Review by Mariella Bucci of Edinburgh International Book Festival, Livestream 2026

In the third week of August, I had a fantastic and educational week attending a series of livestream talks by the Edinburgh International Book Festival. This accessible alternative to travelling to the city was reasonably priced with a Pay What You Want model, and straightforward navigation from email links to the website livestreams. Some highlights this year included The Front List with John Grisham, Lady Brenda Hale, and Maggie O’Farrell on her new novel, Land.

As a feminist fantasy lover, two talks stood out as the most engaging and interesting. Saara El-Arifi and Nikita Gill discussed their approach in their respective novels on the mythological figures of Cleopatra and Hekate from the hilarious and simple place of "rage." For El-Arifi as a Black British author, being able to reclaim Cleopatra’s narrative was important, and was met with the constant question – "but who is her great love, Mark Antony or Julius Caesar?" Without spoiling, El-Arifi’s justified response was found in another place entirely. Gill, meanwhile, illustrated how the moving story of Hekate crossing Hades to rescue her child bore striking resemblance to contemporary refugee crises, which gave her a powerful personal entry point into Hekate’s character. 

Samantha Shannon was a warm and encouraging voice to all aspiring authors, providing a wealth of advice from her long fantasy career. I really enjoyed her insight into the sticky moniker of a "strong female character" – after publishing The Bone Season, she was often asked why she’d chosen to write a "weak" female character, which Shannon pushed back on. She reflected how at the time, the two most popular female characters were Bella Swan and Katniss Everdeen, with the former branded "weak" but the latter "strong." Shannon theorised this is because the more emotional Bella is traditionally feminine, while Katniss embodies masculine traits, and argued that female emotion carries its own kind of strength that deserves just as much respect.

A final, funny thread that wove between both talks was how all three authors, to quote verbatim, "had beef with" different male historians from their research. For El-Arifi, it was the hypersexual, seductive version of Cleopatra written by Plutarch in Parallel Lives; for Gill, the poet Hesiod who vilified every goddess except Hekate because she stood by Zeus; and for Shannon, the Elizabethan writer Richard Johnson and his racialised, misogynistic portrayal of the princess in the tale of George and the Dragon, from which The Priory of the Orange Tree was inspired. All these anecdotes served as a reminder of two things for any aspiring writer: the importance of research, but also the ability to read between the wider context and find a fresh perspective on historical interpretations.

Overall, I had a great time at all the talks I attended, with these two as the standout highlights. I would recommend anyone who has the opportunity to go to the Edinburgh International Book Festival in person to do so, as I did myself a few years ago, especially when the festival is on at the same time as the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Between the sublime shadow of Edinburgh Castle and the sparkling interiors of Holyroodhouse, independent theatre bursting from every alleyway and authors philosophising in halls and libraries, Edinburgh in August is a vibrant cultural mosaic every creative should experience at least once in their lifetime.

About the reviewer
Mariella Bucci is a writer and creative based in the West Midlands. She is drawn to the understanding and analysis of what makes a compelling story in any medium, from her work in the film and television industry to essays and reviews on her Substack, @mariellamusings. Offline, you will most often find her nose-deep in a novel between sets at the gym.

Review by Mariella Bucci of "Everything Is Tuberculosis" by John Green

In many ways, the writings of the Green brothers have grown up with me. While I could never really call myself a ‘fan’ of their YouTube content, more like a casual enjoyer, I was perfectly primed at thirteen to devour all of John Green’s YA novels, and again when Hank Green released his sci-fi duology a few years later. 

This book marks John Green’s second entry into adult non-fiction after The Anthropocene Reviewed in 2021, tracing the progress and persistence of tuberculosis throughout human history, and comes at a time when I am far older and seeking more depth to the literature I consume. Reading like part autobiography, part medical journal, part anthropology lesson, Green expertly weaves the intimate story of a young TB patient from Sierra Leone, Henry, throughout this book as both an anchor point for the reader and a persistent reminder of the very real and human consequences when disease treatment becomes socio-political. The stories of Henry’s mother and his doctor, that exemplified the monumental barriers those in developing countries face compared to the laughably easy treatment of TB in first-world countries, were especially moving. 

I was also fascinated by the chapter on the romanticism of TB, connected with hundreds of artists and creatives throughout history, culminating in the beautiful poetry written by Henry in the depths of his illness. If you’re hesitant on non-fiction, I would highly recommend this as a starting point, and especially the audiobook narrated by Green himself.

About the reviewer

Mariella Bucci is a writer and creative based in the West Midlands. She is drawn to the understanding and analysis of what makes a compelling story in any medium, from her work in the film and television industry to essays and reviews on her Substack, @mariellamusings. Offline, you will most often find her nose-deep in a novel between sets at the gym.

Review by Mariella Bucci of "Rottenheart" by Kat Dunn

After chomping through Hungerstone and going to Kat Dunn’s author talk in Birmingham Waterstones, I picked up a signed copy of her new novel Rottenheart, a Victorian sapphic retelling of Hamlet with a fun gender-swapped twist. Somehow, despite Hungerstone being a violent vampiric tale, this one felt notably darker, which perhaps makes sense considering the prevalent themes of grief, hysteria and corruption woven through the original play and this Victorian version. 

Something that really stuck with me during Dunn’s talk was the concept of ghosts as the mind becoming an unreliable narrator, conjuring visions that reflect a tormented inner psyche and the terror of no longer being able to trust your own senses. Without spoiling the ending, this certainly comes through clearly in Rottenheart, with Odette’s haunting grief turning her to a revenge-driven shadow of herself, and the tragic Cecilia as she tries to pull her lover back from the brink. 

I particularly enjoyed the disjointed structure of the novel, jumping back and forth in time from either side of Lydia’s death, and how even the villains contained a fraction more nuance and depth compared to those in Hungerstone. My only complaint would be it was a touch long with little action in places, but I suppose that is only accurate to the themes of the original play after all – and here, the hesitation actually makes sense considering the gender-swap, and only adds to the poignancy of Odette’s pain as she rails to be understood by a society that discounts her female perspective over and over again.

About the reviewer

Mariella Bucci is a writer and creative based in the West Midlands. She is drawn to the understanding and analysis of what makes a compelling story in any medium, from her work in the film and television industry to essays and reviews on her Substack, @mariellamusings. Offline, you will most often find her nose-deep in a novel between sets at the gym.

Review by Mariella Bucci of "Hungerstone" by Kat Dunn

I discovered this sapphic retelling of Carmilla by Sheridan le Fanu via a YouTube video by one of my favourite cultural analysis creators Shanspeare, titled "Let Women Eat (Flesh): Cannibalism in Fiction." Within two chapters of reading, I experienced the same voracious hunger for this story that both Shania and the novel’s protagonist, Lenore, cannot quell. 

Dunn has a beautiful and intriguing narrative voice, crafting landscape and character and dialogue in scenes that read like haunting Gothic tapestries. Hungerstone is a Bayeux-like narrative that tracks Lenore’s journey towards reclaiming her power, against the backdrop of a life of people-pleasing and suppressing her deepest desires and wants. Like all good Gothic literature – and it was my specialist subject in my Literature degree – the cast is suitably archetypal, from the villainous husband Henry to the waifish, naive friend Cora. But the star of the show is of course, Carmilla herself. Dunn never uses the word "vampire," but she doesn’t need to. Carmilla is romantic, seductive and transgressive, and you feel the shift from annoyance to empowerment in Lenore from Carmilla’s careful encouragement / manipulation.

The novel is medium-paced, with the plot interspersed by flashbacks to Lenore’s childhood, and the ending is appropriately gory and thoroughly satisfying. Even though I read this in the height of summer, I already feel an autumnal, rain-spattered, candlelit re-read coming – as Dunn surely intended.

About the reviewer

Mariella Bucci is a writer and creative based in the West Midlands. She is drawn to the understanding and analysis of what makes a compelling story in any medium, from her work in the film and television industry to essays and reviews on her Substack, @mariellamusings. Offline, you will most often find her nose-deep in a novel between sets at the gym.