Review: Dark Places

Reading Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl for the first time ignited my love of thriller and I’ve been chasing the high that only an epic mind-bending twist can provide ever since. Unfortunately, if I had a pound of every book that was advertised as being ‘the next Gone Girl‘ that went on to disappoint me, I’d be able to quit my job and read full time. Time has taught me that only Gillian Flynn can be compared to Gillian Flynn and so my solution to this dilemma has been to slowly ration out Flynn’s earlier work and savour them like sweets.

Dark Places is Flynn’s second novel and was originally published in 2010. Our protagonist is Libby Day, whose entire family was massacred in what appeared to be a Satanic ritual when she was just seven years old. Her older brother Ben was convicted of the murders and Libby’s testimony was instrumental in putting him in prison for the rest of his life. The novel begins twenty five years later, with Libby now a highly dysfunctional adult in serious need of some cash (and therapy, so much therapy). She’s approached by an unorthodox club of true crime enthusiasts who are willing to pay her a lot of money to have her answer their questions about the murder of her family. She reluctantly consents, only to find that they believe that her brother Ben is innocent and that the real killer is still walking free. In exchange for payment, Libby agrees to reach out to various figures from her past to attempt to understand what really happened that night and what she discovers leaves her questioning everything she thought she knew about her family, her life and herself.

One thing I love about Gillian Flynn novels is that it’s impossible to trust anyone, even the narrator. Our protagonist, Libby, begins the novel with a very fixed idea of what occurred on the night of the massacre but doubts begin to creep in as she confronts the various figures who knew her family around the time of the killings. In a lesser novel, one would assume that Libby’s older brother Ben being found guilty of the murders means that he’s the only one we can be certain isn’t responsible for the murders, however Flynn manages to keep the reader questioning reality throughout through the cunning use of a three-way split perspective. The novel is variously narrated by Libby in the present day and by Ben and their mother, Patty, on the day of the massacre in 1985. Because everyone has their own version of the truth, this device leads to the misconceptions and half-truths at the heart of the story to slowly unfurl in a way that keeps the reader guessing until almost the last moment.

Another thing I really enjoyed about this book is it articulated a lot of what I find most uncomfortable about the recent true crime craze. These days podcasts like My Favourite Murder and documentaries like Making A Murderer have become increasingly popular but they’ve always left me with a feeling of unease. What does our consumption of these tragedies say about us? What does it do to the victims and their families to see their most intimate memories dissected by strangers? Dark Places attempts to answer these questions through Libby’s interactions with the members of the Kill Club, a group of true crime enthusiasts who believe they know more about the murder of her family than she does and are willing to pay her large amounts of money for personal items that belonged to her dead sisters. All the interactions with the Kill Club made me deeply uncomfortable and honestly furious on Libby’s behalf. Seeing them through Libby’s eyes made me understand that the consumption of true crime necessitates the retraumatisation of victims and that their pain, suffering and lived experience is often ignored in the pursuit of the ‘real truth’ of what happened. Flynn’s deft handling of the tension between Libby and her sponsors at the Kill Club throws this into razor sharp relief.

All of this tension, confusion and deceit culminates in the big twist. In the past, I’ve been burned many times by promises of ‘twists you’ll never seen coming’ that actually just utterly nonsensical endings. What distinguishes Flynn as a true master of the genre is that her twists are always satisfying, make sense and you always kick yourself for not figuring it our earlier. Like all good twists, the answer is dangled in front of your face early in the novel and there are sufficient clues dropped throughout that you can almost put the pieces together but the answer remains tantalisingly out of reach until almost the last second. I’ll say no more for fear of accidentally spoiling anything, but suffice to say that Dark Places will not only keep you turning pages but will have you questioning the generic expectations of the thriller itself.

Books I Gifted This Christmas

One of my favourite things to gift people for Christmas (or any time of the year to be honest) is a book. I spend a lot of time putting thought into which book to get for which person, so in order to save you some time, here is the full list of books I purchased for my friends and family (and a few extras in case your loved ones have already read the books I suggest). Happy reading!

Ask Again, Yes by Mary Beth Keane

This is a little bit of a cheat because this wasn’t technically a Christmas present, more like a book I gifted to my mother in the general vicinity of Christmas. This is because I started reading Ask Again, Yes on the first day of my Christmas break, devoured it, realised my mother would love it and frantically searched a local bookstore for a copy for her to devour over the Christmas break. Ask Again, Yes is the story of two families – the Gleesons and the Stanhopes – who are brought together when the fathers of both families become partners while working for the NYPD. They become neighbours and two of their children, Kate Gleeson and Peter Stanhope, develop a friendship that eventually blossoms into love. However, an explosive event tears the two families apart and the rest of the novel is a beautiful examination of forgiveness, redemption, family and love. This book is as close to perfect as it gets and it was hands down my favourite book of 2019.

Perfect for: Literally anyone, I’m never going to shut up about this book.

They might also enjoy: Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng, Normal People by Sally Rooney

Guns, Germs and Steel: A Short History of Everybody for the Last 13,000 Years by Jared Diamond

Guns, Germs and Steel is an oldie but a goodie. It’s a transdisciplinary look at why human societies have developed so differently across the globe and makes the case that that geography and biogeography are responsible for the differences we see rather than race. It’s hugely comprehensive, covering a massive range of time periods and geographies, so there’s something in it to interest everyone.

Perfect for: Politics nerds, history nerds, geography nerds and nerds in general.

They might also enjoy: Prisoners of Geography by Tim Marshall, Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari

Invisible Women: Exposing Data Bias in a World Designed for Men by Caroline Criado Perez

Invisible Women examines the ways in which men are considered to be the default in countless areas of life and how this is actively harming women and causing them to lose out in ways even they might not fully understand. Some of the revelations in this book had me throwing the book across the room (the bit about Viagra still haunts me) but it is meticulously researched and impossible to put down.

Perfect for: Your friendly local feminist, data nerds.

They might also enjoy: The Gendered Brain by Gina Rippon, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny by Kate Manne

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo

Ninth House is the start of a thrilling new fantasy series by the wildly popular Leigh Bardugo. It follows Alex Stern, a young woman with a mysterious past and the ability to communicate with the dead, after she is admitted to Yale on the condition that she use her powers to police and curb the worst excesses of the university’s secret societies. Ninth House is fast paced, twisty and compulsively readable. I’m already eagerly waiting for the next installation.

Perfect for: Adventurers, horror fans, wizard wannabes.

They might also enjoy: The Folk of the Air Trilogy by Holly Black, Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

This is Not Propaganda by Peter Pomerantsev

If, over the last couple of years, you’ve felt that truth and reality are more nebulous substances than they used to be, This is Not Propaganda is the book for you. Pomerantsev travels the world speaking to trolls for hire, activists, dissidents and fact checkers to understand the new ways that misinformation is being spread and utilised across the political spectrum. Mixed in with all of this is a touching family memoir recounting Pomerantsev’s parents’ clash with the KGB and their flight from Russia.

Perfect for: Politics nerds, current affairs junkies, inducing an existential crisis about the meaning of reality.

They might also enjoy: Why We Get The Wrong Politicians by Isabel Hardman, We Need New Stories by Nesrine Malik

The Father of Lions by Louise Callaghan

The Father of Lions is a powerful true story about the evacuation of Mosul Zoo after the city becomes occupied by ISIS. It recounts the efforts Abu Laith to care for the animals and keep them alive through the occupation as well as the impact of the occupation on Abu Laith’s own family and friends. A beautifully human story of perseverance and love in the face of evil.

Perfect for: Animal lovers and politics nerds (ideally people who are both).

They may also enjoy: The Life of Pi by Yann Martel, A Zookeeper’s Wife by Diane Ackerman

The Immortalists by Chloe Benjamin

The Immortalists was my favourite book of 2018 but unfortunately by the time I read it it was too late to give it to anyone as a gift. It tells the story of four siblings who, as children, are told the date of their deaths. The novel then follows each of the siblings throughout their lives seeing how this knowledge affects them and the choices that they make, leading the reader to question wonder their fates were predetermined or a matter of choice. It’s a beautiful story about family and what it means to truly live.

Perfect for: Everyone, I see no reason why someone wouldn’t enjoy this book.

They may also enjoy: Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng, Mrs Everything by Jennifer Weiner

The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer

The Interestings is a brilliant novel that follows a group of friends who meet at a summer camp for gifted teens and how their lives as adults have diverged dramatically from what they envisaged as young, artistic idealists. It also examines what it means to be ‘interesting’ and the role that power and privilege plays in artistic success. I love this novel because it perfectly captures the fervent passion of teenage friendship, the joy of finding your tribe and the different ways that these friendships can evolve as you grow older.

Perfect for: Your favourite local eccentric, the best friend you met at a summer camp for gifted teens.

They may also enjoy: Anything else by Meg Wolitzer, I’d read the phonebook if you told me she’d written it.

Three Women by Lisa Taddeo

Three Women is exactly what it says on the tin, the true story of three American women and their romantic and sexual lives over a period of eight years. Maggie is a young woman who has chosen to come forward about having had an affair with her English teacher in high school, Lina is a stay at home mother whose husband refuses to kiss her, prompting her to revisit an old flame and Sloane is a happily married business owner whose husband enjoys watching her have sex with other men. While these stories may seem utterly disparate, Taddeo uses them to make bold statements about love, desire and the struggles of modern womanhood.

Perfect for: Your favourite ladies.

They may also enjoy: Trick Mirror: Reflections of Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino, Wild Game: My Mother, Her Lover and Me by Adrienne Brodeur.

Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens

A lovely combination of romance, mystery and nature writing, Where the Crawdads Sing tells the story of Kya Clark, a ‘Marsh Girl’ who was abandoned by her family and grew up alone in the marshes of North Carolina. When a local boy turns up dead, the townspeople immediately suspect Kya and over the course of the novel we see her true story unfold. This is a story of survival and loneliness but also of the sustaining beauty and bounty of nature.

Perfect for: Nature lovers, romantics

They may also enjoy: The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah, Educated by Tara Westover

Review: Trick Mirror

It’s such a joy to read a book where you feel as if the author is a long lost friend who just gets you. This is how I felt reading Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino (and not just because I think she might be the only other person I know who’s read the incredible and hilarious Hey Ladies! by Michelle Markowitz and Caroline Moss). Reading this book felt as if someone I knew and trusted had heard all of the complicated feelings and thoughts that are bouncing around in my head and articulated them more intelligently and eloquently than I could have ever hoped to.

Trick Mirror consists of a series of essays all based around the themes of self-deception and delusion, examining the way in which modern society allows and encourages us to view ourselves and our actions through a distorted lens. Trick Mirror is Tolentino’s debut collection of essays though she has had a long career in journalism, most recently as a staff writer at The New Yorker. Her journalistic skills are clear throughout her essays, each piece is expertly plotted and researched, but it’s Tolentino’s sharp mind and biting wit that compelled me to read long passages of this book aloud to whichever poor soul was unlucky enough to be sitting next to me (sorry James).

I was drawn in from the very beginning by the book’s first essay The I in Internet, which highlights the way we have grown to conflate expressing an opinion on social media with actual meaningful social action and the detrimental effect this has had on modern life. Tolentino’s arguments were persuasive, well-researched and forced me to think long and hard about the ethics of my use of sites like Facebook and Amazon. I also thoroughly enjoyed I Thee Dread, a sharply written piece dissecting modern wedding culture in which Tolentino ponders if any woman would sign up for marriage (something that statistically leads to them being more unhappy, earning less and dying sooner) if they didn’t also get a wedding (a day in which they are encouraged to be completely self-centred without judgement).

Another standout was The Cult of Difficult Women which challenged a recent trend in modern, pop-feminism of praising women purely for being ‘difficult’ and viewing any criticism of ‘difficult’ women, however valid, as being anti-woman and unfeminist. This is an absolute pet peeve of mine (I have shouted ‘Just because she’s wearing a blazer doesn’t mean she’s a feminist’ in the recent past) and I relished seeing Tolentino expertly expose this phenomenon as being utterly nonsensical. Describing Kim Kardashian, Tolentino says ‘It is not “brave” strictly speaking for a woman to do things that will make her make her rich and famous. For some women, it is difficult and indeed dangerous to live as themselves in the world, but for other women, like Kim and her sisters, it’s not just easy but extraordinarily profitable’. It was at this moment I concluded that Tolentino and I had to have been friends in a past life.

All that being said, my favourite essay in the collection was Always Be Optimising, which examines the pressure that young women feel to be an ideal version of themselves and the huge amount additional effort and anxiety that this generates. I found this essay hugely relatable and it would not be an exaggeration to say that it made me fundamentally re-examine the way I think about myself. Rather than attempt to summarise it, all I can do is desperately implore you all to read it, as it is available in its entirety here. You won’t regret it.

What I think made this collection of essays truly special was how self-aware Tolentino was about her complicity in the self-delusion that she highlights. She discusses how she rose to prominence in her career by writing opinion pieces for Jezebel in The I in Internet, how she has sweated her way through many a punishing barre class in Always Be Optimising and how she too has been thrilled by the audacity of scammers in The Story of a Generation in Seven Scams. Rather than preaching from on high about the ills of modern society, Tolentino is just as confused as the rest of us. Her gift is not to give her readers a clear map of what should be done, but to point out the ‘mirror’ is indeed a trick. What we do with this information is up to us.

Review: The Library at Mount Char

A few months ago I was reading a forum thread about underrated books. One commenter mentioned The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins. They said that they couldn’t even begin to describe the plot of this book in a coherent way but that it had made them laugh, cry and rethink their entire existence. Intrigued by this description and being the kind of person who is willing to read anything with ‘library’ in the title, I picked up a copy, started reading and did not surface for 48 hours. It was that good.

I’ll do one better than the initial commenter and attempt to describe what this highly original fantasy novel is about. Carolyn, our protagonist, has been raised in the titular library by an omnipotent, immortal being known as ‘Father’ along with eleven other children. Over the millennia, Father has mastered twelve different skills, ranging from the expected (war and medicine) to the distinctly unexpected (talking to animals and the dead). For reasons unknown, he has committed to teaching each of the twelve children one of his skills and forbids them from learning anything outside of their assigned discipline. Carolyn has been tasked with achieving mastery of all languages and her classes consist of a lot more than tapping her way through Duolingo. But in spite of Father’s cruel teaching methods and her often homicidal siblings, Carolyn manages to grow up into a seemingly normal, semi-functional adult (albeit one who definitely needs a lot of therapy ASAP). The novel opens on the siblings as adults, after they have just been unceremoniously ejected from the library, the only home they’ve ever known, and the Father who has dominated their entire lives has mysteriously disappeared. The siblings initially work together to locate Father but as the novel progresses, their focus soon shifts to competing to see which of them is worthy of replacing him.

I know it sounds complicated and insane (and that’s because it absolutely is) but I need you to trust me and give it a chance. The novel is full of absolutely surreal humour that somehow sits perfectly alongside pertinent questions about the nature of free will, what it means to be human and the impacts of childhood trauma. I’ve seen people compare this book to Neil Gaiman’s American Gods and while I can see similarities I think that what Hawkins accomplishes here is much more original. While Gaiman borrows mythology and gods from cultures around the world and blends them into one narrative, Hawkins has created a mythology all his own and the results are astounding. You literally will never guess what is coming next, it could be anything from a talking tiger to a supernaturally strong killing machine in a tutu. I was completely riveted and by the time I finished the book I felt oddly bereft and wobbly, the way you do when you first get off a rollercoaster.

While I should warn that sections of this novel are very violent and upsetting, Hawkins handles it expertly. At no point does it feel gratuitous or exploitative but as a reader you still feel the full impact of what is happening and your heart breaks for the characters involved. The way that Hawkins flips between Carolyn and her siblings incredibly traumatic upbringing and their present as supernaturally powerful beings adds real emotional heart to a story that otherwise might seem removed from reality. Months later I’m still thinking about David and the transformation he undergoes as Father moulds him into the ultimate warrior. In spite of the terrible acts he commits over the course of the novel, I can’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow thinking about the child he was and the man he could have been had Father not intervened.

The character of Carolyn in particular highlights the contrast and melding of the ordinary and the divine. As our primary narrator, I initially viewed her as a sort of everyman character (albeit one who thinks gold cycling shorts and a Christmas jumper are an inconspicuous outfit choice). But as the story slowly unfolds we see this image start to crack and realise that Carolyn is far from a reliable narrator. Her sense of humanity and reality has been so warped by her upbringing that towards the end of the novel I started to wonder if perhaps Father wasn’t the only villain in this story. The way Hawkins portrays Carolyn’s shift from lovably quirky, vulnerable protagonist to a very dangerous individual indeed is so gradual that the reader almost doesn’t notice until it’s too late.

I honestly couldn’t believe this was Scott Hawkins’ debut novel. It was so supremely confident and well-thought out and original that this felt like the work of someone much further along in their career. I’m already excited to read whatever comes out of his brain next. In the meantime, you may be in the fortunate position of being able to experience this wild ride of a book for the first time and I would strongly advise that you grab this opportunity with both hands.

Review: The Testaments

The Testaments by Margaret Atwood was one of the most hotly anticipated books of 2019 and given it follows on from Atwood’s wildly successful and influential 1985 dystopian novel, The Handmaid’s Tale, how could it not be? Indeed, in the last five or so years, The Handmaid’s Tale has seemed more culturally pervasive and relevant than ever, with millions tuning into the excellent Hulu adaption of the novel and protestors throughout the world drawing on the striking imagery of the red cloak and white bonnet worn by Atwood’s handmaids.

When Atwood announced she would be releasing The Testaments in an attempt to answer all of the questions that fans had been asking her about Gilead in the 35 years since The Handmaid’s Tale was first published, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand I’m an enormous fan of both Atwood and The Handmaid’s Tale and was excited to delve further into the world she had created. But on the other hand, I was cautious. Part of what I loved so much about The Handmaid’s Tale was its brutally ambiguous ending. The Handmaid’s Tale depicts a cruel and uncaring society and sometimes cruelty has no rhyme or reason. It felt right to me that the novel reflected this by refusing to offer any comfort or closure to its readers and I was wary of a sequel changing this.

However, there was a huge amount to enjoy about The Testaments. It picks up fifteen years after the end of The Handmaid’s Tale and is told from the perspective of three very different narrators. Agnes is the daughter of a Commander who has no memory of anything before the rise of Gilead, Daisy is a young woman growing up in Canada who witnesses the horrors of Gilead from a relative distance and Aunt Lydia, who you’ll remember as the ruthless tormentor of handmaids from the first book, is continuing to wield her power under a more mature regime. I enjoyed the use of the split perspective and it was fascinating to see Gilead from the perspective of those who might be seen to benefit from it. The truly impressive feat, however, was how Atwood seamlessly brings these three seemingly unrelated streams of plot together to create a tightly woven narrative.

While there are similarities between The Testaments and its predecessor (the disturbing yet precise imagery, the dispassionate and chilling descriptions of Gilead’s atrocities), there are also clear points of divergence. Where The Handmaid’s Tale was introspective and focused building the oppressive society of Gilead, The Testaments is much more plot driven. There are daring escapes, secret adoptions and espionage galore, more than enough to keep even the most removed reader’s hearts pounding. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book and the twists should keep you rapidly flipping the pages right up until the end.

However, my issues with the book became apparent as I approached its conclusion. A series of increasingly unlikely coincidences led me to something I’d never before encountered in an Atwood novel: a happy ending. I kept waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me, but the anticipated twist never came. I was frankly flummoxed and my feelings about the ending are decidedly mixed. On the one hand, while it felt somewhat like fan service, I’m a huge fan of these books and it was nice to be serviced. The ending was everything I wanted for these characters and it was wonderful to see them achieve a measure of peace. But on the other hand it just didn’t feel quite right.

When The Handmaid’s Tale was first published, Atwood made a point of stating that all of the horrific acts that Gilead inflicts on its citizens in the novel had already happened in real life somewhere in the world. This is part of what makes The Handmaid’s Tale so special and so chilling – the sense that this could really happen and that it was important to never grow complacent. However, I don’t feel this commitment to realism carries over to The Testaments. In the real world, children separated from their families are not being reunited with them against all the odds, refugees fleeing by boat are not being rescued when they run into danger and the seemingly evil people in charge have not been secretly working with the resistance all along. The ending of The Testaments reminded me of Jane Austen’s famous assertion that ‘My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire.‘ But when I pick up a Margaret Atwood book, I’m expecting her style, not Austen’s.

Upon reflection though, I wonder if it is not more radical to write a happy ending rather than a realistic one? In this age of cynicism and disillusionment, where we can watch the realistic ending play out on the nightly news, is Atwood offering an alternative vision of hope as brave a choice as her abrupt, ambiguous ending was in 1985? I’m afraid I don’t have the answer, but what I do know is that while The Testaments does not quite live up to the legacy of its predecessor (and frankly, what book could?), it’s well worth a read and will continue to plague your thoughts long after you’ve put it down.

Review: Catch and Kill + She Said

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past couple of years, you’ve heard about the the #MeToo movement and the horrific abuses perpetrated by Harvey Weinstein that helped to catalyse it. The story of Weinstein’s abuse was broken by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey for The New York Times with Ronan Farrow swiftly following up with further revelations in The New Yorker. For their investigative efforts, all three were jointly awarded the Pulizter Prize.

Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow and She Said by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey are the insider accounts of their parallel investigations to uncover Weinstein’s abuses. While some might think reading only one of these would be sufficient to get an understanding of the key facts, to get a real sense of the scale and breadth of Weinstein’s wrongdoings and the extent of the corruption that prevented his behaviour from coming to light for so long, I’d recommend reading both. Having said that, a note of caution, reading both back to back (as I did) may permanently damage your faith in humanity.

She Said focuses on Kantor and Twohey’s efforts to engage with victims of Weinstein’s misconduct and highlights the wider predatory practices that women have been putting up with in the workplace for decades, such as incredibly restrictive and punitive non-disclosure agreements. It was fascinating to get an inside view of how journalists go about engaging with sources and persuading them to speak up. In this case, since many of their sources were famous celebrities, it often proved difficult to get in touch with them in the first place and I was heartened by how willing some famous women, such as Gwyneth Paltrow and Lena Dunham, were to use their resources and connections to help Kantor and Twohey break this story. I also appreciated that Kantor and Twohey focused on the wider ramifications of the #MeToo movement, with the later sections of the book focused on the testimony of Christine Blasey Ford before a US Senate Judiciary Committee regarding the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court. I thought the final chapter of the book, which was a group interview with various women who have come forward with their stories as part of the #MeToo movement, was a thoughtful way to end the book as it took stock of what had been achieved while being honest about the distance that still needs to be travelled.

Catch and Kill focuses much more on the cover up of Weinstein’s abuses and the means that powerful people have at their disposal to silence people telling stories that they would rather remain private. While Farrow had significantly more evidence of Weinstein’s wrongdoing, including on the record video interviews with women naming Weinstein as a rapist, he was scooped by Kantor and Twohey. The reason he was scooped was because of concerted efforts by powerful executives at NBC (many of whom, it is later revealed, have reason not to want to whip up a public outcry over sexual harassment) to kill the story. Farrow faced spurious legal arguments, insinuations that the story ‘wasn’t that big of a deal’ and eventually, loss of his job at NBC. I was so impressed and inspired by Farrow’s perseverance in the face of so much adversity and his situation highlighted the need for integrity and true commitment to equality in the workplace existing at every level of an organisation in order to effect real change. While Farrow’s relentless investigative efforts (rightly) remain the centre of the narrative, he cannot quite avoid wrestling with his own complex family history of sexual abuse. Farrow is the son of Woody Allen and Mia Farrow and his sister, Dylan, alleges that their father was sexually abusive. I was moved by the fact that Farrow was open about his relationship with his sister, how he initially struggled with her decision to come forward and how much he valued her insight over the course of his investigation.

What disturbed me most about both books was the uncovering of the myriad of ‘good’ people who looked the other way and allowed Harvey Weinstein to continue to bully, harrass and assault the women around him for decades. From Noah Oppenheim, the NBC News President who killed Farrow’s original story while receiving expensive gifts from Weinstein, to the board members of the Weinstein Company, who believed that protecting Weinstein was the best way to protect their profits, to Lisa Bloom, a self-styled feminist lawyer and advocate for women who volunteered to run a smear campaign against Weinstein’s victims, I was shocked (perhaps naively) by the sheer volume of people who were willing to throw victims of abuse under the bus to protect their own self-interest.

What both books also had in common was how brilliantly paced and evocatively written they were. While reading them I felt as though I could see the events unfold in front of my eyes as if they were a film. While they differed in tone (She Said felt like a drama while Catch and Kill felt like a spy thriller) both had me on the edge of my seat and feeling disconcerted by how much stranger than fiction this true story seemed. The revelations about Black Cube, a network of ex-Israeli special forces private investigators hired to manipulate and dig up dirt on Kantor, Twohey, Farrow and actresses Weinstein thought might talk to the press, were particularly surreal.

These books are both incredible works of journalism that I hope will inspire a new generation to pursue truth with dogged determination and integrity.


Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing

— Harper Lee.

Hello all,

I’m a voracious reader who recently made a return to the world of fiction after a few years in the academic wilderness. The kind of books I love span genres, languages and millennia and I literally cannot shut up and stop recommending books to friends and family.

To make all of their lives easier and so I can share what I love with the wider world, I have committed to reviewing what I’m reading on this blog. If you’re looking for biting criticisms or thousand word paeans to high brow literature, this ain’t for you. I love basically everything, from bestselling beach reads to treatises on literary theory, and you’ll get bits of all of that here. I’ll also probably share some of my general thoughts on books and pull together some lists of recommendations.

I hope you enjoy.