The story follows 16-year-old Martha, who has moved to a new area because her dad re-married. Her dad and step-mother promptly go away, leaving Martha and her step-brother Conor, who she barely knows, in the sinister old house on their own while they navigate the new high school and discover that a girl remarkably similar to Martha was murdered in their house, but the murderer may still be out there. An increasingly frightening series of events leads Martha to believe that something terrible will happen on Halloween and history will be repeated.

I would have liked an extra twist at the end, but I don’t think extra twists were a trend when this book was written. It’s certainly worth reading if you’re looking for something seasonal and short, but it could have had more detail. There is a lot packed into the book and everything seems rushed. It was first published in 1989 and there isn’t anything really dated about it, although Martha’s fascination with her step-brother is a little weird. The edition I read was published by Open Road Media, 2011, with extra biographical material about the author.

Published by Profile, 2026.

The narrator is Tsukiko, who is drinking in a bar when she meets her old high school teacher, whom she calls Sensei although it’s a few decades since they were student and teacher. They both live alone, and they enjoy good food and drink, so they start to meet often. Tsukiko gradually realises she wants to be more than friends with Sensei, meanwhile he treasures memories of his wife and is concerned about how his age impacts their relationship.

Not much actually happens in the book, when I try to summarise it, but the author skilfully draws the story out across the seasons and gives the characters life. There were a lot of food descriptions, particularly seafood, which I really don’t like to read about, and sometimes I didn’t get the reference to Japanese culture, but apart from that, it was an absorbing read.

First published in 2001. Translated by Allison Markin Powell and published by Portobello Books, 2014.

Published by Puffin, 2015.

I won’t explain what the book is about, as I did that in my original review. However, there are some things I either missed the first time around, or didn’t put them in the review. For a start, for a short novel it does move slowly. Halfway through and they’ve only just had their first night at the house, and nothing ghostly happened. I found it difficult to understand the dynamics between all the characters. They’ve only just met, but are acting like they’re best friends. I think there is attraction between Eleanor (the protagonist, narrated in the third person) and Theodora, and it almost seems that Theodora’s rejection is a factor in Eleanor’s fate. Eleanor repeats, over and over, ‘journeys end in lovers meeting.’ I don’t know what that’s from, but it’s some kind of personal mantra. Something I did appreciate was the architectural element; the angles of the house all built slightly wrong, how its exterior is evil, the strange tower which Eleanor can’t go in. It still wasn’t too clear to me what happened, but perhaps if the mysteries were neatly wrapped up, the book would be less memorable. I said in my review that it’s almost a parody of the haunted house genre. I’m going further than that now; it’s a comedy. When the doctor’s wife arrives with her blustering companion, ready to comfort the spirits (who of course leave them alone) it becomes very amusing.

The doctor often mentions Borley Rectory, comparing it to Hill House, hoping for a lot of ghostly activity to boost his research. If you read about Borley, the apparent true story is scarier than anything that appears to be happening at Hill House. This may be where the doctor’s wife gets her beliefs about the monks and nuns whose spirits haunt the house, and an influence on her use of the planchette for spirit communication.

I have read another Shirley Jackson book since, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, but I had quite mixed feelings about it, so I don’t know if I’ll read any more of her books.

Miranda Sawyer was a music journalist in the 90s and she spent a lot of time with bands; interviewing, hanging out, watching gigs and at festivals. She therefore brings a personal perspective to the characters and the music. The writing style is entertaining and evocative. She chose 20 songs and for each chapter, she writes about the band, with particular focus on that song. The key word from the title is ‘beyond’, because although there are the usual suspects, it includes some you might not immediately consider as Britpop, such as PJ Harvey, Radiohead, Underworld and Tricky. Britpop, it transpires, doesn’t mean much at all. Even the most famous bands associated with it did not call themselves Britpop, so it was really a convenient term for the media to use. The book celebrates the years when indie rock and pop music by British (or Welsh, Scottish, Northern Irish) groups dominated the charts and the papers. It’s not an exhaustive account of the era and is selective about the groups (for a more comprehensive survey, read I Was Britpopped, and for a wider context, read Don’t Look Back in Anger). I think it’s most valuable for its discussion of women in music, in the context of the magazine culture of the time.

Published by John Murray, 2024.

Not to be confused with Uncommon People: The Rise and Fall of the Rock Stars by David Hepworth.

There is really a lot packed into this book and I was very impressed with it. He discusses his family history, his childhood in Beirut, the experience of moving to America, activism in the Armenian community there, the effect of 9/11 on attitudes towards immigrants, and how he worked for family businesses before finally realising he wanted a career in music. We also learn about the turbulent dynamics between the band members, particularly himself and Daron, and then his other projects, including solo albums, collaborations and film composing. There are some interesting bits of information here and there, such as almost signing Muse to his label in the US, deciding not to play in Turkey due to its denial of the genocide (years later, they decided to play there, but were prevented), and how the song ‘Aerials’ resulted from Serj getting into transcendental meditation. It may not have everything you might want to know, but after all it’s described as a memoir ‘of sorts’.

Published by Headline, 2024.

I had many issues with this book, but I won’t list them all, because there are some essay-length reviews on Goodreads which discuss them better than I can. The two most pressing problems for me were the length (over 600 pages) and the confusing plot. I expect it all made sense in Philip Pullman’s mind, but I don’t think it translated into the book. I wasn’t sure what the whole point of the story was, except for the message that we must keep using our imaginations and telling stories to stay human. It seemed like an echo of The Amber Spyglass but with a lot of repetitious dialogue and no clear resolution. I found the book in the YA section in the library, but it was really an adult book. The characters are all adults, there is swearing, a lot of gruesome violence, and complicated ideas about the economy, capitalism, philosophy, etc. There are precisely two things I admired about the book. One is that there is a kingdom of gryphons. The other is that one of the characters is named after a victim of the Grenfell Tower fire.

In summary, I don’t recommend the Book of Dust trilogy at all, but at least I’ve completed it!

Published by Penguin and David Fickling, 2025.

Several elements of the book make it appealing to me. There are so many memorable characters, such as Miss Havisham, Estella, Mr Jaggers, Wemmick and his Aged P, Mr Pumblechook, Magwitch, Herbert Pocket, and of course Joe Gargery. The writing is marvellous, changing effortlessly between tones, ensuring the book is a lively mixture of comical, tragic, gothic and crime thriller. Pip is a flawed character and is perhaps not very likeable when he is grown up, but at least he recognises his shortcomings. The novel is set a few decades before it was published, so there is also commentary on what has changed, giving it a nostalgic air. What I find interesting is that the ending is ambiguous, when Pip and Estella finally meet again after many years. It’s not a happy ending as such, but there is a hint of hope. The appendix of the book gives the original (unhappy) ending, which is apparently the one he would have chosen, if not persuaded to change it.

First published in 1861. This edition in 2008, edited by Margaret Cardwell, introduction and notes by Robert Douglas-Fairhurst.

The title of the book is a little misleading, I think, because it implies their careers are over, when the majority of them, despite setbacks with addiction, break-ups or other troubles, have continued to release music, perform, go into other arts or media, or even appear on reality shows! So they are still famous, just not in the prime of their pop era. The book is well-written and makes a lot of good points about fame, the music industry and creativity, using connections between the pop stars to emphasise these. The chapters are grouped into sections with themes, such as one-hit wonders, difficult albums, legends, and scandals. I didn’t expect the book to be great, based on the blurb and uninspiring front cover, so I was surprised how good it was. I found it amusing, thought-provoking and even uplifting.

Published by Headline, 2022.