Cat Lady is the story of Mia who on the service has it all - a great job at a jewellery brand, a loving husband and the love of her life, Pigeon. However on closer inspection, she feels surrounded by (mostly) idiots at work, her husband's ex-wife is always in their home and she prefers to sleep in her own room with her cat than with her husband. When these fractures finally get pushed to the surface, Mia needs to decide what she wants her life to look like.
This is a novel which is marketed as being heartwarming and laugh-out-loud funny, and I can only assume that I am not O'Porter's target audience because I found zero parts of this book to be funny. There are definitely lines that are 'quirky' and 'weird' but these generally made me feel uncomfortable rather than amused. Some parts of it are moving, but that is largely because I am a sucker for people talking about how much they love their pets, especially when they are deceased.
Mia is a tough character to like - she's rigid and makes crazy snap judgements about people (seeing a girl reading a Cosmo magazine in the doctors she assumes she must have an STD) and her relationship with Pigeon borders on the inappropriate. Given the narrative of the story, I wanted to root for her but, despite the tragic backstory which is slowly revealed, I found it very hard to. I found her sister a much more compelling character to be following. On that note, many of the secondary characters (with perhaps the exception of Mia's husband and his ex-wife) do feel well drawn and bring their own personalities to the page.
The novel does pick up once things start to fall apart, but this isn't until around 60% of the novel, and there's a rather unrealistic neatness to the way that the book ends which felt a bit too sickly sweet given the tone of the rest of the novel, and missed an opportunity to give Mia her own life.
If you enjoyed novels like Eleanor Oliphant and are looking for a mediation on grief and forging your own path this may be for you, just don't expect this to be a fun read.
This novel felt like a mash-up of Lessons in Chemistry and all those novels about messy heroines, only this one is in her 40s. Grace was a languages prodigy, winning national competitions and finding herself propelled into quiz show presenter fame. Now, she's 45 and desperately trying to get her 16-year-old daughter to connect with her again.
We are told this story in three timelines; we have the 'now', the day of Lottie her daughter's 16th birthday, a few months earlier where we start to get insights as to why the relationships on the page are in the state that they are now, and going way back to the start of Grace's career and when she meets Ben, Lottie's father. These timelines are generally effectively used; though there were times when I wanted to go back to understanding the relationships, rather than reading about Grace's present day 'snap' which mostly consisted of her shouting at people as she walked through a heatwave to Lottie's birthday.
I did appreciate Littlewood discussing the impact of aging on women's lives within this novel, and who is and isn't seen, and who gets to hold space publicly as they age - particularly when children are added into the picture. I felt that the depictions of the mother/daughter relationship often felt very real. I felt the event that sat behind Lottie and Grace's estrangement was dealt with well - even if I'm not sure other character's reactions felt particularly understandable.
There is, however, at times almost too much going on in this novel and some of those layers weren't always effective. I had to re-read a couple of sections to understand the source of tension between Grace and Ben. I'm also tiring slightly of female characters in novels being open about not wanting children and then the plot being that they have them anyway.
Spotify's recent expansion into audiobooks finally tempted me to properly listen to one, and Fern Brady's memoir popped up and seemed like a good place to start. Strong Female Character hinges on Fern's very late diagnoses of Autism, in her mid-30s, and then looks back over her childhood and young adulthood as she experiences symptoms which are either ignored, explained away or treated as a symptom of something else.
This is a memoir that has left me thinking about it for days after I finished listening to it. I think Autism is still incredibly poorly understood, and Brady does a great job at effectively bringing her experience vividly to the page (and audio). Obviously one person's experience isn't necessarily indicative of every young woman with ASD's, but I appreciated how unflinching Brady was in sharing her experiences, and ultimately the insights from her therapist when she is finally able to find a healthcare professional who recognises and appropriately treats her symptoms.
The book also covers Brady's experience growing up in working class Scotland, and how she looked to both literature & education and then stand-up comedy as ways to get herself out of this environment. She reflects on the gender dynamics at play in her home community which I found interesting, as were her insights into the still very male-dominated comedy circuit.
The only aspect of the memoir that I didn't always jive with was that it often felt like the women in Brady's life receive far greater criticism than the men - including men who quite literally try to kill her. I'm not sure if this comes from a sense of women should be supporting women; and Brady sometimes makes some compelling points about gender dynamics, but a lot of this seems to be dismissed at an individual level. I would have liked a little more nuance her, but I can also understand that Brady was let down by a lot of women in positions of hierarchy and power as she grew up.
On the whole though this is a really great memoir, and would recommend listening to it on audio to get the full experience. It's one I'll definitely be thinking about.
I've never read any of O'Leary's books before but this arrived in a book subscription service and is set around the festive period so felt like a good one to read.
The novel follows Izzy, who is sparkly & cute & quirky but still grappling with what her life looks now that her friends have moved further away and Lucas who is (inexplicably) Brazilian, muscly and grumpy. They both work at a crumbling hotel in the New Forest as receptionists, and have always had a spikey relationship which was exacerbated a year ago when Izzy confessed her attraction to him in a Christmas card only to find him kissing her ex-housemate. This year, the crumbling hotel is facing financial ruin, forcing Izzy and Lucas to work together to save the place they both love.
We follow the story in dual perspectives between Izzy and Lucas which means we learn pretty quickly into the novel that they are in fact not enemies to lovers, but two people who both fancy the pants of each other but despite being grown adults working in a communication-based industry are horrendously unable to communicate. Whilst at first this was fine, the commitment to the miscommunication throughout the novel just became increasingly grating. I didn't get the giddy feeling I have gotten before when romance protagonists are flirting because I just wanted to bash their silly heads together.
What did make this novel fun was both the setting and the secondary characters. O'Leary injects fun into the whole cast of other characters in the novel, from the hotel's owners, the other staff, the guests staying and others Izzy and Lucas meet along the way. The only characterisation which is a little obvious is the antagonist, who you knew was trouble from the first time he appeared on page. As someone who spent a lot of time on holiday as a child in the New Forest, I also appreciated the glimpses of the hotel and its surrounds on the page too.
A cute read, but one that would maybe be best as a popcorn Netflix film, rather than sinking too much time into reading.
I went to Athens earlier this year and it left me very intrigued as to the more recent history of the city, and Those Who Are Loved provided me with that insight, focusing largely on the occupation of the city and the ensuing Greek civil war which I'll admit to knowing very little about.
The novel follows the life of Themis, a teenager growing up with her three older siblings in Athens. Following the (literal) collapse of their family home, they move in with her Grandmother, their mother is admitted to a mental hospital and their father abandons the family. The siblings find themselves split on political lines with the coming war and occupation, a split which continues after the conflict. Inspired by what she witnessed during the occupation, Themis joins the Communists, fighting with them and then being arrested by the government.
This is a sprawling novel, and Hislop has clearly spent a long time researching the history of this period. At times, this meant the novel's pace took a bit of a nosedive and at times it felt like a bit of a slog. It also sometimes turned characters into slight ciphers as they exist to represent specific experiences, rather than being nuanced characters in themselves.
That being said, I found the content in this undeniably moving and interesting, and Hislop does a very even handed job of portraying a conflict whose aftermath can still be seen in the city and Greek politics today. I certainly left this novel ready to read more about this period.
I've been intrigued by this novel since Hank announced its release way back in 2018. I'm a huge fan of his brother John's novels, so was interested to see the direction that Hank took his writing in, and there's quite a lot to like in An Absolutely Remarkable Thing.
The novel follows April May, who one evening stumbles across a huge statue on the streets of New York. Along with one of her friends she uploads a video of it to YouTube which, when other statutes (or Carls) appear across the world, places her at the centre of a media storm as governments and people grapple with whether the Carls are friend or foe.
I read this novel very much as YA - I'm not sure what audience it was written for, but it definitely read to me in terms of pace and depth as being a novel that would be great for older teenagers. Written in 2018, it discusses many themes that Green himself has spoken about over the years - largely on the role of media, the role that social media can play and the strange space that someone with A Platform exists within as people look to them for opinions and takes. It also satirises the 24 hour, pundit-led news cycle well. I did find the overall world building to be a little flat, and made me start to lose interest as the novel progressed.
April May is also not your typical heroine, she's not immediately likeable and frequently makes choices which made me want to reach into the novel and shake her. However, it was refreshing to read from this perspective, she felt very honest - she knows what she's good at and she knows what's she bad at, and that felt refreshing compared to heroines of yore who were always surprised by their own talent. I also enjoyed the characterisation of her friends that become drawn into the Carls, especially her on-off girlfriend who was one of the few characters who could speak truth to her growing power.
I did find the ending and its cliff hanger to be a bit messy, and the novel didn't quite make me want to rush and pick up the next one but shout out to the Green brothers for being a power sibling duo.
Really Good Actually tells for the story of Monica Maggie, a junior academic living in Canada who after around two years of marriage but many years together is divorcing from her university boyfriend turned husband Jon. The novel follows Monica Maggie's attempts to deal, or not deal, with the emotional fall out of this decision; based on Heisey's own experience as a young divorcee (her author photo and the cover photo bear striking resemblances to each other, as do other aspects of Maggie's story).
Given the low rating on here I went into this with low expectations (I'd received a copy as part of a subscription) and so this wasn't as bad as I was expecting. Heisey is mostly experienced in writing for screen and so it feels like the novel comes more to life in its dialogue then it does in its prose.
As an examination of a woman falling into a complete black hole of her own creation, this is pretty good. However, I don't think we got enough information about the good bits of her and Jon's relationship to know why she was so devastated by the breakdown of the relationship. From what I could understand Jon seemed to be a bit of a douche, and I couldn't work out why Maggie was so sad to see the back of him.
The side characters are not always that well developed - although we are in Maggie's self-centred head which may be impacting on this - and often feel like they're rooted in stereotypes (gay bestie, emotional pal, two other friends who feel interchangeable). The only two who really feel developed are Amy - a fellow young divorcee who is a chaotic sunshine ball - and Merris, Maggie's boss turned landlord.
Whilst I think this novel did shine a light an underwritten experience, it felt like this could have been shorter and also a little deeper in the way it explored its issues.
I was enjoying this as a cute and fluffy read, but that ending!? The Authenticity Project hinges around a notebook, originally written by Julian Jessop, a one-time famous artist and womaniser who has become incredibly lonely since the death of his wife. The notebook encourages people to capture their inner thoughts and feelings and to be truly honest - it is then picked up by Monica, a former lawyer turned cafe owner who harbours a deep desire to have children, and then Hazard, a City banker who is finally confronting his addictions. As the novel progresses, it also makes its way to an Australian surfer, a Mummy blogger and a charity volunteer.
Whilst this is a novel that explores some meaty issues; loneliness in all its guises at all ages, addiction, recovery, mental health, grief, failing marriages - all of this is done is a pretty bright and breezy way. However, for the most part it feels like quite a cosy drama that you can envision being a short Christmas film or similar. We see communities being created with nudging from the book through art classes and shared dinners - giving us almost found family vibes. Yes, there are mildly improbable relationships and characters managing to go from bigoted to campaigners in the space of 50 pages; and yes, all these characters inhabit a very specific type of London - the type where everyone can comfortably live in West London despite having either no or low income jobs. Pooley (an ex-advertising director who has also taken a sobriety journey) is clearly very committed to writing what she knows about.
This was looking to be a 3 star read, a sweet little palette cleanser after finally completing A Suitable Boy until the ending 'twists'. Whilst one was clearly bound to happen, the other had me close to throwing the book across the room. As other reviewers have said, it feels like Pooley couldn't quite trust the reader to draw conclusions and had to really hammer home what she thinks authenticity is. I honestly felt a bit cheated.