Excitements at the Chalet School (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

(Amazon UK link)

In my gradual re-reading of Elinor M Brent-Dyer's 'Chalet School' series, I’ve reached the Swiss era, which is probably my least favourite. However, there are some gems still, such as ‘New Mistress at the Chalet School’, which I re-read in April. I’ve now finished the one after ‘New Mistress’, one which I recalled as somewhat run-of-the mill without remembering any of the details. 

‘Excitements for the Chalet School’ is 38th in the original series. I last read it nearly ten years ago. I have a hardback version which my mother acquired from a charity shop some decades ago, but it's not that different from the Armada paperback, which had just minor cuts. Bizarrely, while the outside of my book says 'Excitements for...', on the inside it's titled 'Excitements at the Chalet School', and that's the name used in both the abridged Armada paperbacks and the Girls Gone By full editions. 

This book is mainly about the form ‘Inter V’ - a kind of intermediate class, youngest of the seniors, which is in its second term. Miss Ferrars, the ‘new mistress’ is more confident, and they mostly like her.

The first chapter sees the prefects chatting about the girls in Inter V, after one of them has arranged an afternoon of PE for them, with somewhat amusing results. The second chapter sees Inter V themselves, having a meeting to protest the interference of a girl from Va who told them to be quiet. But nothing much transpires.

Several of them are happy because the snow has stopped (this is the winter term), and they’re going to be able to go skiing and sledging. This happens… once. 

Joey Maynard calls some of the staff to a meeting, to let them know that it’s almost 21 years since the Chalet School started. She suggests having some big celebrations, and the staff decide to ask for ideas from the girls.

Then there’s a comment about one of the girls using the adjective ‘marvellous’ all the time; the Head asks her to find alternatives. So her sister and friends use a thesaurus to find other words, some of them quite unusual, and they start to use them. At least, they do in one chapter, but nothing really comes of it.

Oh, and someone from the distant past appears near the Chalet School. She comes to visit the school heads, and asks if she can have a part-time teaching job. She is offered it, although several of the staff (and Joey) predict disaster. And… nothing comes of it. 

There’s the inevitable chapter about a half-term visit - somewhat interesting but obviously educational - and there’s a chapter about the St Mildred’s pantomime. There’s a potential disaster at the end of it, and one of the girls is hailed as a heroine, but that rather peters out too. 

Somehow, it’s all a bit disjointed. Each chapter is more-or-less complete in itself, with hints of more to come. But the only subplot which runs through the entire book is that of the coming-of-age celebrations. Some of the girls have excellent ideas, including group photos, and the plan is to get in touch with all past pupils, to invite them for a long weekend. 

It’s still very readable, in my opinion. I found it easy to pick up for a chapter or two, and also easy to put down when I had to do other things. I like the continuity of the characters (some of them, anyway) and I don’t mind reading a book like this which doesn’t have much plot. I was mildly amused at the end when there’s a discussion about whether or not the term was exciting; evidently the author thought it was, given the title. But it seemed to me a rather un-exciting term, filling the gap between ‘New Mistress’ and the ‘Coming of Age’ book which follows it. 

Recommended, on the whole, if you love the series and like to read the books in order. But it’s not one to dip into at random, and definitely not one to introduce someone to the series. The link above is to an Armada paperback version in Amazon's marketplace; hardbacks or full GGBP second-hand editions are often very expensive, and with so few changes, there's little point paying a huge amount for them. 

Intended originally for teenagers, this is more likely to appeal to adults like me who loved these books as a child, or perhaps older children who like school stories and are looking for more. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Bestseller (by Celia Brayfield)

(Amazon UK link)

I have a lot of books on my shelves about writing. This is no surprise; I tend to collect a large number of books on any topic in which I’m interested, many of them bought second-hand. What does surprise me is that there are at least half a dozen which I have never read. I’ve decided to try and read one per month, and started with ‘Bestseller’ by Celia Brayfield.

I have no idea where I acquired this book. It’s marked ‘1.99’ in pencil on the inside cover, but it’s not clear whether the currency is pounds or euros. I probably picked it up in a charity or thrift store; the subtitle, ‘secrets of successful writing’ would have appealed. But not enough for me to read it, apparently.  According to GoodReads, I shelved it in 2017 so I’ve evidently had it for at least eight years.

Most books about writing cover similar ground, but with a slightly different focus. The theme of this one is that of writing not just a book, but a bestseller. Even in 1996 when this was first published, that wasn’t an easy thing to do. And while the author had written four novels before writing this book, and I assume they sold well, I had not heard of any of them. 

Still, it’s a well-written and well-constructed book. The author makes it clear that it’s about story-telling, of unlocking our subconscious and crafting the books we have inside us. And she explains her points giving examples from books which, presumably were selling well at the time she wrote the book. I was not familiar with any of them, but they still mostly made the points effectively. 

There are chapters claiming to offer ‘secrets’, but this isn’t done in an over-dramatic way. Instead it asks us to think about stories, about what makes a good opening scene, and so on. And just about every aspect of writing a novel is covered. We’re invited to think about location, and how much description is appropriate. We look at characters: at the importance of introducing the main one within the first few pages. I hadn’t quite realised how vital it is that this viewpoint character should have clear flaws as well as virtues. But, thinking about books I have loved, that is undoubtedly the case.

The author also looks at plots, at the importance of a strong beginning, and what to do when stuck in the middle. She suggests various possible methods of structuring a book, whether writing out detailed chapter summaries or letting the book tell itself.  She looks at editing, too, though not in a great deal of detail, and about finding a publisher, via an agent, and marketing. She makes some good points about most writers, by nature, not being suited to lots of networking and promoting. 

I had quite high hopes for the section about getting going, but really the author just talks about willpower, and about making a time and place for writing. She insists that it should be our second or third priority - that we should forget about housework and even cooking while in the throes of a novel. I can’t bring myself to do that, which is probably why I’ve never managed to finish a novel, despite starting several. 

I thought there were some useful reminders in this book, though most of it was familiar to me. It’s good that most published authors agree on most parts of how to write; but it means that books about writing are, mostly, quite similar. Perhaps that’s why I never manage to read more than two or three in a row. 

Inevitably, too, the book is somewhat dated. There’s almost no mention of computers, and self-publishing was really in its infancy when this book was written. There’s a lot of discussion about writing by hand, and the distractions of the phone. There is no mention, of course, of modern distractions such as social media or computer games.

Overall, I’m glad I read it. If you haven’t read a lot of books about writing, and if you can find this one inexpensively, it’s thorough and interesting to read. And possibly worth reading even if, like me, you have read rather a lot of books on writing. This is no longer in print, though it's available in ebook form; however paperbacks can fairly often be found second-hand. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

A man called Peter (by Catherine Marshall)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s a long time since I read the book ‘A man called Peter’ by Catherine Marshall. I probably read it in the 1980s or early 1990s, before starting this review blog. But I remembered it for two reasons: firstly that it was more interesting than I had expected, and secondly that it had a sad ending.

To make it clear, this isn’t about the apostle called Peter, but about the author’s husband Revd Dr Peter Marshall, who was a well-known preacher and minister in the United States in the first half of last century. I’ve finally been re-reading it over the past couple of weeks. My paperback edition is rather falling to pieces, but it’s still readable. And, in the other sense of the word, it’s a very readable book.

Catherine Marshall was the writer of a couple of novels (‘Julie’ and ‘Christy’) and some other Christian books, including the excellent ‘Beyond ourselves’. She has a style that appeals to me, and while I’m not, in general, a huge fan of biographies, I found ‘A man called Peter’ quite difficult to put down at times.

Peter Marshall was born in Scotland early in the 20th century, and grew up in a Christian (presbyterian) home. His father died when he was just four, and one of his earliest memories was seeing his funeral procession. He longs, as a teenager, to go to sea and even tries to sign up for the Navy, but is turned down. He takes various other jobs, and has hopes of an introduction to naval life, only to be disappointed. 

Catherine Marshall makes it clear from the start that in these rejections and disappointments, God is shutting the door to Peter’s ambitions, gradually making it clear that his call is to the ordained ministry. At the same time, he finds that his financial needs are met, sometimes by unexpected promotion. Peter’s mother prays for him regularly, and he has a growing awareness of God’s presence in his life.

In another writer’s hands the story might be dull, or pious, or cringeworthy, but somehow Catherine Marshall makes Peter’s story come to life. This is so even in the early chapters, at a stage before she had met him. But as is clear later in the book, they had a close friendship as well as love, and must have spent a lot of time discussing their childhoods, and the ways they became closer to God. 

Peter’s call involves studying - for which funds are supplied as needed - and eventually a move to the United States, which is where he meets and falls in love with Catherine. He starts to make a name for himself as an inspired, creative preacher. He believes in listening to God, to using images and stories, rather as Jesus did in his teaching and parables. He studies and uses the Scriptures too, of course, but makes his sermons so interesting that people start to crowd into his church, many of them meeting God themselves for the first time.

Yet Peter is also a very human person, with a sense of humour. He has the ability to play imaginary and silly games with friends, and, later, with his son ‘wee Peter’, who is their only child. He loves to play board games, and does them with dedication and quite a competitive spirit, and he likes to take walks and to spend evenings with friends. He and Catherine clearly balance each other well, sorting out problems in their relationship as they arise, and inspiring each other in their lives and ministries. 

There’s a lot more, of course. There’s a chapter about their holiday home, and one about Peter’s first illness, three years before his death. And while it’s Peter’s story, there’s inevitably a lot about Catherine too, and her gradual willingness to lay down her own ambitions and irritations, and to support Peter in whatever ways seems best.

Some of the book is inevitably dated, happening, as it does, nearly a hundred years ago. But the personalities of the people described shine through realistically. I didn’t remember the names of the quite large number of minor characters - if that’s the word in a biography - but when it’s necessary to know who someone is, the author drops in a brief reminder. 

All in all, I very much liked reading this book again. The ending is bittersweet, as I recalled; there are some quite moving sections. Overall I found it encouraging and inspiring. It's a book intended to be read by Christian believers; those of other faiths (or none) might find the number of listed prayers and Christian content to be a bit off-putting, although I didn't find it excessive, given the topic of the book. 

'A man called Peter' has been published many times in several editions, and is still in print including in ebook form. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The Fifth Summer (by Titia Sutherland)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s a long time since I read the novels by Titia Sutherland. I recalled enjoying them, but not much else about them. So I decided to reread them, in the order in which she wrote them. It’s over twenty years since I read ‘The fifth summer’, and I had entirely forgotten the people and the storyline. 

The main characters are a family of four: Will and Lorna have been contentedly married for a long time, and have two teenage children. Debbie is eighteen, Fergus is sixteen. For the past four years they have thoroughly enjoyed delightful summer holidays in a villa in Italy, owned by an older woman called Phoebe. As the story opens, they’re due to go there again, for the fifth summer. 

But they’re not as happy as they used to be. Will clearly has a secret: a health problem which he hasn’t told Lorna about. This has caused other problems in their marriage, and she feels as if he has withdrawn from her. Lorna is a writer, and often retreats to her writing for solace, but she is beginning to wonder if Will has found someone else. 

Debbie is very conscious of her appearance; she’s overweight, but unwilling to do anything much about it. She longs to find a boyfriend, but is convinced that no boys will be interested in her. And Fergus, too, has started noticing women, fantasising about going to bed with them, but quite uncertain how to get started.

It’s a book about family relationships, about growing up, and about trust and security. I found it a bit frustrating at first as the viewpoint changes so quickly, often within just a page. There were times when I wasn’t sure whose viewpoint was being expressed, and had to go back a few sentences to figure it out. And yet, somehow, despite this being frowned upon in most writing advice books, it works. I didn’t feel very attached to anyone, but I did feel as if I got to know something of how each person was feeling and thinking.

I liked Will very much. He’s gentle, hard-working, and cares deeply for Lorna. He has a sense of humour too, and loves to relax on holiday. Lorna is a more complex person, and Will really has no idea that she’s so intuitively aware that something is wrong. I could see both points of view. 

I didn’t relate much to Debbie, but thought Fergus an interesting person too. He's quite like Lorna in personality, and very aware of tensions and stresses going on around him. His teenage hormones sometimes get in the way of his common sense and intuition, but perhaps that’s not surprising. He seems quite realistic, in a 1990s way. For this book is over thirty years old. People don’t change so much, but behaviours and language do. There are, obviously, no mobile phones; people still hand-write letters, and make phone calls with what we now refer to as landlines. 

They also smoke excessively, something which was never part of my culture, and which didn’t seem to me all that common even in the 1990s, particularly in families like this one which evidently have a fair amount of money. The children are at boarding schools, they have family holidays abroad, and they eat out in an era when it was much less common for Brits to do so. They also seem to drink rather a lot - and even Fergus is offered both wine and cigarettes. 

But other than that, I thoroughly enjoyed re-reading this book. There are other characters too, catalysts for what transpires in the second half of the book. There are friendships and low-key romances that develop, and the threat of adultery too, but I had entirely forgotten whether or not this would happen at some point.

The conversations seem believable, the relationships authentic, and the dramatic climax of the book quite shocking, with tension building for a couple of pages; we then don’t know what the outcome will be for another few pages. 

All in all, I thought this an excellent book and would recommend it to anyone who likes fairly gentle women’s fiction that’s relationship-based. There’s nothing explicit (though some things are implied) and minimal bad language. 

'The fifth summer' is long out of print, but sometimes found inexpensively second-hand. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The lion, the witch and the wardrobe (by CS Lewis)

(Amazon UK link)

I re-read ‘The magician’s nephew’ just over a month ago. Although it wasn’t written first, it’s the earliest of CS Lewis’s Narnia books, chronologically. It recounts the creation of Narnia, and hints at events to come. I wouldn’t recommend it being read first when introducing children to the series, but as an adult, I always prefer to read that one first. 

And now I’ve just finished the best-known Narnia book, ‘The lion, the witch and the wardrobe’. It’s the one that should be read first when someone is new to the series, either reading to oneself or when reading aloud to a child. I last re-read it in 2010 but I’m very familiar with the story, as I read it many times as a child and teenager. I’ve also seen both the BBC adaptation, and the film made in 2005. 

The story doesn’t give the wartime background that the film does, as it was written in 1950. Children old enough for the book would still have been familiar with the evacuation process, or would be able to ask older siblings or friends. So we see the Pevensie family sent to live with an elderly bachelor professor in the countryside. He has a housekeeper, the rather grumpy Mrs Macready, and three servants although they don’t come into the book. This seems like an excessive staff for one man, but was probably not unreasonable for the era. And it’s a huge house. 

The action starts by the end of the first chapter when the youngest child, Lucy, finds her way through the back of a wardrobe into the snowy land of Narnia. Lewis doesn’t give the children’s ages, but I see her as around eight or nine. Lucy is a friendly, outgoing child and she meets the faun Mr Tumnus. She goes to tea with him and they have a delightful afternoon, ending with him in tears, torn between his orders from the white witch and his observations about Lucy. 

When Lucy returns to the old house, no time has passed, and none of her siblings believe her account. She’s young enough that they think she’s making it up; yet old enough that they feel she should admit to this. She knows she’s telling the truth, and becomes upset. This is only made worse when her brother Edmund, who must be nine or ten, also finds Narnia, but then pretends that they were just playing a game…

While the main story involves all four children discovering Narnia, thrust into a fight between good and evil, I always liked the early part of the book. The children’s characters are clearly established: Peter, as the oldest, is usually the leader. Susan can be a bit fussy, but is very responsible and tries to look after her younger siblings. Edmund is rather self-centred and looks down on Lucy, while trying to make himself look better than he is. And Lucy is a free spirit, with a lot of intuition and courage.

The whole story is allegorical, although loosely so, and it’s entirely possible to read it without any idea of the underlying, deeper meanings. It’s a very good story, told with just the right pace for a child’s attention, and also enjoyable by teenagers and adults. When I first read the books I must have been about five or six; it wasn’t until I was maybe ten or eleven that I had a huge ‘aha!’ moment, and discovered who Aslan the lion represents. I’m still glad that nobody had told me, or tried to ‘explain’ the book to me. 

The book is ideal for children of about seven or eight and upwards, either as a read-aloud or for fluent readers to peruse themselves. I first read it to my sons when they were four and six, and they subsequently read this (and the others in the series) themselves. There’s some violence which could disturb a sensitive child, and the evil witch is quite chilling. But, as with all the best children’s books, good overcomes evil in the end. 

While it’s obviously not necessary to have read ‘The magician’s nephew’ prior to this, I do appreciate the links with it. I know who the professor is, and why he’s so interested in the children’s story. I understand the significance of the lamppost in the forest, and why there are animals who talk. I even understand why the wardrobe is magical. But none of that is relevant when reading for the first time. 

Recommended highly for anyone who has never read this series, or for those who have and would like a light but thought-provoking book to reread. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Miss Garnet's angel (by Salley Vickers)

(Amazon UK link)

I had not heard of Salley Vickers until her book ‘Grandmothers’ was assigned for our local reading group nearly four years ago. I liked it very much, and put one of the author’s other books on my wishlist. I was given ‘Miss Garnet’s angel’ by a relative… for Christmas 2021. It’s taken me this long to decide to read it.

We meet Miss Julia Garnet shortly after her friend and flatmate Harriet died. Miss Garnet is an organised, staid kind of person who doesn’t really have any other friends. She is, we learn, a left-wing humanist. She must be in her sixties, as she has recently retired. And then, soon after Harriet’s death, her cat Stella disappears. 

Miss Garnet - and she’s referred to by this rather formal name for several chapters - decides she’s going to travel. She is able to rent out her flat quite easily, and, somewhat at random, picks on Venice as a place to visit. The author evidently knows the city well, or has done scrupulous research as the arrival in Venice is described in minute detail, with the scents, sounds and sights that greet Miss Garnet.

She is befriended by two outgoing (and evidently wealthy) Americans, and eventually reaches the small apartment which she has leased for six months. 

Interspersed with Miss Garnet’s story is the account from the biblical ‘apocryphal’ book Tobit. It tells of the young man Tobias (son of Tobit) who travels to a distant region accompanied by an unusual man and a dog. We’re told early on that the guardian is in fact an angel, but Tobias doesn’t learn this until the end of his journey. 

I quite liked the way that the story of Tobias was told, rather more readably than in the original, in short sections at the end of some of the chapters. Miss Garnet does read the story, after seeing paintings featuring Tobias and his companions on an old panel. She is also very taken by a statue of the angel Raphael. 

The book is essentially character-based. Miss Garnet becomes more adventurous, and tells people that her name is Julia. She even falls a little in love, and befriends some young people, too. It’s not entirely clear who she can trust, and there are some revelations that I really wasn’t expecting. I liked the way that she expands her somewhat limited belief system, deciding that perhaps there is something more than what she can sense. She’s in the midst of devout Catholics, and becomes friendly with a priest. 

There’s also a fair bit of story related to restoration of ancient churches and the discovery of long-hidden artwork. But I didn’t find those sections all that interesting and found my mind wandering somewhat in those sections. It’s not a short book - nearly 350 pages in paperback - and I didn’t find myself eager to sit down and read at every moment, as happens with some books.

I very much liked the way that this is about a retired single lady, rather than someone much younger. Having said that, Miss Garnet must have been around my age, but her 'feel' is considerably older. I did like the way that she enlarges her horizons and tries out new things after so many years of being somewhat stuck in a rut.  The ending, however, is bittersweet; I didn’t particularly like it, but it made the book come to a tidy end. Perhaps it’s the only way it could have finished. 

I’m glad I read it; the author has an excellent style, and brings people and places to life. But it’s not a story that’s likely to stay with me, and I doubt if I’ll read it again. It might well inspire some people to travel or be adventurous in other ways, and I think it’s worth reading if you like gentle women’s fiction with not a great deal of plot. But it's unlikely to appeal to anyone under the age of about fifty. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Ruthless trust (by Brennan Manning)

(Amazon UK link)

Back in 2008, I borrowed Brennan Manning’s book ‘Ruthless trust’ from a friend who recommended it. I quite liked it, and thought it well-written. But for some reason it didn’t particularly resonate or strike me as anything special.

However, I’m rereading a lot of books, and decided I would like to try again. So I put the book on my wishlist, and was given it for Christmas at the end of last year. I started reading it at the start of the month, and planned to read around one chapter per day.

The book opens with a thoughtful introduction by Richard Foster. He starts with a simple example of a child’s implicit trust in his earthly father. And goes on to say that trust in the Christian world is sadly lacking. So it’s a timely book, one that looks at difficulties with trusting, and doesn’t try to pretend that the Christian life is easy, or that we should gloss over difficulties or tragedies.

‘Ruthless trust’ was written in the year 2000, and Brennan Manning makes some references to the turn of the century, wondering what the new millennium would hold. Despite a quarter of the ‘new’ century having passed, this book is still very relevant, and I found it both inspiring and thought-provoking.

Manning is very honest about his failings; at the time of writing he was a reformed alcoholic who left the Catholic priesthood in order to get married. But he was still very much a follower of Jesus, and in this book he calls us to have not just faith, or even basic trust, but what he calls ‘ruthless’ trust - trust that is there, no matter what is happening around us. Sometimes it may be just a thread in the darkness; sometimes we might not feel as if God is there at all. But, Manning says, he has learned to cling to whatever trust he has, knowing that God loves him no matter what.

Each chapter takes a slightly different angle, as Manning invites us to learn to trust. One chapter reminds us to notice God in all we see and do, a message that I’m hearing in other places too. It’s far too easy to concentrate on the past, or the future, and miss what is happening in the present. He does agree that sometimes planning for the future is essential, but that by thinking too much about what we might do, we miss what is going on around us. 

Manning is probably best known for his excellent ‘Ragamuffin Gospel’, which is the first of his books that I read, back in 2006. It’s the book which inspired me to continue acquiring the author’s other books. ‘Ruthless Trust’ is, in a sense, a sequel, where Manning sees himself moving on from being a ‘ragamuffin’ to becoming a follower, if only clinging on by a thread. Indeed, the subtitle (or, perhaps, the byline on the front cover) is: 'the ragamuffin's path to God'. 

As I've come to expect with Brennan Manning's books, the style is somewhat rambling, as he recounts anecdotes from his life and that of others he has known. But it works well. He was a gifted writer, and he brings his feelings and thoughts to life in ways that I felt resonated quite strongly with me. Once again, a book that passed me by fifteen years ago feels a lot more meaningful today. 

So I would definitely recommend this book at this stage of my life. It’s a book to read slowly, to re-read paragraphs if your mind wanders; to pause and ponder. One doesn’t have to agree with everything the author says to appreciate what he says, and it’s certainly not a book to read in one sitting. 

 Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Heart and Soul by Maeve Binchy

(Amazon UK link)

In my gradual rereading of my collection of Maeve Binchy’s novels, I’m getting towards the end. I’ve just finished ‘Heart and soul’, which was first published in 2008. I acquired a hardback edition a few years later, and read the book in 2012. I liked it very much, but - as ever - had totally forgotten both the characters and the story.

The main setting for this book is a new health clinic being set up in Dublin. It’s supposed to educate heart patients about self-care: nutrition, exercise, and what their different medications are for. The head is Dr Clara Casey who is still feeling a bit sore that she wasn’t offered a top cardiologist post at the attached hospital. She doesn’t really want to take on this new project, but, having agreed to do so, she throws herself into it. She is a determined person, and her ideas for open plan offices and bright decor are adopted despite opposition from some of the hospital board.

Clare has a good instinct about the staff she wants to employ, and she’s usually right. Declan is appointed as the main doctor on duty, with Fiona and Barbara as the nurses. It took me a few chapters to realise that Fiona is the nurse who was one of the main characters in the novel ‘Nights of rain and stars’, which I reread in March. It isn’t necessary to have read that first, but I very much liked catching up on her life, seeing her as a confident young woman who has moved on from a disastrous relationship. And a few of the other characters from that book appear towards the end. 

As with many of Binchy’s novels, the plot digresses and the narrative rambles somewhat as backstories are told and different people introduced. It could have been confusing, or annoying; but Maeve Binchy was a master of this kind of storytelling. I loved seeing insights into Clara’s home life, hearing about her annoying ex-husband, and getting to know her eco conscious vegan daughter who is a teacher, and her indolent and rather selfish daughter Linda who is unemployed. 

One of the new centre employees is a young woman called Ania who comes from Poland. She has quite a backstory too, which is explored in some detail. She’s been taking on a lot of menial jobs in order to earn enough to eat and pay rent, as well as saving for her mother. Clara takes her on as a runner - an office girl, perhaps - and soon discovers that she’s dedicated, very hard-working and loyal, and grateful even for the minimum wage. 

As well as the people working at the centre we get to know some of the patients, too. Some are a tad caricatured. There’s the ultra-religious Kitty who believes the saints will help her more than any medication or lifestyle change. There’s the friendly Bobby who is married to a snooty, arrogant woman called Rosemary. And, later in the book, there’s an incident involving Aidan, who was one of the main characters in the book ‘Evening class’. And there are also several threads involving Father Brian Flynn, who was one of the central people in the novel ‘Whitethorn Woods’.

Oh, and the twins, Maud and Simon are part of this book too; now seventeen, they are taking on more responsibilities, and are hard-working and kind. But they are still devoted to each other and finish each other's sentences.  Maud and Simon are in several of the books by this author, first appearing in ‘Scarlet Feather’, as far as I recall. 

However, although I was delighted to encounter some of these folk again, it’s not at all necessary to have read any of the earlier books. ‘Heart and soul’ stands alone. And while Binchy’s characters are not quite as three dimensional or memorable as those created by Rosamunde Pilcher, they are very likeable. The ‘bad’ guys are mostly off stage, described in the past rather than involved in the present. And the two - one male, one female - who do take part in the stories, are rather to be pitied than despised. 

I thoroughly enjoyed rereading this book, which I finished in just a couple of days despite it having around 450 pages. I would recommend it highly to anyone who has read others of Maeve Binchy’s novels, or who would like a warm, character-based novel that meanders through a year in several people's lives. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Caddy's world (by Hilary McKay)

(Amazon UK link)

I have quite a few books by Hilary McKay on my shelves, most of which I haven’t read in over a decade. She’s a children’s author whom I only discovered in 2011, and I have loved all her books. My favourite series is the one about the Casson series. The first book written was ‘Saffy’s Angel’, but there’s a prequel, which was written later, called ‘Caddy’s world’.  I decided that this time I would read the books in chronological order, rather than order of publication.

I had totally forgotten what this book was about, and hadn’t really remembered any of the characters. I read ‘Caddy’s world’ in 2012 and all I recalled was that I liked it very much. And it was good to read it afresh, without having the later happenings in the family in my mind. 

Caddy (Cadmium) is twelve in this book. She has three best friends: Ruby, who is very clever; Beth, who is considered ‘perfect’; and Alison, who hates everybody. They all started school together aged four or five, and were put at a table by their teacher who informed them that they were going to be friends. And she was right. They did things together right the way through primary school and are now at a secondary school. 

Caddy is considered to be brave, because she is happy to rescue spiders, but she just wants to be an ordinary person, without too much change in her life. She becomes afraid when things spiral out of control, or when she doesn’t know what’s going on. Which is a bit of a problem as her parents are both very bohemian and often forget things. Their house has things everywhere; her mother is an artist, their father often works in London. 

Ruby is orphaned, but lives with all four grandparents, who love her very much. Alison is an only child who lives in an impeccably clean house next door to Caddy’s. Beth has a younger sister, Jools, and loves riding more than anything. And Caddy has two young siblings, Saffy and Indigo. She can remember being an only child, then Indigo was born and Saffy arrived at age three. She is quite fond of them, and they can be amusing; but she knows that money is tight and that her parents argue a lot more than they used to.

This story is basically a coming-of-age book, as Caddy has to learn to deal with some major changes. Alison’s family have been talking about moving away for years, but now, at last, it looks as though it might be happening. Ruby has been offered a place at a prestigious grammar school. Beth is growing faster than she wants to, and is worried that she won’t be able to ride her pony much longer. And there’s a big change coming in the Casson family too, which Caddy is trying to ignore…

Oh, and all four of the girls are rather keen on a boy at their school who goes by the rather odd name of Dingbat. 

The writing is excellent, the characterisation good. Some of the adults are a bit caricatured, perhaps; but Caddy comes across as a thoroughly likeable child who deals well with rebuffs and shouting, and really just wants to stay in the background. I suppose the four girls could be considered to have the four different ‘temperaments’ of classical and other literature: one academic, one loyal, one nice, one spontaneous. But they get along very well, balancing out each other’s quirks and problems. 

There’s some ongoing tension as Beth decides on a drastic diet, Ruby resolves to ignore all paperwork relating to the school, Alison adopts more and more dramatic make-up or hair styles, and Caddy has to deal with many tensions in her family. It’s handled well, with enough tension to make it very readable, but not so much as to scare a child. These books are, after all, written for older children: I would think they’re intended for the 9-12 age range, since the four main characters are twelve. But there’s enough to interest adults too, and a couple of dramatic incidents which, as a parent, I found very moving. 

I’m already looking forward to reading the rest of the books in this series, and would highly recommend them all to anyone who has not yet discovered them. Suitable for fluent readers of about eight and upwards, although there are some minor swear words (mostly used for effect by Saffy’s siblings) and a few incidents when one of the girls is rather ill. No gratuitous detail, but possibly disturbing for a young child.  It would make a great read-aloud for children in this age-group who like listening to books, as there’s a lot that could trigger useful discussion.

Definitely recommended.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Between the world and me (by Ta-Nehisi Coates)

(Amazon UK link)

I had never heard of the writer Ta-Nehisi Coates. He’s an American journalist and activist, apparently. This book was allocated for this month’s local book group, and I acquired it second-hand when I was in the UK last summer. So by the time I embarked on ‘Between the world and me’ I had entirely forgotten anything I had read about it.

Since most of our book club books are fiction, it took a few moments for me to realise that this is a non-fiction account, unusually written in the form of a long letter to the author’s son Samori, who was fifteen at the time of writing (the book was published in 2015). It’s a book that has been highly rated and praised, and which was a bestseller. 

The book opens by describing a video interview which the author did, answering questions about what he meant by ‘losing his body’. It’s an odd phrase, and I’m not sure I ever fully understood why he expressed it that way. What he is referring to is the fact that, in his understanding, because he’s black he’s essentially an under class in American society. His body is not his own, even though slavery and segregation are things of the past. 

The whole book then builds on this, with a mixture of anecdotes and reflection. The writing is extremely high quality, poetic in places. And while it gives some horrific examples of white dominance, and almost more shocking examples of black brutality, the narrative manages to avoid complaining or evoking pity. The author apparently accepts history, including his own rather violent childhood. He was regularly beaten with belts; his parents would probably be imprisoned nowadays for such abuse. But they were supposedly doing this as a way to ensure he wouldn’t be treated even more badly by the rest of the world. I don’t understand that logic at all, but it apparently seemed to make sense at the time.

Coats acknowledges that his son is in a different world; yet he wants to give him advice, or at least information that may help him in the future. He explains that ‘race’ as such isn’t a straightforward issue, and goes on to explore different kinds of bigotry, separation and culture. The author is a well-educated, literate and articulate person yet he acknowledges his background in the slums of Baltimore. He doesn’t want a world where everyone is equal, but where everyone is equally respected, able to pursue their dreams and develop their talents irrelevant of their income, skin colour, size, gender or any other potentially discriminating feature.

So there’s a lot of good content in this book, much of which was quite eye-opening to me as a non-American white person. It’s worth reading, in my view, and it’s a message that needs to be said, and read, and taken to heart by those responsible for training and educating people in authority, such as the police.

However, I found it quite heavy going in the first fifty pages or so, and almost gave up before I finished the first (longest) section of the book. The author digresses in a somewhat rambling way - deliberately, I assume - as he starts to explain things. He's partly writing at a meta-level, asking himself why racism happens, wondering what it is, deep down, and what it means to consider oneself 'white', when nobody's skin is truly white. 

There are many names mentioned, too. They are real people, who suffered or were killed without any wrong doing; but I hadn’t heard of most of them. So I didn’t have any feeling for them, or knowledge of the circumstances. And that made it hard to relate. 

And, in my opinion, the elegant language actually detracts, somewhat, from the horrors that are being described. There’s nothing explicit, which is good; but the writing feels too poetic when used for scenes of insults, violence, and so on. I sometimes got caught up in the style of the writing without actually taking in what was being said.

But I kept reading. The second section has more anecdotes, with plenty of detail and no expectation that the reader might know anything about the people concerned.  And it’s written in a more straightforward, story-telling style which I found painted the picture of what was happening very effectively. It was interesting to read about the different experience the author had in France, where he was ‘different’ because of the language constraints, rather than his skin colour. 

Then the last section, which is the shortest of all, is about a meeting the author had with the mother of one of his friends who was murdered by someone in authority, due to mistaken identity. The mother is a well-respected doctor, and her son was brought up in affluence. It makes the point that it’s not just the impoverished who are targeted; it’s also relevant that the police officer who shot her son was himself black. It’s still a tragedy, one that should be averted.

I didn’t think I was going to like this book at first. Perhaps ‘like’ is the wrong word anyway. It’s a very well-written account of events that need to be told from the point of view of someone who relates to the victims. And if the rather rambling, poetic style is a bit off-putting, perhaps it’s deliberate, to show another difference - to help the reader, no matter how idealistic, to see how culture and education don’t actually make some people feel valued or of equal worth to those with white skin.

I very much doubt if I’ll read this again, but I’m glad I finished it.  Worth persevering if you have any interest in this topic. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Cressida (by Clare Darcy)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve been enjoying re-reading my historical ‘Regency’ novels by Clare Darcy. I don’t have all her books, and they’re long out of print. So there’s no easy way to acquire the ones I’m missing. Nor can I get hold of new copies of the ones I have that are falling to pieces, which is the case with ‘Cressida’. I last read this in 2001 and had forgotten both the characters and the story. 

Cressida is an interesting young woman, though I’m not sure I ever entirely believed in her. She’s in her early twenties, and is vivacious and attractive. But she has never married, although she has been engaged more than once. She is currently quite close to Lord Langham, and rumour has it that they will get married, although she’s not entirely sure and knows she doesn’t really love him. 

Lady Constance is a distant relative of Cressida’s, and lives with her as a kind of companion and chaperone. She’s quite talkative, but kind-hearted, and was left penniless when her husband died. Cressida inherited a lot of money from an aunt some years before the story starts, and she enjoys being as independent as was possible in the era. It’s probably wet around 1815, since references are made to Waterloo.

Lady Constance receives a letter from another young relative called Kitty, who wonders if she could visit, and make her ‘come-out’ as a debutante. She writes very properly, and says that the aunt who was going to do this is ill. Cressida is happy to have someone else in the household, and Kitty arrives a few days later. She seems a likeable, willing young girl who is good at needlework and very grateful for any help or clothes she is given.

Then there’s Captain Deverell, known to his friends and relatives as ‘Dev’, who was briefly engaged to Cressida some years earlier, but broke it off (or persuaded her that they would not suit). He’s been out of the country, but recently made his fortune after Waterloo, and is back in society. Cressida has mixed feelings about this. She’s still very angry with him, but also eager to know if they can meet again as friends.

Their first meeting is fraught with tension, and this continues through the book. Dev flirts with Kitty, who is rather younger than he is, but pretty and apparently quite malleable. Cressida keeps planning to be nice to Dev, and they end up quarrelling. I was pretty sure they would end up together - that’s the way these novels work - but they don’t appear to have anything in common, or any way of speaking to each other without being insulting. 

It’s quite a good story, involving a rather cynical ‘Beau’ who is also very taken with Kitty, and a likeable young officer, a friend of Dev’s, who befriends Cressida and would love to spend more time with Kitty. The beau has no intention of marrying anyone, and the young officer is self-deprecating and rather shy, and doesn’t think he has any chance at all when compared to Kitty’s other admirers.

The writing is good, the settings and conversations authentic. There’s some excitement, and inevitably everything gets sorted out in the end, though I couldn’t entirely believe in the drastic change of heart that happens to Cressida. And I wasn’t at all sure about one of the potential couples who emerge. The characterisation is not as good as that of Georgette Heyer, despite Clare Darcy being touted as her successor, and there isn’t really any humour or ironies, though parts of the book are quite light-hearted.

I’m glad I re-read it, and perhaps I’ll do so again in another decade or so. If you love Georgette Heyer’s writing and long for more, this author is the only one I’ve come across who comes anywhere near close. However the characterisation is not as good as that of Heyer, and there isn’t really any humour or ironies, though parts of the book are quite light-hearted.

So I’d recommend this in a low-key way if you like the Regency romance style of historical fiction.

Note that Clare Darcy's books seem to be available for the Kindle, but reviews suggest that they may not be full editions. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews