Conjure Women follows the story of Rue. Rue was a slave owned by a plantation owner, whose plantation was destroyed during the Civil War. The story follows Rue’s struggle with life on the plantation after the civil war and, in particular, her identity as a conjure woman’s (Miss May Belle’s) daughter. During enslaved times, Miss May Belle was often called upon to cure people with what was believed to be magic and witchcraft. Once Miss May Belle is gone and the Civil War is over, Rue is often expected to take the place of her mother.

The tone of the novel, as a whole, reminded me of a John Steinbeck novel. The way in which the writing describes but doesn’t enforce characteristics of individuals and carefully, slowly, plays out their identities and historicised narratives is highly reminiscent of Steinbeck’s own narrative voice. As well as this, the careful allocation of imagery within Conjure Women also brings Steinbeck to mind. The repetitive emergence of foxes within the narrative suggests the resurgence of the natural world and order, as well as the implication of a natural antagonist towards the black population living in the plantation still – foxes were often used as symbols of antagonism in black folk tales.

Technical details aside, I really enjoyed this book. It was a perfect quarantine read due to the ability Atakora has to transport her reader both back in time and in geographical location. It was the perfect distraction from every day troubles and I became immersed in Rue’s personal dilemmas, including her responsibilities to her people, her responsibilities to women in general and the children that she cared for. This book enables you to criticise both the characters and the human psyche in general. Choices within this book enable us to view the human condition portrayed as one that is both selfish but undeniably accurate.

4/5 stars!

I first heard about My Dark Vanessa over a year ago through the hype on social media. I wanted to read it from the minute I heard about it – a dark story of an inappropriate relationship between a student and a teacher? For someone who is drawn to dark stories, including traumas both physical and emotional, it sounded like an unmissable read. My friend kindly pre-ordered My Dark Vanessa for me way back in September 2019 for my birthday. It was due to come out in January and it gave me something to really look forward to closely after Christmas. However, the publication date was pushed back! How was I to cope? … Somehow, I managed. After reading it, I’m forever thankful that the publication date was pushed back if the book was not to the standard that it was upon it’s publication in March. It was un-put-down-able.

The story flicks back and forth from 2000 and 2017. In the 2000 chapters, we witness Vanessa getting groomed and raped by one of her teachers. In the 2017 chapters, we follow Vanessa’s journey to realising the extent of the crimes committed to her and her own understanding of these crimes. I really liked the switching between these time periods as it framed Vanessa’s younger, timid, behaviour with the thought processes that the older Vanessa is able to put into mature words. Vanessa simply viewed it as love and a real relationship which continued way past her childhood years.

I think what struck me in this book is that this could easily (and horrifyingly) have happened or still happen in real life. Vanessa takes a lot of the responsibility of her abuser’s actions. She hides his true actions from individual’s in positions of authority. However, these people do not push Vanessa further. This is what terrified me most – some of the adults in the story suspected that there was an abusive relationship ongoing, but they did not act. Someone very close to Vanessa (I’m attempting not to spoil here) knew, but they did not do anything about it. They allowed the abuse to continue by doing this. Though they are not the perpetrator, in this way, I believe they are complicit.

My favourite element of the book is that, even when Vanessa realises that she has been a victim to abuse, she refuses to act like a victim. She refuses to deal with it in anybody else’s terms but her own. The last scene depicts her simply sat with her dog. She seems to accept what has happened fully, yet deal with this reality in her own show of acceptance.

My Dark Vanessa was easily my most anticipated book of this year and it did not disappoint.

OK. Amazing.

I inhaled this book in a day.

Three Hours is about a school, in Somerset, under siege by a shooter. The narrative follows different characters: various children within the school, teachers, parents and law enforcement.

The book raises issues of what can happen when an individual is lonely, vulnerable and taken advantage of. It also raises subjects of terrorism and racial discrimination against innocent and, also, vulnerable individuals in their own unique circumstances.

I think what shocked and struck me most whilst reading this book was that this could truly happen to any institution, any where in the world. I feel like as someone living in the UK, I find myself so distant and unable to relate to the shootings happening in America more frequently. I’m aware that terrorist attacks happen in the UK, but it’s a lot rarer to hear of instances of shootings – in particular, school shootings that are more typical to the US. This thought process scared me because it shows what can happen when someone is isolated or treated badly by peers. It teaches us that, no matter how far we think we are from being attacked, we have no clue when or where bad things can happen. This book opened my eyes to the realisation that everybody is vulnerable and should be taken care of.

I couldn’t recommend this enough. For some reason, I’m attracted to these types of stories – one of my favourite books is We Need to Talk About Kevin. It’s a fascinating, yet gripping, read that will keep you completely hooked throughout.

This is also a perfect lockdown read – considering the school is in lockdown! Go read it – there are no excuses.

I wanted to read this book before My Dark Vanessa was released (today!), on the recommendation of Dolly Alderton from The High Low podcast. I was not disappointed with Putney and read it within a couple of days.

I loved it, but it frustrated me. Each character had their own secrets and varied understanding of their own or others’ secrets.

The story revolves around the Greenslay family, who are quite bohemian and allow their children to run rather wild and free. Ed is welcomed into the Greenslay family and quickly develops an infatuation with Daphne Greenslay, an energetic 9 year old.

This infatuation is evident from the first chapter, so the reader is quickly unable to feel comfortable in any part of the story and are overly aware of what is to come.

Child abuse is a difficult topic to read about. But when the characters do not fully understand their abuse, both victim and perpetrator, it is even more frustrating and frightening. Despite the fact that I became annoyed with every single character in this book, due to their either involvement or ability to watch the crime continue unpunished, it struck me as quite realistic. Don’t get me wrong, I have never experienced abuse and I know nobody that has. However, I can’t help but think that the way that Daphne interoperates her abuse, as well as the way that Ed justifies it (though horrific), is quite an honest depiction of how victims and perpetrators of this kind of abuse may think.

This book is definitely not for those that are looking for a comfortable and happy read. There is no heroic slaying of the evil character.

OK. I’ll be totally honest – I picked this book up because I thought it looked like an easy read that I’d get through quite quickly after spending so much time reading non-fiction books recently. But, it was so much more than that.

I didn’t think this book would be as good as it is simply because of the synopsis – a woman who time travels every year, within her own body, to a random year? It sounded very out there and I wasn’t completely sold on it, to be honest. However, when reading it, I found myself increasingly attached to Oona and other characters within the flashes of her life that the reader is permitted.

Oona’s repeated feelings of wonder and disbelief at her time travelling condition make this book a tad more realistic, as it’s something she tackles year-by-year and doesn’t hide her emotions in doing so. After all, it’s not a normal condition – I felt like I had to cut fictional Oona some serious slack. Her emotions throughout the novel and the connections she made with different characters made the book more real to me. Obviously, I’m aware it is very far away from the realistic but I was hooked anyway. We follow Oona’s highs and lows as she and ourselves are flung throughout the nineties and into the depths of the 2000s and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

This book is an exploration of ‘difficult women’ throughout the history of (mainly) the UK. These women were ‘difficult’ in various ways – some displayed behaviours that may deem them to be ‘difficult’ in modern times, others simply spoke their mind and stood up for themselves against injustices but were determined to be difficult due to their points in history.

I find it incredibly difficult to review non-fiction books at times. I find it even more difficult when it is a book like this, as it is full of a range of stories and opinions about feminism throughout history.

Instead of doing an in-depth review, I thought I would just share some of my personal highlights of the book. To be clear – this book would suit anyone with a slight interest in feminism. There are a range of subjects throughout the book, each indicated by the chapter titles. Some of the chapter titles were unexpected and some were definitely more interesting than others (to me).

I really enjoyed reading the ‘Divorce’ chapter at the beginning of the book. I’ve rarely considered the feminist implications of divorce and how these have developed throughout history, so this was a really interesting viewpoint for me to read. The chapter details stories such as how a man once sued his wife for not having sex with him, as, technically, he ‘owned’ her vagina. Though outrageous, I found the quippy stories like these extremely intriguing (in an OMG – what? Way!)

I also really enjoyed the chapter about sex. The chapter detailed sex as a feminine subject – instead of focusing on the pleasure of the man it focused on the woman. Some of this section did remind me of Nimco Ali’s book ‘What We’re Told Not to Talk About (But We’re Going to Anyway)’.

Two neighbouring families, living in a suburban town, are eternally connected. They’re connected through predictable friendship and love; disaster, too. Ask Again, Yes is an exploration of human interactions.

This book was nothing like I expected. I noticed it’s popularity throughout social media and by it’s reputable Goodreads rating. Because of this, I prejudged this book to be a novel with a great, hooking narrative that would be impossible to put down. What I discovered was so much more, minus the hooking narrative. I’ve found that modern fiction is leaning towards the increasingly deep character explorations and this is evident within Ask Again, Yes.

The novel tackles several problematic and, frankly, hard issues. These include mental illness, alcoholism, illness and parental abandonment. Through the novels careful attention to character development and interaction, these issues are delivered perfectly. The characters all seemed extremely real and imperfect – a combination that makes for a true realistic, believable story.

The character I found most interesting was Anne. If I’m being honest, Anne terrified me at the beginning of the novel – and rightly so. She is definitely viewed as the most problematic character in the book. Her mental illness sends every single other character’s life spinning in a different direction. However, after treatment, I found Anne to be somewhat redeemable. Her hope and persistence kept me from strongly disliking her and instead I learnt to accept her, as did some of the characters.

Personally, I feel that the slow narrative slightly took away potential enjoyment from the novel for me. However, I do recognise and understand the marvel that is Ask Again, Yes.

I chose to pick up Joanne Ramos’ The Farm because it struck me as possibly a step between modern day reality and the dire situations explored within The Handmaid’s Tale. I believe my preconception was pretty spot on.

The Farm is a retreat, bearing beautiful facilities that can be enjoyed by people living strict, clean, healthy lifestyles. There is one catch – you have to be carrying a client’s baby. The Farm essentially situates these hosts in a safe and clean environment so that the rich can ensure that their surrogates are creating the best start to their baby’s lives. The hosts are under strict contracts that restrict them from visiting family and friends during their nine months of pregnancy. The Farm, set in America, takes advantage of the hopeful dispositions of immigrant women. In this narrative, this includes Jane – an immigrant from the Philippines and a struggling single mother. The narrative follows Jane through her journey on the Farm and her emotional struggles whilst remaining away from her young daughter.

As previously stated, I found The Farm to be a really interesting prospect due to the similarities with The Handmaid’s Tale. I think the aspect that interested me most was that in The Farm, the women essentially put themselves into this strict and controlling atmosphere. However, I see now that this sort of business would pray on the vulnerable and desperate, therefore removing the lack of control the women harboured over their choices.

I thought it was quite slow to begin with. The story didn’t really develop until I was 25% through. Until this point, it was just back story which I think could have possibly been condensed.

When reading, I found the most interesting aspect to be Miss Yu’s (the manager of the Farm) feminist ideals. She’s an extremely ambitious woman herself and delights, throughout the novel, in seeing women make progress in their careers and ambitions. She even has a history of letting hosts stay on and working within the business itself. Miss Yu seems to be a feminist. But, how could she be a feminist whilst taking advantage to these women in this way? I believe this is due to the detailed contracts that Mrs Yu draws up and her desire to see these women improved throughout both their experiences on The Farm and afterwards. This whole dilemma of whether to think of Miss Yu as a feminist did trouble me throughout the novel and I did find it to be one of the main themes for me to focus on.

Overall, I stand by my previous statement that The Farm is an in-between stage, between our current reality and The Handmaid’s Tale. It’s terrifying that this type of business feels so real and close to home.

I like to think I’m a reader (and lover) of all book genres. However, romance is probably one of the genres that I mostly hide from. I have nothing against the writing, the stories, the characters – I’m just single.

I don’t particularly mind being single, but reading a romance novel with a firm, undying, romantic relationship either makes me roll my eyes or yearn for it myself. This depends on what mood I’m in whilst reading, of course.

Despite this, Valentines week was upon us and I couldn’t let it slip by without attempting a romance novel – it would have been rude, right? So, I picked up Josie Silver’s recent novel – The Two Lives of Lydia Bird. And, boy, I wasn’t disappointed.

One of the undeniably great romance novels would be David Nichols’ One Day and I couldn’t help but see vague similarities throughout The Two Lives of Lydia Bird. Not that I’m saying that it’s plagiarising Nichols’ novel, just that it made me feel as much as One Day did which is no small feat.

The Two Lives of Lydia Bird is the story of Lydia Bird (I know, crazy twist already, this should be a thriller). Lydia has always been with Freddie and she knows nothing different. That’s until Freddie tragically, and suddenly, passes away in a road accident and Lydia’s world is turned upside down. We witness Lydia’s journey through grief and watch with pride, and sometimes disappointment, at her actions because of the sheer extent of her grief. However, the one thing that keeps us, and Lydia, going is hope.

This novel struck me as, almost, a collaboration between One Day and P.S I Love You. It was raw, it was tough, but the essence of hope within it shone through to the very end.

My one criticism would be that I’m feeling insanely robbed by the brief glimpse into Lydia’s future life in the last chapter, which was swiftly snatched away when I turned the last page and was met with the Acknowledgments.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and I deem it a perfect Valentines read, despite whether you’re single, taken, or grieving yourself. Read it.

Happy Valentines Day!

The Yoos are an immigrant family from Korea who have moved to America and created a business which Pak Yoo specializes in – hyperbaric oxygen therapy (HBOT). The HBOT takes placed in an enclosed, submarine-like structure which is highly vulnerable to flames due to the use of the concentrated oxygen in the therapy. So, inevitably, a fire breaks out. From the fire comes an explosion and some of the patients, Pak Yoo and Mary escape with serious injuries. Two of the patients, however, do not escape. One young autistic patient, Henry, dies in the incident alongside his mother’s friend, Kitt. The narrative is set through the series of court hearings in the trial of Elizabeth – Henry’s mother – who is accused of setting the fire intentionally to murder her son. 

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of feminist fiction and felt like I’d appreciate a break before moving onto, yet, more feminist fiction. Crime/thrillers are often great reading breaks for me, as I can often delve into them and complete them within a couple of days due to their addictive elements. I chose Miracle Creek because it seemed like a great twist on the typical whodunnit concept. I found that this book is definitely original, and I haven’t read any like it before. 

Despite the fact that most of the scenes are set in a court room, I got the vibe that it was quite an enclosed case due to the lack of interaction from anyone outside of the town. This gave the book a small-town feel, making it easier to recognise the characters as there weren’t too many to keep tabs on at all times. This was enforced further due to the fact that the reader is told the story of the incident in retrospect, we are not party to the police investigation that followed. Instead, the reader is fed most of their information much like the audience in the courtroom – we gained judgements from what the witnesses stated on the stand. However, the reader does gain some privileged information due to scenes not centred within the courtroom, of course.

I found the whole ‘whodunnit’ concept quite entertaining at first, as I couldn’t decide who had committed the crime, myself, for a while. The debate surrounding Elizabeth and child abuse was certainly a damning one and I would be lying to state that I wasn’t set on her being guilty for a large portion of this book. However, I do think that it becomes obvious to the reader too soon who is the responsible party – I’m attempting not to spoil this even further with this review! I think I would have appreciated it a bit more if I was totally shocked and floored with the big reveal of this person’s identity, when, really, I was flicking through the pages waiting for the characters to catch onto what was evidently right in front of their faces.

Overall, I think the concept and the book’s originality gain it its reputation – which should not be downplayed, it is without a doubt a good read. However, it did not hit that 5/5 stars for me, due to reasons detailed above.