The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis

Some of my fondest memories of being a child are when my dad read to my sister and me before bed. I couldn’t list most of the stories, I don’t remember all of them, but whenever I remember these moments I think of C. S. Lewis. From The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe onwards my Dad read us every book (until it came to The Magician’s Nephew, which I read myself) the books are so ………

The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher

When I was young Carrie Fisher wasn’t cool. To my pre-teen mind, she was interchangeable and unrecognisable from Margo Kidder. This is pre-feminist Alice, pre any understanding of mental health Alice. And this Alice was scared (of everything, but that’s another story for another time). In reality, all Carrie Fisher did “wrong” was be different, outspoken and intelligent. She wasn’t a woman I was told by society to be; one of the boys, amenable, appreciative ………

Review: Idaho by Emily Ruskovich

As I write this post, the Dark Waltz, such by Haley Westenra, is playing in the background – it feels oddly fitting. Not even for the lyrics, but for the melancholy, inevitable melody. Which is how I would describe Idaho by Emily Ruskovich, melancholy and inevitable. “One hot August day a family drives to a mountain clearing to collect birch wood. Jenny, the mother, is in charge of lopping any small limbs off the logs with ………

Signs For Lost Children by Sarah Moss

This review comes with a hint of struggle; because I’ve just finished a brilliant book and it’s playing on my mind. Also, Signs For Lost Children, while of the usual Moss high-quality, didn’t engage me in the same way Tidal Zone, Bodies of Light or Night Walking did. “Only weeks into their marriage a young couple embark on a six-month period of separation. Tom Cavendish goes to Japan to build lighthouses and his wife Ally, ………