Review: The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon, beautifully crafted historical fiction

 I really liked this one, which again was recommended to me by a colleague who seems to have my taste in books nailed. There is a crime at the heart of The Frozen River but what stayed with me was how thoughtful and rich the novel is. It is a historical novel with weight and a main character so well drawn that she feels real. 

The story is set in 1789 along the frozen banks of the Kennebec River in Maine. A man’s body is discovered trapped in the ice and the local midwife and healer, Martha Ballard, is called to examine the body and determine the cause of death. That man turns out to be someone recently accused of a brutal crime of sexual violence which Martha had documented in her long kept diary. She tries to understand what has happened and comes to believe that the man's murder and the earlier crime are related. So, the novel does unfold the mystery but it is far more a hisotical novel that investigates the reality of life in these earlier times. 

I was drawn to Martha from the very start. She feels vivid and real. She is a woman who is shaped by her calling and her strong commitment to her family and her community. I could picture her coming through snow, carrying her healing bag, tending to births, and supporting women. I think for me it was that sense of Martha as a living person that really carried the novel.

The book is dense in a satisfying way. It asks hard questions about justice, gender, power, and who gets heard when the law claims to be blind. These are all issues that still exist today.  Lawhon was inspired by the real Martha Ballard, an actual midwife whose diaries recorded decades of births, deaths, and community events. She uses that historical material to build a fictionalised crime story that feels honest to the time, the place, and the challenges Martha would have faced.

One of the clearest things the book shows is how women navigate the constraining rules of the time. these limits. Martha, and the other women around her, are constantly balancing survival with duty. Their intelligence and authority authority often go unrecognised by the men and institutions around them. The novel quietly underlines how their labour, including midwifery, domestic work, emotional care, and even chronicling history in diaries, is undervalued but is also essential to the community’s life.

Even though I sometimes struggled to picture the frozen landscape (I am in Sydney Australia afterall and have only seen snow a handful of times), the depth of the characters and the subtle commentary on women’s roles left a strong impression.

4 stars: I really enjoyed it - highly recommended. 

Review: Pachinko by Min Jin Lee, a NYT Top 100 novel

I read Pachinko on the recommendation of a colleague and I knew it was widely admired. When it was recommended to me it was already on my radar because it had come in as number 17 on the New York Times Top 100 Books of the 21st Century list, which I have been exploring. 

Pachinko is a sweeping historical saga following a Korean family over generations. The story begins in a small fishing village in early 1900s Korea with a young woman named Sunja. Her life takes a turn when she becomes pregnant by a man who abandons her. She accepts a chance to marry a kind minister and moves to Japan. From there the novel traces decades of struggle, survival, hopes and heartbreak as her children and grandchildren try to build a life in a country that treats them as outsiders.

Pachinko shows the harsh realities that Korean immigrants faced in Japan. It shows the discrimination, displacement, and unrelenting social prejudice the community faced but Min Jin Lee handles that history with empathy and detail. I love books that follow a family through generations. I find it fascinating to see how families unfold over the years and how what happens in one generation impacts the next - even when they might not realise. It makes me reflect on my own family history. I know very little about it, but I wonder how much of who I am and where I am has been impacted by these people I don't know. 

In short, I did really enjoy this book, although toward the end I began to feel the wide cast of characters and decades-long span start to blur a bit too much. The novel started jumping around between different family groups and people in a much faster way and some of the storylines felt more developed than others.

Nevertheless I think Pachinko is impressive. It’s and ambitious historical novel that shows pain but also shows love and resilience. If you like big, sweeping stories that trace lives across decades and across borders, this is a book worth reading.

4 stars: I really liked it - highly recommended

Review: The Deadly Dispute by Amanda Hampson, an Australian historical cosy detective novel

 

I read The Tea Ladies and A Cryptic Clue earlier in the year and really liked the whole vibe of the Tea Ladies series so I was pretty confident I’d enjoy this one and I did. The Deadly Dispute is fun and just the right kind of cosy crime to sink into on a lazy afternoon.

This time the tea ladies get tangled up in something a bit more dangerous. Hazel has a new job as a tea lady for the workers union on the docks. It isn't what she is used to, but Hazel being Hazel, sets out to make the most of it. It becomes more dangerous though when a dead body turns up and ther eis talk of missing gold from a ship that has come in. Of course Hazel starts asking questions, which inevitably leads to danger. One mystery is never enough of course. Irene becomes involved in troubles related to her employer's attempt at expanding her brothel empire and Betty falls into personal troubles when she reflects on her past and what she has missed. Things get really tense when Hazel disappears, forcing the others to pool their wits to rescue her. 

The characters remain the best part of the series. They are ridiculously loveable, even when they veer into caricature at times. Hazel, Betty, Merle and Irene are flawed, funny, and loyal, and watching them navigate danger while still managing to sip tea and throw shade at each other is exactly what makes this series so enjoyable.

The mystery is satisfying without ever being too heavy. Amanda Hampson keeps things moving. She gives things enough danger to feel the stakes while still keeping the cosy, nostalgic feel of 1960s Sydney and the gentle humour that makes the series so comforting.

Overall, this series continues to be a reliable comfort read. Nothing wildly surprising, but consistently enjoyable. If she keeps writing them, I’ll happily keep picking them up.

3 stars: It was good - enjoyable but forgettable.

Literary Wives Book Club (December 2025): The Soul of Kindness by Elizabeth Taylor

 Literary Wives is an on-line book group that examines the meaning and role of wife in different books. Every other month, we post and discuss a book with this question in mind: What does this book say about wives or about the experience of being a wife? 

Don’t forget to check out the other members of Literary Wives to see what they have to say about the book!

Other participants:

• Kate of booksaremyfavouriteandbest
• Naomi of Consumed by Ink
• Rebecca of Bookish Beck
• Kay of What Me Read

The Soul of Kindness by Elizabeth Taylor

I have to begin this review by admitting that not only had a I never read anything by Elizabeth Taylor, I had never heard of this author before. I want to begin by acknowledging that is one of the things i hav eenjoyed the most about joining the Literary Wives Book Club - it's making me step outside my comfort zone and read books that I wouldn't have otherwise chosen myself. 

Onto the review. 

My first observation of about the The Soul of Kindness is that Taylor did an excellent job of writing about every day life while still having a go at the characters and the society in which they live. The Soul of Kindness seems very polite and straightforward. There is a lot of polite conversation, pouring of tea, living a very English life from times gone by. At times, I admit, I found this a little slow. But this book is also a very sharp look at marriage and about the roles women get pushed into, especially wives.

What does The Soul of Kindness say about wives or the experience of being a wife?

There are probably a lot of different ways to think about wives in The Soul of Kindness, but I am going to tackle it by thinking about two of the characters, Flora and Barbara. Both say something quite different about what marriage can do to people and if I am honest it was Barbara's relationship with Percy that I found most interesting and modern. 

Understanding Flora

Flora is the centre of the book, or at least it starts that way until the cast of characters and their stories start to grow around her. She is beautiful and adored. Everyone talks about her as if she is pure goodness and she (narcissistically) even believes this about herself. But her version of kindness comes from never thinking too hard about anyone else’s perspective. She drifts along through life, assuming that people welcome her and that everyone will fall into line with how she sees things and what she watns. She is completely incapable of putting herself in the shoes of others or seeing things from a different perspective to her own. There is Flora and Flora alone in her world. 

That's how she causes harm  that complete blankness to another person's perspective and experience. Flora genuinely thinks she is helping when she steers people into choices they do not want. She encourages a friend's borther Kit to pursue acting even though he is not suited to it. She pushes her husband's father and his long-term lover Barbara into marriage because she cannot imagine a long term relationship that doesn’t follow her blueprint. She is the sort of wife who looks perfect from the outside but who causes strain and stress whenever she is in the room. 

The message around Flora seems to be that being a good wife isn't about sweetness or prettiness or the right sort of manners. Flora has these things, but is she a good wife? I think Taylor is trying to say that kindness without any self awareness, or awareness of others, can be incredibly damaging. To be honest, I think calling it kindness is a stretch. It feels more as though Flora does these things because it suits her ego to feel that she is 'helping' others. 

Flora’s marriage to Richard feels almost like a performance. He sometimes seems besotted with her but she never really sees him or understands him. The result is a marriage that looks lovely but has very little real connection inside it. Interestingly I see paralells here with the last two books, Novel About My Wife by Emily Perkins and The Constant Wife by W Somerset Maugham. These all have in common marriages where there is a lack of connection.

Barbara as an accidental wife

Then there is Barbara, who quietly provides a completely different picture. Before Flora meddles in their lives, Barbara and Percy are living in a comfortable, slightly unconventional arrangement. They enjoy each other, they spend time together, but they also have their own lives and their own space. It works for them. They allow Flora to pressue them into marriage, and everything shifts for them. What was once easy and light becomes forced and heavy. Without marriage they were free to live their lives in a way that felt more authentic to them. In marrying, they fell into more traditional roles that didn't suit them. 

It is such an interesting contrast. With Flora, marriage becomes a stage for her self image and narcissism. She can be admired as a lovely person and wife. With Barbara, marriage becomes a disruption. It pulls apart something that was working and replaces it with a version of togetherness that neither of them actually wanted.

So what does this book say about wives? I think Taylor is saying that the concept of 'wife' can be incredibly limiting if it is defined by other people’s expectations. Flora tries to be the perfect wife but there is no real connection in her marriage and she ends up causing harm through her lack of empahy. 

Barbara never set out to be anyone’s idea of a wife at all and ends up struggling once she is forced into that shape. Earlier I referred to this as modern. What I mean to suggest is that I feel like it's a modern idea that relationships don't need to end in marriage. They can be successful, loving and full of meaningful connection without marriage. Once upon a time marriage was a necessary condition for long-term relationships. Women needed to pass from man to man and fulfill the role that society laid out for them. Perhaps Taylor was starting to wonder how necessary this was anymore.

Conclusion

In the end, the book suggests that marriage only works when people actually connect with each other in a way that is authentic to themselves. Both couples in this novel lose that. Flora cannot see anyone clearly, including herself. Barbara and Percy lose the easy rhythm they once had the moment they try to formalise it.

Did I enjoy the book?

I have to say, though, that while I can see why Elizabeth Taylor’s writing is so admired, I didn’t really connect with this one on a personal level. The writing is clearly skilful but overall I found the book a bit slow. I never quite clicked with the characters, even though I understood what she was doing with them. It’s one of those novels I can appreciate more than enjoy. I’m glad I finally read her, but I probably won’t be rushing out to pick up another any time soon.

Review: Everyone this Christmas Has a Secret by Benjamin Stevenson

 

I picked this up expecting something fun and quick and that is what I got. Everyone This Christmas Has a Secret sits firmly in the nlight entretainment zone and I mean that in a genuinely nice way. It is the kind of book you can zoom through in an afternoon because its fun and silly and you don't have to think very hard. Sometimes that is exactly what you want and need, especially at the end of the year when your brain has quietly tapped out.

Benjamin Stevenson has an easy chatty writing style, and that is still one of the best things about this series. The narrator's voice is strong and well defined. Stevenson keeps things moving along, keeps the jokes coming and gives you just enough mystery to feel like you are solving something without ever being stressed about it. 

That said, I am starting to feel like the charm of this series is wearing slightly thin. Like a lot of these cosy detective series, the more books there are, the more you feel the formula showing through. The characters still make me smile but some of the spark from the earlier books has faded a bit. I found myself caring less about the actual plot and even finding the fun approach a little less.... funny.

Still, I enjoyed it. It was exactly the right book coming into the end of a tiring year. If you go in wanting something light, warm and a bit ridiculous, it absolutely does the job. I just hope the next one shakes things up a little, because I would love to feel that early-series energy again.

3 stars: It was good - enjoyable but forgettable

Review: The Hallmarked Man by Robert Galbraith

This is one of my all-time favourite series of books. I love detective fiction anyway, but the Cormoran Strike novels have something special. The characters are so unique and strongly drawn. I love the realism, the will-they-won’t-they tension between Strike and Robin, and the way the personal subplots (if not the mysteries themselves) always feel grounded in real life rather than too neat or contrived.

Before I talk about the book itself, I do want to acknowledge the controversy around J.K. Rowling. Her views are completely at odds with my own, and I don’t agree with her on a lot of things. But I continue to read her Robert Galbraith books because I’ve grown attached to these characters and this world. It’s possible, for me at least, to love a story even when I don’t share the author’s worldview.

The Hallmarked Man begins with a pretty gruesome discovery. A dismembered body is found in the vault of a silver shop in London. A client hires Strike and Robin to find out the truth, and the investigation winds through the world of silversmiths, the Freemasons, and family secrets. As always, the case is layered and complex, but what I really love about these books is the partnership at the centre of them.

The last book in the series (The Running Grave) was honestly far too long. I enjoyed it, but it could have used a serious trim. This one, thankfully, was shorter, which I really appreciated. It felt tighter and more focused. That said, I do think The Hallmarked Man was my least favourite in terms of story. It started to feel a bit repetitive with lots of scenes of Strike and Robin having the same conversations, circling around their misunderstandings, getting frustrated, and pulling back again. I found myself wanting something new between them.

Still, I love these characters too much to ever stop reading. It’s hard to see exactly how Strike and Robin will ever work as a couple, but I can’t wait for J.K. Rowling to finally get us there.

3 stars: I enjoyed this one.

WWW Wednesday: 5 November 2025

WWW Wednesday is a meme that is hosted by Taking on a World of Words. It's a very simple premise of sharing with others The Three Ws:

What are you currently reading? 
What did you recently finish reading? 
What do you think you’ll read next?

What am I currently reading?

It's been awhile since I read any non-fiction and this featured in ABC Radio National's countdown of the Top 100 Books of the 21st Century. I really enjoyed Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything and so this one appealed to me. It's a lot more serious, and sometimes that way he writes about Australia's First Nations peoples doesn't sit well with me, but so far its... good. I mean, I'm not getting all excited about it, but its ok. 

What did I finish reading?

Again inspired by ABC Radio National's countdown of the Top 100 Books of the 21st Century, I just finished Piranesi by Susanna Clark. I really really liked it - highly recommend it. It's very unique and emotional and suspenseful and so many things. I need more time to reflect on it before I can properly describe it. 

What is up next?

Normally I don't plan ahead but I need to get my book club urgently so next up its The Soul of Kindness by Elizabeth Taylor for my Literary Wives Book Club. I know nothing about this book whatsoever and it's nice to approach a book from a completely neutral beginning. 

Review: Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear

This one was recommended to me by a colleague who knows my taste in books, and she was absolutely right. Maisie Dobbs really hit the mark. I love detective fiction of the Agatha Christie kind, those clever mysteries with a sharp, observant lead. But this one felt different. It isn’t as light or cosy as some detective stories. It’s got a quiet sadness to it that come from the shadow  of the war and never quite lifts.

The story begins in 1929, when Maisie opens her own private investigation business in London. Her first case seems simple enough: a man wants her to find out if his wife is having an affair. But the more Maisie digs, the more she uncovers a much bigger and sadder story. The book moves between the case and Maisie’s past, showing how she went from being a housemaid to a Cambridge student to a nurse on the front lines of the First World War to a female detective.

The war is right at the heart of this book. It's part of the setting and of the characters. Everyone is carrying some kind of loss or regret from it, and Maisie is no exception. The mystery turns out to be less about who did what and more about understanding how people live with the things that happened to them.

Maisie herself is wonderful. She’s strong and moral and incredibly thoughtful, but there’s also a real gentleness to her. She wants to do the right thing, even when it’s hard. Watching her put the pieces together, both in the case and in people’s lives, is so satisfying.

I really enjoyed this book. It’s detective fiction, but with more depth and emotion than I expected. I’ve already read the second book in the series, and I’ll definitely be reading them all.

4 stars: I loved it. 

October 2025: What I read

 I am completely all over the place at the moment. In August I didn't read much at all. In September I went crazy and got through so many fabulous books. In October I hit an all year low - only finishing 3 books and abandoning 1 half way through. 

The three that I did manage to finish

Firstly, Harry Potter and the Dealthy Hallows by JK Rowling, a book I've read so many times I barely sure that it even count as a book read anymore. Then I listened to an audio book - Enter a Murderer by Ngaio Marsh which I really enjoyed. And the first book I read in the month of October was the latest in the THursday Murder Club series, The Impossible Fortune by Richard Osman. Definitely the worst in the series and to be honest bad enough that I will probably stop this series now. 

The book I abandoned

This is going to be highly controversial, but I abandoned Joe Cinque's Consolation by Helen Garner. I know this is in so many Top 100 books and one of the books that is often spoken about as one of her bests - but I couldn't get into it. I made it quite far, and I am determined to finish it, I just couldn't right now. 

Although I can see the appeal of the reflective tone, the challenge for me is that I used to work as a criminal defense lawyer and did quite a few jury trials during that time. I have personal experience of working with clients who have done terrible things for inconceivable reasons, which makes me less inclined to want to reflect on why people do these terrible things to one another. 

ABC Radio National's Top 100 Countdown of the Best Books of the 21st Century

All isn't lost though, I did spend a good week listening to the aforementioned countdown and have a quite a few thoughts which I share another day. 

Six degrees of separation (Nov): From We have Always Lived in the Castle to Bel Canto

The meme is hosted by Books are My Favourite Best and is described thus: On the first Saturday of every month, a book is chosen as a starting point and linked to six other books to form a chain. Readers and bloggers are invited to join in by creating their own ‘chain’ leading from the selected book. Each person’s chain will look completely different. It doesn’t matter what the connection is or where it takes you – just take us on the journey with you.

This month’s chain starts with We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. Not only have I never read this, but I've never even heard much about before now. From what I understand, it’s a gothic story about two sisters living in isolation after a family tragedy. It sounds eerie and full of dark family secrets. 

That immediately makes me think of The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, another unsettling tale in which an isolated house becomes a character of its own. 

From there, I’m moving to Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, which also has the grand house, the secrets, the ever-present sense of dread. 

My next link is Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. Both books centre on young women discovering their strength amid loneliness and mystery. And of course, there’s the appeal of a dark, brooding man with secrets.

From Jane Eyre, I’m leaping to Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys, which tells the story from the other side of Mrs Rochester. I didn't enjoy this books at all but it does reframe a classic and remind us that every story depends on who’s telling it.

That brings me to The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, one of my very favourite books of all time and happily voted as number 2 in the ABC Radio National's Top 100 Books of the 21st Century recent countdown. I thought of this one because it is a story that commonly appears in fiction, but reframed as a tale told from the perspective of death - that tells the story of a family brought together by circumstance and having to come together i nextreme circumstances. It's above love and what it means to be human.

Finally, that leads me to Bel Canto by Ann Patchett, which is less about what happens and more about the people at its heart. It’s a story about strangers drawn together by crisis, learning to create a kind of family out of circumstance.

So there’s my chain. It's perhaps a little dark but if I were trying to think in a good light I would say that they about connection and people trying to make sense of those around them. 

Review: Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

Bel Canto has been on my TBR list for many years, but I didn't prioritise it until a colleague at work recommended Ann Patchett to me as one of her favourite authors. It won the PEN/Faulkner Award and the Orange Prize for Fiction in 2002 and was number 98 on the New York Times Best 100 Books for the 21st Century list, so it seemed life the perfect place to start. I’m glad I finally read it. 

The story begins with a lavish birthday party in an unnamed South American country. A world-famous soprano Roxanne Coss has been flown in to perform for a wealthy Japanese businessman who loves opera. The house is full of politicians, diplomats, and high-society guests. But then, suddenly, the house is full of armed guerillas intending to kidnap the President, who, inconveniently, stayed home that night. So begins a hostage situation that lasts for months.

It sounds like the set-up for a thriller, but Bel Canto isn’t that kind of novel. The novel is tense, but not of the propelling, page-turning kind. What surprised me was how still the novel felt. It felt as though everyone, captors and captives, took a deep breath in and didn't let it go. What Ann Patchett seemed interested in was what happens between the hostages and their captors. How did they adapt and connect with one another. 

Over time, the opera singer keeps singing, the captors play soccer with the hostages  and an odd, tender kind of family forms within the walls of the vice president’s mansion. No one speaks the same language and there is only one interpreter but ultimately they are communicating with a different type of language that allows them to find something beautiful and human in the middle of fear and imprisonment. 

As you can tell, I did enjoy Bel Canto, even though I tend to prefer novels with a bit more momentum. This one meanders softly, beautiful but slow. Maybe Patchett was trying to have the story reflect Roxanne Coss's music. Patchett wants you to understand all of the characters, regardless of their side. 

It’s the first Ann Patchett I’ve read, and I can see why she’s so beloved. I think I’ll be trying more. I was thinking of readingTom Lake next, but if you have a recommendation please let me know. 

3 stars: It was good, I liked it

What I Read: September 2025

After a quiet August, my September went off. It was a month of cozy murders, clever detectives, and (just to keep me balanced) one sprawling generational epic. I think it was a month of murde,r rather than anything challenging, to counter balance my challenges at work - but regardless it was a great month. 

Working backwards, I ended with The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon, which I absolutely loved. It’s historical crime fiction at its slow-burn atmospheric best. Then came a run of classic and not-so-classic detective stories. 

I finally met Lord Peter Wimsey Dorothy L. Sayers books Whose Body? Clouds of Witness and Unnatural Death (on audiobook, wonderfully narrated by Richard Meadows), and I was hooked. The narration really brought it alive.

Then I fell down a Maisie Dobbs rabbit hole. I read Maisie Dobbs and Birds of a Feather by Jacqueline Winspear. Both are thoughtful, quiet mysteries set in the shadow of World War I. Maisie is such a refreshing detective. She is introspective, kind, and methodical. I am going to read the whole series. 

Australia made a strong showing too, with Everyone This Christmas Has a Secret by Benjamin Stevenson which was pure fun. Plus A Deadly Dispute by Amanda Hampson and Death on the Water by Kerry Greenwood (a Phryne Fisher audiobook). There’s something comforting about returning to witty dialogue, eccentric detectives, and tidy resolutions which I think was what I was looking for recently.

And then there was Pachinko by Min Jin Lee, the outlier of the month. Sweeping and serious.

I began the month with The Hallmarked Man by Robert Galbraith which was heavier and much longer than everything else I read, but still deeply satisfying. It’s probably what tipped the balance of the month from “cozy mystery” to “crime marathon.” I love this series, and while it isn't the best of the series (a little repetitive), I must say that I enjoyed that it was a little shorter than the others. 

September was the month of murder and mystery, but also of comfort reading. It was a great reading month that got me out of my more recent funk. 

Review: Lord Peter Wimsey series by Dorothy L Sayers

I’ve been on an audiobook streak lately now that my new job involves an hour long drive to and from work and recently I have used the time to dip into Dorothy L. Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey novels, my first time reading (well, listening to) her work. As a long-time Agatha Christie fan, I wasn’t sure how they’d compare but I needn’t have worried. These are clever, funny, and have a lot of different layers to them.

I listened to three in a row, Whose Body?, Clouds of Witness, and Unnatural Death, all narrated by Richard Meadows, who deserves his own round of applause. He did an incredible job with the voices. Lord Peter has a slightly flippant upper-class drawl, Parker is the model of a stedy policeman, Bunter has  a slow deferential manner. His narration brings the characters alive and makes you forget you’re listening to a single person.

Whose Body?

The first book introduces Lord Peter Wimsey, upper-class amateur sleuth. A naked body turns up in a bath wearing only a pince-nez, and Peter can’t resist investigating. The plot is intricate and I was hooked immediately to the series. 

Clouds of Witness

This one really stepped things up. Peter’s brother, the Duke of Denver, is accused of murder after a man is found shot outside their family lodge. The trial scenes are gripping, and Peter is able to demonstrate his more serious side occasionally. 

Unnatural Death

This one was probably my favourite of the three. It’s darker  and a little more unsettling. An old lady dies under seemingly natural circumstances, but Peter isn't convinced. What follows is a twisty investigation involving inheritance and deception. It also introduces a new character, a Mrs Climpson who is devout but nosy and is such a fascinating example of people from that time in history. 

That said, Sayers does rely on some conveniently timed coincidences like Mrs. Climpson just happening to pick the exact apartment she needs at the end. Very narratively convenient. 

In short, I absolutely loved these. Compared to Agatha Christie's novels I feel like they are less about solving the murder yourself and more about watching the reasoning unfold. 

Six Degrees of Separation (Oct): I Want Everything to Every Secret Thing by Marie Munkara

  The meme is hosted by Books are My Favourite Best and is described thus: On the first Saturday of every month, a book is chosen as a starting point and linked to six other books to form a chain. Readers and bloggers are invited to join in by creating their own ‘chain’ leading from the selected book. Each person’s chain will look completely different. It doesn’t matter what the connection is or where it takes you – just take us on the journey with you.

This month we begin with I Want Everything by Dominic Amerena. Although I own this book, I haven't read it yet. I have started it but found it a bit hard to get into and moved onto something else. I did see Dominics Amerena at the Sydney Writers' Festival 2025, speaking on a panel for debut authors. For anyone curious, here is a link to my post about the panel event. 

Green Dot by Madeleine Grey

The compare of the event was Madeleine Gray, an Australian author who wrote Green Dot which I read earlier this year. I really enjoyed Green Dot: Hera’s affair with her older, married boss plays out as a slow unraveling. It's a story about some coping with the inconsistency between what she thinks her life should be, and what her life actually is. 

Bliss by Peter Carey

Bliss by Peter Carey is what then comes to mind. It's a novel about man who realises that his life isn't what it seems and isn't what he wants. A crisis of meaning I suppose you could say - but in a slightly different context to what we see in Green Dot. 

The Secret River by Kate Grenville 

A weird shift perhaps. At first I couldn't quite put my figure on why I thought of The Secret River next, but I think it's because in Bliss the protagonist questions the life that he has built and in The Secret River that moral discomfort is felt more so by the reader watching the immoral acts of the colonists as they invade and take what isn't theres. It could also just be the Australian connection. 

The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards 

OK, hear me out. I've gone to the Memory Keeper's Daughter because they are both about control. The Secret River is about control of land and lives. The Memory Keeper's Daughter is also about control of the lives of others. Who gets to decide what is best for others and who faces the consequences of those decisions. 

100 Years of Betty by Debra Oswald

Both of these novel revolve around children separated from their mothers because of societal pressures and shame. In The Memory Keeper’s Daughter a father decides to hide his daughter’s disability by giving her away at birth.Iin The 100 Years of Betty, the protagonist's decision to givs up her baby for adoption is also shaped by the harsh moral expectations of her time. 

Every Secret Thing by Marie Mukara

I read this one a long time ago. In Every Secret Thing the theme of forced familial separation is even more central. Munkara writes from lived history: Aboriginal children removed from families, cultural dislocation, the mission system. It’s a more painful reflection on the cost of forced familial separation, especially when identity is not just personal, but deeply communal.

WWW Wednesday: 17 September 2025

  WWW Wednesday is a meme that is hosted by Taking on a World of Words. It's a very simple premise of sharing with others The Three Ws:

What are you currently reading? 

What did you recently finish reading? 

What do you think you’ll read next? 

Click here to see what I read in August 2025. 

Currently reading 

I have literally just finished Pachinko by Min Jin Lee, and so technically haven't started this yet - but I am about to start Everyone this Christmas Has A Secret by Benjamin Stevenson. This is his thurd book in his Ernest Cunningham series, which is just a fun quirky detective series set in Australia. I find these books quite fun and am looking forward to this. 

Just finished

I just finished reading Pachinko by Min Jin Lee. I was keen to read this because a friend had spoken very highly of it, and it is on the New York Times Best 100 Books of the 21st Century (so far) list. It didn't disappoint. It was a bit slow to start for me, but eventually I got right into it. I enjoy reading a family history that spans throughout the generations.

I also recently finished reading The Hallmarked Man by Robert Galbraith. I know JK Rowling is controversial these days, but I can't help but love this series and I just can't give it up. I really appreciated that this one was quite a bit shorter than the last few, but I do think it was possibly the least interesting mystery that they were working on. It was the romantic tension that kept me interested more than anything else.

What's next?

As per usual, who knows. Only time till tell. 

Review: The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde

I remember really enjoying this book when I first read it, but this time around my reaction was much less enthusiastic. Perhaps I wasn’t in the right mood, but I found myself bogged down in page after page of men lecturing on their personal views of life and morality. Although I remember once finding this interesting it now felt a lot like dreary mansplaining.

For anyone unfamiliar, the story follows Dorian Gray, a beautiful young man in Victorian London who becomes the subject of a portrait. After falling under the influence of Lord Henry Wotton’s hedonistic philosophy, Dorian makes a wish that he could remain young and untouched by life, while the portrait ages instead. Over the years Dorian plunges into a life of self indulgence and cruelty and his body remains yuong and beautiful while his portrait becomes a monster. 

It’s a novel often celebrated as Wilde’s great work of fiction. Looking through other reviews and commentary it’s been described as a warning about vanity, a study of aestheticism, and even an early exploration of queer desire. 

And yet, despite all that, I didn’t enjoy it this time. I could admire the cleverness and understand why it’s considered significant, but as a reading experience I found myself more frustrated than anything else. It’s a reminder, I suppose, that some books resonate at certain times in our lives, and not at others. This was one of those re-reads where the magic didn’t return.

August 2025: What I Read

I started a new job in August. Starting a new job always had its challenges and this new role is definitely not an exception to that rule. One of the side effects of the new job has been far less time for reading. 

Some of this is undoutedly due to stress. The usual stress of starting a new role, but in this case additional stress because of office politics that I have walked into that have surprised me and are challenging me. My ability to concentrate is definitely suffering while I manage the stress and try to keep my intrusive thoughts under control.

On a more practical note, I no longer catch the train to and from work which has reduced the amount of reading time that I have available to me. I plan to handle this by getting this into audiobooks. Already.I have listended to a few and these will start popping up in my monthly overviews and my reviews. I've never really reviewed audiobooks before. I feel like the review will be about the story and also about the listening experience. I will make a point of reading some audiobook reviews to get some tips. 

Like that month, I've done a fair bit of re-reading and a lot less exploring of new works. 

New reads

Whose Body by Dorothy L Sayers, narrated by Robert Bathurst

I can't believe that I am admitting this, but I had never read anything by Dorothy L Sayers. I am a huge Agatha Christie fan, and read many cosy detective novels inspired by that genre, some of which refernece Sayers books (as in Kerry Greenwood's Phryne Fisher series). So I dived into Whose Body, on audiobook. Whose Body is the first novel featuring Lord Peter Wimsey, in which he investigates the mysterious appearance of a corpse in a London bathtub, complete with pince-nez but no clothes. I really enjoyed it, but I found the mystery much harder to unravel than in an Agatha Christie novel.

Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

I finally read an Ann Patchett book after one of my colleagues speaking so highly of her novels. Bel Canto is set at a birthday party in South America that suddenly turns into a hostage situation, but instead of being all tension and drama, it becomes this strange unfolding of developing connection between people who shouldn’t have anything in common. 

Novel About My Wife by Emily Perkins

Novel About My Wife is told by Tom, who looks back on his marriage to Ann and slowly reveals how their seemingly ordinary life in London starts to unravel. I read this for my book club, Litery Wives Club, and a few of us reviewed the nove. You can read the full review here but in short I reacted strongly to this book, but not in a good way. So much was left unresolved and unexplained that it took away from any enjoyment for me, and I finished it feeling more frustrated than intrigued.

Re-Reads

Books that I read in the month of August, but had read previously, were Murder on a Midsummer Night by Kerry Greenwood, and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by JK Rowling. 

Review: The Quiet Grave by Dervla Tiernan, dependable but unremarkable

I picked up The Quiet Grave during a busy patch in July when work and life were pulling me in all directions. More specifically job applications, interviews, and all the noise that goes with them. I was struggling to choose a book and then struggling to stick with it. In those times, cosy detective novels or crime procedurals are my fallback because they keep me reading without demanding too much mental energy.

The Quiet Grave continues Dervla McTiernan’s series, following Detective Cormac Reilly and his colleagues as another case unfolds. The story digs into a decades-old disappearance, and as usual for these novels, it's the kind of cold case that threatens to unearth more than anyone wants revealed. As usual, there’s the mix of procedural detail, personal drama, and the push-and-pull between police politics and real justice.

I’ve found myself enjoying this series more with each instalment, (see my review of The Scholar (2) and The Good Turn (3)) so I came into The Quiet Grave with some optimism. But this one didn’t land for me in the same way. The pacing reminded me of the first novel in the series. The resolution to the crime arrives so abruptly that it left me unsatisfied. I’ve also grown to appreciate Peter Fisher as a character, thinking he might take on a stronger role moving forward, but the events surrounding him in The Quiet Grave felt out of character and unlikely. I want to be immersed in the story but the way in which his story came to end took me out of the story and reminded me that I was just reading something that someone had made up. 

That said, McTiernan still delivers a reliable, standard sort of crime novel of the type that is good to have on hand when I just want to keep the pages turning without taxing my mind too much. I’ll keep reading the series when I need that kind of book, but this one reminded me that they’re not particularly special, even if they are dependable.

Literary Wives Book Club (Sept 2025): Novel About My Wife by Emily Perkins

Literary Wives is an on-line book group that examines the meaning and role of wife in different books. Every other month, we post and discuss a book with this question in mind: What does this book say about wives or about the experience of being a wife? 

Don’t forget to check out the other members of Literary Wives to see what they have to say about the book!

Other participants:

• Kate of booksaremyfavouriteandbest
• Naomi of Consumed by Ink
• Rebecca of Bookish Beck
• Kay of What Me Read

Novel About My Wife by Emily Perkins

Last book club we reviewed The Constant Wife by W Somerset Maugham (read my review here). When I finished The Constant Wife I appreciated its take on marriage and the power dynamics within. In contrast, Novel About My Wife fell a little flat for me. 

The central wife in Novel About My Wife is Ann. But in truth, the story is told entirely from Tom’s point of view (her husband) and feels like it speaks more about him than her. The title promises a novel about a wife, but what we really get is a husband narrating a sotry about his wife to the reader, ostensibly to keep her memory her alive but he may have other motives. Tom tells us that Ann is an Australia he met while she was living in London. He doesn't know much about her past or even why she is living in London. But he falls in love and marries her. They buy a house and when the story begins they are expecting their first child. 

At the beginning of the narrative, Ann is caught in an underground train derailment which undoutedly impacts her mental health. She descends into anxiety, believing that she is being followed by a stalker and sometimes obsessively cleaning their home. It eventually seems likely that her issues began before the train accident, but it is never certain. We see her only through Tom’s eyes and his interpretation of her behaviour. Can we even be certain that he is being honest with us?  ,  The novel never gives her a voice and we can only speculate and infer from what Tim recounts. There is a traumatic event hinted at in her past, that potentially is a defining even in her life that may or may not being related to the decline in her mental health. Is the stalker a delusion created by her mental health struggles or are the mental health struggles the delusion and the stalker real and somehow connected to her past? We know that Ann passes away (not a spoiler) and it's implied, butonly implied, that she died by suicide. The traumatic event that defines her is never explained. 

In short - I did not enjoy this book. 

To delve into this more deeply - I found the ambiguity frustrating. I wanted to understand what was going on with Ann. I wanted to know what had happened to her in the past that cast such a shadow. I wanted to know how she died and whether there might have been anything suspicious about it. 

Perhaps I could have exercised my little grey cells and drawn my own conclusions, but I never got that spark. The gaps felt empty and the book didn’t inspire me to search for answers, only frustrated that I didn't have any. Is the fact that the story is narrated by a husband about his wife's death and yet he has called it a "novel" some clue to my confusion? If anyone else who has read this has their own theories, please let me know. 

So what does this novel say about wives?

Honestly, for a novel called Novel About My Wife, I think tha tthis story says something more about Tom, the husband. If I had to say something, I was would say that the novel suggests that a wife can still be unknown to the person thought to love them more than most others. Ann is only defined by Tom's observations and projections. Tom himself admits to not knowing much about her past, but he also has little curiosity, even though the very fact of her being less than forth coming suggests something important and hidden. He takes her at face value, but is also dismissive of her. He might say that he loves her, but does he know her? Can you love someone that you don't know?

In the end, I'm not really sure what it says about the experience of being a wife and I have no love of the story. It felt more like an ambiguous retelling (potentially even a confession, but of what I'm not sure) of events from a husband who never really cared to understand his wife. Maybe there's something there - that people see you as a wife or partner, but rarely as yourself without that context. 

If your idea of a satisfying read involves clarity, emotion and a satisfying plot then this book is not for you. 

Review: 100 Years of Betty by Debra Oswald

100 Years of Betty isn’t high-brow literary fiction and it doesn’t need to be. It’s warm, engaging, and I really enjoyed it. From the first chapter I connected with Betty, not because I’ve lived her life or even experiences 1/3 of what she has, but because Debra Oswald writes her with such humanity that you feel you could bump into her at the shops and strike up a chat.

Betty’s life begins in wartime London, a childhood shaped by the chaos and fear of the Blitz and the slow disintegration of her family under the strain of war and poverty. As a young woman she migrates to Australia in search of something more and begins (bravely in my mind) begins to build a new life in an unfamiliar country. Across the decades we see her navigate love and loss through multiple marriages, raise her children, and weather the quiet triumphs and disappointments that come with time. Betty's life is one of resilience and reinvention. 

One of the things Oswald does beautifully is show the role of chance in our lives. I once heard (and I wish I could remember where) that life is essentially a set of experiences that we tell ourselves stories about, so we can understand and ourselves better. It's an idea that's always struck me and I keep in mind when I am experiencing something challenging or stressful. That idea threads through Betty’s life. She makes choices but she’s also shaped by accidents, encounters, and the circumstances she finds herself in. Looking back, she pieces these moments together into her own narrative, and we see her come to understand who she is.

Reading it felt a little like a time travel novel except we move through time in the right direction. We watch Betty live through decades of change, each new era bringing shifts in social expectations, opportunities, and challenges. I felt joy and heartbreak watching her grow into her true self across all those years, especially as the world around her changes. We particularly see this shift almost immediately after her children are grown and she travels for the first time, moving to another content, to form connections and create a new family for herself, for a time. This moment felt to me like the most jarring or abrupt development in her character. I understand the change is big and abrupt because of the point in her life where she is free, without the responsibility of caring for her children, to finally put herself and her interests first.

One of the storylines that particularly resonated with me was about forced adoption. In a previous role, I worked in a not-for-profit organisation that supported people separated through forced adoption, and the emotions in this part of the book rang true. Oswald captures the pain, the complexity, and the lifelong impact without turning it into melodrama.

At its heart, this is also a story about women’s liberation. It shows how women have seen ourselves over time, how society has seen us over time, and how we have come to expect more from our lives. Through Betty, we see those changes unfold in small, everyday ways. Her confidence shifts, she becomes self-reliant and she knows she deserves and then expects respect.

And who doesn't doesn't love an elderly lady willing to experiment with hallucinogens. 

100 Years of Betty comes highly recommended by me.