Three Stars

Best for:
Maybe people who liked the DaVinci Code?

In a nutshell:
Clay gets a job in a bookshop in San Francisco, which turns out to be the front for something else entirely.

Worth quoting:
N/A

Why I chose it:
I love a bookstore, and I love a good mystery.

What it left me feeling:
Ambivalent.

Review:
This book was absolutely fine. I think it might be one that was better suited for the page than audio book, so if this is on your list I’m going to recommend that you pick up a hard copy (or at least an e-book version).

The premise is that Clay lives in San Francisco and has recently lost his job. He gets a job working the night shift at a 24-hour bookstore that doesn’t sell many books. The only other employees are Mr Penumbra and Oliver, each working one eight-hour shift. Right off the back the logistics confuse me – does everyone work seven days a week? Or is it closed two days a week? If so, why is it such a huge deal at one point in the book when the shop is closed? It doesn’t make sense to me.

Anyway, moving past that, Clay is a bit of a caricature of a tech bro. He lives with roommates, one of home works in practical effects. He meets a woman who works at Google. Everyone feels very SILICON VALLEY, and tech ends up playing a huge role in the book. I think I get what the author was going for, but it read almost like a TV show as opposed to a book, and I wasn’t a big fan of that.

The plot is that no one really shops at this store. Sure, people do sort of come off the street occasionally and buy some of the popular titles up front, but really the store exists to serve members who come in and demand specific titles from the back of the store. Clay wants to know – who are these people? What are they doing?

The plot develops from there, and there are some genuinely intriguing moments where I didn’t want to put the book down, but I found the last 20% of the book to be a bit of a let down. Now, without spoiling things, if you’ve read this book and are reading my review, I’m not let down in the same way that the people in the end are let down (too cryptic?) – I just didn’t enjoy how things played out. I don’t think it was bad or anything like that, I just wasn’t as taken in as I thought I might be given the topic and my interests.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Donate it

Four Stars

Best for:
Fans of the comedian; those who enjoy witty but not overly snarky humour.

In a nutshell:
Comedian Millican shares her life experiences and what she’s learned from them in a fairly light-hearted but sincere and funny book.

Worth quoting:
I listened to this while running so while there were definitely times when I laughed out loud, I didn’t stop to write them down.

Why I chose it:
I’ve now lived in the UK for over five years, and am exposed to many more UK comedians and comics. Millican popped up in suggested books, and I figured I’d enjoy her work. I was right.

What it left me feeling:
Content

Review:
This is a fairly short book, but worth the purchase. It isn’t totally clean – there is swearing – but it was nice to listen to a memoir where I didn’t find myself blushing.

Millican is a middle-aged woman who isn’t skinny, which means she’s a demographic that isn’t often given a lot of credit or attention in the entertainment industry. She talks about this – one very memorable chapter she compares the review of her episode of ‘Who Do You Think You Are’ (a popular UK show where they look into the genealogy of celebrities) with the review of the Paul Hollywood (of Great British Bake-Off fame) episode. Spoiler: they talk about her appearance but not his.

Millican is delightful – she’s sharp, witty, funny, but not unkind. I find her stories relateable (probably because I too am a middle-aged woman without kids who isn’t a size 6) but I don’t think one has to relate to her directly find her stories funny, insightful, and interesting.

This is not a name-dropping memoir, or a shocking one. There aren’t any hugely major twists or turns (you find out she has been through a divorce very early on); it’s just the story and humour of a woman I’d want to hang out with.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Recommend to a Friend

Three Stars

Best for:
People interested in a very comprehensive life history of a well-known character actress.

In a nutshell:
Author Margolyes shares stories of her 80 years, starting before the beginning up through the pandemic to today.

Worth quoting:
While this was an audio book, this one caught me so I had to write it down:

“When people say to me ‘oh I never talk about money, religion or politics’ I say ‘what the fuck do you talk about then? Those are the things that matte!”

Why I chose it:
It kept popping up in my audio book app. I’m familiar with Margolyes’s work in Harry Potter as well as Call the Midwife, so thought I’d have a listen.

What it left me feeling:
Surprised.

Review:
What a ride.

I can’t help but compare it to my most recent memoir read, Pageboy. Both are written by out queer actors, and both share much more about their sex lives than I’d like to know. The obvious difference is that Margolyes is more than twice as old as Page and so had many more years of stories to draw upon. Margolyes is also settled into a very long relationship with her now-wife, though that too is a bit unconventional, which is always refreshing to see.

Margolyes has a very matter-of-fact attitude, and I can’t say that she is someone who I’d enjoy being friends with as she certainly has a ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’ approach to many things, but I did enjoy much of her memoir. I think she owns her own contradictions, which is refreshing to see – for example, she identifies as quite left and socialist, but also accepted the OBE from the British royal family and shares that she quite likes Prince (now King) Charles, and states clearly she knows these two things don’t align. At the same time, I’m also not entirely clear that she understands how problematic some of her past roles were – she performed in black face, and in yellow face – as while she will throw in a ‘not politically correct these days’ comment when referring to them, the reality is those roles weren’t appropriate when she performed them, either.

Margolyes starts her memoir discussing the births and childhoods of her parents, and follows a linear time line from there. As someone who is not super familiar with her work, I greatly appreciated that. She jumps around a little bit, and references stories she will cover in future chapters, but overall she starts and the beginning and brings us up to present day.

There are so many stories in here that name-check actors, and I cannot imagine what the legal review looked like. So much of it feels like the British actor version of TMZ, but perhaps it’s the accent and the fact that she’s had such a long career that I kind of didn’t mind? Like when she shared that she worked with many of the Monte Python men when she was younger and that they were basically all assholes to her.

I like quite a lot of this book, but I did need to address a couple of things that I found frustrating. She is clear about how she feels about her fat body, and for most of the book she’s very matter of fact about it, but she does have a chapter that specifically focuses on her weight and I found it fairly anti-fat. Obviously she’s allowed to feel about her body however she wants to feel, but her comments also apply to other fat people, and they are so negative that I just find it disappointing. She also very graphically discusses her willingess to engage men in oral sex. I think she has a quite healthy perspective on sex, but as I’ve said before, I’m just not interested in the graphic details. Frankly, if I never hear the phrase ‘suck him off’ again, it’ll be too soon.

Throughout the book one common thread is her deep pride in being a Jewish woman. She is clear that she does not believe in the religious aspects of Judaism, but belongs to a synagogue and partakes in the cultural aspects of the religion. She is active in the fight against antisemitism, and is also a vocal supporter of Palestine. The latter has caused some issues for her within her community, and she has a very thoughtful chapter in her book about this. Interestingly, she repeatedly talks throughout the book about how she wants to fight injustice and will speak out whenever she sees it, but in her Harry Potter chapter she didn’t mention the anti-trans activism promoted by the author of those books, and some further googling on my own has shown that she has made some disappointing comments on the topic.

If you do choose to read this one, I recommend the audio book as she does accents for everyone when quoting them, and they are delightful and unexpected.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Donate it

Three Stars

Best for:
Women interested in distance running.

In a nutshell:
Author Heminsley shares her journey to becoming a long distance runner, and what she’s learned along the way.

Worth quoting:
“After a while though I began to realise that no one was really watching.”

Why I chose it:
I’ve been running half marathons for about 14 years now, but this year I decided to get a running coach to see if I can improve my time. Then I saw this book and decided why not pile on.

What it left me feeling:
Inspired but also a bit annoyed.

Review:
There’s so much in this book that I like and relate to, but also a fair bit that I found frustrating.

Let’s start with what I liked about this. The first chapter is all about Heminsley running the Royal Parks Half marathon in London. I’ve run that one three times and am currently training for it now. So right away I was captured. She then jumps back in time and talks about how she got into running – by choosing to run the London marathon (a thing I will never do – marathons are too much training for me). She talks about the challenges she’s had getting motivated, but also the great moments she’s had in training and races.

There are a lot of great tips in this book for new runners – tips about shoes, and training, and sports bras (I actually bought a bra she recommended – I’m testing it out next week). She talks about the elitism in some aspects of the community, but the welcoming nature of other aspects. She shares her experiences of hitting the wall, of being bored, of not wanting to get out for that next training run.

She also talks about the emotion of finishing a race. I’m a solidly middle runner – usually finishing half marathons with the rush of people doing 1 h 50 – 2 h 10 minute times. But I don’t run to compete against anyone – I run for myself. And in every race there’s usually a moment where I think ‘this is absurd, why am I doing this, I want to go home.’ And then I hit the end of mile 13 and there’s only about a tenth of a mile to go and the emotions just hit. It’s an amazing feeling, whether I’ve gotten my best time ever or whether it’s my worst. Just finishing is fucking cool. As is the work I put in to get there.

She’s also right that there’s a really running community, and it can be wonderful. Last weekend I ran my first park run – free events every Saturday morning in parks all over the UK. They are clearly runs, not races. They do a welcome to first timers, ask if there are any tourists in. There are marshalls volunteering to keep us on the route. At the end, we do find out our place and we get a banana, and some people go off to get coffees together. It’s just so lovely – what for so many of us is indeed a solo activity becomes communal.

But there are aspects I really don’t like about this book. Heminsley seems to have some opinions about gender that I found frustrating – like this line “As my body changed and my sense of what it was capable of started to shift I developed a more masculine side to my personality and, dare I say it, a competitive streak.” Huh? Is this meant to suggest that being competitive or capable is a ‘masculine’ trait all of a sudden? Like, what does that even mean? She also talks about ‘embracing her masculine side’ helping her become better woman. How is running or racing masculine? Literally, I don’t get it. Things like this come up a couple of times, and what knock this book from four stars to three for me.

Also a minor CN for weight loss / body shaming. I understand that weight loss and appearance are obviously a motivator for some people, I wish there’d been a little more thought put into throwing out those ideas (she also has a kind of bizarre offhand observation about a man’s body that gave me pause and bummed me out). I’d love for books like this to not talk about weight or appearance, but I know that asking a lot.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Keep for the tips.

Three Stars

Best for:
People who like their mysteries best when they don’t start with a murder.

In a nutshell:
After going on a first date to a hypnotism show, Melody starts to remember things from her childhood.

Worth quoting:
N/A

Why I chose it:
I’ve enjoyed her books this year, and I find the audio versions are great for longer runs.

What it left me feeling:
Not much

Review:
This book is not bad. It feels different that Jewell’s other work, but it still has that telltale jumping back and forth through time. However, everything is from Melody’s perspective, instead of having multiple chapters from other perspectives.

Melody’s first childhood memory is of her father rescuing her from a fire when she was nine. Skipping ahead, she is 33 with a nearly 18-year-old son. What happen in between? And what happened before? Melody doesn’t date much, but agrees to go out with Ben, who takes her to a hypnotism show where she is called up to be a volunteer. She passes out, and from then on starts having these very vivid memories from when she was very young – 4, 5 and 6. Memories that don’t involve her parents.

What they do involve are a whole other life, which starts with two parents (different form the ones she had at age nine), and a baby sister who dies within a couple of days of birth. Much of the book looks at how grief impacts everyone it touches, and how parents deal with the death of a child.

Jewell challenges herself in that she is spending much of the book writing from the point of view of a very small child. What would that child think? How would they view things? And how can Jewell write it so we see what Melody does but also understand much more than she does?

As I said, this book is a bit different, but it is interesting.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Donate it

Three Stars

Best for:
Those interested in a very intimate look into the life of a queer actor.

In a nutshell:
Author Page shares his journey as an actor who has come out as gay and then as trans.

Worth quoting:
N/A (audio book)

Why I chose it:
I wanted to hear Page’s story through his own words, and not an interpretation via the media.

What it left me feeling:
A lot.

Review:
CN for hate crimes, sexual abuse, sexual harassment.

I’m so happy that Page had this opportunity to tell his story, but I cannot say that this was a book that I enjoyed reading. It felt more personal than the usual memoir (and I’ve read literally dozens of memoirs, so I am familiar with the range of what is usually shared), and there were aspects of it that were so very graphic. I absolutely appreciate and understand that Page’s sexual relationships with others have been critical in his journey, but I don’t really ever want to read graphic sex scenes in any book — memoir, fiction, non-fiction (also film and TV – and I know that’s a me thing). So to have multiple such stories in a book made it challenging for me. I stopped and briefly considered just not finishing it, but between those graphic bits there was so much that Page shared that I felt like I almost owed it to his experience to finish it.

Page has experienced a lot of trauma in his life – from people in Hollywood, from strangers on the street, from his own family members. It’s frankly amazing to think that he was able to find the strength to be who he are, given how publicly he lived his experiences. He discusses his closeted relationships with other women when Page was still perceived as a woman, then publicly being out as gay when so many people feel the need to comment on the sexuality of others (including a priest who passed him an inappropriate note on a plane), and then publicly transitioning to a trans man. It’s a lot for anyone, and Page has managed to come through it strong. He shared so many stories of things that impacted his dysphoria that I’d never thought of, like the costumes he was required to wear in films.

I did find it hard to follow the time line of his life, as Page tells his stories in a narrative order that makes sense for him and his journey, but that isn’t linear. I’m not overly familiar with his work, so references to films and TV I think probably make it easier to follow for people who do know his work well.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Donate it

Four Stars

Best for:
Anyone who enjoys wildly random, hilarious, honest musings about life. Especially relevant to those of us in our 40s, as there are some cultural touchstones she references that made me feel like the embodiment of that Leonardo DiCaprio meme where he’s pointing at the TV.

In a nutshell:
Writer Irby once again brings her special style of self-awareness and observational humor to what I find to be a whole lot of utterly relateable essays.

Worth quoting:
“Your jam is always gonna sound like your jam, timeless and relevant even if the youths fail to appreciate it.”

“How do the properly hydrated among you get through the goddammed day? Are you just pissing in those Thinx panties all the time?”

Why I chose it:
I’ve enjoyed her previous work.

What it left me feeling:
Amused.

Review:
Irby is a talented essayist and screenwriter (most recently involved with ‘And Just Like That…’ which I know might cause some folks to step away from this book, but I promise the book is good). She writes about some very mundane, run-of-the-mill topics but manages to make them borderline hilarious.

The first essay in this book is a great reminder to just own it when you like something, and who cares if other people think it’s ‘basic’ or whatever word the youths are using these days. Excellent. Solid start. And it continues along from there weaving in pop culture and anecdotes from Irby’s life. A solid essay involves her discussing what she would change in the plots of different Sex and the City episodes. Another she discusses all the ways her bladder lets her down (there is a LOT of talk of urination, defecation, and other body horrors – one chapter is literally called body horror – so do keep that in mind). A highlight is the essay where she describes when she almost died of anaphalaxis while trying to remove gel nails (that she didn’t really want in the first place) at home.

Irby and I are the same age (early 40s), so it’s possible some aspects might be not as relevant to younger people. But that’s fine, as not everything has to be for everyone. I can see myself rereading some of these essays, and I know I will be giving this as a gift to at least one person this holiday season.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Keep / Recommend

Four Stars

Best for:
Fans of books about families with serious challenges to overcome and issues to resolve.

In a nutshell:
Lorelei loves Easter. Until her youngest son dies by suicide one Easter Sunday, pushing a family already on the brink over the edge.

Worth quoting:
N/A (Audio book)

Why I chose it:
I’ve enjoyed her mystery / thrillers and saw reviews that said this one was a little different.

What it left me feeling:
Hopeful.

Review:
CN: Suicide, ill mental health (specifically hoarding)

Lorelei has four children with her husband Colin – Meghan, Beth, Rory and Rhys. We learn early on that Lorelei has a love of Easter – it’s her holiday, and she loves hiding easter eggs. We also get an early glimpse into what eventually devolves into serious mental illness – her need to gather up the foil wrappers from the candy for some amorphous future need.

Using her usual style of jumping back and forth through time and providing us the perspectives of multiple characters, Jewell tells a story of a family torn apart by the suicide of the youngest child Rhys. How a family can drift apart, how new bonds can form, and how betrayals don’t have to be the final word in a relationship.

Jewell does a lovely job of showing the mental illness challenges of Lorelei as she struggles with her inability to discard or dispose of anything. How it impact her relationships with her children, her husband, and her later partner. It’s heartbreaking to read but I appreciate how Jewell shows how it impacts loved ones while also caring for the main person who is harmed by it: Lorelei herself.

As other reviews note, this is not the same murder mystery thriller one finds in Jewell’s other books, but it still feels like a Jewell book, and it is well worth reading.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Donate it.

Four Stars

Best for:
People interested in Michael J. Fox, or how anyone (with resources) handles chronic illness.

In a nutshell:
Michael J. Fox shares some of the challenges he has recently faced over the last decade or so.

Worth quoting:
N/A (Audio book)

Why I chose it:
My partner and I watched ‘Still,’ the documentary on AppleTV+ that just come out about Michael J. Fox. It was a well done, unique documentary, and it made me interested in learning more about the actor.

What it left me feeling:
Grounded

Review:
When I was watching the aforementioned documentary, I realized that I haven’t seen much of Fox’s work. I’m sure we watched Family Ties while I was growing up, and I’ll always stop and watch any of the Back to the Future movies when they are on. But I’ve not seen his other films, or really his other TV work. But I am familiar with his Parkinson’s disease diagnosis, and that he and his family and friends built the Michael J. Fox foundation.

This is the third (or possibly fourth?) book Fox has written, so it isn’t a full-on, birth-to-now memoir. While he does reference parts of his childhood and coming up in acting, the focus is mostly on his family life, his career, and the surgeries, injuries, and recoveries he’s experienced in the 2010s. For many of us, I’m not sure a ten year span would be enough to warrant a full memoir, but Fox has plenty to share.

He discusses the serious spinal surgery he had that, if it had gone wrong, could have left him using a wheelchair for good. He discusses some of the specifics about Parkinson’s that makes him more prone to falls, and his frustration with just wanting to do things himself, at his own pace. He discusses at length how he feels about his relationships with his wife and his four children and how his physical challenges play a part in that.

Fox is a great writer (and a great story-teller; I listened to the audio version and am glad I did). The story flows, and is full of both vulnerability, honesty, and gratitude. I couldn’t help but think about the people who have similar diagnoses to him but who don’t have the monetary resources or the strong family and friend support network, and I got the sense from this book that he’s well aware of how much that financial and emotional support matters to him.

If you only have room for one Fox-related bit of pop culture this month, I’d say go with the documentary, but if you have room for two, this book is worth picking up.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Donate it

Three Stars

Best for:
People interested in engineering disasters.

In a nutshell:
In the 1870s, the first of its kind bridge was erected across the Tay river firth to Dundee, in Scotland. 18 months after it opened, it collapsed during a severe windstorm, taking a train with 75 passengers and crew down with it.

Worth quoting:
“It was the Victorian age, and life and death had Purpose. There could be no disaster without a moral.”

Why I chose it:
I think I might have a new book goal: when I visit a city, go to the ‘local’ section and find a book written about whatever incident / disaster / historic event is most infamous in that city. Additionally, I had arrived in Dundee on a train running on the rebuilt bridge that runs parallel to the original collapsed bridge.

What it left me feeling:
Informed.

Review:
You know what’s kind of weird? Reading a book about the collapse of a rail bridge, while sitting on a train, running over the bridge that was built in place of that very collapsed bridge.

The Tay River Bridge was built in the 1870s. Before it was build, people coming up from Edinburgh would need to take a ferry across the Firth of Forth, then a train up to Newport, then ANOTHER ferry across to Dundee, and then a train the rest of the way. Civil engineer Thomas Bouch had an idea for a bridge to cross the First of Tay (and later the First of Forth), reducing the time it would take to make the trip up north dramatically.

Prebble manages to take what could be a pretty dry story – the lead-up to the disaster – and make it interesting. The prologue is just a couple of pages of the accident from the perspective of a rail employee who last saw the train before it started crossing the bridge. After that is Act 1, which focuses on how the bridge was built. There is corporate fighting between rail lines, there is government lobbying and back room deals. Then there are issues with the building of the bridge itself, including inaccurate surveying of the sea floor that misrepresented where the bedrock was. There’s unsurprisingly a couple of accidents, resulting in the deaths of 20 workers. Workers who, in 2023 pounds, were making about £5.56/hour ($6.86/hour) doing absolutely terrifying labor.

The entr’acte focuses on the 18 months when the bridge was open; specifically, on how some people stopped riding the train across because they were concerns about how quickly the trains were running. The original inspector said that trains should run at a maximum of 25 mph over the bridge; individuals believed it was being pushed to 40 mph.

The second act is about the disaster itself and the resulting inquest into who was at fault. I spent nearly 15 years in emergency preparedness and response, and disasters that take place in the 1800s are a different level of terrifying because there was just very limited technology. The train went into the Tay around 7:20 at night (it was December, so very dark this far north), and people didn’t really even realize it for many minutes. And there wasn’t a huge mobilization immediately to search for survivors – things took hours to get organized. Only one body was recovered in the first week; 25 of the 75 were never recovered. Identification of those whose remains were found was visual; distraught family members had to come and take a look at someone who had been in the river for more than a week. Leaders in the Scottish church blamed the victims because the rail was running on a Sunday, adding another level of devastation to grieving families.

This book was a very easy read, and would have a higher rating if not for the authors sexism and classism. The women were always described as sort of dim, or faint of heart, or looking to their husbands for guidance. He also described some as ‘dumpy,’ which, 1950s or not, what a random and unnecessarily cruel descriptor. In terms of the classism, the regard he held for the works who built the bridge seemed more about pity than respect.

Recommend to a Friend / Keep / Donate it / Toss it:
Donate it.