The gift of pain (by Philip Yancey and Paul Brand)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s nearly seventeen years since I first read ‘The gift of pain’, which was co-written by Philip Yancey and the late Dr Paul Brand. I found it eye-opening when I first read it, and almost impossible to put down. I decided it was well overdue for a reread.

The book is primarily autobiographical, based on extensive journals and recollections from Paul Brand’s childhood and early experiences as a doctor. Philip Yancey has turned it into a very readable and well-structured book that I have been reading over the past couple of weeks, a chapter or two each day. It's not like a typical Yancey book; he functions more as an editor. It's written in the first person with Paul Brand narrating. 

Paul Brand was born in 1914, in India, to missionary parents. In looking back, he sees a wonderful childhood, exploring the area barefoot, learning from conversations and observations. And then he was sent to boarding school in the UK, and to live with relatives. He says very little about those years, other than that he felt restricted, and often lonely. 

He didn’t intend to go into medicine, but by various circumstances, which he believes were divinely ordained, he started to study basic medicine and was hooked. He specialised in hand surgery, and planned to return to India. And ended up committed to helping patients with leprosy. 

Back in the 1930s, leprosy was widespread in India, with no known cure or even a way of stopping the progression of the disease. Gradually drugs were discovered that stopped it getting worse, and ensured that sufferers were no longer infectious. But if they had lost fingers or toes, or had serious scarring, they were unable to find employment or live anywhere other than a leper colony.

By extensive research, some of it funded by governments, Dr Brand gradually realised that it was the lack of pain that led to most of the disfigurement of people with leprosy. Without any sensation in their hands, patients would damage them by overuse, or by injury, and would not notice. They would develop ulcers on their feet, too, which would often spread and turn gangrenous. And even when medical staff operated on hands, or feet, the same problems would recur as patients could not feel any pain.

So alongside the biographical parts of the book are explanations about why pain is such an important benefit to the majority of us who feel it. The author goes into a lot of detail about how we feel pain, and I have to admit that I skimmed over some of the technical and medical details, as well as some of the descriptions of surgeries. I’m quite squeamish, and had no need to learn about which tendons had to be attached or removed. I also skipped over the sections about using animals for research, something which was much commoner then than it is now.

But most of the text is very readable, and once again I found it quite hard to put down at times. I knew the outline of the story - that Dr Brand was one of the pioneers in both surgery and healing techniques for people with leprosy. Without his research, and his extensive care and education of patients, leprosy would still be a much more widespread disease and problem than it now is.

I was also reminded about how important it is to listen to aches and pains. Brand explains that some are useful, and that our bodies respond by a kind of instinct - pulling a finger away from a hot surface, for instance, even though the pain of it may not be felt until some time later. He talks about three stages of pain, with the third one being the way we perceive it. Those who are positive and upbeat are likely to find a situation much less painful than those who dread it, or who are depressed about their illness. 

He also stresses the importance of support, of comfort, and of knowing that one can do something about a situation. He gives examples such as indigestion problems, where some people give in and assume they’re permanent, some want whatever a doctor can do, and some want to find out how to change their lifestyle to avoid future problems. 

Stereotyping, perhaps, and of course it’s not always that straightforward. But the principles are good. He points out, gently, that habits such as smoking or overeating will lead to health issues. However, he doesn’t do this from a moralistic point of view, and doesn’t pass judgement on his patients. And similarly with former leprosy sufferers, he helps them understand what they can do to assist their healing, without criticising or condemning them when they forget, or ignore his advice.

At the end is an epilogue comparing and contrasting the AIDS epidemic of the 1990s (when the book was first published) with leprosy as it was early in the century. Again, the author makes no judgement, but does make some interesting points. 

It’s a very readable book, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in this topic. There's an underlying Christian ethos, but it's very low key and not at all pushy.  

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

To the manor born (by Peter Spence)

(Amazon UK link)

I watched some of the BBC sitcom ‘To the manor born’ when it first came out, towards the end of the 1970s and early 1980s. We acquired a DVD set of the complete series many years ago, although we have not watched them for a while. But I don’t think I had realised that there were accompanying books, written by Peter Spence (who also wrote most of the TV scripts). 

I found the books at a church book stall some years ago, and finally decided to read the first one which is simply entitled ‘To the manor born’.  There’s a photo of Penelope Keith on the front, in her role as Audrey, and a letter at the beginning, supposedly from Audrey to Richard letting him know that the BBC was making a documentary about them…

The action then goes back a year or so, to the funeral of Audrey’s husband, Marton fforbes-Hamilton. Audrey - and I imagine her as Penelope Keith’s version, not dissimilar to Margo in ‘The Good life’ - is relishing her role as a grieving widow. But it’s clear that she isn’t really unhappy at all.

Into the village drives Richard deVere, a man made extremely wealthy by the food industry. He wants to buy something typically English and old for himself and his elderly mother to live in, and he’s seeing around the lodge that’s part of the fforbes-Hamilton estate. He is much more interested in the manor house where Audrey lives, and persuades the estate agent to let him look around. Then they get caught up in the post-funeral wake. 

I don’t remember if this is how the TV series starts - evidently we need to watch the DVDs again - but it makes a dramatic start to this book. I knew, roughly, how the plot was going to develop. Richard and Audrey would start with misunderstandings, leading them to dislike each other. Then one would make tentative approaches of friendship, and things would seem to go well, until something happened to drive them apart again. 

And, indeed, that’s what happens in the book. Richard is so wealthy he wants to help Audrey, whose husband left her almost penniless. But Audrey is proud and does not want charity. Nor does she want to work for him, although - sometimes - she’s willing to advise. 

Audrey’s butler, known as Brabinger, features significantly in the book - he’s quite deaf, and not very competent other than at serving drinks. He’s been in the family for decades, and is more like a family friend than a servant. But he and Audrey both believe in keeping their place, never allowing their relationship to become too familiar. 

Margery also appears - Audrey’s most loyal friend, though she’s a bit twittery and vague, and finds Richard extremely attractive. There are some amusing comments about Margery’s dress sense (or lack of it) which would not have been possible in the TV series, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she was dressed in ill-fitting garments. 

There’s a lot of gentle humour in the book. Audrey tends to take things literally (often deliberately) and this can lead to some dialogue that almost had me laughing aloud.  I remembered some of the stories from the TV series, but not all of them. Audrey’s pretentions are often quashed, but underneath her snobbery and the act she puts on, she’s basically a likeable person. 

I thought it might take me a while to read this book; it’s only a little over 200 pages in paperback, but looked a bit dry with quite small text. Instead, I found myself picking it up at every odd moment, and finished it in just a couple of days. I’m already looking forward to reading the sequel some time next month.

Recommended if you like this kind of light humour based in the upper middle classes of England in the 1980s, particularly if you liked the TV series. It's long out of print and online prices can be very high, but you might find it inexpensively at a charity shop. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Out of the shadows (by Titia Sutherland)

(Amazon UK link)

One of the good things about not reading a book for nearly two decades is that I’ve usually forgotten everything about it, other than that I liked it. I first read ‘Out of the shadows’ by Titia Sutherland in 2006 and did not recall anything in it. So it was as if I were reading a book that was new to me, knowing in advance that I would enjoy it. 

Titia Sutherland creates likeable, realistic people in her novels. Rachel is the main character; she’s in her fifties and widowed but not really grieving. She misses some things about her husband, but he cheated on her; worse things are implied about him, although never really explored. Her older son Simon is rather pompous, and keeps trying to persuade Rachel to downsize; the family home is quite big and he feels that it’s getting beyond her. But Rachel is fit and active, and has someone who helps in the house. She has no desire to move. 

Simon’s wife Camilla is a bit shadowy, but their daughter Emily, who is seven, is another major character in the story. I liked Emily very much. She’s intelligent, and outspoken, and also sensitive in a lot of ways. She’s not at all happy that her mother is expecting another baby, as Emily is not a fan of babies. Well, other than her cousin Robin (known as Bins) whom she adores. Emily regularly stays with Rachel in school holidays. 

Bins is the son of Rachel’s only daughter, Lisa, who is quite temperamental and sometimes leaves her partner after an argument. Rachel’s youngest, Christian, barely comes into the book - I’m not quite sure why he was included; he’s in the army but hopes to get out. Rachel loves him very much but is astonished when he lets her know what he’s planning to do in the future.

The story really starts when Rachel takes in a lodger, the handsome and helpful Tom. He does some odd jobs in the house, and advises Lisa on her relationship difficulties. He’s charming, perhaps a little too good to be true, but Rachel starts to fall for him.  And it seems that Tom, who recently went through a relationship break-up, is attracted to her too, even though he’s thirteen years younger. 

It’s a character-based novel, exploring different dynamics in the family as they relate to each other. Rachel, who does research for other people’s books, is fascinated by some records about people who used to live in the house. And the reason she starts this is one that is not at all common in this genre of fiction: there are ghosts, mainly on the top floor of her house where the old nursery was. Rachel is aware of a scent of perfume and cigarettes, and sometimes finds things moved, although she thinks these ghosts are benign. She hopes to find out who they were, and why they’re still about.

Simon scoffs about this, and doesn’t believe in ghosts at all, but Emily has always been aware of them, and can even sometimes see them. Lisa can also sense them, and has an affinity with one of them who had a similar name, and was of a similar age. And it’s a testament to the writing that I almost believed in these restless spirits as part of the cast of the book - they’re discussed rationally, and until towards the end seem entirely harmless.

Perhaps there’s not a lot of plot; yet I found myself entirely caught up in the story, caring about most of the characters. There’s a section where Rachel and Tom go to France for a couple of weeks to do some of the research into former occupants of her house, and I thought it very well done, showing their affection for each other and also the beginnings of cracks in their relationship. I didn’t find Tom an entirely believable character, but he functions as a catalyst for some of the decisions Rachel makes. 

Once again I did like the book, which I found quite hard to put down at times. I expect I’ll read it again, hopefully in a decade or so, rather than another twenty years.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The horse and his boy (by CS Lewis)

(Amazon UK link)

I’m very glad I decided to re-read the Narnia series by CS Lewis. I loved them as a child, and I appreciate them more each time I read them. ‘The horse and his boy’ was probably my least favourite when I was younger; I’m not sure why. Perhaps because it didn’t have any scenes set in the ‘real’ world - or perhaps because it didn’t fit neatly into the chronology of the others. It’s set somewhere towards the end of ‘The lion, the witch and the wardrobe’, which I re-read last month. 

But last time I read ‘The horse and his boy’, I was surprised to find how much I liked it. I appreciated it even more on rereading in the last couple of days; so much so that I could barely put it down. And I knew the overall storyline so it wasn't as if there were any surprises.

The story starts in Calormen, in the south of the world where Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy are reigning as kings and queens in Narnia. Shasta lives with a man he calls his father, and since he’s never known anything different, he’s not too unhappy. However he has to do a lot of chores. His father often becomes angry with him, and beats him, so Shasta has learned to keep out of the way, and not answer back. 

One day a wealthy man arrives, and offers to buy Shasta… and Shasta, to his astonishment, learns that the man’s horse is a talking horse from Narnia who was captured some years before. So the two decide to escape together. 

The bulk of the story covers their lengthy journey. At first they’re worried about being followed, but soon other problems occur: Shasta has never ridden a horse before, so he has to learn and becomes very sore. They have to find places to sleep, and things to eat when the supplies in the saddlebags have run out. They meet wild animals, and they keep away from other riders, until they’re unaccountably forced to join up with Aravis, a young and haughty girl around Shasta’s age, and her horse Hwin, who is also a talking Narnian horse. Aravis is escaping from an arranged marriage to someone she despises.

The story is an exciting one with a good pace; I could feel some of the excitement and also their anxieties, particularly as they approach the city of Tashbaan, and realise that they will have to go through it in order to continue their journey. They make some plans but inevitably things go wrong, and they are separated…

It’s a wonderful story, one that could stand alone as well as being read in chronological sequence (as I am trying to do). It looks at issues of slavery, of greed, of corruption, and so much more. It contrasts the freedom and friendship of the Narnians with the coercion and distrust of the rest of the world. There are also lessons to be learned by the main protagonists. Shasta has to become courageous and honest; Aravis has to learn not to be snooty and rude. Bree has to swallow his pride, and Hwin has to realise her value. 

There are, no doubt, negative racial stereotypes that might offend some. But this book was written in 1954 and the attitudes were probably typical of the era. And Lewis was far from racist: his books involve individuals from not just the human race: as well as the talking animals who are wise with strong personalities, there are fauns, centaurs, giants and others. The king of them all is Aslan the lion. 

These books can be enjoyed and appreciated at many different levels by people of all ages. They make great read-alouds to children of about seven or eight and upwards; fluent readers from around those ages can also like them. As a child I read them as exciting stories; as a teenager I became aware of the analogies and metaphors inherent in all Lewis’s fiction writing. As an adult, I see more in them each time. 

Definitely recommended. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The casual vacancy (by JK Rowling)

(Amazon UK link)

When I learned, over a decade ago, that JK Rowling had published an ‘adult’ novel, I read a few reviews out of curiosity. Some praised the book highly; others said it was disappointing after the Harry Potter series. Some said it was realistic and insightful; others complained about the strong, crude language. I decided I probably wouldn’t bother with it.

Then I saw a copy of ‘The casual vacancy’ at a local church book sale nearly three years ago. I decided to fork out fifty cents to try it, knowing that I could abandon it after a few chapters and give it back if I didn’t like the book. It sat on my ‘to-read’ shelf for all this time, and I finally picked it up to read last week. 

The book opens with the death of a man called Barry, who - we learn through the book - was kind and altruistic, and generally liked in the village. His wife Mary sometimes wished he paid more attention to her, but she and their four children are bereft without him. 

Barry’s sudden passing leaves a vacancy open on the village council, and much of the book revolves around the different people hoping to fill this slot. There is quite a large cast of characters, and in the first few chapters I found myself somewhat confused, though I didn’t resort to writing out a list, as I’ve sometimes done with other books. The writing is good enough that the important ones are easily distinguished, and it didn’t much matter when I temporarily forgot who a minor character was.

There are also several threads in the book involving teenagers, who are around sixteen and attend the local comprehensive school. And their language and generally crude behaviour is, in my view, quite shocking. Indeed, so much so that after a few chapters I was tempted to give up. I might have done so, but in the past couple of months I abandoned two other books which I found too crude, with dislikable characters. I didn’t want to make a habit of it. 

So I persevered, and I’m glad I did. I don’t know if these teens are typical of today’s British youth - if so it’s quite worrying. And yet, underneath the brash, lewd and sometimes violent attitudes of these teenagers, there are some positive traits too. Andrew Price is interested in girls, particularly one who is new to the village called Gaia. But he’s also very nervous about approaching her. He isn’t particularly bright, but as we learn quickly, his father is a crook who can fly into violent passions, thinking nothing of hitting out at his sons. 

Andrew’s best friend is a boy called Stuart who’s rather more street-wise, and has decided to befriend and become intimate with a girl called Krystal who lives in a council house. Stuart is brash, and is an online bully to another girl in their class. But he also cares deeply about integrity (on his terms) and honesty. As for Krystal, her language is the foulest of all, and her morals appear to be almost non-existent. But, as we discover, her mother is a drug addict who doesn’t cook or clean or care for her three-year-old Robbie. Krystal adores her little brother, and does what she can to look after him.

There are incidents with social workers, and also scenes in the school. The viewpoint changes regularly, as does the setting, but the writing is excellent and the pace was just right for me, once the story got going. Behind the apparent quiet and beauty of this village, there are so many battles taking place; in marriages, between parents and teens, and in people's own minds. Questions arise, which are never really solved: should potential councillors be upfront about their private lives? At what point is it better for a child to be taken into care, rather than staying with a neglectful mother?

There are also insights into parents’ relationships with their teens, which may be caricatured, but seemed to me to have more than a grain of truth in them. Some parents seem to dislike their children and lash out at them; I hope this isn’t common. Others are busy, and absorbed in their own problems, and don’t necessarily take time to listen properly to their teens’ concerns. This resonated much more strongly with me; it happened to me when I had teenagers at home, and I’ve observed it with other parents.

The book contains some distressing scenes including violence, and some tragedies towards the end which are surprisingly moving. But the author manages to give enough detail to make it clear what’s happening without anything gratuitous. I appreciated that, and while I didn’t like the ongoing crude ‘strong’ language used by so many of the teens, it definitely helped to differentiate their scenes from those of their parents and other adults in the village.

A lot of contemporary issues are touched upon in addition to the more major ones. Possibly a few too many: for instance there’s one non-white family who experience some racism; one gay couple (although they have a very minor role) whose parents aren’t happy; a boy who has been adopted and whose father still finds it difficult to accept. And more. But they all felt so real while I was reading that I hadn’t quite thought about it until I’d finished. 

Indeed, by the time I was half-way through, I found it difficult to put down. I can’t say I enjoyed the book, exactly, and doubt if I'll read it again. But it’s quite thought-provoking. It’s definitely not a book for children, or for anyone who’s offended by bad language. But for older teens, and broad-minded adults wanting something a bit different, I would (guardedly) recommend this. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Minding Frankie (by Maeve Binchy)

(Amazon UK link)

I am so enjoying re-reading my collection of novels by Maeve Binchy, some of which I’ve only read once before. One of these is ‘Minding Frankie’, which I first read in 2012, and have only just read for the second time. I knew I liked it first time around, but I had entirely forgotten the story, and the main characters.

As with several of Binchy’s books, it’s set in a small town where some of the minor characters appeared previously in other novels. Many of them live in the same street; I didn’t entirely remember who was whom, but was at least familiar with the twins Maud and Simon (now adults, and running a catering company), and the doctor Declan. I also remembered Clara, who featured prominently in ‘Heart and Soul’, which I re-read last month. It’s not necessary to have read previous novels by this author, but I like the continuity, and hearing more about people who had started to feel quite real to me in earlier books.

However the main storyline involves a young man called Noel Lynch. His parents are very religious, and had hoped that he might become a priest one day. But Noel has mostly thrown off his Catholic roots. He disliked school, and left as soon as he could, joining a local company as a kind of office boy. He’s a secret drinker, too, hoping to hide it from everyone else, but increasingly making trouble…

Noel’s cousin Emily comes to visit from the United States. She has never been to Ireland, and doesn’t know anyone. But she’s the kind of person who listens without judgement, and takes action where she sees a need. She encourages Noel’s parents to think about new activities and ways to earn money, and she also gently confronts Noel. Her father was an alcoholic, so she knows the signs. 

Noel learns something startling about a former casual girlfriend called Stella who is in hospital, terminally ill. And around the time he’s deciding that he should be becoming alcohol-free, he has to make another huge decision which will affect the rest of his life.

The bulk of the story involves the fate of a baby girl called Frankie. The entire street rallies round, taking turns looking after her when her father has to work. Emily organises a rota, and it all seem to work extremely well. Frankie is well-fed, and meets expected milestones with ease. She’s comfortable with everyone around her. However her social worker, Moira, is convinced that she would be better off in foster-care. 

There are a lot of gently interwoven subplots, as is typical for Maeve Binchy novels. Gradually we learn about Moira’s childhood, and the way she has grown up to be quite bitter. Even when she thinks she’s being friendly, people find her abrupt and irritable. She keeps appearing through the book, trying to find problems. She’s treated as a villain, at times; but underneath she’s very insecure and troubled.

Lisa is another young woman whom we meet for the first time. She has lived with her parents much longer than expected, although her sister moved out and has married. Lisa works for a graphic art organisation where she’s doing quite well, until she falls for a handsome chef called Anton, who admires and flatters her. Then Lisa discovers something shocking about her rather cold parents, and is forced to move out quickly.

There are some quite poignant threads in the novel, too. I liked Stella, who only comes into a few scenes, but whose influence and decisions affect the rest of the story. She has a lot of courage, but her story is moving and very sad - even if she does insist on secret cigarettes in hospital. There’s an even more poignant storyline involving a delightful man who has been in several of the earlier books, whom everyone likes enormously. He discovers that he doesn’t have long to live, and his family and friends are devastated.

There are some low-key romances, too, though the author wisely omits details of bedroom scenes, as well as bad language. Some of them are perhaps a tad too neat and tidy; people pair off rather easily, it seems. But I quite like it, particularly as a plot device to ensure that folk stay around rather than moving away.

Once I’d started ‘Minding Frankie’, I found it difficult to put down. I thought it a wonderful book, full of courage, friendship and believable, likeable people. I already look forward to reading it again in another decade or so.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Saffy's angel (by Hilary McKay)

(Amazon UK link)

A month or so ago I decided to reread the wonderful Casson family series of books for older children by Hilary McKay. Instead of starting with the one that was published first, I reread the prequel, ‘Caddy’s world’, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

So it was time to reread ‘Saffy’s Angel’, originally the first in the series, and the one which made me fall in love with these books. Because it was the first to be written, it doesn't continue a lot of the threads in the prequel, and there's no mention of Caddy's close friends. I first read ‘Saffy’s Angel’ in 2011 and don’t know why I hadn’t reread it before now. However, the fourteen year gap ensured that I had mostly forgotten the story and the outcome, so I enjoyed it afresh.

The book opens when Saffy is eight, searching for her name on the colour chart that is affixed to the kitchen wall. She wasn’t an early reader, and she hasn’t really thought about it until now. And she has no idea, until she persuades her mother to talk to her, that she was adopted. She is the birth daughter of her adopted mother’s twin sister who died in a car accident when Saffy was three. 

Saffy has been treated as a family member since she arrived in the family, and only her older sister Caddy (Cadmium) remembers her arrival. Their brother Indigo is a couple of years younger than Saffy, and the baby, Rose, was born later still. Rose was the subject of a lot of concern as a newborn - a story covered in ‘Caddy’s World’ - but now is as healthy as anyone. 

The Cassons have quite a bohemian, chaotic lifestyle. The father is an artist who spends most of the week in a flat in London. He tries to impose order on the family when he’s there, but doesn’t get very far. His wife is also an artist, who spends a lot of her time in the shed at the end of the garden, producing pictures which are quite popular. But she forgets to cook, and rarely bothers with housework. So the children have learned to be quite self-sufficient.

The main story takes place when Caddy is seventeen and beginning driving lessons, and Saffy is thirteen. She’s had ongoing dreams of a white-tiled place with a stone angel, and it becomes something of an obsession with her. However it’s not until she befriends her wheelchair-bound neighbour Sarah that events are taken out of her control, and she’s able to return to her original birthplace. 

There are plenty of sideline stories too. I was amused at Caddy’s terrible attempts at driving, while she tries to attract the attention of her young, good-looking instructor. I was also amused at Rose’s ongoing ideas about creating original art, some more successful than others. And quite impressed by Indigo’s attempts to teach himself to be less fearful, because he wants to be a polar explorer when he grows up. 

It’s not a long book, as it’s intended for the 11-14 age-group; it’s just 150 pages in my paperback. As well as not recalling the plot, I had forgotten that it’s an American edition until I was jolted by words like ‘math’ and ‘rotary’. When said by very British children and teens, these words felt oddly inappropriate, like the cultural equivalent of an anachronism. However, it’s a minor gripe, and certainly not the fault of the author. 

The story itself is paced exactly right, with just the right balance of humour and pathos. Once I had started reading, I found it extremely difficult to put down. I hadn’t remembered how Saffy goes to search for her angel, nor whether it was eventually discovered. So it was a most enjoyable journey for me, rediscovering this excellent book.

I would recommend this highly to fluent readers of about nine and up - and it would probably make an excellent read-aloud too. Children who have enjoyed the ‘Bagthorpe saga’ (about another rather chaotic family) might like ‘Saffy’s Angel’. But it stands alone, and I feel should almost be considered a modern classic. 

Very highly recommended.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Authentic relationships (by Wayne and Clay Jacobsen)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s a long time since I read most of the books by the Christian writer Wayne Jacobsen, all of which I found thought-provoking and inspiring. I last read ‘Authentic relationships’ in 2009, so it was more than time for a reread.

This book actually has two authors; Clay Jacobsen is Wayne Jacobsen’s brother, and the introduction explains that they wrote the book together. But instead of alternating chapters or anecdotes, they write as if one person, combining their expertise and experience. And it works extremely well.

The subtitle of this book is: ‘discover the lost art of “one anothering”’. And that’s exactly what it sets out to do. The authors have take a selection of phrases from the New Testament which include the phrase ‘one another’. They suggest that a large percentage of the church has become so caught up in rituals and private devotions that we have missed Jesus’ mission to reach out to each other, and those around us, in love.

There are anecdotes throughout to illustrate their points. They begin with an introduction, demonstrating how lonely people can be, and how we tend to see each other as being self-sufficient. Too many of us try to portray that we are comfortable, in charge of our lives, and that we don’t need any help. Perhaps our Christian brothers and sisters rally round when there’s a sudden crisis. But there are ongoing needs: unemployment, caring for elderly relatives, single parenthood, and so much more. 

The first chapter looks at the summary verse, ‘love one another’, which is supposed to be the primary mark of Christians, and a way that others will know who we are. The authors make the point that we love because God loved us, so we need to know his presence and grace before we can demonstrate it to others. But they also remind us that we should offer practical care, listening to the prompting of the Holy Spirit as we meet and interact with those around us. 

The book is in four main sections. The first is the most basic, outlining what it means to love, to accept and forgive, and to honour each other. The suggestions are straightforward, perhaps obvious; there’s nothing I haven’t come across elsewhere. But it’s always good to be reminded of these things, and I found a lot of the stories and suggestions both encouraging and motivating. 

The second section is more about reaching out into the community. There are chapters on being hospitable, sharing with each other, serving and building each other up. Again, the anecdotes and examples are quite inspiring. The writing is good, and feels seamless too - there’s no way of knowing where one Jacobsen brother stops and another starts. I’m not good at initiating new friendships, and some of these chapters were quite challenging.

The third section, then, is about sharing the journey with others, and the fourth, shortest section is about deeper relationships. This includes the importance of confessing to each other (when appropriate and helpful), acknowledging our failings and faults rather than trying to look better than we are. It also includes a useful section about submitting to each other. This is not in the sense of doing whatever someone else wants, but more along the lines of submitting a paper to an editor, or proof-reader. 

The authors give examples of people who submit their ideas and visions to a group of church leaders, or to their fellowship group, for discussion and comment. But in the end, as the authors remind us, we must listen to God ourselves and follow his leading, even if it goes against the advice of those around us. Submitting involves listening, and perhaps being prepared to debate a point, or make some changes. But it doesn’t mean giving someone else the authority to tell us what to do.

The authors recommend using this book in a study group, and as such have discussion questions at the end of each chapter. I can see that it might be useful, either as part of a regular fellowship group, or for a few people to meet specifically to cover the topics in the book. However I mostly ignored the questions as I was doing this on my own. I read one chapter a day over a couple of weeks, and would recommend it highly to anyone interested in the concept of Christian community, in the broadest sense. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

These old shades (by Georgette Heyer)

(Amazon UK link)

The author whose books I re-read most often is Georgette Heyer. She wrote some 20th century detective/crime fiction novels, but the bulk of her work was in historical fiction. It’s mostly set amongst the upper classes, and generally features a romance. Her characterisation is excellent, and her plots very cleverly contrived.

It’s only six years since I last read ‘These old shades’. It’s a book I acquired in 1987, and I had already read it five times, so the overall story was familiar to me. Set in France in the middle of the 18th century, the arrogant, promiscuous Duke of Avon buys a ragged-looking boy - who is in fact nearly twenty - as a page. This lad, known as Leon, rapidly becomes devoted to the duke, and is taken everywhere with him. 

There’s a secret behind Leon’s identity, and another one which the duke is aware of almost from the start. But it would be spoilers to say what this is. The first time I read the book, I was quite surprised at the first revelation, although it happens fairly early in the book. The second time I don’t think I recalled it. But I knew it was coming this time, and it didn’t actually spoil my enjoyment in any way; indeed, I was watching out for signs of what I knew was coming.

The darker secret that the duke holds is quite an unpleasant one, both in his original motivation, and in the eventual showdown near the end of the book. The duke is not portrayed as a hero, or even a particularly likeable man. And yet, with Heyer’s genius, we start to see him through Leon’s eyes - and, in the face of such apparently naive adoration, he begins to develop some more admirable traits. And he always had a sense of humour.

There are some very enjoyable family scenes; Avon has a delightful sister, Lady Fanny, who is married to quite a staid (but wise) man. He also has a brother, Rupert, whom he isn’t very fond of at the start of the book. But Rupert shows a lot of courage and ingenuity, and earns his brother’s gratitude and admiration. There are some quite amusing scenes when the family convene on an inn, and they discuss what exactly he has done, and what has happened to an unfortunate man’s horse…

There’s a delightful curé who plays a small but significant part in the story. He’s the parish priest in a small French village, and has mostly distanced himself from the world. But even he has heard of the Duke of Avon’s reputation. However, this does not stop him from having a very enjoyable discussion with him, as they try to solve some problems and find out more about the past. 

While I had recalled the outline of the plot and the main characters, I had mostly forgotten the details. As each new scene was introduced, my memories came back slowly. But Heyer’s writing is so good that I could probably read some of her books every year and still appreciate them and smile at some of the phrasing. 

‘These old shades’ was one of Heyer’s earlier novels, but still reads very well and demonstrates her tremendous gift of characterisation, and her impeccable research. She places her people and situations in real historic situations, with authentic clothes, actions and conversation. And she has quite unlikely heroes and heroines; the Duke of Avon is one of the most unlikely, but she still manages to make him quite appealing by the end - and that notwithstanding his terrible need for revenge that leads to quite an unpleasant climax to the book. 

I think this would make quite a good introduction to Heyer’s historical writing, although it’s not one of my absolute favourites. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Summer at the lake (by Erica James)

(Amazon UK link)

On the whole, I very much like Erica James’ novels, and am glad I decided to reread them. I last read ‘Summer at the lake’ in 2015, and had entirely forgotten it. But I knew that I liked it. I always like rereading a book which I know I’m going to enjoy - assuming my tastes have not changed too much. 

The first person we meet is a young woman called Floriana. She is feeling quite agitated over an unexpected invitation to ‘save the date’ for a wedding. We don’t learn who Seb, the groom, is, exactly, until rather later in the book. But it’s clear that he and Floriana had a strong connection in the past. They haven’t spoken in a couple of years, and she really doesn’t know how to respond. 

And as she walks home from her tour guide job in Oxford, pondering about her family and about this unexpected invitation, she walks blindly into the road… and the next thing she knows, an ambulance is approaching.

Two of the people who come to Floriana’s aid when she has her accident are a young man called Adam, and an elderly woman called Esme. Adam, who is a property developer, is just going through a possible breakup with his long-term girlfriend. So he’s feeling quite stressed. Esme is a bit of a hermit; she lives alone with her cat, and rarely goes anywhere other than to the local shop. But Esme feels quite drawn to Floriana, and Adam is a thoroughly likeable person who usually wants to do the right thing. 

Adam and Esme exchange phone numbers, and even manage to visit Floriana in hospital, pretending to be relatives. And so an unlikely three-way friendship begins. The two younger characters bring some life to Esme’s rather predictable, safe existence. And she starts to tell some of the story of her past…

The second part of the story happens when all three make a trip to Lake Como in Italy. Floriana is there to attend Seb’s wedding. Esme is there because she wants to find out what happened to some people she knew when she travelled there with her artist father as a young woman. And Adam is there because they need a driver, and because Esme wants to do a bit of matchmaking. 

They’re all distinct, three-dimensional characters, nicely drawn and realistic. Then there’s some well-written and believable conversation as they get to know each other. Seb is an important person in Floriana’s life - or was, until he cut her off. But when they meet in Oxford, she isn’t entirely sure what to expect. So there are several subplots running alongside each other: does Floriana love Seb, or is she ready to move on? Will Esme learn anything about the people she is looking for? Will the three of them manage to get along well, staying in lodgings together? Will Seb be happy married to the rather self-centred Imogen?

It’s quite a long book, nearly 400 pages in my hardback edition, and it was a busy week so it took me several days to finish it. But when I had the chance to sit down to read, I found the story engrossing. The three main characters started to get under my skin; since I had entirely forgotten the story I had no idea whether Adam and Floriana would get together eventually, nor whether Esme would find anything or anyone from her past. 

The scenes set in both Oxford and in Italy feel entirely authentic, without being overtly educational. The author makes it clear in a brief introduction the beginning that she is familiar with both places, and did quite a bit of research too. 

There are some surprises in the novel, including two quite dramatic scenes that I was not expecting, as well as some more relaxing, somewhat predictable parts of this book. The balance works well, and as someone who appreciates character-driven novels, I liked it very much.

As a bonus, I don’t think there was any bad language at all, and there are no explicit scenes. Overall I thought this a lovely book, one which would make a good introduction to Erica James’ writing, even though it isn’t quite as enjoyable as my favourite of her novels (‘Precious time’). 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews