The Little Cottage in Lantern Square by Helen Rolfe - a book review

 

 

The Little Cottage in Lantern Square by Helen Rolfe

 

 The Little Cottage in Lantern Square by Helen Rolfe was quite a lovely little read, which was a much needed balm to my soul after a previous horror story.

 The book starts off a little slow, with the main character Hannah (early thirties, 2 cats) moving from the city into the fictional little village of Butterbury in the Cotswolds, right into a cute little house called Lantern Cottage. She runs her own business from home selling care packages online, a rewarding but also stressful job as she makes sure to send absolutely perfect gifts to the recipients. Her life slowly integrates into the village as she builds up relationships with everyone around her and is very keen to volunteer her time at the local nursing home, to give all she can to her community and become an essential part in it. Everything is very idyllic, there are some quirky and mischievous characters, and Hannah is really building her life up, taking part in as many community events as she can.

 Although only hints at the beginning of the story, Hannah's past comes back to disrupt her village life. Her former best friend, Georgia, who she had run a business with previously but ended on less than good terms, seeks to rekindle the closeness they once had. Hannah, believing in second chances, decides to open herself back up again and accepts the apology. Then her ex-boyfriend Luke shows up as well, seemingly with good intentions, and both worm their way back into her life, managing to help her out when she is at her lowest. But the idyll is over; suddenly, mistakes with her business happen that Hannah blames herself for, and in general chaos has found its way back into her daily life. Will she be able to create peace again for herself with those old relationships rekindled?

 All the while, Hannah has met the local doctor who seems to have a different woman on his arm at every event, and is unsure how she feels about him. At least the gardener Rhys has landed firmly in the ‘friends’ category, lovingly tending to her garden and anything else green that shows up.

 The writing feels a little clumsy at times, with fragments of sentences repeated frequently very close together, but it doesn’t distract too much from the reading experience. I did have a hard time trying to keep track of all the characters, as the reader literally gets introduced to the whole village with names and occupations, and they will pop up again later, luckily often with some kind of context. One thing that stood out to me was that Hannah had made a few female friends her age in Butterbury and was seemingly getting very close to them, but they never made it into any of the important conversations you would have with a trusted friend. Maybe it was just a plot device, I would have preferred the occasional note that ‘she would have loved to discuss this with Cate who was unfortunately too busy with her toddler to sit down for hours and have deep conversations’ over building up a friendship and then giving it no importance.

 The book is basically an advertisement for the Woman’s Institute with how often it gets mentioned and how much of an impact it has on the whole story, to the point where I’m almost considering joining them myself if they are really that good of an organisation. I’ve only really been aware of the yarn they sell at Hobbycraft and never looked further into it, but maybe this will give me the push to get to know the local group. Many of the characters seem to be involved with the Institute and it is shown very much as a device that’s there for you when you need it. It’s a very inspiring message, sometimes laid on very thick but nonetheless appreciated.

 Altogether, it was a very wholesome and warming story about doing the work to come together as a community, and that while forgiveness is powerful, we should not be naïve to the point of destruction. It has a very whimsy quality but delves into the dark corners of the mind that Hannah had been running away from, and they truly are dark at times, but handled in a light hearted manner. Mental health and grief takes a bit of a spotlight and is touched on respectfully, with empathy and compassion. Hannah’s story is a little bit too idealistic, as not everything can be fixed with a good dose of optimism and some well-timed meddling, but a message of the book seems to be that we ought to at least try. Even the most stone cold gossip could be turned around when the right acquaintance is found, and the perfectionist mother might be capable of admitting her own flaws and being able to tolerate her daughters. It shows us what a world we could create if we were all a little more vulnerable and willing to share our worries without the fear of being judged by those closest to us. There is hope here, a place that will welcome us home when we are ready to be a part of it, to be truly authentically ourselves to us and everyone around us. It's a romance story with a happy ending, but there is also so much more to it, and I'm very glad the little book found me.

Sorcery and Small Magics by Maiga Doocy - a book review

 

 

 Sorcery and Small Magics by Maiga Doocy

 

 

 Sorcery and Small Magics (The Wildersongs, Book 1) by Maiga Doocy is my new favourite book. It has everything I love: a medieval fantasy world with magic, an academy (with dorms and a huge library) where said magic is learned and a world full of monsters outside of the boundaries of the country. The magic system is thoroughly thought out, but still remains mysterious, and the whole book has an incredibly cosy vibe to it.

 

 The main character, Leovander Lovage, has given up as a failure at the academy and tries to just muddle through his last year to meet his father's expectations to at least graduate. He struggles with memorising and has a generally very chaotic air about him; drinking, gambling and the need to needle people when the opportunity arises. He reminds me a little of Klaus in Netflix' Umbrella Academy, and a lot of the dialogue works quite well when I imagine his voice and attitude in general. It's not that Leo doesn't try hard enough, we can see him trying, but just simply trying is not enough for some of us.

 

 Enter Sebastian Grimm, the polar opposite of Leo. Grimm is incredibly thorough in anything he does, once he has memorised a spell he doesn't seem to forget it in a hurry, his character is well grounded and not at all suited to flights of fancy like Leo. Both have a history of bringing out the worst in each other, but due to academic circumstances, are required to work together and the plot really gets going from that point. So much humour and heart has been poured into the writing of this book, Leo is a complete disaster and we're rolling with it, and it's really fun. There are some dark topics that are handled delicately, and the characters are given time to really grow together through all of their differences, and it's shown well.

 

 A no context quote that I had to read over and over again because it amused me so much:

 

"I wanted to press my lips to the junction of throat and jaw and feel his pulse stutter. If I just let myself -

I licked Grimm's palm."

 

 The book is full of lovely re-directions that move the story forwards, keeping it fresh and interesting at every turn. We travel through grande parties, into little villages, forests infested with monsters and a sorcerer's tower, which is just as magical as it sounds. There is a perfect blend of academic focus mixed with the best cottagecore vibes, a strong attention to music and a love for language. I'm very excited to read the next book when it's released. Although part of a series, it worked quite well as a novel standing on it's own for me.

Long Live Evil by Sarah Rees Brennan - a book review

 

 

 

 Long Live Evil by Sarah Rees Brennan

 

 Long Live Evil by Sarah Rees Brennan is a book that doesn't take itself quite seriously, but that doesn't stop it from having a depth that I had not expected going in. The author's very real experience of surviving late stage cancer features heavily, with all the emotional baggage included, so when the protagonist Rae becomes one of the characters in her favourite book series (very much reminded me of Inkheart by Cornelia Funke), she struggles to take anything seriously beyond her own entertainment. This leads to some rather ridiculous dialogue where a lot depends on other characters being willing to let some really weird stuff slide, and some fourth wall breaks that I have not come across before. The whole book is very extra, as if getting ready for a stage performance (and it would be fun as a stage play, for sure!) with a little musical number included.

 

 The pacing is a bit on and off, but the characters were interesting enough and there is real development throughout. Motivations change in a heartbeat, but can be followed logically. I found the humour to be quite fun at times, but often I just wanted to shake some sense into everyone or groan instead. Very cheesy. References to lots of pop culture that have nothing to do in a fantasy setting, but definitely shake things up a bit. Trope subversion almost for the sake of it seems to be the aim, which has been achieved in many ways. It's certainly a very unique book that explores some darker sides of humanity with a twist of humour.

 I was pretty satisfied with the conclusion of the book so thought it would stand on its own, but it looks like the prequel All Hail Chaos is due to be released in September 2025. While Long Live Evil won't make it into my favourites list, I will probably read the sequel if it crosses my way.

Tyger by SF Said - a book review

 

Tyger by SF Said

 

 Tyger is a wonderful book for a younger audience, written by SF Said and beautifully illustrated by Dave McKean. It follows our young protagonist Adam through a London where Imperialism still reigns in the 21st century. Class oppression and slavery are seen everywhere, while foreigners are frowned upon by the upper classes. Adam, on an errand he runs for his family's business, stumbles into an empty building and finds a magical creature "call me Tyger".

 From there follows a story that is brave, heartwrenching, touching and altogether incredibly well written with wonderful illustrations throughout. Evil must be defeated, even if we are scared, even if it has already infected our family, and by paying attention to the small, beautiful things, amazing changes can happen. Heartwarming and encouraging for anyone who dares to believe in the good in people, I loved this book completely and I'm looking forward to re-reading it in the future.

The Library Thief by Kuchenga Shenjé - a book review

 

 

 

 

 The Library Thief by Kuchenga Shenjé 

Starting off in 1896, we follow a young woman, our heroine Florence Granger, as she finds herself a bookbinder position in Rose Hall, the home of Lord Belfield. Florence immediately starts investigating the mysterious death of Lord Belfield’s late wife, Lady Persephone, at night while restoring the priceless collection of books in the Belfield library during the day. She makes friends with the footman, Wesley, and attempts to make conversation with the cook, Baxter, which falls flat. While she settles in, we learn about her difficult past with her father who taught her bookbinding but threw her out of her home when he found her in a compromising situation, leaving her completely to her own devices. We also get to know Lord Belfield’s brother, Sir Chester, and his wife, Lady Violet, who are not always who they seem to be. A fascinating story with interesting, multi-dimensional characters that really bring this time period alive, along with all the taboos high society can only talk about behind closed doors. There is more than one scandal to be found, some interesting turns to the story when we get to meet Lady Persephone’s handmaid, who is black, and further delve into this story of gender identities, racial tension and political insights whilst we keep circling back to the mystery that started it all.

I really loved reading this book, it fully pulled me in and I struggled to put it down long enough to eat and sleep. There are a lot of heart-warming scenes, especially between Florence and Wesley, as he braids her hair while she reads to him or tells him stories, and Florence looking to replace the mother figure she never had. A hefty dose of tragic romance highlights the difficulties of finding love outside what was considered proper in the late 19^th century, and we have a wide cast of queer characters that drive the story forward and help bring it to a satisfying conclusion. There are heavy themes of sexual assault and unwanted pregnancy, and no shying away from describing more consensual sexual acts, although mostly kept brief enough to not overpower the writing. The tone changes between heavy and light depending on the heroine’s feelings, and she has many exciting adventures like horseriding lessons, which was a personal highlight for me. I love Florence’s fiery temper, mixed with her naivety and occasional inability to see the trees for the forest, which made for a very entertaining personality.

All in all, a cosy book that makes you want to sit by the fire on a stormy winter night, with a cup of tea nearby, and then draws you in with its complexity, lovable characters and interesting twists.

 

On Being Unreasonable by Kirsty Sedgman - Book Review

 

 

On Being Unreasonable by Kirsty Sedgman

 On Being Unreasonable starts by making the reader uncomfortable, setting the tone for the rest of the book. If you are someone who doesn't like their world view challenged, this book isn't for you. Sedgman does a deep dive into the history and meaning of the word reasonable, introducing biases that go back as far as the classical times of ancient Greece and China, and dissects how severely colonialism has imprinted our idea of the reasonable, every day man who is called upon to be the model of reasonable behaviour in court cases and similar situations. She investigates society right from the beginnings of humanity. How when we first settled down and started congregating in bigger groups that are not just extended family, we had to give our trust up to complete strangers and start developing rules for a peaceful coexistence. These rules may differ from region to region, and culture to culture, which is how in some parts of the world bartering for the price is best practice, while in other parts the vendor might get offended if you were to try and haggle for a better deal. But how over the last few decades, there is an ever growing divide between ‘them’ and ‘us’. Communities are falling apart, strangers are not seen as potentially friendly but distressing, and the mentality of ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ is all but gone from our modern society.

 Norms that are being investigated are the social contract that gives us the guidelines, rules and ways to act appropriately in the society we live in, such as how queueing hasn’t always been a British sport, but raises important questions to the anxious queuer: How close should I stand to the next person? When do I tell someone to back off when they get too close to me? How to deal with people that unapologetically cut into the line? How the previous questions are down to the individual and vary wildly from person to person, making it harder than it already is. Those unspoken societal rules that have been impressed into  us by our parents, guardians and surroundings when growing up and are very specific to the area and time we’re in.

 The book looks at societal expectations towards groups and individuals, on how ‘being reasonable’ has a wildly different definition depending on who you ask, especially across a class and cultural divide. It explores how minorities are being asked to ‘just make a request’ for life changing practices like disability access to public transport, for example. Only to then be denied time and time again, to be told that the funding is not there, to be told that the changes would be made ‘soon’ without any mention when, and are still not done years later. It unpacks the power imbalance between political parties, how the left is much more likely to strive for a compromise while the right is focussed on their own advantages and goals only, the rest of society ignored. Sedgman coins the term ‘bothsides-itis’ where audiences are encouraged to see both sides of the argument in an effort to be tolerant, which often results in giving opinions that should have been vetted first a platform, like alt-right rhetoric or ‘alternate facts’. It comes back to the saying ‘Tolerant people will tolerate intolerance, and the intolerant people will not tolerate the tolerant people’.

 Sedgman urges to first strive to settle arguments peacefully, by talking, whether they be of a political, societal or environmental nature; but ultimately, if talking fails, she calls to action. A discussion or debate can only be productive if both parties are sincere, and she calls out the conservatives to engage in dishonest practices to achieve their goals. So if we stop pretending that the levelling field is even, that we all have an equal chance at success in whatever we want to take a shot at, we can go and create the change needed from there. She calls on a diverse range of cultures to support her statements, from Native America to India and Japan.

 It’s a book written from a humorous, personal lens that strives to educate the reader with strong arguments and insights into the author’s life. It is Sedgman’s personal quest to answer her initial question ‘is it ever reasonable to be unreasonable?’ and her proposed solution is a healthy ‘yes!’ Within reason, of course.

 Sedgman is a cultural studies scholar who focusses on audiences. She lives in Bristol with her husband and two boys.

How did you enjoy the book? Let me know below!