A friend of the family (by Titia Sutherland)

(Amazon UK link)

I do like Titia Sutherland’s novels, and am very pleased that I decided to reread them after over two decades. I last read ‘A friend of the family’ in 2003, so did not remember anything about it - not even the final outcome.

Kate is the main character. I don’t think her age is mentioned anywhere; it isn’t really relevant, but I suppose she must be in her early thirties. We learn quickly that she is having a trial separation from her husband Matt. She misses him, but quite appreciates her independence. They share the care of their ten-year-old son Jake, but Kate usually has him in term-time. 

Jake is a sensitive and very believable boy. He is interested in technology, although as this book was published in 1995, it seems quite basic and primitive compared to what we have thirty years later. He enjoys his weekends with his father, whom he idolises, but feels very disturbed that his parents are not together. And he hates the feeling that he’s not included in all their conversations, and that he doesn’t know what’s going on, even when he’s involved.

Matt and Kate have a good friend called Roly. He’s quite a complex character, as gradually becomes clear over the course of the book. We first meet him parked in Kate’s street when she’s returning from an evening out. She’s puzzled to see his car, but assumes he’s been visiting someone else. She and he have taken to spending a lot of time together and she sees him as a close platonic friend, almost like a brother. Indeed, he’s a good friend of her brother Charlie. 

Roly is also kind and sympathetic, and gets along very well with Jake. He’s undemanding, and gentle, and good company: he has a dry sense of humour, and tends to joke a fair amount, which is what Kate needs as she can get quite lonely. 

Unfortunately, Roly is also passionately in love with Kate. And he’s convinced that, the more he makes himself important to her, the more likely she is to reciprocate. He kept his feelings well under control for some months, but by the time the story begins he’s expressed his love, and she has - gently and kindly - explained that while she is extremely fond of him, and values him highly, she doesn’t love him in the way he wishes. 

This makes Roly become slightly unbalanced, and he starts stalking Kate. Not in a spooky or dangerous way, but keeping an eye on her, wanting to know if there’s some other man in her life. And sure enough, she starts seeing Niall, who is not a particularly likeable man at all. He doesn’t like children and is quite rude to Jake when he meets him. He’s clearly manipulative, possibly narcissistic. Kate knows she doesn’t want a long-term relationship with him, and she doesn’t even much like him. But she finds him oddly attractive at the same time, and he can be extremely charming…

Bizarrely, Kate and Matt have agreed that they can have other relationships during their separation, and that they don’t need to mention them to each other. Matt has been lightly involved with several young women, so Kate doesn’t feel guilty about her liaison with Niall. She doesn’t want it to get serious, yet finds it quite hard to bring it to an end or to let go.

It’s a character-driven book, and I found all the different people to be well-drawn and three-dimensional. I didn’t like Niall at all, and was hoping that Kate would manage to give him up. I did like Roly, and found his descent into a kind of mental illness to be quite disturbing, particularly in the second half of the book. Matt is perhaps the least three dimensional of the main male characters, but his conversations - and arguments - with Kate ring true. 

I also very much liked Jake, who is an excellent addition to the book. It’s not easy to give so many viewpoints in a balanced way, but Titia Sutherland manages it. There are more shadowy minor characters such as Kate’s parents and some of her friends, but they feel real rather than caricatured.

The last few chapters of the book are quite tense, as something happens to disturb what looks like a positive and happy ending. Again, I thought this very well done. Perhaps the final chapter is a tad too neat and tidy, but it leaves the way open for positive friendships in the future.

'A friend of the family' is long out of print, but sometimes available second-hand. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Cabbages for the King (by Adrian Plass)

(Amazon UK link)

I have liked everything I’ve read by Adrian Plass, and reread his books regularly. I decided to delve into ‘Cabbages for the King’ in the past few days.  I last read it in 2015, so had forgotten most of the contents.

The overall theme of the book is that God uses inadequate people, and yet there are many wonderful things happening in Christian homes and gatherings. Unfortunately, most of us see what is wrong or boring rather than what is right and pointing people towards Jesus. 

Then follows a somewhat eclectic mixture of thoughts, skits, parables, poems and more. I’m not sure I followed the logic of the different sections - if there is any - but it really doesn’t matter. Plass likens his offerings to the cabbages at a greengrocer’s. He makes the important point that he is a Christian who writes, and that what he writes may be godly or not. A Christian greengrocer isn’t offering ‘Christian cabbages’, but does his work to the glory of God, in whatever ways are relevant: relating to his customers, for instance, or in declaring his profits and paying taxes.

At least, that’s my understanding of the purpose of this book. There’s an amusing skit near the start involving a greengrocer who prays over each sale, asking for specific guidance to match a cabbage with the customer. It’s exaggerated to make the point that we do our work in the way we’ve learned to do it; certainly we can and should pray for those we interact with, but we don’t have to submit every detail of every moment to divine scrutiny before we can take any action. 

I love the way that Adrian Plass admits to his failings and insecurities. Self-deprecating humour can sometimes be embarrassing or awkward, but he manages it expertly. He comes across as an extremely likeable person, albeit flawed. I find that very encouraging. 

He clearly adores his wife and four children, whom he mentions from time to time in this book, and yet never pretends to be an expert. When he’s asked to make a presentation to a conference on the topic of parenting, he manages to write something with a checklist of points to consider… only to have such a disastrous morning that he tears up his notes, and describes what has happened. And the audience respond very positively.

There are exaggerations and caricatures, of course; they’re sometimes a good way of making a point. So we see a couple discussing the perils of navigating in one sketch. Another involves a husband unable to get in more than a couple of words as his wife keeps expressing what she’s sure he must be thinking. I particularly enjoyed the skit about a couple involved in the important ministry of trapeze flying. 

Poems aren’t really my thing, and sometimes I skim or even skip poetry. I tried to make the effort, this time, of reading the poems in the book. They’re not long, but I had to slow down, to say the words in my mind, as poetry (at least for me) doesn’t read in the same way as other forms of writing. I don’t know that I understood what they all meant, but I thought they were well written and quite thought-provoking.

The parts I like best, however, are those when the author writes about himself, with his own anecdotes, questions and ideas. He manages to turn pat answers upside down, to challenge the silliness which some very devout Christians tend to spout. He delves below the surface, and exposes some of our hangups and worries, expressing all the time how essential it is to be real - to admit to our faults and failings, not to try to make ourselves look better than we are.

I don’t know that I’ll remember any of the details of this book for more than a few days, but each time I read books like this, I hope that some of the principles will have made their way into my subconscious mind. I shall probably read it again in another five or six years, and expect to enjoy it all over again.

It’s not my favourite of Plass’s books, but still well worth reading if you like his style. It would be good to dip into at odd moments, though I usually read it from cover to cover. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The silver chair (by CS Lewis)

(Amazon UK link)

As a child and then as a teenager, I read the Narnia series by CS Lewis fairly often. I then read it aloud to my sons when they were young, and enjoyed it all over again. I’ve dipped into one or other of the books from time to time in the decades since then, but it took until this year for me to decide to read the whole series, in chronological order. 

It’s over twenty years since I last read ‘The silver chair’, which - as an adult - is one of my favourites of the series. I found it a bit scary when I was younger, as did one of my sons when I read it aloud. But now I appreciate it very much, and think it’s an excellent, well-told story.

The two main protagonists from Earth are Jill Pole and Eustace Scrubb. Eustace was introduced in the previous book in the series, ‘The voyage of the Dawn Treader’, where he became a much nicer person. Jill hasn’t quite realised this so when she’s upset about something, she thinks at first that he’s coming to tease her. They are both at an ‘experimental’ boarding school, and are the target of bullies.  They’re running away when they find themselves in Narnia.

Since they’re squabbling, they get separated, so only Jill is around when Aslan comes to give her some instructions. They’re like a treasure hunt, with clues rather than saying in detail what they are supposed to do. Jill has to repeat them several times, and is told to say them every day, to ensure she doesn’t forget. 

They quickly learn that they’re in Narnia to find and rescue the crown prince Rilian, who has been lost for the past decade. Many valiant men have set out to find him, but none have returned. Caspian, who wasn’t much older than Eustace in the previous book, is now an old man, and is worried that there is nobody to succeed him. It’s never entirely clear why Caspian is so very much older than Rilian. 

The children fail in the first instruction, and blame each other… but they have help from owls, and then meet the marsh-wiggle Puddleglum.  He is a wonderful creation, an Eeyore-like character who insists that he’s seeing the bright side of everything, while spreading doom and gloom. And apparently he’s too cheerful for the other marsh-wiggles. There are several amusing conversations including Puddleglum, which give a light-hearted contrast to the bulk of the story, seeing the three on a very dangerous mission. Puddleglum becomes a staunch leader, and is full of wisdom even though he often doubts his own advice. 

‘The voyage of the dawn Treader’ is a series of adventures as part of the ongoing challenge, each feeling complete in itself. But ‘The silver chair’ is more of an ongoing story, as the quest continues. It begins as the trio set out heading north to the ruined city of the giants. This involves making their way past a lot of other giants who turn out to be rather stupid and clumsy, but decidedly dangerous. 

I knew the story, of course; I remembered the main action and the eventual climax to the book. But I had forgotten a lot of the detail. I love Lewis’s writing style in these books. He gives just enough description to set a scene, without it becoming dull. The conversation flows, and I particularly like the way that Jill and Eustace gradually stop squabbling and recognise each other’s strengths. They both have plenty of flaws, and some phobias, but they learn to accept these and help each other.

There are plenty of underlying Christian ideas and principles in this book, as with the others in the series, but they’re quite subtle. I don’t think I was aware of them as a child, as the books can all be read simply as adventure stories, as well as in their allegorical form. I’m glad nobody tried to explain this to me, so I worked out for myself who Aslan was meant to be, and discovered, each time I read the books, something more that was relevant. And this is quite a thought-provoking book. It includes, for instance, the concept of following what is right, even when it seems difficult or even impossible. 

Definitely recommended to children of about eight and upwards, or possibly as a read-aloud for slightly younger children. It’s also an excellent book for teenagers or adults who enjoy this kind of writing, whether or not you read it as a child. I think ‘The silver chair’ is best read as part of the series, but it’s not necessary. Each of the Narnia books stands alone. 

As with others in the series, this book has been almost constantly in print since it was first published in 1953, so it's readily available either new or second-hand. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Doing what comes supernaturally (by Peter H Lawrence)

(Amazon UK link)

I thought I had re-read Peter Lawrence’s book ‘The hot line’ relatively recently. Apparently it was over four years ago. I had put another of his books,’Doing what comes supernaturally’ on my to-read shelf of Christian books, but had not picked it up until earlier in the month. I last read it in May 2010.

Some of this book covers the same principles as in ‘The hot line’, and has similar anecdotes. But whereas the earlier book was a generic account of how Peter discovered the ministry in the Holy Spirit, this book is more of a teaching guide for others interested in trying it out.

Peter Lawrence was an Anglican minister, and his practices remained firmly in the structure of Anglican services (albeit increasingly flexible in the 21st century). I had forgotten, until I reread this, that in the 1980s, when most of this took place, his lay reader was Roger Jones, someone I have met several times. 

The opening chapter describes the author on a plane, on his way to Malawi. He has a relaxed writing style, and in just a few paragraphs gives us some glimpses of the very different culture and environment. Yet when he met with some clergymen and their wives, they were all willing to have him pray, ‘Come, Holy Spirit’, and experience what God might do. 

He then goes on to outline his practice - what he teaches people in conferences, and in his own church. He prays this simple prayer, then keeps quiet and waits to see what God will do. And sometimes the results are dramatic. People are overcome with feelings of love, or conviction of what they have done wrong. Some achieve a sense of guidance for the future, some leave with a knowledge of being a child of God. And sometimes people are healed, though he only mentions relatively minor incidents in his ministry.

The book follows the same kind of pattern in subsequent chapters. There are some anecdotes, or descriptions of places where the author was asked to share his message. He gives a few examples of experiences of people he prayed for, and then some more practical advice. 

Everything he says, from the teaching point of view, is referenced in Scripture, which he clearly takes very seriously. He mentions criticism he received, and even some people leaving his church, although it kept growing as others around heard the message.

Peter Lawrence makes it clear that this style of ministry can be used anywhere and by anyone: in house groups, for instance, and in churches of all denominations from Roman Catholic through to Pentecostal. He acknowledges that there are some problems that can arise, so it’s good to have someone experienced with anyone new to this kind of thing. And the guidelines he gives, while flexible, make a lot of sense.

What he never explains is why so many people fall down. He does describe one incident where he was convinced that people were being pushed, only to realise that the person leading didn’t even put hands gently on people before they crumpled to the ground. And he knows, from his own experience, that this often happens - that, or shaking, or twitching of some kind. I don’t know why that would happen. 

I have to admit I’m writing this from something of a detached perspective. I absolutely believe this can happen, and am quite sure the incidents described in this book are true. But I tend to avoid meetings of this kind, preferring more peaceful services or discussion, and don’t think I’d like to fall down or display any other of the ‘symptoms’ described. 

Still, it’s a very interesting and thought-provoking book, one which I would recommend to anyone who leads any kind of Christian group, who is pondering this kind of thing. It might also be of interest to people wondering about the biblical basis for some of the widespread charismatic practices. The teaching all seems sound, and the anecdotes are well-written and varied, even mildly amusing in places.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Nobody's perfect (by Stephanie Butland)

(Amazon UK link)

I have liked all the books I’ve read so far by Stephanie Butland, and had added a couple to my wishlist. I was given ‘Nobody’s perfect’ for my birthday eighteen months ago, and finally picked it up to read a few days ago.

As with the author’s other books, there are some believable, three-dimensional characters, and an interesting storyline. The main character, Kate, is in her early twenties, and has a daughter, Daisy, who is nearly five. Daisy is about to start school, and it’s important that Kate explains a few things to her teacher and his teaching assistant. This is because Daisy has cystic fibrosis. 

Kate knows that Daisy is not as severely affected as some other children with this condition, but she still needs extra help. She is likely to cough up a lot of mucus, and has to take medication through the day. She has to eat a high-calorie diet, and it’s important that she takes a lot of exercise. Kate is quite nervous about Daisy starting school and being away from her for so long. But Daisy is excited, and Kate knows she has to let go…

Kate is a single mother, who became pregnant at nineteen via a married man who died before Daisy was born. So she’s used to people gossipping about her, and then about Daisy’s condition. She tries to be strong: she has a very supportive mother and stepfather, and she has been working for an Open University foundation degree whenever she has a moment to herself. 

Daisy’s teacher is the only male on the teaching staff at her school. He’s called Spencer Swanson, and Kate feels an immediate rapport with him. He’s friendly, and clearly cares deeply about the class he’s going to be teaching. His assistant, Wendy Orr, is rather older, and is an old friend of Kate’s mother’s. 

So part of the story is about Daisy adjusting to school life, and Kate trying to decide what to do with her life, once she has finished and submitted her dissertation. It’s also, unsurprisingly, a romantic story. Spencer and Kate have a very believable, somewhat awkward start to their friendship, which quickly becomes something more. And, inevitably, there’s more gossip… not just about the Reception class teacher dating one of his student’s parents, but whether he’s giving undue attention to Daisy. And Daisy sometimes needs extra help, when she gets breathless.

I found myself quickly caught up in the story, even though much of it was rather predictable. Kate finally goes away for a weekend… and Daisy becomes dangerously ill. Kate’s best friend, who is single and loves to party, thinks she’s going too fast with Spencer. Everything seems perfect, but it’s obvious to the reader that Spencer isn’t telling Kate everything about his past, even though they have been very open with each other about previous relationships.

When his secret is finally revealed, it’s not as shocking as I had feared, and I thought Kate’s reaction was rather over dramatic. But in this kind of book there’s inevitably going to be a huge problem in a romance, which (I was pretty sure) would be resolved in the final chapter.

There’s another theme alongside all this, involving two gay women who have been partners for many years, and are now going to get married. Daisy is asked to be their bridesmaid; this couple, too, have experienced a lot of gossip behind their backs, and some extreme bigotry. 

I learned quite a bit about cystic fibrosis while reading this book, but it doesn't feel over-educational. The information and symptoms are described as related to Daisy, or when Kate is explaining to others, and it all feels realistic rather than forced.  

So there’s a lot to think about in this story, which I thought very well-written with a good pace, and some believable situations and conversations. I really liked the growing friendship between Kate and Spencer, which was an important foundation to their romance, and I loved the interactions with Daisy. She’s a bright, inquisitive child who asks some quite pointed questions at times. 

Recommended, if you like women’s fiction with no unexpected twists and turns, but a few issues alongside the standard romantic thread. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Blue slipper bay (by Wendy K Harris)

(Amazon UK link)

Last month I reread (and thoroughly enjoyed) the book ‘The sorrow of sisters’ by Wendy K Harris. I’ve now just finished the second in the ‘Undercliff’ trilogy, ‘Blue slipper bay’. I last read it in 2007, and had entirely forgotten both the storyline and the characters.

The first couple of chapters introduce a lot of different people, which feels a bit bewildering at first. But the characterisation is good, and it wasn’t long before I could keep the main characters in my mind fairly easily. Jill is the first person to be mentioned. She and her family live on the Isle of Wight, where her husband Ash runs a medical centre. Jill is a psychologist and works at the centre, but she’s concerned about Ash. He seems worried, although it may just be that their firstborn, Rose, has just started university. 

Then we meet Nick, who has evidently suffered a terrible bereavement. He dreams often of his late wife, and has some nightmares, too. He lives a mile or so away from Jill and Ash, in a rental cottage where he’s living a minimalist lifestyle and trying to decide what to do with his life. In the meantime, he’s taken on the huge project of trying to renovate a hotel and its grounds: this belongs to Jane, who was the main protagonist in ‘The sorrow of sisters’. 

And there’s Sophie, who lives in London with her husband Peter. She is evidently someone who takes on a lot of responsibility caring for others. She has an elderly mother whom she visits regularly, and she works as a counsellor for a bereavement group. She’s looking forward to seeing Jill, who is her closest friend, and who will soon be visiting, while Peter is away.

Two traumatic things happen to Sophie, and she decides to take up a long-standing invitation to visit Jill and her family, for an unspecified period. It’s the catalyst for a lot of change in her life; Sophie has to decide who she really is, and what she wants to do. But she needs breathing space, so she’s very pleased when she’s offered a job as a waitress in a local cafe. 

It’s a beautifully written book, with the lives of these folk - and others - gently weaving together. It’s a small community, so everyone knows everyone else. Rumours abound, though some are unfounded. I was pleased to read a bit more about Jane and her husband Chas, who features in ‘The sorrow of sisters’, and it was also good to see a bit more of Marguerite, an intriguing character who also has a major role in the first book. Marguerite is unable to speak, but communicates well with her own form of sign language. She’s also highly intuitive, and apparently psychic.

There are forays into various kinds of alternative medicine in this book, some of it harmless and possibly helpful. But one of the big problems stressing Jill is that Ash is dabbling in a form of regression therapy, something which really needs special training and careful supervision. 

The importance of honesty in relationships is mentioned more than once, as well as the necessity of healing from traumas, and grieving for as long as it takes. And I was quite struck by conversations about childhood: one character, with quite a rigid upbringing, envied another character her free-and-easy bohemian mother. But the latter character longed, as a child, for a home that had rules and expectations. The message comes through: no childhood is perfect, and as adults we need to accept our past, forgive where possible, and take responsibility for our own decisions. 

There are quite a few other issues that come to light in this book, which drew me in so much that I finished it in just two days. But the time I’d read about three chapters, I was hooked and could barely put the book down. The writing is evocative and the people all believable, with plenty of flaws. We see multiple viewpoints throughout the book, making it feel slightly less personal than a single-viewpoint novel; but it works well.

Definitely recommended if you like character-based novels with depth.  The writing is evocative; the author evidently familiar with the Isle of Wight. It’s not necessary to have read ‘The sorrow of sisters’ first, but I think it helps to be familiar with at least a few of the people in the book.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Caddy ever after (by Hilary McKay)

(Amazon UK link)

I’m very much enjoying re-reading the ‘Casson family’ series of books for older children by Hilary McKay. It’s over thirteen years since I read ‘Caddy ever after’, which is fifth in the series, chronologically (though it was the fourth one written). I couldn’t remember anything about it, except that I had found it mildly disappointing after reading the earlier books. 

I had entirely forgotten that, unlike the others in the series, this book is written in the first person by the different children in the Casson family. The first section is written by Rose, who is now nine, and mentions falling asleep in school. She describes her teacher, and her best friend Kiran who tells a lot of stories, which Rose and her classmates believe to be true. This sometimes leads to problems…

It’s a cleverly written section, introducing the rest of the family and some of their friends, without it feeling like an official recap. Since it’s written with Rose’s voice, it’s from her perspective; Rose is a delightful creation, the youngest in the family and a gifted artist. She’s also highly intuitive and quite observant, but not at all academic. Her friend Kiran does most of her school work for her, and nobody has quite worked out that Rose doesn’t read.

The second section is written by Indigo, who must be about thirteen or fourteen. He discusses Rose making large numbers of valentines, and also explains why their neighbour Sarah, who uses a wheelchair, is his sister Saffron’s best friend. Sarah and Saffy are rather older than Indigo, but he is clearly quite taken with Sarah and wants to invite her to the school Valentine disco. 

Indigo is another very interesting character, who thinks in an organised way and decides to help the sixth former Oscar to organise the disco. He has some useful suggestions, and manages to manipulate the system so that he and Sarah go together. He also arranges for his friend David to go with Saffy, although Saffy would prefer to go with Oscar…

It’s all quite low-key, and Rose gets invited to the disco too, although she is technically too young. Rose believes herself in love with a boy called Tom who lives in the United States, but she’s very fond of David, too. She’s also very keen on Michael, who used to go out with her older sister Caddy…

The title of the book relates to Caddy, but her section doesn’t appear until over half-way through the book, after Saffy has also had a turn. Saffy writes more about the disco, and about Sarah who becomes ill. Sarah’s mother is very kind and generous, and well-organised too. But Sarah is her only child, and she gets very stressed, unsurprisingly, when her daughter is sick. 

Towards the end of Saffy’s section she describes a car journey she and Rose take in an old banger which Oscar has just bought. They break down, and are eventually joined by Oscar’s older brother Alex, who meets Caddy (home from university for the weekend)... and he falls in love with her. 

Caddy’s section then enlarges on their meeting, and their budding romance, and her conviction that he is ‘the one’... and all too quickly they have agreed to get married. Sarah’s mother offers to do the organising, which is a great relief to the disorganised Eve Casson (mother of the family).

Caddy only writes a short piece, however, and the final section is by Rose, once again, who is quite stressed because of a promise she made a year earlier. It looks as though she can’t keep it, until she hears of a possible way out…

There’s a whole lot more to the book, of course. I didn’t find it quite as amusing as some of the others, and the changing viewpoints make it feel a bit disjointed. But I still found myself feeling caught up in the family escapades, sympathising with all of them in their different ways. The children’s personalities shine through - a tad caricatured, of course, but quite three-dimensional nonetheless, and lovable in their different ways.

The writing is excellent, and despite the changing voices, I felt caught up in the different threads, particularly sympathising with Rose who takes so much to heart. 

Recommended if you have read and liked others in the series, though I don’t think this one would really stand alone. At least 'Saffy's Angel' and 'Indigo's star' are probably best read first. This series is ideal for fluent readers of about eight or nine and upwards. It's enjoyable for parents and grandparents too…

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

With all my love (by Patricia Scanlan)

(Amazon UK link)

As far as I know, I’ve not previously read anything by Patricia Scanlan. But I’ve seen her name mentioned in Amazon recommendations; she’s sometimes compared to Maeve Binchy as a writer. So when I saw her novel ‘With all my love’ on a church book stall for 50p, it wasn’t a difficult decision to buy it. 

This happened in the summer of 2020, so the book was on my ‘to-be-read’ shelf for over five years. And finally I picked it up last week. Apparently it’s a ‘number one bestseller’, with another byline saying that it’s ‘this year’s most heartwarming novel’. It was published in 2013, and the first chapter is set in the 21st century. It follows a rather disturbing prologue in which a football player called Jeff is leaping into the air, full of enthusiasm, only to collapse and die.

In chapter one we meet a young woman called Briony, who is relaxing in Spain with her four-year-old daughter Katie. We quickly learn that she was made redundant a couple of months earlier, and also that she’s happily married to a man called Finn. He encouraged her to take some time off, to be a stay-at-home mother until Katie starts school. And right now, they’re in Spain spending some time with Briony’s mother Valerie. 

All seems to be going wonderfully well until Briony flicks through some old photos and discovers a letter addressed to her. So she opens it, and discovers that her mother has been lying to her for twenty-five years. When Valerie’s husband died, Valerie told Briony (who was four at the time) that his parents didn’t want to see her any more.  But this letter is from ‘Gramma Tessa’, saying how much she misses Briony, and longs to see her again…

It’s a dramatic and compelling start to the story, but (in my view) it then starts to go downhill. Briony had been very unhappy that she and her mother moved away from their home, into Dublin, and that her paternal grandparents apparently didn’t want to see her again. But gradually the memories faded, and she saw plenty of her mother’s mother, Carmen. Carmen is now in a nursing home with dementia, and Briony is determined to make contact with her father’s parents if at all possible. She also insists that she will never forgive her mother, and refuses to listen to any explanations. 

The story then gets quite confusing, as it leaps back into the past without warning, and without even a hint (such as a year) that would help the reader keep track. And there’s a lot of back story, with a lot of detail that, I felt, could have been edited significantly. We see Valerie as a teenager, the daughter of a very abusive man and a somewhat weak woman. I found her father extremely difficult to believe in; he’s rigid, and insists on being seen as a moral do-gooder. But he’s cheating people locally, bosses his wife around, and treats Valerie very badly.

So the story of Valerie meeting Jeff is covered in a lot of detail, up to the incident described in the prologue. But we also see other incidents in later years - I found it all quite confusing, although gradually the plot sorted itself out in my mind. Unfortunately there isn’t all that much plot, and none of the main characters feel entirely believable. Well, other than Jeff’s father, Lorcan, who is a thoroughly nice man, and Valerie’s best friend Lizzie who is reasonably sane and helps to sort out a lot of problems. 

But Valerie herself has been extremely vindictive, and even knowing her past, and her reasons, I couldn’t begin to see how she could be so unfair to her daughter. Briony is evidently cut from the same cloth; but with the advantage of having known all her life that her mother loved her. Tessa is totally unbelievable; seeing into her past, I could understand why she said some of the things she did. But not why she took such a strong dislike to Valerie, or why she can switch from a warm and caring grandmother into a vindictive, spiteful mother-in-law. 

As for Katie (and Briony at the same age in some of the flashback sections), they behave and speak more like two-year-olds than four-year-olds. I have been close to many children over the years, and have never heard a child of four say ‘I is…’ incorrectly. 

This all meant that I found the book quite dull, as I didn’t even believe in most of the characters, let alone care about them. As a grandmother, I could relate to a couple of scenes, including quite a moving one of eventual (inevitable) reconciliation. But that happens with such an unlikely coincidence that I was inwardly rolling my eyes.

I didn’t find that the writing reminded me of Maeve Binchy’s at all. Yes, the settings are similar, but that’s about all. Binchy’s characters feel realistic, and relate to each other in ways that are believable. And Maeve Binchy did not include lengthy descriptive passages, or tedious details of what people ate; nor does she spend a lot of time in introspection.  This novel, by contrast, is long-winded, full of irrelevancies and clichés. 

I was unimpressed with the number of sexual escapades mentioned in this book, too - not in gratuitous detail, thankfully, but still sufficient to make the book feel rather sordid at times. And whereas Maeve Binchy had a real faith, and described people’s beliefs and religious practices sympathetically, Patricia Scanlan uses rather random dreams, images and instincts to imply a kind of mystical deism that didn’t really make sense. 

Still, despite the many disappointing elements of this book, I did finish it in just a few days. I skimmed some of the unnecessary passages, as I was quite keen to get back to the ‘present’ part of the story to find out how it was going to end. I thought the last couple of chapters nicely done with an encouraging ending, although I didn’t entirely understand the significance of the final scene. 

Then there’s a short story at the end of the book. It’s about some more unlikeable people, where someone finally decides to take action in a rather rude way as she turns forty. It left rather a bad taste in my mouth. 

So while it’s not a terrible book, it’s not one I would recommend. I won’t be reading it again, and don’t plan to look for anything else by this writer. However, she’s evidently very highly regarded and this book has a lot of fans, so don’t necessarily take my word for it.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Coming home to Island House (by Erica James)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s only about six and a half years since I read Erica James’ novel ‘Coming home to Island House’. But I’ve been re-reading her novels over the past couple of years and decided I would continue even with the ones I acquired more recently. I had entirely forgotten the details of the story, though I had a vague memory of the overall plot.

Romily is the main character; she’s a vivacious, intelligent crime writer who fell in love with the much older Jack. They lived together for a while, which, in a contemporary novel would hardly raise an eyebrow. But this was in the late 1930s, and some of the residents of their village were shocked. Jack had been widowed many years earlier, and since then had a steady stream of women. Romily is the first one he truly loved, and they were recently married, in a small civil ceremony which very few people know about. 

We never learn how old Jack is; just that he’s twenty-seven years older than Romily. I assume she’s in her mid-thirties, or thereabouts, which makes him in his mid-to-late sixties. As the story starts, she’s coming back to their home, Island House, after a European tour promoting her latest book. There are rumours of war, and she’s looking forward to being home again. But then she discovers that he’s very ill… 

The bulk of the story involves a requirement by Jack that his three adult children (Arthur, Hope and Kit) and niece Allegra must live together in Island House for a full week. It’s evidently a large place since there’s room for them all. There’s a cook/housekeeper, Mrs Partridge, and a kitchenmaid called Florence whom Romily rescued from an abusive household. 

It’s primarily a character-based book, with quite a variety of different personalities. Arthur, the oldest, is not just pompous and bossy, he has a sadistically cruel streak which leads him to make some very bad decisions. Nobody seems to like him much. He’s married to Irene, who seems to keep spending his money.  Irene was originally Kit’s girlfriend, and he’s still angry that Arthur poached her, although it seems to me that he had a lucky escape. 

Kit is a very likeable man, although he has little idea what he wants to do with his life. He works in London, but is rather bored. He and his sister Hope used to be close, but they’ve grown apart. The reason for this is that Hope married a German, much to her father’s disgust. He threw her out, and she then refused to invite any of her family to her wedding. And now she’s a widow. She learns that her father is very ill, and when she decides to return to the UK she is asked an unexpected huge favour by her sister-in-law, who is married to a Jew. 

Allegra, meanwhile, has been singing in Venice, with a manager who seduced her, promoted her, and then ran off with all her earnings. She’s penniless, so when she hears that her uncle is ill, she decides to go back, at least for a while.

It’s not a fast-paced book, but once I was a few chapters into it, I could barely put it down. Erica James has a gift of creating believable people, with all too human flaws. They make mistakes, but are mostly nice underneath. The book includes a lot of explanations of past misunderstandings, and regret for previous mistakes. Allegra had left behind her best friend Elijah who was in love with her. Kit and Hope felt that their father was often angry and didn’t love them, but gradually they realise that he was grieving for their mother, and desperate to keep them all safe. 

Arthur is perhaps the least believable of the main characters. He seems to have no redeeming features at all, yet I found him rather dull rather than creepy. I do think that creating believable villains is a lot harder than creating likeable ordinary people. As a bullying older brother I could accept him; he lost his mother when he was quite young, he was sent to boarding school long before he was ready, and he was bullied there. But when his actions show him cruel and heartless he veers over into being not quite believable.

However, that’s really my only minor gripe with the book - and Arthur isn’t meant to be likeable or sympathetic. I thought everyone else was very realistic, and their interactions and conversations entirely believable. There are some children in the mix, too: the author seems to me particularly good at inventing delightful three-dimensional children. Stanley is the eleven-year-old evacuee who wins everyone’s hearts and Annaliese is a delightful toddler who plays quite a part, too.

I’m not usually a fan of books set in the war years, but perhaps that’s because they’re often grittily unpleasant with gratuitous violence. This novel doesn’t gloss over what’s going on in Europe; several of the young men in the village enlist when war is declared, and they don’t all return home. Some return with terrible injuries, and many with what would now call post-traumatic stress syndrome. 

It also explores - in a very low-key way - the changes society was experiencing in this era. Romily is an egalitarian, despite having married a wealthy landowner, and tries not to stand on ceremony with the people she employs. She’s quite unafraid of what people think of her, too, and very good at understanding what goes on inside people. The arguments and misunderstandings between family members possibly also reflect some of the conflicts on a global scale, although this is not referred to.

There are twists and turns in the book, some of them shocking - but nicely foreshadowed - and a mostly hopeful ending, although I thought I would like to have known more about what was going to happen to the characters. Then I remembered that there’s a sequel - ‘Letters from the past’, set over twenty years later but including some of the same people. So I’ll be rereading that in another month or so.

If you like character-based women’s fiction set during World War II, but set in a village that’s mostly idyllic, then this is an ideal book to read. It’s not a short novel: nearly 500 pages in my paperback edition. But I finished it in just three days. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Trials for the Chalet School (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

(Amazon UK link)

In my gradual re-reading of Elinor M Brent-Dyer’s lengthy ‘Chalet School’ series, I finally reached ‘Trials for the Chalet School’.  According to the unofficial lists, it has been quite extensively abridged in the Armada version, which is what I have. I actually have a ‘two-in-one’ Armada, which also contains its immediate sequel, ‘Theodora and the Chalet School’. But I have been able to acquire that in a ‘Girls Gone By’ unabridged edition, so I have just read ‘Trials’. I last read it in 2016. 

Maybe one day it will be republished, or I’ll manage to find a full edition of this book; I have looked in many places and inquired online, but second-hand editions are very expensive, and it’s not as if I don’t have this story at all. And it doesn’t feel like an abridged book, somehow. Maybe there are a lot more asides and religious references in the full edition; maybe there’s an extra chapter. But this still feels complete in itself.

Naomi Elton is the only new girl in the spring term in Switzerland. She’s an orphan who lost her parents in a fire, some years ago. The fire left her quite seriously disabled. She has been looked after by relatives but has become very bitter and resentful. And she really doesn’t want to go to the Chalet School. It's unusual for someone of sixteen to join, and the staff are quite concerned. 

It’s a fairly common trope in the books to have girls who have no wish to be at the school, but I think it’s the only one that touches on physical disability.  The girls want to accept Naomi and offer assistance when it’s clear she needs help; but she snaps, and is sarcastic and rude. She also insists that she is an atheist, something unknown in the Chalet School.

Mary-Lou is head girl, and, unsurprisingly, does what she can to talk to Naomi, hoping to find out what is beneath the anger and resentment. And, predictably, Naomi gradually relaxes and softens under the Chalet School influence. She’s very bright, quite advanced in all academic subjects. 

The title of the book is ‘Trials for the Chalet School’, and sure enough there are a lot of trials in this term. Mary-Lou unwisely says that it should be an easy term, thus tempting providence, as her somewhat superstitious friends tell her. Herr Laubach decides that he will retire, after an unpleasant incident. And then most of the school go down with scarlet fever, something that still required quarantine and notification in the late 1950s when this book was first published. 

If that wasn’t enough, there’s a slightly scary interlude during the half-term break, when several people are trapped in a hut by an avalanche. Scary for the people involved, that is; it turns out that they all have bits and pieces of food in their knapsacks, and of course they are eventually rescued.

Then there’s an incident with some of the senior middles trying to get the sixth formers into trouble… three of them are mainly responsible, with a few extra hangers-on. The seniors deal with them in a suitably appropriate way, thought of by Naomi. 

There’s rather a lot of detail in the chapters about the St Mildred’s pantomime, which takes place at the end of term. I’m never entirely sure why Brent-Dyer liked (apparently) to write full plays herself and then provide most of the script and characters in her books. I would have thought that, if anything was going to be abridged, it would be this. However, it’s slightly more interesting than some of the pantomimes from other years. A few ‘old’ old girls return, much to the audience’s delight, and then there are power cuts.

The pantomime is not quite the end of the  book, however; on the way back to school afterwards, there’s a nasty accident, leaving Naomi fighting for her life. It’s almost a cliff-hanger as the book ends. 

I don’t think this is a book I’ve read all that often. I vaguely recalled Naomi, but did not remember any of the plot. I thought it one of the better books for this era of the Chalet School, and look forward to reading it again in another eight of nine years. I hope to have a full edition by then, but if not this one is quite adequate. 

Definitely recommended to fans of this series; most seem to be adults like me, rather than the teenage audience for whom they were originally written. This wouldn't make a particularly good introduction to the school, and those unfamiliar with the era and style might find it irritating or inaccurate. However, as a Chalet School fan, I enjoyed it very much. 

The link above is to an Armada paperback second-hand edition of this; they are fairly easy to find in used versions and not too expensive. While the hardback or GGBP versions are complete, they're extremely expensive, and this abridged version does at least tell the story, and is one of the better books from the Swiss era, in my opinion.  

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Cousin Kate (by Georgette Heyer)

(Amazon UK link)

I have a large collection of Georgette Heyer books, and read most of them regularly. I’m not so keen on the overtly historical ones that involve a lot of war talk. And I much prefer the Regency romances to the detective stories. But one of the Regency novels which I haven’t read nearly as often as the others is ‘Cousin Kate’. 

The reason for this is that when I first read it - and as far as I know, my first reading was in 1986 - I found it very disturbing, and quite shocking. I noted, at the front of the book, ‘not a nice story’. And then I didn’t read it again until ten years later, when I commented underneath, ‘not so bad as I remembered’. I didn’t then read it again until 2009, where, in my review, I expressed that it was one of my least favourite of Heyer’s novels. 

Sixteen years later, I thought it worth reading again. I did vaguely recall what happened at the end, but had entirely forgotten the main story. And I was a tad surprised at how much I liked the characters at the start. Kate is the main protagonist, and we meet her as she’s paying an unexpected visit to her old nurse Sarah Nidd. 

Kate is not a wealthy debutante, like some of Heyer’s heroines, nor does she come from a large family. She’s not a strong and independent kind of character, either. She’s an orphan who grew up in military circles. She’s in her early twenties, and was left penniless when her father died. She managed to get a job as a governess, but her employer’s brother started making unwanted advances. So she’s lost her job, and is taking refuge.

Sarah adores Kate, and is happy to put her up, but her house is noisy, and somewhat chaotic, so she decides to write to Kate’s aunt, Minerva, half-sister of Kate’s late father. And Minerva responds by arriving, and sweeping Kate off for a stay in her large stately home. She overwhelms her with gifts, and says she is delighted to discover an unknown niece. Kate feels very grateful, but never really develops any rapport with Minerva.

Minerva has a nineteen-year-old son Torquil who is a somewhat disturbing character. He has been sickly all his life, and has rarely left his house. His father - twenty years older than his mother - is a delightful elderly man plagued with illness. Minerva gave up a lot to live in the country, rather than spending parts of the year in London socialising.

As with all Heyer’s novels, the pace is good and the characterisation is excellent. Minerva seems so generous, yet there’s a hard core to her. Her husband Sir James is gentle and affectionate, but prefers to avoid any kind of stress. And Torquil behaves like a spoilt child, with some very strange and disturbing episodes when he becomes - or talks of being - violent. 

Then there’s Philip, Sir James’ nephew, who is evidently likeable, and concerned about his young cousin’s wellbeing. He and Kate clash initially but quickly become quite friendly; she finds him a bit confusing, and gets upset when she learns that although he loves his uncle, he can’t stand Minerva. This is partly because he recalls Sir James’ first wife, who died; but it’s clearly more than that.

Because I had remembered the unpleasant climax which occurs in the last few chapters, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy this book much at all. But I found Kate, Philip and Sarah delightful, well-rounded characters, and the story - as it turned out - is nowhere near as stressful or disturbing as I had feared. Yes, there are a few gory incidents, but no gratuitous description, and Kate herself is never really in any danger. 

As with so many of Heyer’s novels it ends quite abruptly; loose ends are tied up and we know what is going to happen. So it makes sense to stop rather than state the obvious. I would have liked a brief epilogue telling us what the situation is a year later… but perhaps that’s supposed to be left to the imagination of the reader.

This isn’t the only Heyer novel that has unpleasant violence in it, and I’m not sure, now, why I found it so very disturbing when I first read it. It’s still not one of my favourites, but on the whole I thought it well-written and liked it more than I expected to.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Prophet song (by Paul Lynch)

(Amazon UK link)

I had no idea what to expect when I started to read ‘Prophet song’ by Paul Lynch. It was the book allocated for this month’s local reading group, and I had downloaded it on my Kindle back in May when it was on special offer for just 99 pence. I vaguely knew that it was a dystopian novel, which is not my favourite genre. But I’ve been pleasantly surprised by other dystopian books such as ‘The stranding’, which I read a few months ago. 

‘Prophet song’ won the Booker prize in 2023, and the Kindle edition starts with a lot of very positive reviews. It takes several pages before the actual book begins. It opens with a woman called Eilish looking out into the dark, then finding two policemen on her doorstep, demanding to interview her husband. 

I found it very confusing because there is minimal punctuation, strange uses of words, and no paragraph endings. I wondered if this was an error in the first chapter, or perhaps a Kindle formatting problem. Apparently it was deliberate; it’s a style that continues through the whole book. It makes it all very difficult to read, particularly the total lack of quotation marks, or new lines for different speakers. Any time there was dialogue, I gave up trying to work out who was talking, and found that it didn’t seem to matter much.

It’s the kind of book I could easily have abandoned after the first chapter or two. Wading through rather pretentious prose with no punctuation is not an easy task. There are, as others in the group pointed out, some nice uses of metaphor or unusual and visual ways of expressing things. But they are hard to spot or appreciate with such a bizarre style of writing. There are other unusual uses of language that felt as if the author was talking down, refusing to use normal words. 

As for the story: I think the idea behind it was an excellent one. The author has set the characters in a dystopian, totalitarian Ireland, with situations all too similar to those experienced by many in developing countries around the world. Having heard accounts from asylum seekers and refugees from a variety of Asian and African countries, I can see that the events are entirely believable. Setting them in a European country (albeit one which has had its share of horrendous political situations in the past) is a good way of making the situations feel more realistic and personal to people living comfortable lives in the western world. 

At least, it would be a good way if the book were easier to read, and if the characters were more developed. Eilish remains the viewpoint character for most of the book, but we never really learn much about her. She has four children: Mark who is 17, Molly who is a year or two younger, Bailey who is 12, and baby Ben. Her husband Larry is a teacher, and also a keen union representative. And that’s where the tension starts: the country has been taken over by a harsh, authoritarian regime who don’t want any dissenters. 

There’s no background explaining why this government has taken over, and that didn’t matter to me, although others in the group were mildly curious. Given the writing style, it would have been hard to give any kind of flashback or back story. Everything happens in the present, with little elaboration. 

Life gets harder and harder for Eilish. Her son Mark is in danger of being conscripted into the army, so she tries to get him over the border to a new school. Mark wants to enlist as a rebel. He moves away, and we never really find out what happens to him. Eilish’s sister lives in Canada, and wants them to get out, but Eilish is determined to stay. She doesn’t believe the problems can go on forever, and she is responsible for her elderly father, who is suffering the beginnings of dementia. She is also convinced that her husband and son will return one day, and hates the thought of them finding an empty house…

Things get worse and worse. It’s a grim story, with tragedies unfolding around them. These events reflect what is happening currently in other countries, but make extremely unpleasant reading. The ending of the book is depressing, too, with a sort of desperate hope, but no real conclusion. 

Six of us met to discuss the book. One person in our reading group thought it was an excellent and moving novel. One person thought it was brilliantly written, but that some of it was horrific and disturbing. Two of us thought it was turgid and affected, and only finished it because of the potential discussion. We found skimming was easier than trying to figure out what was actually said. Two people didn’t get beyond the first couple of chapters as the writing style was so awkward, and the story too depressing.

I wouldn’t, personally, recommend it at all. But evidently I’m in the minority when I look at reviews elsewhere, and the Booker prize judges evidently thought it extremely worthwhile. So don’t take my word for it, necessarily. If you can get beyond the bizarre style, and don’t mind a book that gets increasingly more miserable, then it’s probably a worthy, if depressing read. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Running away (by Titia Sutherland)

(Amazon UK link)

I’m rereading the novels by Titia Sutherland, which I hadn’t read for a long time. I’ve just finished ‘Running away’ which I last read in 2006. Unsurprisingly, I had forgotten the people, the story and the conclusion. But I knew I had liked the book when I read it previously.

Laura is the main character, and I found her believable and likeable. She’s married to Rick, and in many respects she’s quite contented. She’s never been passionately in love with him, but she’s extremely fond of him, and - at first - liked the way he cherished and protected her. Her first marriage was very different, and she was quite damaged by it. But she had to raise her daughter Hannah, and Rick fell in love with Laura. Rick has a daughter, too, Annabelle, who is a few years older than Hannah. On the whole, their family has blended well. 

When the story starts, Annabelle is seventeen, and Hannah fourteen. Laura is planning to get away by herself to a holiday home in Cornwall. It’s not that she’s unhappy, exactly, or in any way neglected: but she needs some space. She has mentioned this to Rick, who doesn’t understand. So she’s left a letter with her stepdaughter, and is taking off by herself for an undetermined period; but probably not more than two or three weeks. 

I thought the characters of the family were very well portrayed. Perhaps Annabelle and Hannah are a tad caricatured: Annabelle is hard-working and self-deprecating, and has a poor self-image. She’s in love with one of her classmates, and knows she’s a bit overweight, so she decides to go on a strict diet. Hannah, meanwhile, is outgoing, and often gets into arguments with her mother because she wants more freedom. Hannah hopes that she might have more scope for late night outings and parties with her mother away for a while. 

And Rick is a complex person. His first wife wanted to be looked after and cared for, and he has been treating Laura the same way. At first she was relieved and thankful to be relieved of the burdens of paying bills and thinking about house maintenance. But now she’s feeling as if there’s nothing left of her personality. She writes poetry which Rick calls ‘scribbling’. She tries to renovate furniture, only to have him tell her gently that it’s hard work and that he can do it. He does a lot of the cooking and housework, and he persuaded her to leave the job that she liked, initially to be at home to help the girls blend together as sisters.

I thought it a very interesting situation. Rick is not selfish or controlling - or not deliberately, anyway. He can be unobservant, even obtuse at times, but his desire is to make things easy for Laura, to look after her in a way that feels rather old-fashioned and chauvinistic. Any attempt she makes to discuss this lead to tension and more misunderstandings, which is why Laura needs some time alone, to clear her mind and help her focus. She also wants to do some serious writing. 

The house and location are perfect, but set in a village… and all too quickly Laura is caught up in village gossip, and becomes attached to a young homeless man who is a talented artist with serious health problems. She also gets to know the somewhat reclusive Mark who was recently widowed, and who teaches classics. 

Rick, meanwhile, takes a while to come to terms with what Laura is doing, and finds it surprisingly difficult to deal with the house and two teenagers on his own. Hannah persuades him that she should host a party, and Annabelle is hardly eating anything, looking quite unwell…

The whole novel takes place over just a few weeks, and a lot happens during that time. Both Laura and Rick find an unexpected attraction to someone else… I didn’t know what might happen, nor whether they would eventually reunite. But I did enjoy the different relationships that developed, and the situations that arose. 

All in all, I thought this a good book, well worth rereading. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews