Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "The Walkative Revolution" by Alec Finlay and "Two Women in a Car Park" by Selima Hill and Moby Hill

  

Cornwall-based Guillemot Press specialises in carefully designed, often collaborative poetry editions. Alec Finlay’s The Walkative Revolution (2025) is an illustrated hardback combining poetry, visual composition and manifesto-like writing. Selima Hill’s Two Women in a Car Park (2026), with artwork by her son, Moby Hill, takes the form of a compact landscape volume. 

Finlay is a Scottish poet and artist whose work explores landscape, ecology, naming and access. When chronic illness constrained the poet’s ability to move through the world, he reconsidered what it is to walk, be a walker, or a "not-walker," and creatively adapt to limits. Hill is known for psychologically charged poetic sequences in which tenderness, menace and surreal transformation exist side by side. Although very different in form and tone, these collections share an interest in movement, stillness and thresholds: between participation and exclusion, intimacy and privacy, forward motion and rest.

The Walkative Revolution challenges a tradition in which walking is closely associated with freedom, independence and authority. Finlay’s statement that "a path must be walked / or it will cease to exist" presents movement not as conquest but as an act of maintenance. In essence, a path survives through repeated use, where walking becomes a relationship between bodies, landscapes and the communities that keep routes open. This idea is developed through the proxy walk, whose participants are described as "the walker, the recipient, the artist": a small cast list and a choreography of roles. One person follows the route, another receives the walk – as though by post, pulse or proxy – and a third turns the experience into artistic form, translating footfall into form and step into script. The encounter with landscape no longer belongs only to the body that physically covers the ground. Elsewhere, Finlay declares that "There can never be an excess of access." The line gives the collection’s politics a memorable directness. Access is not treated as an optional kindness or an adjustment to be added afterwards - a principle that changes the meaning of participation itself. The poet’s thresholds are therefore both physical and social: they include paths and boundaries, but also the assumptions that determine who can use them and whose experience of place is valued. I found the cumulative effect of motif, theme and manifesto – both lyrically and politically – reminiscent of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.

In comparison, Hill brings movement and stillness into the more intimate territory of family, care and emotional knowledge. In "Happiness," a mother "wheels her large son in his wheelchair beside the stony / river, round the lake." She believes she is going "in search of their / happiness," but the poem quietly revises that expectation: "this, however, is their happiness." The journey around the lake has no triumphant destination; its meaning lies in the shared circuit itself. Happiness is not waiting at the end of the route or dependent upon some future change. It is already present in the act of accompaniment: in the movement beside the river and around the lake. In "The Body in the Bungalow," stillness takes on a more troubling quality. A man has been lying alone, "probably in pain." When a woman asks whether the pain might "not have been that bad," the doctor replies: "All pain is pain." The answer is simple but uncompromising. It marks a threshold in understanding: another person’s suffering cannot be reliably measured from the outside, nor dismissed as it is not fully visible. The final poem, "Unhappiness," also considers the limits of what one person can know about another. The speaker reflects that "All adult men have had their hearts broken" and therefore "he, too" must have experienced heartbreak, although "we don’t know how or when." The phrasing insists upon the son’s adult emotional life, while "we don’t know" protects his privacy. Hill implies that closeness and care do not give complete access to another person’s inner world.

The collections differ in their thresholds: Finlay’s are spatial and social, shaping who can participate, while Hill’s are psychological, marking the limits of knowing another person. Both resist the idea that freedom means constant forward movement. Finlay presents stillness as active and connected; Hill shows movement as circular and unresolved. In each, thresholds become places where agency, knowledge and relationships are rethought. What distinguishes these books is also the strength of their voices. Finlay’s inventive, concept-driven work reimagines access and place, whilst Hill’s compressed lyricism captures care, pain and intimacy without simplifying them. 

The books are also compelling as physical objects. Their visual and tactile qualities are not incidental but shape the pace and meaning of the reading experience. Finlay’s playful movement between poetry, manifesto and visual composition asks the reader to pause, adjust and approach the page in different ways. Hill’s compact landscape format, accompanied by some strikingly simple but haunting artwork, suits a collection concerned with circuits, boundaries and uncertain passages. Taken together, The Walkative Revolution and Two Women in a Car Park are two highly original contributions to contemporary poetry. They are the work of distinctive and compelling voices, but also beautifully conceived and produced books that reward close attention. 

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

Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "High Spirits: A Round of Drinking Stories," ed. Karen Stevens and Jonathan Taylor

At first glance, High Spirits appears to be an anthology united by a simple premise: stories in which alcohol plays a central role. Yet what soon becomes apparent is that this is far less a book about drink than it is about the people who drink, and the complicated lives that unfold around them. 

Stevens' and Taylor's comprehensive introduction is a critical essay in itself and hugely informative, in which they argue that "drunkenness is itself often a story," complete with a "beginning ... a middle ... and an end." It is a perceptive observation, for throughout, alcohol is rarely the subject itself. Rather, it becomes the catalyst through which loneliness, desire, memory, grief and hope are revealed.  

The anthology brings together an impressive range of contemporary writers, including both editors, Louis de Bernières, Jenn Ashworth, Alison Moore, Bethan Roberts and Desmond Barry, each bringing a distinctive voice and treatment of the premise. Some stories are comic, others unsettling; some quietly elegiac, others darkly surreal. 

One of its greatest strengths is its refusal to moralise. Drink is neither glamourised nor condemned. Instead, it’s presented as part of ordinary experience: a celebration, a habit, an escape, often a consolation, sometimes the beginning of connection and, more pointedly, the cause of its collapse. The emotional range is striking, allowing humour to sit comfortably beside vulnerability and loss. Jenn Ashworth's "Jackie Kennedy and the Widow" offers an unflinching meditation on grief, while Michael Stewart's "Painting the Walls White" explores memory and disorientation through themes of forgetting and losing one's way. Melanie Whipman's "Tasting Notes" provides another distinctive voice, demonstrating how drink can become less a subject than a lens through which relationships and identity are examined.

What emerges is a portrait of contemporary life in all its contradictions. These are stories of imperfect lives, where moments of celebration sit uneasily alongside loneliness, regret and longing. Shared drinks become occasions for confession, confrontation and reconciliation; solitary ones speak of absence and loss. Throughout, alcohol functions not as the subject but as a catalyst, bringing into sharp relief those fragile aspects of ourselves we usually keep hidden. 

It’s easy to see why High Spirits won the 2019 Saboteur Award for Best Anthology. It matures beautifully as it unfolds. Individual stories possess their own distinct flavour, yet together they create something richer than the sum of their parts. Like a conversation that grows more candid as the evening wears on, these stories remain in the mind long after the final shot, inviting readers back for the richness of their voices and the truths they quietly reveal about what it is to be both human and fallible. Intoxicating stuff. 

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

Review by Aswathy Raveendran of "Sisters of the Pentacle" by Paul Taylor-McCartney

Paul Taylor-McCartney’s Sisters of the Pentacle is the first book of The Broken Pentacle Series, and is a fascinating tale that mixes historical drama, witchcraft, time travel, and the quiet power of sisterhood. Set across three very different time periods in the same corner of Wales, the novel follows three young women who are bound by magic, prophecy, and a sacred but damaged pentacle. It’s the kind of book that rewards patient readers. It is layered, atmospheric, and full of heart. Fans of thoughtful fantasy with real historical grounding will likely find themselves pulled in.

The story shifts between 1650, 1900, and 2080, each period anchored by a compelling young witch. In the plague year of 1650, we meet Mary Harries, a twelve-year-old "Knowing One" with the gift of foresight. Tenby is locked down, bodies pile up, and suspicion falls hard on anyone suspected of witchcraft. Mary’s courage, as she helps with the dead, faces angry mobs, and confronts dark forces on Caldey Island, gives the opening section a raw, visceral edge. Her protective grandmother Nancy and a shape-shifting boy named Abe add warmth and danger in equal measure.

Jump forward to 1900, and we’re with Harriet Gordon, a sharp-witted artist living in St Catherine’s Fort. Harriet chafes against her family’s expectations and her brothers’ cruelty. Her discovery of latent powers, helped along by a mysterious ceremonial blade (an athame) and a voice from the future, brings both wonder and trouble. The inclusion of real historical figures like Winston Churchill and H. G. Wells during a dinner party is a clever touch, and it nicely highlights the tension between Harriet’s inner world and the respectable society closing in around her.

In 2080, Indigo Carmichael takes centre stage. Living in a world scarred by environmental collapse, she’s the daughter of a driven scientist whose time-acceleration technology holds both salvation and peril. Indigo’s sections feel more dystopian and introspective, tying the historical threads together through risky experiments and a desperate hope of mending what’s broken across time.

What holds these timelines together is Taylor-McCartney’s clever use of recurring symbols like the circles of power, glowing portals, animal transformations, and fragments of the pentacle itself. The non-linear structure mirrors the book’s central idea which is all about how the history isn’t a straight line but a looping, interconnected web. Some transitions in the story are seamless and some lean a bit heavily on exposition or convenient coincidences. Still, the overall effect is one of building momentum toward something larger.

Thematically, the novel has real weight. The sisterhood depicted in the story goes beyond blood. It’s about shared resilience, passed-down knowledge, and collective resistance against oppression. Each girl pushes back against the constraints of her time period. If it was persecution and plague for Mary, it was rigid Edwardian gender roles for Harriet, and technological hubris for Indigo. Taylor-McCartney handles the "grey area" of magic thoughtfully, refusing to paint it as purely good or evil. There are strong undercurrents about environmental responsibility, the cost of playing with time, and the long shadow of patriarchy. The pentacle becomes a potent symbol of wholeness in a fractured world, and the respect shown to real witchcraft traditions feels genuine rather than superficial.

The three protagonists are the novel’s greatest strength. Mary’s quiet bravery amid horror is moving. Harriet’s artistic eye and dry humour bring welcome lightness and emotional texture. Indigo, dealing with her own physical limitations and inherited burdens, adds a layer of vulnerability that makes her future feel lived in and urgent. Supporting characters like Nancy, Abe, and even the antagonistic Gordon brothers mostly ring true, though a few (particularly in the future sections) lean toward archetype. The historical cameos work better than they have any right to, adding flavour without derailing the story.

Taylor-McCartney’s prose shines when he leans into atmosphere. The plague-stricken streets of Tenby, the misty cliffs at Harrowing Point, and the sterile glow of futuristic labs all come alive. There are lyrical moments during rituals and invocations that genuinely feel magical. That said, some dialogue runs a touch expository, and a few descriptive passages could have been trimmed. Even though there are few quibbles like these, the book overall gives you an immersive reading experience.

Overall, Sisters of the Pentacle is a success. Its world-building across centuries is impressive, and the emotional core which centres around the bond between the "sisters" across time is something that would stay with you. Pacing occasionally lags, especially when lore or technology needs explaining, and the 2080 storyline feels slightly less developed than the historical ones. But these are the growing pains of an ambitious first volume in what promises to be a rich series.

If you enjoy fantasy that takes its time, respects its traditions, and weaves real history with the supernatural, this one is worth your attention. It’s a story about healing what’s broken across time, across families, and across the land itself. I closed the book eager to see where the pentacle leads next.

About the reviewer
Dr. Aswathy Raveendran is an Assistant Professor of English at Jain (Deemed-to-be University), Kochi, India. Her research focuses on twentieth-century female gothic literature, with broader interests in sensory studies, eco-gothic narratives, and cultural memory. She is also a practising artist whose work explores themes of nature, memory, and the sensory imagination.

You can read more about Sisters of the Pentacle by Paul Taylor-McCartney 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 Paul Taylor-McCartney of "The Subtle Art of Short Fiction" ed. Isabelle Kenyon

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Favourite Reads of 2025

At the end of every year, we ask readers to submit a micro-review of a favourite book they've read in the last twelve months. The book can be from any time or genre - the only qualification is that it has to be a book the reader found particularly memorable, striking or enjoyable. Here are the responses for 2025. Everybody's Reviewing wishes all its readers a happy 2026 - the National Year of Reading!

Kirsten Arcadio

The God of the Woods, by Liz Moore: In a "Psychological Thrillers" group on Facebook, people aren’t too sure. More a mystery than a thriller, says one member. Literary fiction, says another. A flat statement. For me, The God of the Woods by Liz Moore, was all of those things and much more: a perfect literary thriller complete with several different points of view and timelines, it tells the story of the disappearances of two siblings more than a decade apart. Beautifully written, the pace is perfect and the end does not disappoint. 

Kathleen Bell
My favourite reads this year are a tribute to public libraries that lent me the books, free of charge. And I’ve chosen three, in different categories.

Non-fiction: The Restless Republic: Britain Without a Crown, by Anna Keays, borrowed from Richmond-on Thames library service, was exciting enough for me to read in bed, even when recovering from the after-effects of my shingles jab. Covering British political history in the years 1649 to 1660, it tells the story of key individuals (including John Bradshaw, Charlotte Stanley, Anna Trapnel and William Petty) to illuminate both the political-religious struggles and the way individuals responded to the turmoils of the time. I was caught up in the history and fascinated by the people.

Fiction: Alive in the Merciful Country, by A. L. Kennedy, borrowed through Notts libraries, was hard to get hold of, though I wanted to read it ever since seeing a copy in Five Leaves Bookshop. I requested it from my local library but first listened to the audio book, which meant I heard it in sections on coach journeys, which was good but not ideal. Now I am half-way through the physical copy which is better – and it’s still engaging, disturbing and funny (sometimes all three at once). It’s set in lockdown and the period leading up to it and is concerned with the practice of kindness and the discovery of joy, even though people cause immense harm. This is a book I expect to re-read regularly, now that the library has acquired a copy.

Poetry: The Paths of  Survival, by Josephine Balmer, borrowed from The Poetry Library in London, is a terrific discovery. I’m always attracted by something that uses classical literature but these poems are different from most. They’re based on fragments from Aeschylus’ lost play The Myrmidons (about Achilles and Patroclus) and focus on different moments in which various lines or phrases are quoted, translated or possibly misunderstood. Themes include love, grief and the uncertainty of knowledge:

          letters from a lost world, seeping back

          to black, etched in breath-blown dust:
          …speak out… …dissent… …enough 

Kristy Diaz

The Trading Game, by Gary Stevenson: A propulsive, whip-smart memoir that follows Stevenson from his working-class East London roots to the trading floor at one of the world’s biggest banks. As bleakly funny as it is insightful, his story illustrates the rot at the heart of global finance and makes a compelling argument for economic equality.

Rohan Fitzpatrick

Jesus Christ Kinski, by Benjamin Myers: Jesus Christ Kinski is a mind-bendingly unique novel focusing on the infamous actor Klaus Kinski’s memorable 1971 performance, Jesus Christ Erlöser, interspliced with a semi-autobiographic tale of obsession from a Yorkshire author. I found Kinski’s perspective both loathsome and fascinating, and the speculative nature of his thoughts, which are at times hilarious and bleak, to be immensely creative and wonderful to read. Mostly, I found the specificity of this book to be inspiring – never relinquish your niche interests!

Mellissa Flowerdew-Clarke 

Murderland: Crime and Bloodlust in the Time of Serial Killers, by Caroline Fraser: Aside from the horror of their crimes, what links Ted Bundy, the Green River Killer, the I-5 Killer, the Night Stalker, the Hillside Strangler, and Charles Manson? Caroline Fraser has a theory, and it’s a compelling one. In her exceptional nonfiction thriller Murderland: Crime and Bloodlust in the Time of Serial Killers, she looks past psychology and into the landscape itself. Fraser takes readers deep into the industrial heartland of the Pacific Northwest, where lead, copper, and arsenic smelters shaped entire communities—and poisoned them. What follows is a riveting exploration of nature versus nurture, unearthing the toxic forces that spawned America’s most notorious killers.

Beth Gaylard 

Miss Benson's Beetle, by Rachel Joyce: Earlier in the year l was looking for an audiobook that was a bit different - l'd just listened to Jilly Cooper's Rivals - great fun, lusty romp, very much of its time (1980s). For my next listen, I discovered Miss Benson's Beetle, by Rachel Joyce, an unusual tale about a woman explorer and her totally unsuitable companion, also a woman. In search of a fabled beetle, rumoured to live only on one mountain in New Zealand, these two travel to the other side of the world determined to find the little beast if it exists. As they travel, their friendship develops - against all the odds, they are so mismatched. Not a romance, it's very dark in places, but it's also a very funny adventure story, pacy, well-written and moving. I defy you not to cry at the ending.

Karen Powell-Curtis

Lady Tan’s Circle of Women, by Lisa See is inspired by the true story of Tan Yunxian who was one of the few female doctors in fifteenth century China. The novel immerses the reader in Tan Yunxian’s world as a doctor practising Chinese medicine in a society with complex traditions and expectations. As the title suggests, the novel also explores the strength of female friendships, including the close bonds formed in spite of class differences.

Mithila Dutta Roy

Perfection, by Vincenzo Latronico: The aesthetic mask of consumerism mixed with the show-off circus of social media makes a cocktail so hollow for the millennials - that’s what this book is exactly about. If you find yourself adjusting the dishes in a restaurant just at the right angle to take the perfect photo for the gram, I’m afraid, dear friend, this book is for you. Seeking what seems perfect on the screen, the protagonists, Anna and Tom, run after a curated euphoria only to find they have lost themselves along the way. This book is a cry for help. 

Karen Rust

Prophet Song, by Paul Lynch: Unflinching and brutal - this 2023 Booker Prize winner is not for the faint hearted. Detailing modern-day Eire's spiral into totalitarianism from the point of view of educated, middle class working mum of four, Eilish Stack, we see how society morphs from normality to horror in such tiny increments that each seems too small to act on alone, but together they bring the point of no return ever nearer. If you can get past the lack of standard dialogue punctuation and unconventional formatting, this is a novel that will inhabit your thoughts for a very long time. By the end, I can only use the word traumatised to describe how I felt (probably as much as from my first read of Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale aged 20), but it's a must read given the times we live in. Read it, but have something light and uplifting lined up for straight after!

Jonathan Taylor

Dark Academia: How Universities Die, by Peter Fleming: Brilliant and devastating. What a relief that this book is a work of fiction, a fantastic jeu d'esprit, which bears no resemblance to reality at all. Whatsoever.

Maria Taylor

My last read of 2025 was Madonna in a Fur Coat, by Sabahattin Ali (1943). This was the story of Raif, a young Turkish man in 1920s Berlin and his relationship with a painter, Maria. It was a moving story of connection and loneliness. 

Miranda Taylor

The Secret History, by Donna Tartt follows an idiosyncratic, cult-like group of eccentric students who are slowly corrupted by hedonism and the media they consume obsessively. I found the book and its characters very engaging.

Rosalind Taylor

Detective Conan, by Gosho Aoyama: this follows the story of Kudo Shinichi who is a detective. He's forced to take a drug by a mysterious organisation which turns him into a child and has to solve cases as a child as well as try and return to his original body. I really like this series as I find the mysteries really interesting, and it's fun to try and solve the cases before Conan does. 

Paul Taylor-McCartney

What We Can Know, by Ian McEwan stands out as another high point in a long and distinguished career, merging rich literary elements with intriguing speculative themes. It contemplates the tenuous nature of knowledge itself and highlights the timeless influence of poetry and a nostalgic longing for the past, amidst a disappearing world. Astounding in every way - my book of the year. 

Harry Whitehead

The Trees, by Percival Everett: A serious novel about lynching, racism and US history that is also hilariously funny? Everett's revenge fantasy transcends simple description, but enough to say I found it unputdownably gripping, profound, as wildly funny as it was horrifying, and entirely unique.

Lee Wright
Here are my two favourite reads, non-fiction and fiction, of this year:

Ted Hughes: The Unauthorised Life, by Jonathan Bate: The life of Hughes read like a toxic romance. He was perhaps the nearest real-life embodiment of Heathcliff we are ever likely to see, and unlikely to see again.

The Eleventh Hour, by Salman Rushdie: In these five short stories, Rushdie delights in midnight oblivion and shows that the language of prose need not fall short of poetry.

Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "White Road" by Harry Whitehead

 

Harry Whitehead’s White Road is an arresting work of eco-fiction that combines the taut urgency of a thriller with the moral weight of a contemporary fable. The novel interrogates not only the limits of human endurance but also the ethical boundaries of exploitation, survival and responsibility in an age of ecological crisis.

It opens in the Canadian Arctic, a landscape at once magnificent and merciless. Into this environment comes Carrie Essler, a Scottish rescue swimmer, whose skills and resilience are tested almost immediately. A mission goes wrong and leaves her stranded on the ice with two impossible companions: a half-dead stranger and a starving polar bear. With no clear way back to safety, every decision she makes could mean life or death. Beyond Carrie, figures such as Ross, the oil rig owner mired in guilt, and Amaruq, the Inuvialuit worker torn between tradition and modern demands, create a polyphonic exploration of conscience and consequence. These intersecting narratives refuse easy resolution, instead offering a layered meditation on human ambition and fragility. 

Whitehead handles a set of complex topics and themes with a deft touch. He avoids polemic, instead allowing the characters’ experiences to illuminate questions of responsibility and consequence. And the novel is at its strongest when it lingers in ambiguity, where no choice feels wholly right, and survival itself comes at a price. Stylistically, he balances precision with lyricism and the pacing is finely calibrated: moments of breathless intensity are counterbalanced by passages of quiet introspection, allowing the novel’s thematic concerns to resonate without sacrificing narrative momentum. While stranded on the ice, Carrie encounters Bastien, a ghostly presence that delivers a sardonic, mansplaining, yet knowledgeable running commentary on the surrounding environment and Arctic lore. This eerie, sometimes-gallows-humour voice offers both guidance and unsettling commentary as she navigates the brutal landscape. It is through this supernatural element that Whitehead effectively introduces an "Ecogothic" dimension to the narrative, blending environmental consciousness with spectral intervention, and elevates the final sections of the narrative to a whole new level. 

The Arctic itself is brought to life with almost mythic presence. Whitehead’s prose renders the ice, wind and sea as more than backdrop. They emerge as sentient forces, capable of awe and terror in equal measure. The natural world becomes a crucible, exposing the weaknesses and strengths of those who enter it. "Only a vague, ambient light outlined the whitecaps breaking all around her, jagged white lines that appeared behind, ahead, and, terrifyingly, above." Some of the most haunting imagery is of nature reeling from and submitting to the horrors of leaking oil that travels upwards and outwards from the site of the disaster, set on imprinting its dreadful tattoo on the Arctic landscape and unsuspecting wildlife. "She [Carrie] switched on her torch and shone it down. Rainbow glittered back at her … she knew crude." And elsewhere, a polar bear emerges from the icy waters, its fur coated in the same oil: "It swung round, trying to bite its own flanks. Round and round like a dog chasing its tail." 

As a piece of storytelling, White Road is compelling – driven, clear-eyed and cinematic in its set pieces. Yet it can also be highly reflective, encouraging the reader to pause and consider what lies beneath the action: the fragile beauty of the natural world, the limits of human endurance and the moral compromises that underpin modern life. This is a novel that entertains while it unsettles, gripping the reader even as it asks difficult questions. Whitehead has produced a timely and resonant work that stays with you, long after the Arctic ice has closed over its final page.

About the reviewer
Dr. Paul Taylor-McCartney is a writer, researcher and lecturer living in Cornwall. His interests include dystopian studies, children’s literature and initial teacher education. His poetry, short fiction and academic articles have appeared in a wide range of print and electronic form. His debut children’s novel, Sisters of the Pentacle, was published by Hermitage Press (2022) and fiction titles he has recently worked on as commissioning editor have won multiple regional readers’ and publishers’ awards.

Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "Brilliant Blue" by Karen Stevens

 

Karen Stevens’s debut collection transports the reader straight into her fictional world with a tag line that sounds both like a warning and an invitation: "Welcome to the infamous Duncock Estate." In nine tightly structured and beautifully written stories, she conjures a coastal council estate that hums with life: chip-shop queues, neon-slick pavements, gossip passed over fences like contraband. The world is so sharply etched that you feel the salt sting off the Channel each time you turn a page.

What makes these stories sing is the way Stevens pairs raw circumstance with a fierce, steady compassion. Her people have worries that could crush them, yet they keep reaching for connection, however fleeting. The prose itself flashes, but there’s precision beneath the sparkle. Sentences are lean, images exact; a chipped sink or a scrawl of graffiti serves as both social backdrop and inner weather report. You sense the author’s quiet fascination with ephemera: half-heard remarks or slivers of stored memories resurfacing in adulthood. Each becomes a seed that flowers briefly on the page before drifting off, leaving ripples in the reader’s mind. In "Where You’re Heading," the narrator remarks, "Thing is, Owen, since the dream I can only imagine you in space, and that’s how I want to keep you – hanging in blackness and ready to sing for me."

Running through the collection is a clear conviction that short fiction can do something uniquely powerful with brevity. Stevens trusts her readers to make imaginative leaps, to stand in the little gaps she leaves and feel the full weight of what isn’t said. The result is exhilarating: every story closes like a camera shutter, but the after-image lingers. In another moving story, "The Vigil," Stevens’ precise handling of atmosphere, setting and character is evident: "Already, the impression made by the old man’s body would be less distinct as snow fell soundlessly on snow."

Brilliant Blue is, above all, generous. It insists that hope can survive even the toughest postcode; that humour finds its way into the room, uninvited, whenever people gather; that ordinary lives are anything but. Step onto the Duncock Estate and you’ll leave painted the brightest, most unforgettable shade of blue.

About the reviewer
Dr. Paul Taylor-McCartney is a writer, researcher and lecturer living in Cornwall. His interests include dystopian studies, children’s literature and initial teacher education. His poetry, short fiction and academic articles have appeared in a wide range of print and electronic form. His debut children’s novel, Sisters of the Pentacle, was published by Hermitage Press (2022) and fiction titles he has recently worked on as commissioning editor have won multiple regional readers’ and publishers’ awards.

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

Review by Paul Taylor-McCartney of "raw content" by Naomi Booth

 

Naomi Booth’s latest fiction is a profound and visceral journey into the terrors and fears of new motherhood. This topic is not entirely new territory for the author. Her post-apocalyptic novel, Sealed, centred on a condition that seals people in their own bodies. Booth may have shifted genre, but she revisits and reworks some familiar themes, here: the fear of losing control, bodily imprisonment and strange, otherworldly compulsions. 

The premise is a straightforward one. The novel’s narrator, Grace, reads and edits legal case files, updating judgements with speed and accuracy. This is a world she fully controls, far away from the Colne Valley landscape of her childhood and backdrop for the infamous Moors Murders. It is only when Grace finds herself unexpectedly pregnant, she is forced to accommodate both boyfriend and newborn into her life. 

Almost immediately, Grace’s imagination begins to concoct a series of nightmarish scenarios in which her newborn, Rosa, suffers all sorts of horrific injuries and deaths: ‘The tiled hallway is a long way below us and the distance makes me feel woozy. The ground floor seems to accelerate away from us. I watch Rosa spill from my arms ... I hear the sick sound of overripe fruit splitting against a hard surface.’ Other, equally gruesome fantasies are presented, usually involving everyday objects and people: kitchen scissors, phone chargers, cleaning products, cigarette lighters, boiling kettles and even visiting family members; all become viable threats. Booth’s skill here is that she employs the present-tense mode to have us believe these episodes are unfolding in real time. Grace’s visions and reactions - which are genuine and all-consuming to her - become that for the reader. This is further amplified by the fact that Grace and Rosa are never apart – seen in the infant’s all-consuming need for milk – and provide the novel with some of its most arresting descriptions of physical and emotional, two-way dependency: ‘Half-blind, she gasps all night long, searching for me with her mouth, searching for me with her tiny broken cry, never settling out of my arms.’

Structurally-speaking, the narrative moves smoothly between present and past timelines, helping the reader uncover Grace’s repressed, family history and the reasons for her current behaviour. Here, the landscape comes to fore, the open moors charged with an ancient power and expansiveness, a world removed from the claustrophobic interior of Grace’s home. 

raw content is a highly charged, often terrifying, examination of how parenthood can transform both body and mind.  Booth’s message appears to be that none of us are safe: what constitutes the everyday, the knowable, can suddenly become one’s worst enemy, making raw content a timely reminder of the fragility of contemporary existence and a book that stays with you, long after its final page. 

About the reviewer
Dr. Paul Taylor-McCartney is a writer, researcher and lecturer living in Cornwall. His interests include dystopian studies, children’s literature and initial teacher education. His poetry, short fiction and academic articles have appeared in print and electronic form, including: Aesthetica, The Birmingham Journal of Language and Literature, Education in Practice & Writing in Practice (National Association of Writers in Education), Dyst: Literary Journal, Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, The Crank and Bandit Fiction. His debut children’s novel, Sisters of the Pentacle, was recently published by Hermitage Press.

You can read more about raw content by Naomi Booth on Creative Writing at Leicester here. 

Favourite Reads of 2024

At the end of every year, we ask readers to submit a micro-review of a favourite book they've read in the last twelve months. The book can be from any time or genre - the only qualification is that it has to be a book the reader found particularly memorable, striking or enjoyable. Here are the responses for 2024. Everybody's Reviewing wishes all its readers a happy new year of reading in 2025!

Kirsten Arcadio

John Marrs, The Family Experiment "is a dystopian thriller about a VR project that gives six lots of parents unable to have children the opportunity to bring up their own VR child for a year. A televised Big Brother-type show tracks their progress allowing viewers to vote couples out along the way until one is crowned the winner and allowed to keep their VR child forever. In a cruel twist of fate, each couple has a dark secret that knocks them out prior to the final vote, with devastating consequences. It’s a hugely entertaining and compelling read, blending dystopian virtual reality scenario with suspense using multi-layered storylines, dark secrets and tragedy, and of course, a sinister dose of dystopian societal control." 

Joe Bedford

Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace: "After over 150 years and the publication of several much longer novels, War and Peace continues to challenge us on the meaning and function of scale. Tolstoy shows us that scale is not just about size and scope but also about the complex relationship between the massive and the miniscule, between history and the individual. Ultimately, for Tolstoy, it is our tiny but powerful personal stories that make the great narratives of history mean anything at all." 

Kathleen Bell

Karen Joy Fowler, Booth: "I saw my bus pulling out of the bus station so headed for the warmth of the next-door library. Booth was on the shelf, a novel about the famous family of actors whose son assassinated Abraham Lincoln. I borrowed it on a whim, glanced at it while waiting for the next bus, read the first few pages while travelling, and couldn’t stop reading. It’s a thoughtful, subtle novel drawing on thorough historical research - and it’s sadly relevant to our times."

Laura Besley

Anna Wood, Yes Yes More More: "This short story collection sings and sparkles, shocks and delights. Some of the stories connect, but most are standalone, and all have a strong sense of place and are threaded through with a love of music. Wood's characters never compromise their uniqueness, yet also feel desperately relatable as they navigate their way through the perils of twenty-first-century living." 

Constantine

L. Frank Baum, The Wizard of Oz: "I picked up the first one having finished the Mary Poppins books and finding I wanted more - more older stories of fairylands before the greats like Tolkien and C. S. Lewis. Baum shows what great depth and majesty can be found on such a canvas and the stories are more silly and fun. I wasn't expecting to find so much fairy lore here. Nor was I expecting to find things that Tolkien must have been influenced by (the hiding of Oz from the world at the end of Book 5 may have inspired the hiding of Valinor), and Lewis seems to have (if memory serves) borrowed the one-legged hoppers for one of the islands in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I wasn't expecting to fall in love with Baum's world as much as I have. Also the introductions addressing the children and letters from them are wonderful. Try it. Just for fun."

Laurie Cusack

Flann O'Brien, The Third Policeman: "Comedy of menace and the ultra-bizarre haunt this astonishing novel. Throw James Joyce and Samuel Beckett’s texts into a metaphorical black hole and it might spew out Flann O’Brien’s The Third Policeman. Totally original, timeless and darkly hysterical, throughout. Pure dynamite, honestly. What more do you want from 2025? Hell, on a bicycle?"

Mellissa Flowerdew-Clarke

Amanda Montell, Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism: "Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by linguist Amanda Montell analyses the social science of cult influence. Montell examines the role language plays in the formation of controlled groups and cultish communities. Extending beyond the extremes of Heaven’s Gate and Scientology, Montell illuminates the pervasive influence cultish language has on us every day. From our Insta feeds to Lululemon leggings, #bossbabes to #beastmode, read this book and your fanaticism spidey-sense will tingle in overdrive. If you think you’d never join a cult, this book may show you that you already have..

Gus Gresham

Sue Thomas, Hello World: Travels in Virtuality: "In this fascinating travelogue / memoir, the author invites us to look upon cyberspace experiences as being as real as any other experiences, to question how we really see ourselves and others, to ask whether our identities are flexible or sacred. 'Just like our bony skulls and meaty brain matter,' she says, 'the hardware is only ever just the shell which houses a greater essence.' 

Felicity James

Kiley Reid, Such a Fun Age: "This is a reinvention, part-homage, part-subversion, of the nineteenth-century novel of manners, with Emira Tucker, Philadelphia babysitter, as central character. The novel opens with Emira accosted in an upscale supermarket with the white toddler, Briar, she's looking after, and it goes on - sometimes excruciatingly - to take apart social expectation and prejudice. It's a knowing novel about language, conversation, what it means to listen in to the stories of others. It's appropriate that I came to the book through the School of Arts book group, which was set up in Covid - we're giving it a rest now we don't rely on online conversations so much, but it's such a privilege to be a part of a community in the School and the Centre for New Writing of readers, and this is just one of many recommendations from colleagues and students I've enjoyed."

Alexandra Harris, The Rising Down: Lives in a Sussex Landscape: "This was my standout non-fiction book of the year: a beautiful, creative reinvention of local history. Focussing on a small square of Sussex, with the River Arun running through it, this is a book alive with detail and purpose. We go deep into the local record office to excavate stories and connections which run from past to present, across England and the globe. We look into the hidden lives of the anchorite, the rabbit warrener, the water bailiff and the architect; we follow William Blake as he transforms Chichester into his Holy City, farm-workers as they set off to Australia carrying their dreams of home with them, Polish settlers and Canadian soldiers. 'Everything was stranger and more full of life than I’d had the wit to imagine,' writes Harris, as the great political and social sweep of the world unfolds, in her joyful prose, from a speck of Sussex chalk." 

Tina Jay 

Susan Fletcher, Eve Green: "A beautifully written debut novel, and whilst this year wasn’t the first time I’ve read it, I wanted to include it as it is probably the most re-read book on my bookcase, and one which I would highly recommend. A story of love, loss and mystery through the eyes of a child, powerfully threaded together in a perfectly crafted style, which immediately captures the reader, through its poetic vivid prose and a need to unravel the truth. As the writer herself says, the book was signed with an agent, a publisher and a book deal within a month, and on reading it, I wasn’t surprised! Not only an engaging thrilling story, but a piece of narrative art."

Mary Ann Lund

Eleanor Parker, Winters in the World: A Journey through the Anglo-Saxon Year: "This book made me think differently about time. Parker takes the reader around the cycle of the Anglo-Saxon seasons, told through generous helpings of literature: from the 'fetters of frost' of midwinter to the summer solstice ('sunstede' in Old English) and back again. There's a beautiful, earthy rhythm to poems about greening leaves, bounteous harvests, the dying and regenerating of nature. And there's ancient wisdom in them too."

Aarini Mehta

Coco Mellors, Blue Sisters: "a beautiful story on loss and navigating through life afterwards, told from the perspective of three sisters. After reading the author's debut book, Cleopatra and Frankenstein, I knew this book would not disappoint and it is a book no one will forget for a long time after reading it."

Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Inheritance Games: "a thrilling book about a girl whose whole life changes after being mentioned in one of America's richest men's wills. It is a book full of riddles and secrets and will keep you enthralled until after it ends." 

Sarah Moritz

Ewald Arenz, Der große Sommer: "This book is a beautifully written coming-of-age novel set in the 1970s. The story follows the thirteen-year-old narrator, who, over the course of a transformative summer, navigates friendship, family, loss and self-discovery. Arenz captures the innocence and complexity of adolescence with vivid descriptions and a nostalgic, yet thoughtful tone. The novel is both a poignant exploration of personal growth and a reflection on the quiet moments that shape our lives. Its relatable themes and tender storytelling made it a compelling and heartfelt read."

Shelby Paddison

Catriona Ward, The Last House on Needless Street: "Ted, his daughter Lauren, and their cat Olivia live in an ordinary house on an ordinary street—if you ignore the fact that the windows are all boarded up, the doors have a triple layer of security, and the reclusive daughter never seems to leave. You’ll think you know where this is going—until suddenly, you don’t. Told from the perspectives of a drunk serial killer, a stolen child, an avenging sister, and a deeply religious lesbian cat, this book had me scared, baffled, amazed, and completely invested. Nothing else I read in 2024 came close to The Last House on Needless Street in terms of depth and quality. The less you know going into it, the better."

Karen Rust

Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow: "This book took my breath away. I've never read anything that so beautifully captures the reality of a relationship over time. As the reader, we know what Sam and Sadie think about each other, but they only see what the other says and does. As miscommunication and assumptions incrementally drive them apart, you find yourself shouting at the characters, particularly Sam, to say what they mean before it's too late. Not a love story, but most definitely about love. The gaming industry setting is uber cool and adds a layer of story within story. They should absolutely make this book into a film, and I'll happily curate the soundtrack for it!"

Maisy Summers

Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo: "I was intrigued to read this novel after absolutely adoring the songs from the musical, and it was a wild ride indeed. While the length was quite daunting (leading me to put off the book for two years), Edmond Dantes’ quest for revenge against the wicked men responsible for his imprisonment hooked me the whole way through, as his schemes begin to tear their all-too-comfortable lives apart. I kept a nice routine reading this, so as not to forget all the details within its page count, and was greatly satisfied as all of Dantes' carefully laid plans came to fruition. 

Xiran Jay Zhao, Iron Widow: "Inspired by the history of China’s only female emperor, the novel introduces Wu Zetian, who becomes a mecha pilot to get revenge for her sister’s death. In a society where the lives of female pilots are unjustly spent in battle in conjunction with their male co-pilot’s victories, Zetian’s miraculous survival unfolds into a spiral of revolutionary events, especially once she is paired with the infamous pilot Li Shimin. This book is very thought provoking, exploring many real-world issues within is fantastical setting. I liked all of the main characters, and their interactions embodied a wide range of emotion; I am looking forward to the sequel coming out soon."

Jay Kristoff, Empire of the Vampire: "An epic journey of action, revenge, love and justice begins as Gabriel de Leon recalls his enrolment into an elite monastery of vampire hunters upon discovering himself to be a half-blood. The narrative weaves together two stories of his past, relaying his first steps into becoming a silversaint with a much later adventure surrounding the mysterious identity of a young soul he is sworn to protect. I enjoyed the character development throughout the book, and there were many twists and turns that kept me guessing throughout. I would like to read the sequel soon and see what may happen to Gabriel and the others next."

Jonathan Taylor

Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine "is a beautiful, disorientating book where forms and genres mix like smoke. Somehow, it manages to intermingle memoir, novel, short fiction, poetry, horror, s.f., realism, children's story and adult nostalgia, all at once. It is all these things and more. It is joyful and deeply sad and I loved it."

Miranda Taylor

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar: "This book takes you through a profound investigation of women's mental health. It delves deeply into identity and societal expectations. Plath's writing stayed with me for months. It's a haunting narrative." 

Rosalind Taylor

Muneyuki Kaneshiro, Blue Lock: "As Japan is only seen as mediocre in football, the JFU creates a project called Blue Lock where 300 strikers are invited, with only one who will be successful in becoming the world's greatest striker. The difference between this and a normal sports manga is that players are told to play for their own egos, and the story doesn’t depend on teamwork. I really like this series and the protagonist as it shows an unconventional perspective on football as well as being very action-based."

 

Paul Taylor-McCartney

Alice Winn, In Memoriam: "a searing, stylistically inventive novel about a forbidden and profoundly moving romance between two WW1 soldiers. The optimism and vigour of youth is utterly transformed by the horrors and brutality of frontline battle. A testament to lost innocence, enduring love and a timely reminder about the impact of conflicts still taking place today. Breathtaking." 

Nakisha Towers

Paul Murray, The Bee Sting: "This really is my stand-out book of the year." 

Anna Walsh

Jenny Offill, Weather: "Climate anxiety slowly adds pressure to the everyday stresses of an empathetic librarian. Offill captures the essence of everything ordinary and no words are wasted as she weaves her themes through pithy, poetic paragraphs. Wonderfully written with no fill!"

Lee Wright

Stuart Maconie, The Full English: "Following in the footsteps of J. B. Priestley, Maconie's journey is an anti-venom to the snake bite that is modern day England."