It seems I am eternally late in writing up these reviews. I would like to say that’s down to my overwhelming desire to read as opposed to my overwhelming draw towards lethargy, but you and I both know that’d be a lie.
My inner narrative at work.
So to make up for the time between posting – admittedly there’s been trips away and lots of work in between – I’m giving you ten reviews today. Not sure if that qualifies as a punishment for me or for you, but let’s embark on this journey together.
This one has been sitting in the draft pile for a while. Over the Easter and Anzac Day break I managed to plough through a few books, a breather following a work trip to Sydney for some in-office reviews and woodshedding just before.
Since then, there’s been more work trips, and a truly hellish deadline with a whole lot of out-of-hours work going on. While that was going on, my desire to read (let alone write) has cratered. Which honestly, hasn’t been great for me: think of it as being hangry, only about reading. When I can’t read – can’t being the operative word here, given the amount of hard screen edits I’ve been doing, to the point that I just need to defocus at the end of the day instead of chowing town on some tasty tomes – I feel discombobulated and Not Quite Right.
So anyway, here we are. I’m having a couple of days off as recharge days, and am hoping to push through some more books. And catch up on my diary. And finish this bloody post.
Not much in the way of preamble, now: here’s another tranche of book reviews. Delighted that they all were cracking reads, which I assume means I’m going to read an absolutely terrible piece of shit next as some kind of literary karmic revenge.
I wonder what sort of literary hat suits me LOL it’s a dunce cap I already know.
We’ll see.
(Although I’m already reading something that’s a three-star at best so hopefully I can channel all the due shittiness into that one and thus escape any more dire reads than are absolutely necessary.)
Howdy howdy. I’m continuing to read more and to leave my reviewing until much later than I should. Find following a couple of reviews of recently inhaled tomes, with more to come soonish (I hope).
Me, if I had better hair.
(Also, is anyone finding this year exhausting? Just me? OK, on we go.)
There’s been another five books read! So that means I’ve scraped some thoughts out of my cranium and finally turned them into a post – I’m not kidding when I say this has sat in draft form for about ten days – for your delectation.
My inner narrative when I hit bookish double digits.
So we’re almost three weeks into 2025 and it’s been… meh? I suppose that’s how most people view this part of the year: if you work in an industry that has a Christmas shutdown, you’re in the position of a car that’s driven daily then left alone while its owners go overseas for a bit: when they get back, it doesn’t roar back into life with quite the same aplomb.
Things groan. Starting becomes a little more of a trial than it had been. Things will, with a bit of coaxing and care, get back to proper running once more. But it’s gonna take time.
Consequently, writing reviews after a little break feels a little rusty, but I’m gonna give it a go. Elon Musk features in the fifth book I’ve consumed this year, so as long as this ends up reading better than one of his fucking jokes, I figure I’m ahead.
Not as quick as I’d hoped, but here’s another five book reviews.
Inside you are two wolves, and they’re these guys. (Also, you know who’ll like this gif? MY WIFE.)
I say ‘book’, but in this lot there’s just one physical book. The rest were audiobooks because the physical books I’ve been powering through are phonebook-sized volumes, and I’ve needed something shorter to break them up a bit.
(It’s an indicator of Books of Some Length when Paradise Lost is considered a quick read.)
Anyway, there’s nice range of stuff in here, and I’m quite pleased to have powered through them while driving, whether that be a) to Sydney and back or b) around the block on the mower.
Time for the first in a number of catch-up posts. Since I last wrote the reading has continued apace even as the reviewing has fallen off the cliff.
Time to get back on the keyboard.
Fear not, though: I’m not going to subject you to dozens of recaps in one go. I figure five will be more than enough to be going on with (at least until I write up the next five, right?)
I’m back. Not from outer space, but from the other side of the world where a nice holiday was had, and I purchased some eau de toilette that smells like a David Lynch movie or a murder weekend:
A calm yet confrontational scent that traces your neck like a sharp cold blade with buchu sulfur, metallic bloody notes and cold aldehydes. There is a feeling that something is going to happen with burnt rubber, cold cedar notes creating a concrete effect, combined with birch tar, leather and bay oil. Dying out on a cold, damp cellar smell with cedar atlas, dark musk and moss.
Pretty much.
I also bought two dozen-odd books from across the UK, lest you think I would be caught slacking on the purchasing front. In particular, I must laud Halcyon Books in Lewisham (£2 per book! Any book!) and Criminally Good Books in York (a murderer’s delight).
In addition I can recommend staying in the Bram Stoker-themed room at La Rosa in Whitby, close to the spot where old mate came up with Dracula. (It’s suitably atmospheric, and the proprietors are lovely.)
The Lottery and Other Stories by Shirley Jackson. My rating: five stars
A short review for a short book: read it.
Look, I should probably do a bit more than that.
This is the first collection of short stories by Shirley Jackson that I’d read, and from what I gather it’s the only one I really need to. (That’s not to say that I won’t, just that this seems to be the prevailing sentiment.)