Mr Golightly's holiday (by Salley Vickers)

(Amazon UK link)

I liked the first two books I read by Salley Vickers, which were quite different from each other. So when I saw ‘Mr Golightly’s holiday’ at a church bookstall, some years ago, I decided to buy it. It’s sat on my to-be-read shelf for nearly four years, but finally I picked it up to read. 

It’s not a long book, but it’s a busy time of year so it took me until today to finish it. Partly that’s because, at first, it really didn’t grip me at all. The writing is almost poetic in places, and there are some gorgeous descriptive passages. But I had to force myself to read, rather than skimming, as they didn’t really add anything to the story.

The main character in the book is a man in his fifties who calls himself Mr Golightly. Nobody ever seems to ask for his first name. He’s moved into rented accommodation in the (fictional) village of Great Calne, which is set at the edge of Dartmoor, in Devon. We soon learn that he’s a writer, who - some time previously - had written an epic work, but his advisers had suggested it was dated. So he’s trying to update it, for a screen adaptation. He hopes for peace and quiet, having semi-retired from his business, but keeps coming up against writers’ block.

Mr Golightly also finds himself involved in the lives of the locals in the village. He hadn’t planned to be sociable, but this is a place where everyone knows everyone else. So they’re all interested in a newcomer, and when they hear he’s a writer, several of them want advice from him - something he is reluctant to give. We learn, early in the book, that his son died in tragic circumstances, and that he’s still grieving. 

There’s a huge cast of villagers, or so it seemed to me. And the different relationships are quite complex, too. I did like Luke, another writer, who becomes quite friendly with Mr Golightly over a few pints at the local pub. And I liked the teenage lad, Johnny, whose mother has disappeared; he lives with his stepfather, but has evidently been physically abused. Johnny regularly skips school, and hides from authorities. But Mr Golightly befriends him, and then employs him to do some research…

There’s also a hermit neighbour, Ellen, who has been clinically depressed since her husband dies. She starts to make an effort for Mr Golightly, however, and then has a shock when she finds another man in her home. There’s also a vicar called Meredith who is extremely liberal in her views, and apparently doesn’t have much actual faith. She feels like something of a caricature to me, but perhaps there are people like her.

But there are also other villagers: Sam, Paula, Jackson, Mary, Tessa… and others, who appear regularly but whom I found it difficult to distinguish. Perhaps this is deliberate, yet Mr Golightly seems to find them all interesting, and gives gentle advice and a listening ear in a way that they all appreciate. 

There are some hints of mystery which kept me reading through the beautiful but long-winded prose and the happenings of the villagers, which I didn’t find very interesting. Mr Golightly receives some anonymous, unexplained email messages. And there’s an escaped prisoner on the loose…

I’m very glad I did keep reading, because the pivotal point of the book creeps up on the reader without warning. Indeed, when I read the clues - more than clues, really - that explained a lot, I thought I had misunderstood. I went back to reread a few paragraphs; I hadn’t misunderstood. The author had taken a very surprising theme. To say more would be a spoiler.

My new understanding made the rest of the book rather more interesting, although there are some quite unpleasant scenes towards the end. There is also a scene, at the end, when Mr Golightly has a long chat with someone deemed his business rival, and (given the theme) I found it rather disturbing. But it’s fiction, and it’s extremely clever. 

Certainly worth reading once, if you like unusual storylines and don’t mind lengthy descriptive passages with rather flat minor characters. It’s highly rated by others, and is probably classed as literary fiction. It's quite thought-provoking in places, too, at least in the latter chapters. But it’s not a book I’m likely to read again. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The Enneagram: a Christian perspective (by Richard Rohr and Andreas Ebert)

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It was a long time - over twenty years - since I read ‘The Enneagram: a Christian perspective’ by Richard Rohr and Andreas Ebert. It was one of the first books I read on the topic of the Enneagram, something I was only just beginning to explore. I had been a bit concerned about whether it was somewhat occult, to be avoided; I found the book very reassuring, if a tad heavy.

Richard Rohr is a Roman Catholic priest in the United States, and I have read some of his other books more recently. I find his writing very interesting, if sometimes a tad too intellectual, and occasionally verging on what seems, to me, almost heretical. In this book he’s teamed with Andreas Ebert who was a German Protestant pastor; so there’s some balance there.  This book was originally published in German.

The first section of the book is mainly about the historic roots of the Enneagram. The authors look at its earliest use - by Christians as well as Muslims and Pagans - and point out that it’s rooted in what Christians refer to as the seven ‘deadly sins’, with a couple of extras thrown in. They demonstrate how it’s a very useful tool in churches and other religious gatherings, and that the transformation which is enables works a lot better when God is involved.

There are explanations about what’s meant by ‘obsessions’ in the Enneagram world, and about the importance of understanding ourselves in depth. Only when we see ourselves objectively can we have any chance of moving out of our negative stances and thought patterns, to find a more positive, healthy version of who we are meant to be. 

I was pretty sure that my Enneagram type is the ‘Nine’. It took me some years to realise this, after reading several other books on the topic, and discussing it in depth on one of the long-gone online forums. Personality tests online and in books are notoriously inaccurate, and depend to some degree on our current moods, our circumstances, and our stage of life. 

So there’s no test as such in this book. Instead, the second section of the book gives quite lengthy descriptions of each type in turn. The authors give equal value to them all, reminding us that each type has a healthy and unhealthy variation, and many stages in between. As we grow more healthy, we move towards not just one other type (as is standard in the theory) but are able to embrace positive aspects of them all. 

I read one chapter per day in this section. Each one is between fifteen and twenty pages, and while the writing is good, it’s quite heavy-going. I'm not sure if this is because it was translated from its original German; it doesn't read like a translation, but it's possible that it was made more complex than the original writing. Or maybe the authors write this way. 

I tried to put aside my preconceived ideas about my Enneagram type, although I recognised some of my close friends and relatives in some of the types, as I read. I did, for a while, wonder if I might be a Five, when I reached that chapter. I certainly value my own space, and don’t like it being invaded unexpectedly. I collect books, too, and read a lot about any topic that interests me.

But my reactions to these parts of the ‘Five’ chapter were almost positive. It wasn’t until I reached the ‘Nine’ chapter that I found myself struck to the core, with almost every sentence. It was as if the authors could see into my depths. There’s no question about it: Nine is my type.

The third part of the book is more general again, and more overtly Christian in content. It looks at what it meant to repent, and to be healed, and to grow. It looks at Jesus, and how he incorporated the best of all the nine types, and it - briefly - looks at prayer. Finally there’s a ‘sermon’ for Christmas, related to the Enneagram, and some perspectives by a different author.

I would definitely recommend this if you’re concerned about the background and use of the Enneagram, or if you’re familiar with it, and would like confirmation of your type. I don’t think I would suggest that this could be a good introduction, however, unless you’re an academic or theologian who likes lengthy and sometimes heavy-going descriptions. 

Having said that, it’s one of the first books I read on the topic; and it could certainly be skimmed, although I think I’ve gained more from this read, after knowing the system for a couple of decades, than I did when I was new to it.

For a simpler guide to the Enneagram from a Christian point of view, I would recommend 'Full face to God' by David Mahon, if you can get hold of it. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Swallowtail Summer (by Erica James)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve been rereading my books by Erica James, and thoroughly enjoying them - most of them, anyway - over again. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to reread ‘Swallowtail summer’, since I first read it only five years ago. But I’d given it five stars on GoodReads and LibraryThing, and I had entirely forgotten what it was about. So I decided I would reread it after all.

The main focus is a spacious, comfortable holiday home called Linston End, on the Norfolk Broads. It’s owned by Alastair, who must be in his fifties. We quickly learn that his wife Olga died about six months earlier, and that he’s been travelling. He’s now made a decision about his future, and has returned, concerned only about the effect that his news will have on his closest friends.

The second chapter introduces Simon and Sorrel. Simon has been Alastair’s close friend for many years, but Sorrel resents their friendship, although she knows it’s important to her husband. Sorrel appears to have obsessive tendencies; she likes her kitchen to be spotless, and insists that her cutlery is all arranged perfectly. They have a daughter called Rachel and a son called Callum, both in their early twenties. 

Then we meet Frankie and Danny, who were probably my favourite characters in the book. Frankie is a peacemaker; she’s gentle, and caring, and happy to go along with everyone else. Danny adores her; he had a difficult childhood until he was adopted by a loving family, and finds it hard, even now, to believe in permanence. They have just one daughter, Jenna. 

Jenna and Rachel are very close friends, but very different. Rachel is adventurous and passionate; she keeps falling in love, and being devastated when the relationship doesn’t last. Jenna is more cautious, and much more level-headed. Callum works with boats near Alastair’s home, and the two have become quite friendly. 

So the scene is set for a character-based story, which takes place over the course of a few months. Alex brings his friends together at his home, knowing it will be different without Olga. Then he introduces some other people, and tempers begin to fray…

There are a lot of characters, but the author is gifted at creating three-dimensional people who all feel real, and distinct. So after the first chapters, I had no problem remembering who was who. And it’s essentially a character-based novel, including bringing to light some issues in the past that have been covered up. There are outings, and meals and walks, with just enough description to set the scene, without being excessive.

I liked this book so much!  I really felt for Janna, trying to keep the peace, and also ward off the attentions of someone whom she has always considered a friend. I very much liked Blake, too; a young man who comes to stay with his mother in a nearby mill. There’s a slightly weird coincidence there, but it didn’t bother me particularly.

There’s a good balance of emotion in the book, with some quite stressful chapters in between the mostly peaceful ones, even if new things are coming to light. Most of the characters are likeable with quirks and faults that make them all the more real; the unpleasant ones seem to have few, if any redeeming features. 

I’m not sure if I remembered, subconsciously, what was coming towards the end, or whether the author’s skilled pre-shadowing was meant to let me know. Either way, although there’s a shocking episode, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. And I’m not really sure how else the book could have ended. It makes for a somewhat bittersweet conclusion, but I thought it worked very well.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed rereading ‘Swallowtail summer’, and would recommend it to anyone who likes thoughtful character-based women’s fiction. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Joey and co in Tirol (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

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When I first read Elinor M Brent-Dyer’s Chalet School books in my childhood and teens, I wasn’t all that keen on the books set out of school, in holiday periods. As I grew older, I appreciated some of them more - in particular, ‘Jo to the rescue’, which has long been one of my favourites. But I wasn’t so sure about the later ones.

Having said that, I did enjoy ‘Joey goes to the Oberland’, which I reread about eighteen months ago, so I was quite looking forward to ‘Joey and co in Tirol’, which I last read in 2016. I hadn’t remembered much about it other than that it introduces the character Ruey Richardson and her brothers.

The story involves the Maynard family going to stay in their new holiday home very near the location of the original Chalet School. Joey has been getting tired, and had a recent nasty shock when her mischievous son Mike nearly had a bad accident. So Mike, along with three of his siblings, goes to stay elsewhere. Joey and Jack travel with their triplet daughters, who are almost fifteen, their sons Steve and Chas, and their new babies Phil and Geoff. 

Within the first few days, they come across Ruey, who is staying in a small chalet with her brothers. Roger is sixteen, but Roddy is rather younger. They don’t have a mother, and their father is an eccentric professor who frequently travels and leaves them alone. Roddy has quite a nasty accident, so Jack (being a doctor) gets involved, and the triplets befriend Ruey. 

There are several different threads in this story.  There’s an ongoing concern about what Professor Richardson is doing - he is passionate about space travel (this book was written in 1960, in the very early days), and treats his offspring with benign neglect. There are growing friendships between the three Richardson children and the Maynards; Ruey is quite sensitive, and responds wholeheartedly to Joey’s motherly care. 

There’s also a lengthy hike when mist suddenly arises, leading to quite a bit of tension. And there’s a chapter which begins light-heartedly when the older children go to sort out some things in the Richardsons’ chalet, only to hear rumours about violent bank robbers in the district… there’s some humour, but at the expense of some innocent people. 

Then there are outings, some of them evidently intended to be educational for the readers as well as the families. They reminded me somewhat of various half-term outings described in detail in some of the termtime books, and are my least favourite sections.

What I particularly appreciated about this book was a deeper insight into Joey and Jack’s parenting methods.  In one sense they seem quite harsh by today’s standards; they believe in occasional corporal punishment, at least for younger boys, when they do something very dangerous or rebellious. But they also believe strongly that any punishment should fit the crime. When one of the children mixes mustard into custard, he is made to eat a good tablespoonful of it before it’s thrown out. It helps him see the reason why what he did was wrong and wasteful. 

However, once a punishment is meted out, it’s followed by total forgiveness, and no further references to the misdemeanor. There are a lot of cuddles, plenty of family chats and games, and the parents are always willing to listen. If a child is seriously repentant, or upset at what he (or she) has done, then any punishment or logical consequence comes to an end. Jack is quite hot tempered, particularly if Joey has been hurt or upset in any way. But she is endlessly loving, and seems to me an extremely good mother overall, even if the sheer number of children (eleven) in just fifteen years seems rather excessive.

Towards the end there’s one of the unlikely coincidences that the author was rather keen on; I had entirely forgotten about it, and found it a tad complicated following the logic that causes a new family link to emerge. And it’s not quite as unlikely as some that happen in other books; I found this one quite moving.   

Overall I liked rereading ‘Joey and co in Tirol’, and would recommend it to anyone who follows this series, unless you only like the school-based books. Or if you're not a fan of Joey. I like her style and personality very much, but some readers find her irritating and pushy. 

This book could even stand alone as a family-based holiday story, although there are quite a few references to people and incidents from earlier books. Intended originally for teenagers, I think this one appeals rather more to people like me who have been reading the books since our own teenage years, and keep returning to them.

Unfortunately this book is out of print, and second-hand prices online tend to be excessively high. But it's occasionally available in charity shops or second-hand bookstores. The Armada edition was not significantly abridged when it was published, so I haven't tried to acquire a full hardback or GGBP version. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The adventurers (by Jane Aiken Hodge)

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It’s a long time since I last read my collection of books by Jane Aiken Hodge. That’s a good thing, as it means I’ve forgotten almost everything about them. Having said that, it’s over twenty years since I last read ‘The adventurers’, but I did recall, vaguely, a horrific massacre at the start. 

The book is set in 1912, during Napoleon’s retreat from Russia. It’s not a period of history that I’m very familiar with, and anything related to war and armies tends to go slightly over my head. So it’s a testament to the author’s writing and characterisation that I read and - on the whole - liked this book despite so much war talk.

Sonia is the main protagonist. She’s a feisty young woman, just about finished with her schooling, and very fond of her governess Miss Elizabeth Barrymore. We meet her as Elizabeth - or ‘Barry’, as Sonia calls her - is trying to find her. Sonia is hiding in a barn, and hears her governess talking to her father. She is still grieving for her only brother, who was coerced into signing up for Napoleon's army a year earlier, and was killed.

There’s sudden pounding at the door, with angry, wounded French soldiers bursting in… and the massacre that I remembered begins. Thankfully there’s no gratuitous detail, and Sonia manages to keep her presence a secret since she knows there is nothing she can do. Hot on the heels of the French come an army of Cossacks, who proceed to destroy whatever is left. 

When all is quiet and the soldiers have left, Sonia surveys the devastation. It looks as though everyone is dead, and the house ransacked. She knows that she can’t stay there, and is relieved to find that her pony is still in its paddock. So she dresses in her brother’s clothes and hacks off her hair. Then she collects a few supplies, saddles the pony, and sets off to try to reach the safety of her aunt’s house. She doesn’t like her aunt, but as far as she knows, she’s her only possible refuge.

Then she loses her way, and has to stop at an inn. She meets another traveller, Charles Vincent, and agrees to partner him in a game of whist against some other patrons of the inn. She’s a very good player, and they manage to win quite a bit of money. Inevitably he discovers that she is not a boy, but suggests that they travel together, pretending to be cousins. He says she will be safer with him, and instinctively she trusts him.

That’s just the first couple of chapters; most of the book covers their travels, along with another companion whose presence is a happy surprise to Sonia (and to me, when I came across it). Charles is quite generous, but evidently has more to him than mere adventuring. He won’t say who he’s working for, and is often rather scathing about Sonia - and she, in her turn, is quite rude to him. Evidently, I thought, according to the principles of romantic fiction (even though the romance is a small part of the story) they would eventually fall in love with each other.

It’s an exciting story, with a lot of tension and narrow escapes. Sonia is plagued by memories of the massacre, which forced her to grow up in a very short period. Charles sees her as his responsibility, but loyalty to his chiefs comes first, and she finds this difficult to take.

The book is set firmly in historical context, with famous characters from the era being involved alongside the fictional ones, and they blend harmoniously, so much that I didn’t always know whether someone was a historical personality, or someone from the author’s imagination. She had a gift of characterisation, making likeable but flawed people who feel very real. She also leaves us to guess, along with Sonia and her companion, whether Charles really can be trusted.

Later in the book there are some rather unlikely coincidences: two people meet, who once had a close relationship that was severed. And, even more unlikely, one of the characters turns out to be the son of another… But while I was reading, it all feels believable and almost inevitable. The writing is excellent, the research impeccable. There’s sufficient conversation and character interaction that I didn’t have to understand all the war news and why there was so much danger, although I did take a break to read up, briefly, about this period of history.

All in all, I enjoyed rereading this, and would recommend it to anyone who likes realistic historical fiction. Sadly Jane Aiken Hodge’s books are long out of print, but they can sometimes be found in second-hand shops - which is where I acquired most of mine, over many years.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews