary language and remembered environments prompts a nostalgic return to childhood: to voices, habits and local textures that once seemed fixed. What these poems understand so well is that growing into the present often means letting go of much that was once familiar in order to make way for the new. 

The title poem suggests another dimension of the collection’s thinking. Caldwell writes that the language of the present moment "now drifts away like a driftwood smile … or a Spring moon waxing and waning." These images capture the book’s underlying concern with impermanence: the sense that language, memory and even identity shift continually with time.

Elsewhere the emotional register deepens into something more intimate. In "Lost Daughter," the line "I wrote a letter: Dearest Daughter, how I longed for you. To hold your butter-coloured toes in my hands" carries a tenderness that is both personal and universal. The image is simple, yet it holds an entire emotional landscape within it. 

What emerges from The Language of Now is a poetics of attention. These prose poems do not seek dramatic revelation. Instead they offer something quieter and more enduring: a way of seeing the ordinary world with renewed sensitivity. In a literary culture that often rewards urgency and noise, Caldwell’s work reminds us of the value of patience, listening and careful noticing. This is a subtle, moving collection that stays with the reader long after the final page, and invites return, offering a brief but beautifully crafted space for quiet reflection.

About the reviewer
Paul Taylor-McCartney is a writer, post-doctoral researcher and lecturer. His interests include speculative fiction, queer studies, children’s fiction and initial teacher education. His poetry, short fiction and academic articles have appeared in print and electronic form. He recently published his debut children’s novel, Sisters of the Pentacle (2022), and his work as commissioning editor resulted in two titles winning prestigious regional awards. His first non-fiction title, Cornwall Uncharted: Mapping Cornwall’s Queer History of Concealment, Culture and Creativity, is due to be published by The History Press (June 2026).

You can read more about The Language of Now by Anne Caldwell on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Iain Minney of "The Dark Fields" by Alan Glynn

Adam Glynn’s 2001 debut is probably best described as the fabled "positive drug story," albeit a cautionary tale about drug use. Strong themes of addiction, excess and greed run through it like a stick of rock.  

More-traditional drug users fall somewhere in-between hallucinating hippies, giggling stoners or hyperactive, gurning ravers, with the perception being uniformly negative. The "positive" drug in this novel, "MDT-48," allows the user to remain uncluttered, learning and performing practical tasks with a radically, evidence-based improvement, unlike other drugs, which merely mess with the user’s perception of themselves. In other words, MDT is the ultimate drug fantasy: it actually DOES make you smart and interesting.

Eddie Spinola is a something of an average guy; a little past his prime and stuck in a rut. The writing assignment he requested isn’t the labour of love and salvation he thought it’d be, and he has little else lined up on the horizon.  But a happenstance encounter with his ex-wife’s shady brother quickly changes his fortune. Literally.

Now (with a certain tiger-in-his-tank) Eddie’s blasting his way up the ladder a little too quickly and a little too impatiently for his own good, in order to quell his various appetites … and with his secret stockpile in place, but all manner of gaps, cracks, hallucinations and allegations becoming increasingly obvious and hard to ignore, the only question seems to be how much higher can Eddie go?

A neat and original premise is wonderfully executed (especially for a debut) and metered out with appropriate caution and respect to the subject of drug use, rather than the fantastical and pithy romanticism that could have been applied to a substance that, thankfully, doesn’t exist. Although MDT could essentially be considered an aid to concentration (some sort of hyper-concentrated Ritalin, for example), it allows the story to expand on "Addiction to ambition" as another interesting sub-reference to the Reaganomics era, to which so much is unfortunately owed.  

The writing style is pleasant too, with the quasi-autobiographical first-person narrative providing a rewarding full-circle twist ending, that underlines what must have been a genuinely thorough and painstaking research process, allowing the author any number of hidden in-jokes. The tycoon character "Van-Loon" seems suspiciously similar to a figurehead brand like Trump, the so-called "Psychopharmacological" writer probably references Tim Leary, and even the title is taken from a line in The Great Gatsby.  There’s even a theme on lost (and rediscovered) love, and a pining for lost youth, signified in Eddie's love of drugs that he used to enjoy back with his ex-wife.

About the reviewer
Iain Minney (B.A. in Journalism & Creative Writing): 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 Lisa Williams of "Gentle November" by Alan Edward Roberts

"He was a magician but not a very good one": this is a book seemingly at first about an affair. The couple have just eloped, but I wouldn’t file this under "romance." They masquerade uncomfortably as father and daughter. There seems to be very little excitement and not much joy.

The story, we discover, is about a woman on a collision course, her life a "runaway train of sad events" heading towards a waiting desert. Namibia, specifically the Skeleton Coast, beckons from a childhood map, a "turbulent flight" away on a "long-ago upstairs landing."

This is somewhere she’s dreamed about, but again she doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself. Things happen around her: life is out of her control.

We walk along a parched landscape of haunted trees and wrecked boats, the backdrop to a beautifully painful tale. This small volume is an intriguing story, one that pulls you in and demands to be read in one sitting. Gentle November is peppered with disturbing scenes and images and is skilfully haunting. We never find out the woman's name. This leaves a superb sense of unease, makes you feel like perhaps you weren’t paying her enough attention, and the story consequently lingers beautifully on, long after you’ve put the book down.

About the reviewer
Lisa Williams has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Leicester. She writes word-limited flash fiction, mostly drabbles - stories of exactly one hundred words. You can find her online @noodleBubble. 

Review by Rachael Clyne of "Lamping Wild Rabbits" by Simon Maddrell

Simon Maddrell is such an accomplished poet with an assured voice, it’s hard to believe this is his debut collection. He writes about growing up as a gay man on the Isle of Man, drawing from its natural landscape for his themes: "even a stone has a soft spot / a worn through hole after years / of attrition, a heart whose emptiness / is its strength." He refers also to the hag stones in Derek Jarman’s famous Dungeness garden; both Jarman and his garden provide a motif for Maddrell’s exploration of his own journey through the devastating losses of the AIDS epidemic and the added shame of being diagnosed HIV positive. Maddrell uses the analogy of wild rabbits as his central theme, successfully exploring the queer body in nature: whether feral, wild, hunted or ravaged by myxomatosis, it is easy to draw parallels. 

Maddrell plays skilfully with form, offering cleave poems and a redacted form using [      ] with only a scatter of words. He does not shrink from subverting an iconic biblical passage in his rewrite of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians. In "1 Queerinthians 13," he takes the verses and applies them to queer men, drawing a counterpoint between love and shame, thus completing the sentiment with its shadow: "three things remained: love, hope, shame, these three. / The greatest of these was shame. // Shame is a darkness with no darker shadow / it does not envy, does not puff up, is not proud."

The genre of "queer poetry" is about disruption of form and subversion of poetic expectations. Maddrell is a poet who does this again and again, without falling into the trap of flippancy. His voice springs from a history of shame, struggle and painful loss and he emerges courageously and unapologetically himself.

 

About the reviewer
Rachael Clyne is a retired psychotherapist. Her prizewinning collection, Singing at the Bone Tree (Indigo Dreams 2014), concerns eco-issues. Her latest (Seren 2023) is You’ll Never Anyone Else, which explores identity, migrant heritage, LGBTQ+ and relationships. She is on Bluesky @rachaelclyne.bsky.social and on Substack here.    

Review by Mithila Dutta Roy of "Supporting Cast" by Kit de Waal

It’s been months since I cried over a book, and short stories rarely do that to me. But Kit de Waal’s Supporting Cast made me tear up a bit on a bright Saturday afternoon. 

As the whole world is running around flaunting the idea of being the "main character" with the Pinterest-style life, glorious cafes and extravagant nightlife, there are still many who feel like the supporting cast in others’ stories. And Kit de Waal has brought their stories to life with such precision. Their losses of all kinds - time, age, love, lovers, children, sanity, legs - that form their imperfect lives are staged in a voice that is empathetic and truthful. That’s the mastery these stories needed and got.

Before starting the short story collection I didn’t know that these were the characters in the background of her earlier works. But it didn’t matter as I went from one story to another and found each character becoming a whole, with their nuances, flaws and introspection. Each story stood out as a complete piece, which was fascinating. 

It’s a book that talks about a woman who, on her divorce day, remembers her husband rescuing a boy during their honeymoon; a mother who says goodbye to her newly-wed son and starts thinking about how the bride never thanked the mother who loved him first - and then, in turn, realises that she never thanked her adopted son’s mother. It’s a book about the blind man who passes you by in a crowded street, and what he is still grateful for. It’s a story of an already grieving woman trying to form stories to make her dying father less uncomfortable.

These stories delve into deep human emotions and inner conflicts, while keeping the plot poignant. Some of the stories break what some would call the rules or conventions of short fiction, but even in breaking them there seems to be a purpose, and that is an achievement. Overall, Kit de Waal has done a wonderful job in giving the supporting cast the highlighted stories they deserve. She has given them the closure they might not have received in previous books, where they were only a part of the conversation but not the whole conversation.

Now, which one of these stories made me tear up, or was it my unbalanced hormones? You’ll have to read this book yourself to figure it out, because I’m also just another supporting cast in your story talking about a book I enjoyed.

About the reviewer
Mithila Dutta Roy is a reader and writer with a keen interest in literary fiction and stories that explore human experience. She is pursuing an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester and is currently working on her first novel. She is passionate about storytelling and hopes to contribute her own voice to contemporary literature.

Review by Laura Besley of "Paper Sisters" by Rachel Canwell

"What you saw was a woman, bent out of shape. Pushed beyond her breaking point. Turns out we’ve all got them." Rachel Canwell’s debut novel, Paper Sisters, depicts the lives of three family members: sisters Eleanor and Lily as well as their sister-in-law, Clara. Each of these young women is isolated – by grief, by circumstances, and by the unforgiving marsh and relentless river of the fen. And looming over it all is the unstoppable march towards World War I. 

After the prologue, which depicts one of the many great sorrows that hangs over this family, Paper Sisters opens on May Day, 1914. The tension between the two sisters – Eleanor who wants change, who wishes to go out, and Lily who wants everything and everyone to stay the same – is immediately apparent: "Irritation, ancient and unchecked, rises. Eleanor’s gaze drifts back to the window, out to the never-ending sky; vast, buttressing every leaf, reed, and clump of grass. Today its cornflower blue is marked by just a wisp of early summer cloud. As always, the sky dominates, claiming her eye and this place as its very own."

Place plays a large part in the novel. The two houses in which much of the story unfolds – one overshadowed by an abandoned hospital, the other by an unstable husband – feel cramped and claustrophobic; the landscape feels vast and wild and unpredictable. It is against these places, and against this time in history, that each of the three women grapple with the difficulties of their lives. 

Their actions are, in turn, admirable and shameful – all three are both hero and villain. On their own paths, yet unable to avoid the intersections, Eleanor, Lily and Clara cannot live with each other, but nor can they live independently. As more and more tragedy is heaped upon them, the story is propelled forward to its unexpected yet inevitable conclusion. 

Rachel Canwell is the author of a flash fiction collection, Oh I Do Like to Be (2022), and a novella-in-flash, Magpie Moon (2022). Paper Sisters – compelling and immersive; full of horror, yet full of hope – is her first full-length novel. 

About the reviewer

Laura Besley enjoys exploring big stories in small spaces and has published four collections of flash/micro, most recently: Sum of her PARTS (V. Press, 2025). She is currently a Creative Writing PhD student at the University of Leicester, an editor with Flash Fiction Magazine and JMWW, and runs The NIFTY Book Club.

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.