Go set a watchman (by Harper Lee)

(Amazon UK link)

I read Harper Lee’s classic novel ‘To kill a mockingbird’ when I was in my teens at school. I don’t know that I really understood it, and was not inspired to read it again. Not until last month, that is, when I read it with an open mind, and very much enjoyed it. The reason was that the author’s other novel ‘Go set a watchman’ was chosen as this month’s local reading group book.

I did understand that it’s not - and was never intended as - a sequel to the first book. It was written first, and the publishers asked Harper Lee to write about earlier events. She did so, and the subsequent book became highly popular and is now considered a classic. ‘Go set a watchman’ was thought to be lost until it was discovered and then published about a year before the author died. 

I read it over the past few days. It features many of the same characters as ‘To kill a mockingbird’, and almost functions like a sequel although there are a lot of flashbacks. The girl formerly known as Scout is now twenty-six and goes by her full name of Jean Louise. She’s been working in New York, but is travelling back to her home town of Maycomb for her annual vacation.

Anatomy of a scandal (by Sarah Vaughan)

(Amazon UK link)

I hadn’t previously read anything by Sarah Vaughan. And I very much doubt if I would have picked up her novel ‘Anatomy of a scandal’ if I had seen it on a stall; the cover is mainly black and it looks like a thriller. Really not my favourite genre. However, it was allocated for this month’s local reading group, and I was able to find it from ‘World of Books’ last year. I didn’t start reading it until a few days ago, but it wasn’t difficult to finish it in just three days despite it being nearly 400 pages.

The chapters are mostly short, each one head by the name of the viewpoint character and the date in which the chapter is set. This is helpful, as the timeline switches to the past fairly often, as the story unfolds. It opens in the ‘present’ of the novel, 2nd December 2016. Kate is the viewpoint character here; she’s a barrister who has just lost a case. 

We see her surroundings, feel her frustration. And she makes it clear that her wig and gown help her into the role that she plays in court. She tries only to prosecute when she’s pretty sure the defendant is guilty, but she knows that the system isn’t perfect: that what matters more than truth is the way it’s painted by the lawyers.

Ordinary saints (by Niamh Ní Mhaoileoin)

(Amazon UK link)

I had never heard of Niamh Ní Mhaoileoin, and only came across her debut novel ‘Ordinary saints’ because it was this month’s choice for our local reading group. We try to choose a variety of styles and settings, and I appreciate the chance to discover new authors and - sometimes - to be taken right outside my normal comfort zone.

I bought it for my Kindle when it was on special offer a few months ago, as it was hard to find a reasonably priced paperback edition, and I’ve just finished reading it. The style was mostly fairly light, and it only took me a couple of days. 

The main protagonist is a young, gay woman called Jay. And it opens quite dramatically, telling us that the first time she kissed a girl was the same evening that her brother died. The two events, we quickly learn, are quite unconnected. But Jay was at a party, and ignored repeated messages and phone calls from her parents. So she didn’t learn about the tragedy until the following morning.

The Essex serpent (by Sarah Perry)

(Amazon UK link)

As is so often the case when starting a book for our local reading group, I had not heard of either the author or the title. Sarah Perry is a British writer who has had four books published so far. ‘The Essex serpent’ was her second novel, published in 2006.

It opens with rather a depressing prologue, following a young unnamed man going for a walk next to a river on New Year’s Eve. It doesn’t spell out what happens, but it’s clearly not something positive. We don’t learn more about this incident until later in the book.

The novel takes place over the course of the following year, and is set in Victorian England, towards the end of the 19th century. The main character is a woman called Cora whose husband has just died. She is somewhat sad, but also feels free at last; it’s evident that he was seriously abusive, though, thankfully, there are no gratuitous details. Cora is rather a strange character, possibly because she was married at a young age, and never really had the opportunity of developing her own style and personality.

Sweet tooth (by Ian McEwan)

(Amazon UK link)

I had never read anything by Ian McEwan. I don’t think I’d even have picked one of his books up at a second-hand or charity shop, as the covers don’t suggest the kind of book that appeals to me. But his novel ‘Sweet tooth’ was chosen for this month’s local book club read, so I bought it used, last year, and have just finished reading it.

What a fascinating book it is, too. It’s narrated by a young woman called Serena, and begins in a style almost like that of Susan Howatch, as she glosses mostly over her early years. Brought up in a cathedral close, by a benign but distant father (the Bishop) and a mother who did everything for her husband, Serena acknowledges a pleasant, if cloistered and protected childhood. 

She is an avid reader who also has a talent for maths, and is persuaded to study for a maths degree at Cambridge, even though she would prefer to read English at a less prestigious university. I could relate to her in several ways as I read this overview, but her lifestyle then diverged sharply from mine as she embarks on typecast student life to the full: drinking, smoking and sleeping with several men.

The elegance of the hedgehog (by Muriel Barbery)

(Amazon UK link)

I had never heard of Muriel Barbery, but her book ‘The elegance of the hedgehog’ was chosen for our local reading group. I liked the cover when my (used) copy of the book arrived, and thought the blurb on the back sounded very interesting. It was originally written in French, and set in Paris, so I have been reading a translation. 

Indeed, it’s not just set in Paris: almost everything in the book takes place in a luxurious apartment block in Paris. There are two main protagonists in the book, and at first sight they seem quite different. Renée is the concierge; she’s middle-aged, widowed and tells us that she’s somewhat overweight. 

Paloma is a twelve-year-old girl who lives in one of the flats with her parents and older sister. Her parents are supposedly socialists, but they’re also very wealthy. Paloma has decided that she’s going to kill herself on her 13th birthday. She sees a tedious adulthood ahead of her, and doesn’t think she can escape. 

Persepolis (by Marjane Satrapi)

(Amazon UK link)

One of the reasons I joined a local book group is to expand my somewhat limited repertoire of books to read. Rather than picking up unlikely novels at random, I read those chosen from recommendations online that we’ve selected for each month. And this month’s book, ‘Persepolis’ by Marjane Satrapi,  is one that I would never have picked up myself - or, if I did, I would promptly have put it back. 

That’s because this is a ‘graphic’ book. That doesn’t mean it’s violent or explicit; just that it’s all in cartoon form, with images and speech bubbles in capital letters. It’s the kind of thing I associate with the comic section of newspapers. I know graphic novels are very popular nowadays with teenagers, but I have never been able to get into them. 

However, I finally picked it up a few days ago, sighing inwardly, expecting that I would struggle through in a week or so, and then donate the book to the monthly church bookstall. I quickly realised that this is not - as I had thought - a  novel, but a biographical account of the author’s childhood. And it’s very relevant to current news, as it’s set in Iran. 

Big sky (by Kate Atkinson)

(Amazon UK link)

I hadn’t previously read anything by Kate Atkinson. But she’s a bestselling author, and her book ‘Big sky’ has several positive recommendations on the cover. I understand that it’s fifth in a loose series involving a private investigator called Jackson Brodie, but it isn’t necessary to have read the earlier ones. 

I doubt if I would have picked this up even if I’d seen it secondhand, but it was this month’s read for our local book group. So I bought it (used) last year, and have been reading it over the past week. It’s quite a long book - nearly 500 pages in my paperback edition - and we’ve been quite busy with guests. 

In addition, it really didn’t grab me. If it hadn’t been for the upcoming book group, I would probably have given up after about fifty pages. The first chapter is gripping: two Polish girls are video chatting with a man in the UK who is promising to find them work in hotels in London. They’re quite wary, but everything seems authentic. And he’s even going to pay for their flights. At the end of the chapter, we learn that he is not who he says he is…

I've got your number (by Sophie Kinsella)

(Amazon UK link)

Our local reading group wanted something light for the post-Christmas/New Year period, and opted for ‘I’ve got your number’ by Sophie Kinsella. Sadly, the author died at just 55 towards the end of last year. I had previously read this book, in April 2015; after nearly eleven years, I had forgotten everything about it, other than that (as hinted by the title) there was a misplaced mobile phone.

Poppy is the main character in this novel. She’s a typical Kinsella heroine: feisty, generous, kind.. and somewhat impetuous. I couldn’t help liking her. We meet her when she’s panicking about having lost her engagement ring. She has been at a gathering of her closest friends, prior to her wedding, in a hotel. One of them badgered her to borrow the ring to try it on, and Poppy was too generous to refuse. Then it got passed around, and she kept her eye on it, but events overtook them… and the ring vanished.

We solve murders (by Richard Osman)

(Amazon UK link)

On the whole, I enjoyed the first three books I read by Richard Osman, in the ‘Thursday murder club’ series. However, I didn’t plan on getting the fourth, and wasn’t even aware that he had written a book in a different series until it was chosen for the December read in our local book group.

‘We solve murders’ has a large cast of characters, and I found it quite confusing at first. The chapters are short, and at the start of the book, new people are introduced every few pages. The main character is a young woman called Amy who is the bodyguard to a well-known writer called Rosie. Rosie’s life has been threatened, so she and Amy are staying on a remote island, along with another bodyguard called Kevin.

But the prologue of the book introduces, in italics, a rather detailed way of staying anonymous and hidden online, and mentions the name of Francoise Loubet. And the first chapter is rather gruesome, telling us about Andrew Fairbanks, who was a low-key influencer who finally becomes internationally known after being murdered at sea. 

Redhead by the side of the road (by Anne Tyler)

(Amazon UK link)

On the whole I have enjoyed Anne Tyler’s novels, and re-read several of them a few years ago. I hadn’t planned to acquire any more. But this month’s reading group choice was ‘Redhead by the side of the road’, one of Tyler’s more recent book. It was first published in 2020. I was able to buy it used earlier in the year, and looked forward to reading it.

I was surprised at how short the book is - less than 200 pages - and I finished it in just a couple of days. The main protagonist is a forty-something man called Micah. He lives on his own in a fairly minimalist flat, where he has a caretaking role. At first it appears that he’s taken on the duties because he cares about everything being done properly; it turns out that he’s paid to do this, and has his flat rent-free.

This is a good thing because his main job is as a freelance technical consultant. He gets calls for help most days, and earns sufficient for most of his needs, but it wouldn’t be enough for rent. He’s evidently good at his job, and quite likes it, although many of his clients are elderly ladies who know very little about computers or how to solve minor problems. 

I wondered at first if he was going to be another character on the autistic spectrum - there seem to be a lot of them in modern fiction - but I don’t think that’s the case with Micah. He structures his life quite rigidly, following the same morning pattern of exercise, showering and eating, and has a weekly pattern of cleaning his apartment. He’s quite picky about having everything looking perfect, but he does this in the morning, not last thing at night. And as we learn later in the book, he does this because he grew up in a large, noisy and chaotic household where chores rarely happened, and there was clutter everywhere. His neatness and organisation are in stark contrast. 

Micah has a lady-friend called Cass, and he’s quite happy with their relationship. She works as a teacher, but they sometimes see each other in evenings. At weekends, they spend nights together at her place or his, but he has no wish for anything more permanent. He quite likes living on his own. But he’s not very good at picking up on cues or hints, and this leads to a breakdown in their relationship…

As with most of Tyler’s books, this isn’t a story with a lot of plot. It’s about people, some of them quite quirky, and the ways they relate to each other. Micah has some very strange quirks (such as talking to himself with a pseudo-French accent when he’s cooking) but he’s basically a kind, caring person. I liked him very much. I liked Cass, too, and could sympathise with her frustration when he seems not to understand what she would like him to do. I found his huge extended family rather confusing, and loved the way the descriptions mention only a few by name; I didn’t need to know what everyone was called, and apparently Micah didn’t either. 

The ‘redhead’ - mentioned more than once - is not a person at all, but a fire hydrant which he notices every morning when out jogging. He’s quite short-sighted, and imagines tit is a short redheaded person by the side of the road. Not just the first time he goes out, but day after day… a kind of metaphor for his somewhat tunnel-visioned attitude, I suppose. 

The novel shows Micah thrown - somewhat - out of his routines, partly by Cass deciding to end their relationship, and partly by an unexpected young man turning up on his doorstep. Yet he deals with both situations in positive ways. 

The writing is so good, I could hardly put the book down at times, even though there’s not much action. Anne Tyler has such a gift of observation, of wry pithy comments, and of getting inside her somewhat eccentric people. It doesn’t feel as if they are weird at all while reading; they feel entirely reasonable in their thoughts and behaviour, at the time.

In one sense it’s not a particularly profound book, but I liked reading it very much, and found it quite thought-provoking. The ending is, on the whole, positive, too.  Recommended, if you like observational character-based writing.

 Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The marriage portrait (by Maggie O'Farrell)

(Amazon UK link)

I very much liked the book ‘Hamnet’ by Maggie O’Farrell, when I read it just over three years ago. So I was pleased when our local reading group allocated another book by the same author for September’s choice. I was able to buy ‘The marriage portrait’ inexpensively from the WorldofBooks site when I was in the UK last month, and I started reading it last weekend. 

It’s a long book, over 400 pages and I thought it might take me a week to get through it. But I quickly found it compulsive reading. It’s mainly set in the early 1560s, and the main character is a young woman called Lucrezia. In a brief introduction, we learn that although this is a novel, Lucrezia is based on a woman of the same name who was a duchess in Italy. And she died, possibly murdered by her husband, when she was just sixteen.

The book then opens with a short scene in 1561. Lucrezia has been married for a year to Alfonso, the Duke of Ferrari. They’ve just arrived at a somewhat remote location, supposedly for a break. And she has a sudden conviction that he wants to kill her. This is at odds with his apparently loving actions as he encourages her to eat some dinner.

The book then goes back nearly seventeen years, to Lucrezia’s conception. The event is described without gratuitous detail, thankfully. It’s cleverly done, demonstrating how she is the odd one out of her family: she’s feisty and determined, always asking questions, not wanting to comply with her parents’ rules. Lucrezia has two older brothers and two older sisters, all of whom consider her rather beneath them. Eventually she has some younger brothers, too, but she has little to do with them.

Lucrezia is clearly very bright. She absorbs knowledge, she loves to read, and she is a talented artist at quite a young age. She has a tremendous imagination, and also empathy for the servants, and the menagerie of wild animals that her father collects. I was rather shocked at the description of the abusive capture and treatment of lions, and a bear and tiger that were kept in the cellar. But perhaps this was common in the era. 

The chapters are of different lengths, some just a few pages, some considerably longer. There are insights into Lucrezia’s childhood and family life, and then there are short sections showing the 1561 timeline, following on from the first section. But the main part of the story begins in 1560 as she is prepared, at just 15, to marry Alfonso. This is an arranged marriage, to someone rather older than she is. 

She has tried to persuade her father to rethink, but he is implacable. Her duty is to marry and to produce heirs. And she has met Alfonso, just once, when she was ten; he seemed to understand her, and treated her like a significant person. But when she is married - and the whole day passes like a kind of dream to her - she has no idea what to expect. She will be taken away from her home and from the people she loves, and expected to assume duties as a wife and Duchess, with little to prepare her.

Alfonso seems, at first, to be a loving husband. He doesn’t want to hurt his new wife, although the consummation of the marriage proves to be very painful for Lucrezia. But she’s been taught to submit, and she knows her ‘duty’. 

The book follows her in her first year: at first, delighted with the freedom she has to do whatever she likes, no longer having to follow her parents’ schedules. She can go anywhere in the grounds, eat whatever she likes, and she can sleep as late as she wants to. But at the same time is a growing awareness that her husband is in charge: she must not enquire about his work, or about family politics, and she must never question the rather brutal ‘discipline’ that he and his closest friend and adviser impose, sometimes, on servants. 

The writing is powerful, and the author builds an authentic picture of life for a woman of Lucrezia’s class in the middle of the 16th century. Even when there are descriptive passages, or where not much happens, I found myself reading compulsively. There’s some tension - it’s hard for Lucrezia to know who to trust, although her instincts are usually good. And there’s a constant battle inside her, between what she knows she must do, and what she would like to do. 

But it’s not until the final chapters that things come to a head. I could hardly put it down, wondering what would happen, and how. I was expecting some kind of twist, perhaps a reprieve. When the climax happens it’s foreshadowed in such a way as to be inevitable, and also very sad, even though there’s some hope for the future for one significant character.

I’m struggling to decide whether or not I enjoyed the book, but I’m glad I read it. As a piece of social history - albeit researched - it’s excellent. I am aware that in some parts of the world women are still considered the property of men, as breeding machines rather than creative people with equal rights. I feel extremely thankful to live in the 21st century, in a European country. 

I doubt if I will read this again, but on the whole I would recommend it to anyone interested in historical novels based on real people. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The unspeakable acts of Zina Pavlou (by Eleni Kyriacou)

(Amazon UK link)

I didn’t know anything about Eleni Kyriacou, except that she is a British Cypriot. And I definitely would not have picked up her book ‘The unspeakable acts of Zina Pavlou’ under normal circumstances. But it was allocated for the August novel in our local reading group, so I downloaded it for my Kindle a few months ago when it was on special offer. 

I knew that this novel was based on a true and rather horrific story. Apparently, back in the 1950s, a Cypriot grandmother visiting her family in the UK was accused of murdering her daughter-in-law. She was found guilty, and was one of the last people to be hanged in the UK. It didn’t sound to me like the basis for an enjoyable or relaxing novel. I wasn’t planning to read it, since I was out of the country for most of August, and was going to miss the relevant meeting. But I saw it on my Kindle a few days before the meeting was scheduled, so decided I would at least read the first few chapters…

The two main characters are Zina, whose story is based on that of the guilty grandmother, and Eve, who acts as her interpreter. Zena has just arrived in the UK as the story start; it iis mainly set in the 1950s. Her son Michaelis moved away from Cyprus many years earlier, and she has longed to join him. She wants to make a new life for herself in England, to find a job and become independent. He finally invites her to stay, and sends her a ticket. 

Zina is not happy that her son married a German woman, Heda, but she wants to like her for her son’s sake. She also wants to meet her grandchildren, eight-year-old Anna and baby Georgie. And while Anna develops an immediate rapport with her grandmother, Georgie is kept away from her, as if they don’t trust her. 

But the book actually opens with Eve meeting Zina in prison. Zina has been arrested for having committed a terrible crime, something which she denies. Zina speaks almost no English, and Eve, who already works at another job, has been asked to be the official translator. She’ll be paid well, and the money will come in useful. Eve is married to a very nice man called Jimmy, but they are going through a rough patch. This is mainly because she had a traumatic miscarriage, and they have not been able to talk about it.

So there are multiple threads to this very well-written novel. Eve, I understand, is entirely fictional, as is her story. The plot involving Zina and the accusations and crime are, as far as possible, based on what really happened. But names are changed, and her son and his family are invented characters, although some of the incidents and scenes with the son did happen in reality.

It’s written from the two points of view - Zina’s and Eve’s - and also from more than one time-line. There’s the main story moving forward as Eve gets to know Zina, and we see the court procedures and eventual sentencing. And there’s also the back story, as Zina arrives in the UK and settles in. There are also some longer flashbacks to Zina’s teenage and young adult years, as other traumatic events transpire.

I liked Eve very much, though she didn’t seem to appreciate her husband enough. But I wasn’t sure what to make of Zina. She’s an extremely complicated character. She has suffered a lot, as becomes clear: she was married at fourteen to an abusive, adulterous and controlling man, and forced to do some terrible things. She had five children, and worked extremely hard to bring them up. Like many Cypriot women of the era, she works continually, cooking and cleaning and dealing with household issues. 

However she does not seem to have any real social skills. She doesn’t like the way her grandchildren are being brought up, and tries to interfere. She criticises and  questions, and generally makes herself a nuisance to her daughter-in-law. She is shocked that her son has abandoned Greek Orthodoxy, and tries to introduce candles and ikons into the house, something which Hedy finds quite disturbing.

As the evidence against Zina piles up, I assumed she was going to be found guilty, since that was the original real-life story; but I had no idea whether it was going to transpire that she actually committed the terrible crime, or whether she had been framed. She continually insists that she is innocent, and that everyone else is lying. 

I wouldn’t say I ‘enjoyed’ the book, exactly. But once I had started it became almost impossible to put down. The pace is good, the characters believable (for the era), and the plot so well crafted that tension rises almost imperceptibly as the back story sections move towards the sentencing. There are one or two places where the story drags a little - mostly descriptions of Eve’s situation as she works, and the people she sees. But for most of the novel, I was gripped.

So I’m glad it was chosen for the book group, and that I did make the time to read it. It’s very unlikely that I will read it again, but I expect the story will remain in my mind for some time. If you want something a bit different from the norm, and don't find the subject matter too distressing, I would recommend this book highly.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The stranding (by Kate Sawyer)

(Amazon UK link)

I hadn’t heard of Kate Sawyer, and most likely would not have chosen to read her book ‘The Stranding’, as I’m not a huge fan of dystopian fiction. But it was chosen for this month’s book club read. I downloaded it for my Kindle a few months ago, as it was on special offer, and started reading it a few days ago.

I was hooked almost immediately. There’s a prologue, with two people lying in the sand talking about ‘Before’. It’s not immediately obvious what is going on, and I went back and re-read the prologue after I’d finished the book. It made more sense then. I’m not sure why it was there at all, as it didn’t really add anything; nor did it give much of a hint as to what was coming, since that becomes clear very quickly.

It’s a story with two time-lines. The first one - the ‘now’ story - follows a woman in her thirties called Ruth who spots a beached whale. She’s desperate to try to save it, and can’t understand why nobody else is around. She’s watched by a man called Nik, a photographer, who points out that throwing cupfuls of sea water won’t make any difference; the whale is dying, and she can’t save it.

And anyway, they’re all going to die, before long… 

Then the action moves back a year or so, when Ruth is having an affair with a married man called Alex. She isn’t quite sure why she’s keeping it a secret not just from her parents (who are likeable people, if somewhat over-protective) but from her closest friend Fran. She and Fran have shared everything with each other for years, and Ruth knows that, the longer she puts it off, the harder she’s going to find it. Particularly when Alex decides to leave his wife and move in with Ruth. 

And then we’re back to the beach. Ruth and Nik talk briefly, and are aware that something catastrophic is about to happen. They decide to see if they can take refuge, somehow, inside the dead whale’s mouth, and they make it just in time. It sounds horrendous, but the apocalyptic blast is worse, destroying everything in the open air. 

The action moves to and fro, alternating the past and the present, and although I thought that would be confusing, it really isn’t. Ruth is quite a self-centered person, and somewhat promiscuous too; yet she’s also mostly kind and caring, and passionate about whales. It’s not clear for some time why she’s in New Zealand at the start of the book, nor what happened to her family and friends in the UK…

It’s cleverly done, with powerful, descriptive writing that takes the reader right into the situation. The contrast between the two parts of the story is marked; it’s never made clear why this apocalypse happens, or even what it consists of. But Nik is worried about radioactivity, so it’s evidently some kind of nuclear explosion. The author doesn’t get into politics at all, reflected in Ruth’s determination to avoid news on TV or the Internet for the period when she’s still in the UK. Evidently people are concerned that something terrible is going to happen, but we never learn who the perpetrators are, or what are the reasons for it. 

The scenes as Ruth and Nik try to survive their first months after this holocaust are reminiscent of stone age stories of hunter/gatherers. However the situation is rather different: they can ‘scavenge’ from burned-out supermarkets and elsewhere. But they have to construct shelter, and try to work out how to attract any possible rescue ships or satellites. They develop all kinds of new skills, and their priorities are very different. As they reflect back on their former lives ‘before’, they inevitably have many regrets; they also grow and develop as people.

In one sense there’s not a whole lot of plot, and what there is seems very unlikely. But somehow that doesn’t matter. I liked discovering how Ruth came to be travelling across the world rather than living in the UK, surrounded by friends and an apparently caring man. And I appreciated the way that the ‘past’ story moves forward to the beginning of the ‘present’ one, although there are no real surprises or twists. 

It’s very thought-provoking, making me think about what I take for granted, and how difficult it would be to live in a world with almost nothing. And also a tad worrying, although I think (and hope!) the likelihood of this kind of gradual nuclear destruction is low. I doubt if I’ll read this again, but am very glad it was chosen and look forward to discussing it. 

There’s some ‘adult’ content, though nothing too explicit, and a bit of bad language, but I was able to gloss over it as I was so eager to keep reading.

Recommended if you like this kind of book, or are looking for something very different. It’s a very impressive debut novel. No longer on special offer for the Kindle, so the link above is to the paperback version. 

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

The Paris apartment (by Lucy Foley)

(Amazon UK link)

I hadn’t heard of Lucy Foley, although she's apparently a best-selling author. Most likely I would not have picked up her thriller ‘The Paris Apartment’, as that’s not my usual preferred genre of reading. But it was allocated for this month’s book club, and I was able to find it inexpensively for my Kindle. So I’ve been reading it over the past week or so.

There’s a dramatic start to the book.  Jess, a young woman travelling on her own, arrives at her brother’s apartment block in Paris. She hasn’t seen him in a while, but has nowhere else to go. She spoke to him earlier in the day, and he gave his address, and also explained how to get in. He wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about her coming to visit, but clearly was expecting her.

But he’s not there. He doesn’t answer his phone, and doesn’t respond when she presses the buzzer to his flat. She tries asking people she sees, but nobody helps at all - and her French is minimal, so she’s not sure anyone understands. Finally she is able to see the code someone else uses to get into the area, and when she gets to the third floor, she picks her brother’s lock. 

And he’s not there. 

I thought it a very well-written start to the book, quite tense and beginning with a situation that would have taxed almost anyone. 

Jess discovers that Ben hasn’t taken his wallet, so he can’t have just popped out to shop. She's annoyed at first, thinking he must have forgotten about her. But as the days pass, she not just puzzled, but becomes worried that something may have happened to him. She tries every possible means of contacting him, with no result. 

She tries to speak to different residents of the building, but finds them oddly unhelpful. And rather than being all written from Jess's viewpoint, it switches from chapter to chapter. It works well, seeing different people's viewpoints, although the voices are all very similar. 

There’s Nick, a likeable young man, who was a friend of Ben’s, but he insists he knows nothing. There’s Mimi, a rather nervous young woman who seems friendly and yet withdraws at any hint of trying to push for answers. There’s an angry young man called Antoine on the ground floor, and in the penthouse is Sophie, a glamorous, perfectly made up woman, whose husband isn’t currently at home. 

There’s also the concierge, who lives a spartan life in a small cottage separate from the main block of flats, and who observes everything that’s going on. Mostly she is ignored, so she isn’t entirely sure how to deal with someone like Jess who tries to befriend everyone.

I thought the book started well, throwing Jess into a stressful and unexpected situation. It shows her as a - basically - kind person, although she’s evidently running away from something she should not have done. However I felt the residents of the apartment block appeared rather too quickly and it wasn’t easy to remember who was whom. They’re distinct individuals but there isn’t much characterisation to any of them. 

And there’s my problem with the book, really. I did hope things would work out for Jess eventually, but she never feels entirely three-dimensional, and everyone else in the book feels very flat. There are some tense situations, but it was hard for me to feel any kind of stress - and that’s unusual, as I’m easily spooked by fictional tension and thrillers.  But after the dramatic opening, not much happens for quite a lengthy section of the book. 

In the second half of the book the story gets going, after Jess seems to have come to a brick wall in her searches. There’s a local journalist after a story, a seedy night club, a shocking article on a computer, some surprising revelations about the residents of the flats, and more. Throughout I thought it was a well-written plot, but couldn’t care much about any of the people. 

The ending should have been quite exciting, but although I kept reading - sometimes a bit compulsively - and the chapters are short, I only really felt relief when everything was resolved and the book ended. There’s a bit of a twist,  when Jess thinks she’s found out something and we learn quite quickly that the ‘clues’ in the book actually lead to a rather different scenario. But by that stage I didn’t much care. 

Since I find some thrillers very stressful to read (and generally avoid them) it’s perhaps a good thing that I didn’t find most of this book particularly tense. I quite liked the cultural references, and Jess’s rather poor attempts at speaking French. And I thought the plot was well constructed and the writing nicely paced. But since the characters did nothing for me emotionally, it’s not a book I’m likely to read again.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Devil's breath (by Jill Johnson)

(Amazon UK link)

I hadn’t heard of Jill Johnson, and probably wouldn’t have chosen her book if I had seen it for sale. I don’t usually choose books that state on the front that they are ‘eerily compelling’. But ‘Devil’s Breath’ was this month’s reading group selection. I was able to buy it inexpensively for the Kindle, and started reading a few days ago.

The main protagonist - who tells the story - is Professor Eustacia Rose, who lives in London. She isn’t currently working, and we quickly learn that some ‘incident’ a year earlier caused her to be suspended from her work as a university lecturer in toxicology. We also quickly discover that she’s on the autistic spectrum. The author cleverly reveals this in a lot of comments, without ever stating it overtly. 

Eustacia’s passion - and life work - is based around toxic plants. She has a large collection on her roof garden, which she cares for diligently and with extreme care every day. She sometimes meets a plant dealer who has smuggled a rare specimen; she’s thrilled when a tiny cutting takes root. It’s a little disturbing at first how knowledgeable she is about exactly what each plant would do if ingested or (in some cases) touched, and how pleased she is to acquire new plants.

But it’s also quickly clear that she guards her privacy, and never lets anyone else near her collection. She wears overalls and gloves when she’s tending her plants, and while her descriptions are unemotional, she is horrified at the thought that anyone might have adverse effects from them. And she has done some work on antidotes. 

Eustacia has a daily routine, which she barely deviates from. It could have been dull but I liked her ‘voice’, and although she’s a strange person, she’s oddly likeable. She dresses in her father’s old suits, and cares little for her appearance. She does have one habit that bothered me: she has an expensive telescope on her roof garden, which she uses to spy on her neighbours. Mostly it’s curiosity, but she gives some of them creative names based on plants. And there’s one in particular - a young woman - who has several male friends, and Eustacia finds herself attracted to her in a somewhat obsessive way…

The bulk of the story involves an investigation after Eustacia’s garden is vandalised, and someone is murdered. She’s under suspicion for a while, but it’s a testament to the writing that I never really imagined she might be guilty herself - only for a moment did I wonder if the story was going that way. I have to admit I found it difficult to tell apart the handful of male characters who visit the young woman’s flat; none of them feel really three-dimensional although they are described well. But it didn’t matter too much, although I did find myself a bit bewildered by some of the dialogue, and even more by conversations recorded on a neighbour’s phone.

It’s light-hearted in places, with one or two sentences that made me smile. It’s also an excellent insight into the mind of someone who is both highly intelligent and neuro-divergent. She is aware that she’s different from many, and is sometimes puzzled by other people’s emotions. But her father taught her the names of emotions, and suitable reactions when she observed them. And she is highly observant.

There’s a fair amount of tension, and an excellent pace that drew me into Eustacia’s unusual life. There were several times when I wondered where the story would go. There’s rather more detail about specific plants than I wanted (and a glossary at the back, which I discovered at the end, that would be useful in a paperback; not so much on a Kindle. The author is either an expert herself, or did some extensive research. But it was easy enough to skim over the plant details when they were too extensive. 

It’s something of a ‘whodunit’, and I very much liked the way that Eustacia and the detective in charge of the case gradually start to develop respect for each other. I was slightly confused at the end, which was left somewhat open; but I gather this is the first of a series about Eustacia Rose, so perhaps something will become clearer in the second book.

Apparently this is also published under the rather less interesting title of ‘The woman in the garden’. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The heaven and earth grocery store (by James McBride)

(Amazon UK link)

I had never heard of James McBride. Most likely I would never have picked up his novel ‘The heaven and earth grocery store’. But it was allocated for this month’s book club, so I bought it second-hand when I was in the UK last year. I had no idea what to expect when I started it a few days ago. The cover (and, indeed, the title) imply something light-hearted, perhaps amusing in places. That's quite misleading, as I quickly discovered. 

Nor was I enlightened about the story in the first few chapters. The book opens with a prologue in italics, mentioning some excavations, and the discovery of a skeleton at the bottom of the well. An elderly Jewish man is going to be questioned. But then there’s a huge hurricane that destroys everything in its path. When it’s over, the old man has vanished, as has the evidence. 

It’s written in a strange style, as if told by someone in dialect. And since the back cover of the book mentions a murder mystery, I assumed that the next chapter, which goes back nearly fifty years, would have some clues, red herrings, and other features that are common on crime fiction of this kind. 

However I was wrong. The next few chapters, I thought, were very heavy-going. They introduce a slew of different characters in the 1930s, some of them Jewish (mostly from Eastern European countries) and some of them black Africans. They’re all in the United States in a period where racism is rife. Although they’re in a Northern State where there is supposedly equality, that’s clearly not the case. Most of the black families live in one neighbourhood, and the only white people who care about them are the Jewish couple Moshe and Chona. 

Moshe runs a dance hall, and there’s a lengthy section about his mistakes in marketing, his decision to introduce black bands, and various other issues that went rather over my head. He has a cousin who bales him out and advises him. His wife runs a grocery store which loses money because she gives credit to everyone who can’t afford to pay.  

And then there are more and more people who are mentioned, most of them with lengthy back stories written in long, rambling sentences which I had to re-read to make sense of. At least, I did at first; I soon realised I could skim without actually losing anything. It’s not that it’s bad writing: the author paints good word pictures, and I think it’s probably valuable social history to learn about ordinary people in this very different society. But I found the number of cast members very confusing, with no idea which ones were going to be significant.

More importantly, I didn’t much like anyone other than Chona, and she spends most of the book being ill. She had polio as a child, and walks with a limp, but she also has fainting spells and seizures, and it’s not clear what’s wrong with her. 

There’s a black couple who work for Moshe, called Nate and Addie, who take in a 12-year-old nephew after his mother dies. This boy, known as Dodo, turns out to be one of the most important characters in the book. He’s deaf, due to a horrific accident three years earlier, and has learned to play dumb because he doesn’t want to get into trouble. He doesn’t go to school because of his lack of hearing, and the authorities want to put him in a special school - really an institution for the mentally ill. 

There’s also a thread about water supplies and reservoirs and illegal pipes, which I struggled to make sense of - I don’t think it matters much. The plot related to Dodo is more interesting, but also very disturbing; I knew some mental asylums were harsh, cruel places but had no idea something as horrific as this existed less than 100 years ago. For although this is fiction, the author evidently bases the communities and the places in real historical context. 

I did find the latter half of the book more readable than the first half; but it still felt quite long-winded, with a lot of extraneous detail that didn’t seem to go anywhere, or have any relevance to the story. Some readers loved this book; I felt it could have done with significant editing. 

As for the supposed 'murder mystery', that's not mentioned at all. There are no clues or hints of any kind, until it becomes clear what happened in the last chapters. There's no 'mystery'. And there's another brief italicised section at the end, summarising what happened to a few of the characters. 

On the whole I’m glad that I read this book. Part of the reason for the local reading group is to encourage people to move beyond their preferred genres, and I appreciate that. I think I learned a fair amount about the culture and the era, through this book, even though I didn't really enjoy it, and it’s not one I’m ever likely to read again. 

Still, don't necessarily take my word for it. This book has become a best-seller, and was chosen for at least one 'book of the month' award. A lot of reviewers love it. It just isn't my kind of book. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The trouble with goats and sheep (by Joanna Cannon)

(Amazon UK link)

I hadn’t heard of Joanna Cannon. Apparently ‘The trouble with goats and sheep’ was her debut novel, although she has written others since this was published in 2016. It was allocated for this month’s read for our local book group. We were told it was light-hearted, and a relatively easy read for a busy time of year.

I really wanted to like it. It starts so well. Ten-year-old Grace narrates; she’s an only child who thinks a lot. Sometimes her narration feels more like that of an adult, but she’s also quite naive at times, and it works well that we see the people in her street and their activities through her eyes. The book is set in the UK, somewhere in the Midlands, in the summer of 1976. People regularly complain about the heat, which is realistic for typical Brits. And I remember that summer well. 

Some of the writing, too, is almost poetic. The author uses similes and turns of phrase that work beautifully as she describes ‘The Avenue’ - a short cul-de-sac where Grace lives with her parents. There’s a useful diagram at the front of the book listing the eight houses and their occupants, although when the story starts number 14 is empty. 

One of the houses, number 11, is the only odd numbered house and it sits a little way back from the others. Its occupant is the reclusive Walter Bishop, a man who keeps to himself and who is ostracised by the other adults in the street. We soon learn that they believe he kidnapped a baby nine years earlier. We also learn that there are odd circumstances surrounding a house fire that happened when his elderly mother was staying. Unfortunately she was unable to get out. 

The novel opens with mention of someone else: Mrs Creasy, who has disappeared. Margaret Creasy lives at number 8 with her husband John, who is somewhat obsessive-compulsive. He’s disturbed that she has gone but certain she is alive. Every day he meets the bus at the end of the avenue, in case she’s arriving back. 

Grace has a friend called Tilly, who has some unspecified illness that makes her frail. Something to do with her blood, but we never learn what it is. Tilly follows Grace around, and they decide they’re going to do some investigating. They want to find clues about Mrs Creasy’s disappearance. And they also want to find God…

The story has so much potential, with supposedly quirky characters, but unfortunately they all seem rather two-dimensional. I was glad of the map because it reminded me who was whom and which couples went together - and it’s not as if it’s a huge cast. By the end I could remember most of them. There’s ‘thin Brian’ (who is 43) and his hypochondriac mother May, for instance. There’s Mr Forbes who’s rather a bully, and treats his wife Dorothy as if she’s a not very intelligent servant. He goes off to the pub leaving her with lengthy lists, assuring her that unless she writes everything down she won’t remember what to do. If her list runs out, he adds more to it. 

Grace’s parents are called Sylvia and Derek but they don’t have much of a part in the novel, other than as part of Grace’s home. And there’s a single mother called Sheila who has two children: 16-year-old Lisa and the much younger Keithie. I had to check the list for the final resident - Eric Lamb. He lives alone after his wife died, but he feels like an extremely shadowy character, even more so than the others. Then there’s a lady who doesn’t live in the avenue who sometimes looks after Grace and Tilly. And the vicar. 

The book moves slowly forward in time in July 1976, with a few flashback sections in 1967 when the events that everyone whispers about actually happened. It’s nicely done and works well, with most of the same people. It turns out that most of them have secrets of some kind which come to light during the course of the book, although some of them are not really relevant to the story. 

I was also mystified as to why another couple was introduced late in the book, moving into the empty house. They're a couple of Indian origin who have moved from Birmingham. They're good humoured and friendly, but are met with a barrage of tactless questions from people who are remarkably narrow-minded and insist on stereotyping them. They don't seem to have any part in the plot. 

And that's really my problem with this book. I’m not sure what the story is. It seems like it might be a whodunit, but nothing is ever uncovered. It becomes a bit slow-moving in the middle; perhaps this reflects the torpor that accompanied the summer of 1976. But it meant that I couldn’t read more than a few chapters at a time without my mind wandering. At the start I was eager to know what had happened to Mrs Creasy at first… by the end I didn’t much care. Which is just as well, as we never do learn why she left or where she went. 

There’s a theme that comes up more than once, about not being judgemental. Walter is constantly judged and condemned by his neighbours, although he continues to live there - and it’s clear that those judging him are themselves full of secrets that they don’t want to be uncovered. But it all feels a bit forced, with a bizarre section towards the end where Tilly thinks she sees Jesus in an oil stain on a large drainpipe. She manages to convince everyone in the street that it really is Jesus although not everyone agrees. 

The message about God being everywhere is mentioned many times, as is the idea that people are not divided into goats and sheep, but that everyone has some good and some bad in them. And there are lots of realistic references to things we took for granted in the mid-1970s so it’s good from a social history point of view. Indeed, there’s lots to like about this book...

And yet, I came away from it feeling as if I didn’t care about any of the people. I'm not going to remember any of them in a few days' time. I didn’t really know what the point of the book was, and I was (in a low-key way) disappointed not to know what actually happened to Mrs Creasy. 

However, don’t necessarily trust me on this. Reviews elsewhere are mostly very positive. As a study in 1970s suburban England with beautiful turns of phrase, it does a good job. But, personally, I prefer three-dimensional characters and more of a resolution. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The good, the bad and the aunties (by Jesse Sutanto)

(Amazon UK link)

I had not heard of Jesse Suntano. She’s a Chinese-Indonesian writer who has apparently had several books published. In our local book group we like to read a variety of books from different cultures, and we also like something fairly light-weight for December. So ‘The good, the bad and the aunties’ was chosen for this month’s read. 

I thought the title was clever, and was aware before I started that this is the third in a series about the same family. Each one has a title that’s a spoof on a famous film title. The first in the series - ‘Dial A for Aunties’ - won a comedy award and has been made into a film. I hoped it didn’t matter that I hadn’t read the first two in the series.

‘The good, the bad and the aunties’ is narrated by a young, newly-married Chinese-Indonesian woman called Meddy. She’s been on a long honeymoon with her husband Nathan, and they’ve now met up with her mother and aunts, who live in the United States. They have travelled to Jakarta (in Indonesia) to meet the extended family, and to celebrate the Chinese New Year. 

The cultural part of this novel is, I assume, authentic and based on the author’s own experience. There’s a huge extended family, and Meddy doesn’t even know all the names of her cousins’ children. Vast amounts of food are prepared for every meal, and Meddy is regularly asked when she and Nathan are going to produce a grandbaby for her mother. 

But the characterisation is, on the whole, very two-dimensional. Nathan is almost too good to be true: he isn’t at all fazed by interfering relatives, and quickly learns names. He seems to get along with everyone, and doesn’t find anything awkward or embarrassing. He’s also good-looking and muscular, and Meddy’s family all think he’s wonderful.

As for Meddy’s mother, known as Ma, and her aunts (known, bizarrely, by names such as ‘Second Aunt’ and ‘Fourth Aunt’) I couldn’t really tell them apart. The family they have come to meet are even more shadowy, only one or two of them given names, none of which I can recall despite just finishing the book a few hours ago. 

The plot of the book consists of an increasingly unlikely series of incidents. A tattooed man, apparently a gang leader who is also a businessman, arrives unexpectedly with a whole train of cars behind him. He has come to see Second Aunt whom, he says, he has been in love with for years. She becomes rather embarrassingly flirtatious and admits to having had a crush on him, too. 

His name is Abi and he’s invited in to the celebrations, where he joins in by offering baskets of red envelopes. I assume this is a Chinese custom; it’s explained that all the married people hand out red envelopes containing cash to the children and other unmarried folk. 

However, it turns out that he accidentally put an important document in one of these envelopes. There's no hint of explanation as to why he put a vital property deed in a red envelope in a basket with others. He needs it back urgently or he’ll be in trouble with a high-powered businesswoman who also appears to be a gang leader. So Meddy and her close family pile into a car (I have no idea why they all had to go) to visit this woman, known as Julia Child, and to promise that they will retrieve the document. She keeps Nathan as a hostage, which makes Meddy panic… 

And this starts a sequence of increasingly unlikely scenes, including violence, disguises, drugging guards, entering a house under false pretences, and more. I didn’t feel involved in any of it, just more and more incredulous. I realised towards the end that structure of the book felt like a children’s graphic novel without the pictures. It was like the library books my ten-year-old grandson reads, full of people getting in and out of potentially dangerous situations, as if they’re cartoon characters, with little thought of consequences and no depth of characterisation. 

The pace is good, but there’s a lot of internal monologue from Maddy which ‘tells rather than showing’ what’s going on, and thus seems rather flat. And there are so many cliches I’m surprised the editor didn’t reduce them. Some of the conversation seems to be poking fun at Maddy’s older relatives, and some of it isn’t relevant or necessary at all. And there are many references to someone whom Maddy killed (I assume in one of the earlier books) although that does not seem to be relevant at all to this story.

Possibly I’m the wrong kind of audience for this book. Maybe young adults who grew up on graphic novels would appreciate it more than I did. It’s supposed to be comic, but I didn’t find anything amusing - it just seemed rather silly to me. It wasn’t a difficult read, and I did keep going. I finished it in a couple of days. I’m glad I found it second-hand rather than paying full price for it, and have no plans to look for the two earlier books in the series.

I wouldn’t recommend this book at all. But don’t necessarily take my word for it. This series has a lot of fans, so if you liked the first two ‘aunties’ books, then you might like this one too.

Review copyright 2024 Sue's Book Reviews