Review by Sally Shaw of "Under a Pink Sky" by Esther Ghey

Under A Pink Sky is a memoir written by Esther Ghey, that takes the reader into the darkest depths of growing up and an unimaginable death of a child. Ghey guides the reader back into the sunlight and a place of hope through action. 

The title puts Brianna at the heart of the book. Ghey recounts a  moment after the death of her daughter when the sky was a vibrant pink. "'Look!' I exclaim, pointing up. The sky is covered in a thick, undulating pink duvet. It is heartbreakingly beautiful. The slow-flowing canal looks like a strip of pink. Alisha, Wes and I hold each other a little closer. 'She’s here,' I say. 'I can feel her.' How did I know it was her? I really don’t like the colour pink - I used to try my best to get her to wear anything other than pink - but pink was not just a colour to her, it was a way of life. So of course, as with anything to do with my extremely determined child, she would  paint the sky pink, and not just any pink, a French Fancy pink, just to remind me who was still queen." 

As Ghey tells the story of her own teenage years, the effects of her mum becoming a foster parent and the relationship with her mum as a small child, then as a teenager, I found that Ghey was searching for an understanding of what has changed from her childhood to Brianna’s childhood. What makes this so difficult is that Ghey couldn’t find that understanding while Brianna was struggling with growing up and finding her place in the world. Ghey speaks honestly and frankly about her behaviour from the age of eleven, the role education played and the influence of older children. Ghey discovered that playing the cheeky-clown no longer made her peers like her once she moved into high school. "If the cheeky-clown act wasn’t going to work, I would mimic what I had seen at home. I knew how the tough kids talked and I knew the reaction it got. I would not be pushed and shoved in the hallways, so I started to act up. I talked back to teachers to disguise the fact that I couldn’t cope. I would do anything to hide my insecurity, but it really was all an act." As Ghey describes Brianna’s difficulties in school, she questions herself as to why she was unable to identify the similarities of how education impacted her and then her daughter twenty-five years later. 

As the story of Brianna’s life and death unfolds, Ghey tells it from her viewpoint, never assuming she can give Brianna’s opinion. I found her honesty about the mother and daughter relationship touched my heart and helped me understand the complex reality that teenagers find themselves in today. What became clear was the influences the smart phone brought into Brianna’s life and that these were impacting how Brianna saw herself and society. "At school she was relatively safe, but the real bullies were in her pocket. They would follow her into her room and into her head." These bullies take on many forms, but the one thing they all have in common is they lurk within social media. Ghey informs the reader of the dangers of social media, how these platforms are managed to ensure children become addicted. 

Along with the addictive power of social media, the content manipulates teenagers to think and act in ways that are harmful. The way this is achieved and the influences on Brianna and others are beyond the scope of this review. "When she emerged, it was TikTok Brianna, wearing her school skirt provocatively short, lots of make-up and a persona that was being built on social media but with which she strutted into school." This made me question what would Brianna be like without this influence; would she feel the same with different role models from peers, society and history? 

As Brianna moves further into her teenage years she constantly uses her phone, making self-care videos on TikTok, gaining many followers while retreating into her bedroom, led away from her family and friends by social media algorithms. At school the phone dominates her behaviour and her ability to take part in education. Ghey documents their journey through trying to gain support and answers. When Brianna texts her mum that she’s on a bus to meet a friend, Ghey describes why this appeared to be a positive step, unaware this would be the last text.

Through this book I have gained insight into today’s childhood or rather how that childhood is dissolving into the digital world, where your worth is measured by likes, followers and social media challenges. If a child doesn’t have a phone they’re a nobody, yet if they have a phone they’re in danger. Education becomes invisible and the breadcrumbs back to childhood have been devoured by influencers. The message that Ghey gives is we, as parents, siblings, family, friends and society, have to maintain hope through action and love. Ghey, through her organisation The Brianna Ghey Legacy Project, is campaigning for a phone-free education, as well as working alongside side other organisations campaigning to reduce the risks of social media. Under A Pink Sky is relevant to everyone and has educated me about the possible dangers held within my phone. 

 

About the reviewer
Sally 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 Charlie Black of "Homage to Catalonia" by George Orwell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Review by Anna O'Sullivan of "Humankind: A Hopeful History" by Rutger Bregman

In Humankind: A Hopeful History, Rutger Bregman critiques society’s accepted view that humans are innately selfish and immoral beings, instead arguing with candid optimism that we are intrinsically kind. He dismantles ideas of human nature, famous psychological studies and real-world events, exposing misinformation that has been long accepted into the fabric of our society, giving reason to believe humans are hardwired for selfishness. By the end, this brilliant book completely transformed my view of human nature, and gave me a sense of hope about the goodness of people. 

I was captivated from the beginning, and especially interested in the chapters that critically examine famous psychological studies by Zimbardo and Milgram, which I studied as a Psychology A-Level student. I also had a pessimistic view of human nature, as these studies have worrying real-world implications, and demonstrated what harm humans are capable of. Seeing the studies through Bregman’s refined lens, with the inaccuracies exposed, gave me an entirely new perspective, and made me wish this book had been published a few years earlier. Alongside this, Bregman uses history, biology and anthropology to build a strong argument for the goodness of people. It was eye-opening to learn about the ways in which humans have fostered values of co-operation and kindness – saving strangers in a crisis or putting others first – in contrast to the darkly depressing media we are used to consuming on a daily basis due to availability bias. This can skewer one’s perspective of society, as it did mine. 

Now more than ever, this insightful book is an essential read. Just as the media continues to add fuel to the fire of cynicism, so too does the circulation of fake news and misinformation. In one of the book’s chapters, Bregman delves further into the true story of the murder of Kitty Genovese in 1964 – a story which brought a spotlight over the bystander effect when a flood of articles claimed that "38 witnesses" had stood by and done nothing as she was murdered. A refined analysis of this tragic event found that this claim was yet another example of fake news. Bregman demonstrates how mistrust in others can and will lead to negative impacts in politics and the economy.

Humankind was outside my typical comfort zone of non-fiction, and it surprised me by becoming a new favourite. The writing is extremely accessible, explaining complicated ideas in an engaging way. It had the ability to change my mind and make me believe more in the innate goodness of the people around me. 

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.  

Review by Callum Deppe of "Talking to Strangers" by Malcolm Gladwell

Talking to Strangers is an exceptionally engaging and thought-provoking non-fiction book. Gladwell takes you on a journey through various real-world stories that tie together to make the overarching point that we understand strangers much less than we think we do. The book challenges the natural inclination to trust strangers and overestimated belief that we can accurately judge a stranger's character, intent and emotions.

I really enjoy how Gladwell takes seemingly unrelated real-world stories and brings them together, incorporating his own thoughts and illuminating their significance. He tells each story in such a riveting and accessible manner that the book feels like storytelling rather than an analysis. Most of the stories I hadn’t heard before, which was interesting to engage with in and of itself, but even for those familiar with the stories, Gladwell expresses a fresh perspective that you likely won’t have thought or heard before. I was particularly interested in the stories of spies and espionage.

This profound book leaves you with the motivation to interact with strangers with more humility, and brilliantly demonstrates the risks of assuming you fully understand the people around you. These messages are particularly important in today’s world. I would highly recommend this book to anyone. 

About the reviewer
Callum Deppe is a University of Leicester graduate with a BSc in Psychology. He enjoys a multitude of sports including football, cricket and golf, taking his dog on long walks and reading insightful non-fiction about the world around us. Callum works as a Social Work Assistant.

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 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 Lee Wright of "On Agoraphobia" by Graham Caveney

 

Memoirs rarely make deliberate use of space on the page, but the large areas of emptiness in Graham Caveney’s On Agoraphobia (2022) evoke a sense of unease that mirrors the author’s fear of open spaces, motorways, and crowds. As someone intimately familiar with the vulnerability of vast, public environments, Caveney conveys in his second memoir a sense of being throttled by a thousand invisible hands, each chapter strengthening the grip. The narrative is a belt tightening around the chest, each notch drawing one step closer to madness. 

There is a fraught relationship between the writer and the agoraphobic. Caveney recalls Shirley Jackson—once cruelly dubbed Virginia Werewolf—and her anxiety attack in a New York shopping mall: "She stayed inside. Something new and unpleasant had begun to happen every time she tried to leave the house." 

Art and agoraphobia demand a retreat from the world. Art is created out of a desire to fix, reinterpret, or reimagine the world. The more the world is fixed on the page or canvas, the more jarring and unpleasant the real world may feel to the artist upon stepping outside. Caveney has been battling his condition for thirty-plus years, calling it "a neurotic two-step." His agoraphobia began at the University of Warwick. Mine started while waiting for a bus outside a college in a Warwickshire town. 

He quotes Elizabeth Bowen: "Inside everyone, is there an anxious person who stands to hesitate in an empty room?" I have been that person, and I know others who carry that presence within them. But never before has there been such a deeply personal journey into the empty room as in Caveney’s account. 

To proceed, he has to turn back: "I grew up with a whole mythology of nerves. They had their own poetics. Bad with his nerves, a bundle of nerves, a nervous wreck. Nerves were a site of catastrophe." This anxious life, marked by more than its fair share of catastrophe, has provided Caveney with the material to write books that deeply resonate with readers. We can only hope that Shirley Jackson was right when she closed her diary with the repeated phrase: "laughter is possible laughter is possible laughter is possible." 

About the reviewer
Lee Wright is currently pursuing a PhD. His subjects are memoir, people and place. His work has been published in Fairlight Books, époque press, and Cigarette Fire Literary Magazine. 

Review by Kim Wiltshire of "The Granite Kingdom: A Cornish Journey" by Tim Hannigan

 

Tim Hannigan is Cornwall born and bred and, like many of us brought up in ‘picturesque’ tourist destinations, he spent time working in the hotel sector as a chef before managing to ‘escape.’ In Hannigan’s case, this escape took him to academia and a life as a writer, living in and writing travel books about Indonesia, before he felt able to revisit his childhood home and look afresh at the whole county of Cornwall.

For me, this is definitely a settle down somewhere comfy and immerse yourself in a different world type of book. Each chapter takes us through the geological specificities of Cornwall, the historical elements that have contributed to the folklore of the area, alongside a walking travelogue that takes the reader through the county. With pictures, maps and personal anecdotes, this book has a range of elements to engage with, which bring alive this diverse and interesting area.

Starting out at Cornish poet Charles Causley’s terraced house near Launceston, Hannigan walks along the Tamar, considering the idea of borders: who sets them, on what conditions are they set, and how / why are they important? That link to literary Cornwall carries on, unsurprisingly, throughout the book, exploring the old myths and folk tales, those writers and artists who made Cornwall their home, and those who visited – often with some very strange prejudices around the ‘native’ people and the ‘beauty’ of the area, or not as some more romantic artists seem to have decided.

There are some lovely images included, but I still found myself using my map app to find some of the areas being described, especially Causley’s little cottage. Having been an occasional tourist to the area, it was great to be able to delve a little more into the area on so many different levels. This is clearly a labour of love for Hannigan and, as you read it, his generosity at sharing this area he knows and loves so well can be felt. So, as mentioned above, settle down and immerse yourself in this world of piskeys, smugglers and the actual reality of an industrial landscape where real, actual people who may not be surfers (although it seems many are) live, love and work – for, with and often despite the tourists. Oh, and if you’re lucky enough to get the hardback version, the cover is also a beautiful artwork in its own right!

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 The Granite Kingdom by Tim Hannigan on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Neil Fulwood of "Beethoven: The String Quartets" by David Vernon

Erudite without being pretentious, learned without being dustily academic, philosophical without being obfuscatory, David Vernon’s wonderful book, Beethoven: The String Quartets, whirls the reader through Beethoven’s sixteen string quartets, locating them in every possible context - social, political, religious, historical, contemporary - as well as rigorously exploring their relationship to the rest of Beethoven’s oeuvre. Vernon comes across as a polymath, an intellectual and a man of culture. That he also demonstrates wit, warmth and humanity is the icing on the cake. Beethoven: the String Quartets is the kind of book that sets the gold standard for non-fiction.

About the reviewer
Neil Fulwood lives and works in Nottingham. He has published four full poetry collections with Shoestring Press, No Avoiding It, Can’t Take Me Anywhere, Service Cancelled and The Point of the Stick; and a volume of political satires, Mad Parade, with Smokestack Books.

Review by Lee Wright of "Two Sisters" by Blake Morrison

Blake Morrison’s younger sister, Gill, passed away at 67 from complications related to alcoholism. His latest memoir, Two Sisters, recounts Gill’s heartbreaking decline into severe alcohol addiction, worsened by the additional burden of losing her eyesight. Though Morrison cannot directly live through Gill’s specific challenges, he empathises with the physical, and psychological toll of such a loss. 

Morrison’s half-sister, Josie – the result of their father’s affair with a family friend – is the second sister featured in the memoir. Her paternity was confirmed through a DNA test just eight months before she tragically took her own life. 

Another interpretation of the title is that it reflects two versions of Gill: one sober, the other intoxicated. As a young girl, Gill was bullied at boarding school, and ultimately died alone, curled up on a strip of carpet between a bed and a radiator. Two Sisters is more experimental than Morrison’s earlier memoirs, blending excerpts from his diary with chapters that explore real-life brother-sister relationships, such as those between Charles and Mary Lamb and Dorothy and William Wordsworth. This elevates Two Sisters from a straightforward memoir into a broader, more reflective examination of familial dynamics and the complexities of sibling relationships. By weaving in these external examples, Morrison invites readers to compare his own experiences with those of historical and literary figures, prompting questions about the ties that bind. Many argue that those who are stronger have a responsibility to help the weaker. On the other hand, there are opposing views that emphasise individual responsibility, suggesting that it may not be the duty of the strong to help the weak if it infringes upon personal freedom. Morrison maintains that ‘It’s what happens with addicts. They kill your compassion. For a time Gill’s drinking killed mine.’ 

Whether it should be a brother’s responsibility to look out for his sister depends on individual values, and the specifics of the relationship between siblings. Do siblings have a moral obligation to support and care for each other? In the end, each familial relationship is unique. ‘Sisters do go missing,’ writes Morrison. ‘They go missing in horrible ways, abducted, murdered, forcibly married, disappeared for causing trouble to the powers that be. And sometimes they go missing by choice, to escape their families or – as we’ll discover later in this story – because they’ve fallen out of love with life.’ Morrison’s decision to write about his sisters is driven by a desire to make sense of their lives and to reconcile with the past. Two Sisters is infused with a profound sense of sadness as Morrison also processes his own emotions and commemorates his lost siblings as if their spirits were peering over his shoulder, watching him type and reading his words. After finishing the memoir, the final few lines of enslaved poet, Phillis Wheatley Peters’ 1773 poem, 'To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of the Lady's Brother and Sister, and a Child of the Name Avis, Aged One Year,' came to mind: 

          Methinks I hear her in the realms above,

          And leaning forward with a filial love,
          Invite you there to share immortal bliss
          Unknown, untasted in a state like this.
          With tow'ring hopes, and growing grace arise,
          And seek beatitude beyond the skies.

About the reviewer
Lee Wright has an MA in Creative Writing and is currently working towards a PhD researching memoir and film. His fiction and poetry have been published with Fairlight Books, époque press and Burning House Press.

Review by Tracey Foster of "The Path of Peace: Walking the Western Front Way" by Anthony Seldon

Establishing a path for future generations to tread in the footsteps of silent witnesses was the goal of Douglas Gillespie, a young officer serving at the front in 1915. Seldon, an author of historical books, had spent a long time researching the First World War and was particularly intrigued by a letter Gillespie wrote to his headmaster, expressing a desire that in the future, everyone should walk in the footsteps of soldiers of both sides of the war: a path of peace, a path of remembrance, a walk to honour those who fought for our future. Gillespie’s vision for Via Sacra gained some support in 1916 when his posthumous letters were published by his parents in the book Letters from Flanders. This was quickly dismissed after the turmoil unleashed on the countryside in the battles of the Somme and Passchendaele rendered it almost impossible.

Back in 2021, Seldon found himself at Kilometer Zero, during a pandemic, attempting to walk the whole Path of Peace. Recording the journey on his phone, he attempted to do two things, undertaking two walks in parallel: "One, through Covid-affected villages in the present moment, with flies and sweat, while trying to puzzle out the route; and two, walking a hundred years ago along the old front line, missing the flies and sweat, the fear and noise."

This is a walk that is unmarked, built on and bordered, a path that is hard to define, often blocked and private. Undeterred, Seldon battles along stretches of B roads, lined with ossified tree stumps and relics of war. He recalls entries from First World War diaries: "Here nature is disfigured by war. There is not a tree trunk which does not bear the trace of shot or shell; the bark of the pines bears gashes, other trees are amputated halfway up or cut close to the ground."

Seldon reflects, whilst walking, what the original aim of a path of peace was. Gillespie wanted hikers from both sides to walk this route to comprehend where war can lead. Seldon decides to ruminate on those he has offended throughout his literary career and concludes "it’s painful. But walks, like prayerful silence, can change us within."

Utilizing war poetry and archive diaries, the walk is undertaken with reference to strategic advances and losses and the personal correspondence of those that endured it. Kipling was one of those whose story parallels the sad fate of many British families awaiting good news back home. After pushing his seventeen-year-old son into war, he was later devastated by his senseless death in battle. John Kipling, inexperienced and naive, was an officer in the Battle of Loos, recklessly leading his men into a charge with a head wound. His death led Kipling to write: "I have many times asked myself whether there can be any more potent advocates of peace upon earth than this massed multitude of witnesses to the desolation of war."

The war cemeteries that line this walk bear witness to the numbers of silent witnesses who leave behind only a name, and for many more not even that.

Seldon finishes his work at the coast of Ostend still under Covid restrictions and worries that he may not be allowed back into Blighty. He returns in 2022 to cut the ribbon on his newly marked path where the word has spread about Gillespie’s Via Sacra, France and Belgium committing to maintain the route and add way markers: "A walk to enhance and deepen life, not to dwell on loss. A 1,000 Kilometer path along the whole Western Front, with people of all nationalities walking side by side, learning from the silent witnesses where war leads, feels like a drop in the ocean. But it is a drop which is becoming a stream, a stream which will become a mighty river, a roaring sea."

About the reviewer

Tracey Foster started off in a long career as an Art and Design teacher but 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, Haiku Foundation, Mausoleum Press, Bus Poetry Magazine, Wayward Literature, The Arts Council and she writes on her own blog site, The Small Sublime, found here.

Review by Tracey Foster of "Fewer, Better Things: The Hidden Wisdom of Objects" by Glenn Adamson

Reading this book reminded me of the adage: "Poets, we get it. Some things remind us of other things." 

All very amusing, but it doesn't explain why we have such an obsession with the objects we keep about us. While I write this, most of the human race is presently hunched over, worshiping at the altar of the flat screen, including myself.

Adamson investigates our need to accumulate and collect things and vocalize our appreciation of the world around us. He highlights the classification method used by Susan Stewart in her book, On Longing, in four categories: "The gigantic, the miniature, the collection and the souvenir." We name and claim large objects to bring them into our reach: mountains, oceans, planets and galaxies. We dissect and scrutinize our world down to the smallest cell or microbe. Then there is our need to catalogue and collect every variant until there are no gaps, and our desire to hold items once connected to our loved ones or historical figures. All these aspects make us human.

Our language is haptic-infused. Manual, manufacture, manoeuvre, we feel our way through life and have an impulse to touch objects to inherently understand them. The sixteenth-century art historian Giorgio Vasari said, "It is necessary to have the compass in the eyes and not the hand, because the hand works and the eye judges." Touch was previously thought the lesser of the senses, linked intrinsically to manual work and the lower classes. Helen Keller redefined how intrinsic our hands are to being fully cognizant of the world around us. Her book was the first to delve deeply into the importance of our fifth sense to fully see. 

Adamson spent time at the V&A museum and was director of the Arts & Design Museum in New York whilst writing this book. He is an advocate of moderation, reducing our world of stuff to just the essential or aesthetic. He explores William Morris' mantra: "Have nothing in your house that you know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." 

This book fully explores our relationship with objects, whilst maintaining a plea for living a life less cluttered. This seems a valid call following on from the excess of Christmas, the frenzy of exchanging goods and the aftermath of stuffing our homes with even more items we don’t really need. Museums are often guilty of acquiring masses of objects that spend their whole life in storage. Adamson spends one chapter exploring our multifaceted response to antiquities in museums, including paintings: "Any painting is an embodied moment of truth."

We bring our experiences and expectations when we visit museums. This can skew our reactions and temper our responses. Galleries lay out a default blank slate; cabinets are clear and clutter-free to allow us personal interaction with each object. Visitors experience a unique reaction, dependent upon race, gender, age and class, transforming everyday items into "cultural icons."

This book pleads for restraint when amassing items around us, a quick calculation of the carbon footprint we contribute to and collate in our world of stuff. Adamson is a believer of mend and reuse or, like the Japanese art of Kintsugi, the need to learn to live with the broken, as a memento of our time here on earth. The book is a call for a resurgence of material intelligence: as our stuff gets more technical, we become more removed from its creation: "Skin should be understood a site of intelligence." We should be more discerning with it. 

About the reviewer

Tracey Foster started off in a long career as an Art and Design teacher but 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, Haiku Foundation, Mausoleum Press, Bus Poetry Magazine, Wayward Literature, The Arts Council and she writes on her own blog site, The Small Sublime, found here.

Review by Sally Shaw of "A Physical Education" by Jonathan Taylor

A Physical Education: On Bullying, Discipline & Other Lessons is a book of memoir, interwoven with literary, film, drama and social sciences, by Jonathan Taylor, published in 2024 by Goldsmiths Press. 

When I started reading this book I wasn’t sure what to expect or even if I would be able to fully understand what Jonathan Taylor is discussing. As I read on and paused to consider what had been written I discovered how literature has tried to record or unveil bullying, how it has the power to aid individuals that are being bullied, and also Taylor’s skill in his examination of this subject. His writing enabled me to consider the many forms and complexities of bullying and bullies. Taylor’s bravery in sharing his at times harrowing experiences of being bullied will, I’m sure, enable others to identify bullying either of themselves or others and, in doing so, reduce it in educational and work settings, or deal with it. 

By providing literary examples, the book exposes, in a non-threatening way, the many different forms of bullying within education. For example, Taylor discusses the example of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, in relation to issues of classroom democracy, after he has been beaten down by the other children for standing up for the rights of a character in a drama the class are watching: "The problem, of course, with apparently individualistic behaviour is that it doesn’t come from nowhere. Individualism is never simply itself. Rather, it is made - and often made for, rather than by - the pupil or pupils at the centre of it. In The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, the so-called individualism of the 'Brodie set' is obviously made, in part, by Miss Brodie herself, forged by her 'as the leader of the set … as Roman matron.' 'I am putting old heads on your young shoulders,' she declares, when her favourites are eleven. 'I would make you the crème de la crème.' Later, she proclaims: 'You are mine … of my stamp and cut.' Miss Brodie’s stamp and cut are what 'set them apart' from the other pupils, and ultimately, 'it was impossible to escape from the Brodie set because they were the Brodie set in the eyes of the school.' This puts them in an 'enviable’ position,' such that 'everyone thought the Brodie set had more fun than anyone else.' All too often, though, being set apart in 'the eyes of the school' is much less fun, more a matter of ostracism than envy." I think that most people can relate to a drama, novel or film and for me this book has made me aware that it is a legitimate form of support for people affected by bullying.

I can only say what I discovered by reading this book. One thing is that it can sometimes take years to realise bullying has been, or is, taking place. Reading this book I did think about my past and present. I knew I was bullied by teachers, work colleagues, and I have also started to uncover bullying from individuals close to me. And I have found the book contains further reading to enable me to explore this in greater depth. In fact, as I read on, I started to acknowledge that I think I could have been a bully at times in my earlier life, but I’m unable to recall the details. Taylor examines how the bullied have the potential to become the bully. I happened to watch the film The Joker (2019), starring Joaquin Phoenix, an extremely dark and disturbing film, that to me demonstrated a possible consequence of when the bullied become the bully. As Taylor discusses, the very term "bullying" is almost impossible to define, as it can range from teasing to domestic abuse and more. 

This book is worth reading by everybody as it is relatable to all areas of society and may lead to readers identifying bullying, so enabling greater awareness and understanding. There may not be one single method of stamping out bullying, but this book shows that greater understanding can reduce the risks for future generations. The more we can talk about it, reduce the shame, the more people will be helped.  

About the reviewer
Sally 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. 

You can read more about A Physical Education on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Sally Shaw of "Ghost Town: A Liverpool Shadowplay" by Jeff Young

Ghost Town: A Liverpool Shadowplay is a mixture of memoir and storytelling, by Jeff Young, published in 2020. Jeff Young is a playwright, screenwriter, writer, lecturer and broadcaster.

The hardback edition dustcover has a sepia photograph of two young children stood in the doorway of a terrace house. They seem to be looking out for someone, leaving or returning, I’m not sure. Jeff Young steps out from his family home to journey through the streets of Liverpool, his childhood, and life. The purpose is to find and preserve Liverpool. The book has seventeen chapters. As I’m reading, it occurs to me that these chapters are vignettes, and for a moment I’m reminded of Sandra Cisneros’s The House On Mango Street. I know I’m not on Mango Street: it’s the beauty of the writing that grips my hand ensuring I don’t get left behind.

The opening chapter "Gutted Arcades" provides a wonderful insight to why Young is on this journey: "My mother liked to trespass - she didn’t call it trespassing, she called it having a nose. We’d have a look round the Corn Exchange or go up the back stairs of an insurance building, slip into the Oriel Chambers and sort of just … breathe. We were breathing in Victorian dust and the pipe smoke of Dickensian ledger clerks; drinking in the shadows and gloom and beams of light." In these few sentences I can see the awe and wonderment Young has for his mother, I sense her wit and love for the heartbeat of Liverpool. I have a glimpse of Young’s ability to form a link to people of the past, present and future - that the ghosts are held in the very structure of a city for all to see should they choose to. 

Throughout his journey, Young bumps into many ghosts, too many to name here: "When I was seventeen I picked up a copy of Malcolm Lowry’s Ultramarine in a bookshop in Exchange Station - a station used by Lowry, en route to Norway in 1931 - and I discovered that Lowry had been a haunter of Liverpool’s streets and cinemas, too." Chapter by chapter, the reader follows Young through Liverpool, his childhood, adulthood, reflections trying to make sense of it all, with each step meeting family members, childhood friends, buildings, colourful characters real and imagined. 

What becomes apparent is the gradual disappearance of Liverpool, through buildings destroyed, redeveloped or left to decay. They’ll remain invisible if people forget, have no history or relationship with the place they call home. Young’s writing enables the reader to be part of his journey to find himself within the streets, buildings, sights and experiences of Liverpool. 

Ghost Town is a treasure chest of what it is to be human, community, family and the beauty of memories. Young shows me the complexity of memories, how through life one gathers them, some belonging to you while others are on loan from writers, musicians, artists, buildings, and family. They aid an understanding of self and life events. I found some of the stories within the chapters complex, others upsetting; some made me smile, others held the wonder of childhood. The last three chapters for me are outstanding. In "The Haunted Lullaby," Young writes of an experience where dreams and  his imagination merge with raw reality - how this has impacted his writing and has never left him or Liverpool. "In some ways, I think this is what made me a writer; it’s the origin story for the way I see and hear Liverpool. Elsie’s lullaby seeps into the city, haunting it, disturbing it, creating endless, turmoil. It’s beautiful and strange." The last chapter is magical and moving, Young’s description of searching for the "Stanley Park treasure-tree" is enchanting and leads the reader into knowing his sister Val who lived in a treasure trove house. I will say no more, so you can discover the wonder of Val, Liverpool and Jeff. The vignettes will never fade from my memory and I hope neither will Liverpool. 

About the reviewer
Sally Shaw has an MA Creative Writing from the University of Leicester. She writes short stories and is currently working on her novel based in 1950s Liverpool. She sometimes writes poetry. She gains inspiration from old photographs, history, her own childhood memories, and is inspired by writers Sandra Cisneros, Deborah Morgan, Liz Berry and Emily Dickinson. She has had short stories and poetry published in various online publications, including The Ink Pantry and AnotherNorth and in a ebook anthology Tales from Garden Street (Comma Press Short Story Course book 2019). Sally lives in the countryside with her partner, dog, and bantam. Twitter: @SallySh24367017

Review by Lee Wright of "Our Island Stories: Country Walks Through Colonial Britain" by Corinne Fowler

American philosopher John Dewey said, “Time and memory are true artists; they remould reality nearer to the heart's desire.”

The British countryside has long captured that heart's desire, with its poetic allure, rolling hills, meandering lanes, and quaint villages with their listed buildings, evoking a sense of tranquillity and wonder, and wealth. But in Our Island Stories: Country Walks through Colonial Britain, historian Corinne Fowler (joined by various companions) takes us back through time on ten fascinating walks through Britain’s rural landscape, and sets out to discover the unique colonial connections of the places through which she passes.  

From the Cotswolds to East Lancashire, Hampshire to the Inner Hebrides, to Dolgellau and Norfolk, Fowler is propelled by a personal desire to give us the facts in an era when our elected (and often unelected) politicians choose to remould reality, preferring fiction over fact. This book isn't afraid to tie a piece of string around the base of the sensitive rural tooth, and the other end to the colonial doorknob, then slam the door. History may be complicated, but it should not be reshaped. As the author says in the book's preface, “Knowledge is not something to be weaponized but to be shared.” 

Fowler's finely crafted book shows us why it is essential we explore imperialism. Each walk taken is accessible so others, if they so wish, can follow in the author's footsteps. Slavery was a vast system and the author's task is equally vast. As she continues to shine new light on Britain's past, some in Westminster and most of the right-wing press are fighting her all the way. Fowler encourages her readers to look at rural Britain differently. History has much to show us, and this book, and her walks, follow where the history leads. 

About the reviewer
Lee Wright has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Leicester and is currently working towards a PhD researching memoir and film. His fiction and poetry have been published with Fairlight Books, époque press and Burning House Press.

You can read more about Our Island Stories by Corinne Fowler on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Review by Tracey Foster of "Wanderers: A History of Women Walking" by Kerri Andrews

"I like going from one lighted room to another - such is my brain to me. Lighted rooms and the walks in the fields are corridors" - Virginia Woolf.

Woolf was a passionate walker, a stroller of London Streets, an observer, gathering mental notes of the comings and goings she witnessed there. This was all great material for writing. She admitted in her correspondence to constructing the whole of To the Lighthouse whilst walking round Tavistock Square. Pacing, timing of key moments throughout a text, matters to all novelists but in Woolf's case the pacing was literal and physical. The freedom she felt when pounding the streets was an absolute liberation for her and other gentrified women of the period. She could rebuke social expectations and constrictions and wander freely amid other classes, eavesdropping on conversations and exploring characters at first hand. Woolf plucked ripe material like fruit off a loaded tree: "I keep thinking of different ways to manage my scenes; conceiving endless possibilities, seeing life as I walk about the streets, an immersive opaque block of material to be conveyed by me into its equivalent of language."

Andrews's book delves into the lives of ten women who were passionate wanderers: strong, empowered, tenacious females who threw the rule book out. Fear has always been a barrier, the one thing stopping all females from just setting off. The solo male had no such obstacles, men like Wainwright, who wandered over hill and dale, staying out till dusk, knocking on strangers' doors to ask for a bed for the night. Our history books are full of such examples, Wordsworth, R. L. Stevenson, Rousseau, Keats and Coleridge. Andrews aims to put the record straight with this book, delving into 300 years of women walking to discover themselves: adventurers, writers and poets. 

These include women like Dorothy Wordsworth, a more accomplished hiker than her brother, who completed much more arduous journeys. While her brother was lauded for his poetry, she was ridiculed for being unfeminine; her strong physical presence was an affront to the ideal female form and her activities seen as ungraceful. She dismissed this and revelled in the chance to walk outdoors: "I seem to be drawn more closely to nature in such places; or rather I feel more strongly the power of nature over me, and I am better satisfied with myself for being able to find enjoyment in what unfortunately to many persons, is either dismal or insipid."

Robert McFarlane noted that "walking is not the action by which one arrives at knowledge; it is itself the means of knowing." For Dorothy, the moors offered her freedom and the chance to fully find herself. Rebecca Solnit, a compulsive wanderer, observed this male dominance of the field in her book Wanderlust and is proved correct when we peruse any bookshelf; authors of words on walking are more than 90% male. She states: "Legal measures, social mores ascribed to both men and women, the threat implicit in sexual harassment and rape itself have all limited women's ability to walk where and when they wished. Even the English language is rife with words and phrases that sexualize women's walking."

Despite this, women have walked and written about it passionately but mostly in private correspondence with others. This book eavesdrops on their thoughts, emotions and discoveries. Some of these women turned pedestrian to escape very rigid lives or confinement. Ellen Weeton explored the hills of Lancashire to escape an unhappy marriage and abusive husband. Harriet Martineau had been confined to bed by illness for five years, and used her newfound legs to explore the whole Lake District. Anais Nin sought solace from depression on the streets of New York and Paris. These women took ownership of their health and wellbeing and recorded their progress intimately and passionately: "Ultimately,  the vitality, variety and significance of the different ways of walking of seeing, of ‘being,’ articulated by these women require us to re-evaluate  our walking history,  because that history has always been written by women."

About the reviewer
Tracey Foster started off in a long career as an Art and Design teacher but wanted to refocus her creative energies into writing poetry and prose. 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, Mausoleum Press, Bus Poetry Magazine, Wayward Literature, Zine Magazine and The Arts Council and she writes her own blog, Small Sublime. Her work is currently on exhibition at the Ikon Gallery.

Review by Tracey Foster of "Shadowlands: A Journey Through Lost Britain" by Matthew Green

Imagining our home, town and local landscape as a wasteland; envisaging the future for our sea-ravaged coasts and climate-battered green spaces is a real prospect that we face today. Matthew Green makes this all the more possible with this well researched book as he takes on a journey through existing derelict sites here on our own British soils. These include places simply eradicated through disease, plagues, coastal erosion, storm surges and land acquisition, leaving us with a ghost map of former communities. Green, a historian, writer and broadcaster, knows how to tell a good tale and evokes a sublime sense of the uncanny with descriptions of visits to these sites. Abandoned homes, half-shelled churches, submerged dwellings and fake buildings make ideal sites to set a horror movie.

The cult of the picturesque began in the eighteenth century and the hunt for the ideal gothic ruin set the middle classes wandering over our own local sites of abandonment. Prior to this no one cared enough to notice and nature was left to take over where man had fled. The passion for old antiquities saw an outbreak of "ruin poetry," waxing lyrical about the joys of the desolation and pathos that surrounded such sites. Old ruins became national monuments and were put back on the maps. The romantic movement that followed revelled in the desolate, evoking reverie to ponder life, death, longing, absence and mourning. One such place to inspire scores of collections of poetry was Dunwich, Britain's lost Atlantis. This was a whole city built on the Suffolk coast, comprising several large churches and a thriving port. A series of huge storm surges eroded the cliffs beneath it and its demise was recorded in early photographs and newspaper reports. The sad sight of a graveyard tumbling onto the rocks below brought many visitors to the site, to write, paint and muse on life's fragility. The writer Henry James being one of them, this prompted him to say: "Sadness hung in the air like the salt spray of the sea; a sense of squandered potential pervaded everything and yet was somehow uplifting."

Green also gets special permission to visit the military training zones on Norfolk. This was land acquired during WW2 that encompassed several old villages on the promise to return them after the war. Several residents left notes pinned to their front door for the army, asking them to take care of their family’s homes in the anticipation of a return. What is left behind now is a ravished wilderness and bombed-out buildings. Very little remains for those families to return to apart from the church where they are allowed back one day a year at Christmas to tend graves and gather to sing hymns: "The path of lime trees leading to the church is specially illuminated and on those bittersweet occasions, the cadences of their song, the streaks of the choir, the gushing of the air through the bellows of the organ effuse from the glowing nave, soaring over the shards, the mounds and the ruins of deserted and disfigured villages, transforming them through the redemptive power of sorrow, and resurrecting them in the theatre of the mind."

What Green did find there was a range of fake building shells, made up in fine detail to replicate medieval Normandy towns, German hamlets, post-war Soviet concrete jungles and even a market town of Basra, simulating the ongoing challenges of today's army recruits: "It was one of the eeriest, most disquieting places I have ever set foot in."

Green travels from the top of Scotland in St Kilda on a journey through lost Britain to the submerged village of Capel Celyn in Wales and takes us with him. Embarking on this journey and in the process losing his father and his marriage, he faced a long period of emotional turmoil: "Ambushed by memories, with the past hanging like a pall in the air, the present seemed so thin as to barely exist at all."

His personal circumstance is in tune with our times. The British psyche, used to change, as our land mass alters and shifts through waves of invasion and geological movement, looks set to face the greatest alteration of all. This book is a fascinating insight into the previous lives that were altered, communities that were lost and the warnings we can take from a long view of nature's reclamation. 

About the reviewer
Tracey Foster started off in a long career as an Art and Design teacher but 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, Mausoleum Press, Bus Poetry Magazine, Wayward Literature, Zine magazine and The Arts Council and she writes her own blog, Small Sublime, here. 

Review by Tracey Foster of "Orwell’s Roses" by Rebecca Solnit

In the spring of 1936, a young author set about planting a garden in his rented cottage. Awaiting the arrival of his new wife and hoping to put behind him the experiences as a serving police officer in colonial Burma, Orwell turned to nature to heal both his lungs and calm his mind. His first attempts at recuperation saw him live in extreme poverty, which he later recorded in detail in Down and Out in Paris and London and The Road to Wigan Pier. These were places that were a source for great fiction, but it was in the little hamlet of Wallington where he decided to settle his mind.

Solnit begins with Orwell's essay from 1946, "A Good Word for the Vicar of Bray," that focused on the beauty of a mature yew tree which long outlived the vicar that planted it. After a lapse of time, all that is left of him is a comic song and a beautiful tree. From this spark of a thought, Solnit decided to track down Orwell’s cottage garden and see if his plants had also outlived the creator. He had mentioned revisiting his garden in that essay of 1946 and noted that that too had thrived in his absence. The planting of a tree, especially one of the long-living hardwood trees, is a gift which you can make to posterity at almost no cost and with almost no trouble.

Orwell was passionate about nature and the earth; he was a keen gardener and a naturalist. He took many long walks with friends who later commented on his knowledge and alluded to his fear for the future, drawing attention, with anxiety, to this shrub budding early for the time of the year. Solnit urges us to revisit and look deeper into Orwell's prose, to seek out the passages of flora and fauna and promises us that if we do, the grey portrait will turn to colour. Even in his novel 1984, deeply political and prophetic, there are moments of joy. Nature itself is immensely political, in how we imagine, interact with, and impact it. He was ahead of his time in this interpretation of our living world. 

Extolling simple manual labour with direct visible results must have appealed to Orwell, a passion that led him to further expand his small holding with animals, an orchard and a vegetable garden. Finding predictability with effort that gardening promises was a complete contrast to the uncertain life of prose. He referred to gardening in his many essays, extolling the virtues of the simple, cheap Woolworth rose, the common toad and country life. He advocates for a simple life, in tune with our surroundings. Solnit sums this up with her phrase: "Even when the agenda was bread, what spills over is roses."

This book takes us on a journey through culture and art to society and socialism to examine how roses have represented our desires, passions and goals through the centuries. Throughout these meanderings, Solnit discusses the written words of the essayist, his humour and humanity, his politics and passions to understand him better.

Orwell finally died of tuberculosis aged just 46 after suffering with bronchitis most of his adult life. His final request was for roses to be planted on his grave: "Outside my work, the thing I care for most is gardening – for like the rest of us, it’s beauty for today, hope for tomorrow."

About the reviewer
Tracey Foster started off in a long career as an Art and Design teacher but 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, Mausoleum Press, Bus Poetry Magazine, Wayward Literature and The Arts Council.  She writes on her own blog site The Small Sublime.

 

Review by Rebecca Reynolds of "Otherlands: A World In The Making" by Thomas Halliday

Thomas Halliday’s book is a biography of the Earth, told backwards. He starts 20,000 years ago, at the beginning of the decisive thawing of the mammoth steppe, which rings the top of the world and is home to horses, bison and the now-extinct cave lion. 

The book then travels the Earth, landing at different times and places. So there are abundant giant penguins 41 million years ago; a gorgon 253 million years ago with a painful mouth tumour and a leg which has never been the same since she fractured it hunting Bunostegos (a creature looking like a stumpy, tall crocodile); and rock-eating bacteria in the Devonian, 407 million years ago, which make the surface of the water in which they live, intolerably hot to every other lifeform, shimmer with bubbles. The climate and geological processes are given as much space as plants and animals. 

The book ends in the pre-Cambrian 550 million years ago, with no life on land, a 22-hour day before friction slows the Earth’s rotation, and the closer moon shining 15% brighter.

How does Halliday add drama and interest to processes that happen over huge timescales, mostly with no humans involved?

Firstly, he picks varied moments — differently configured landmasses and oceans, with different climates and ecosystems, for example before or after mass extinctions. Secondly, he focuses on movement. Movement of wind, waves and water and therefore of land; communities of animals migrating; individual creatures on the move. Thirdly, he mixes together disparate information — so as well as watching a short-faced bear rummaging in a mammoth carcass, we learn about Korean, Russian and European bear mythologies.

Lastly, he embraces human-centred ways of description. Literary quotations head each chapter (including Hardy’s ‘Drummer Hodge’ — ‘Yet portion of that unknown plain / Will Hodge forever be’). He chooses anthropomorphic language such as ‘cyanobacteria discovered the magic of photosynthesis,’ and is happy to translate from the academic to the literary; so the academic term ‘index fossils’ (fossils which are so abundant they can be used to date the rocks they are in) becomes ‘fossil timepieces’ later in the same paragraph. The book ends with a plea to work together to stop climate change. 

This book tells us the world will never stop being in the making, or in the unmaking.

About the reviewer
Rebecca Reynolds is an English language teacher and editor. She has just finished a Research Masters at Liverpool University looking at differences between reading, speaking and listening to poetry. She published her book Curiosities from the Cabinet: Words and Objects from Britain’s Museums in 2017. Website here. X: @rebrey. 

Review by Lisa Williams of "The Scent of Flowers at Night" by Leïla Slimani

Grab a sleeping bag – we’re off to Venice with Leïla Slimani to be locked into the Punta della Dogana museum for the night. In 2016 her novel Sweet Song won the Prix Goncourt, and this year she’s one of the Booker Prize judges. In The Scent of Flowers at Night she dwells on family, oppression, and ultimately happiness. These musings are woven round her exploration of the exhibits at night. Her reflections on self, solitude and the creative process make this short autobiographical work a particular delight for writers. The time frame seems fleeting though; her neat, lucid style leaves you wanting to spend another night with her, perhaps in a different museum.  

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