The Ephemeric

The Deep Sky was deeply disappointing. I really wanted to like this book, I love a good space exploration story. Unfortunately this novel is just full of bad logic, bad science, silly plot contrivances and about 60% filler. 

The starting hook is pretty solid. Space mission to colonise a distant planet. Somewhere along the way, the captain is murdered, and it falls to our lead character, an outsider who wasn't even supposed to be on the mission and has grave insecurity as to her place on the ship, to figure out what's happened. So far, so Alpha Centauri. Good stuff. Unfortunately that's where the good ideas end. In order to avoid conflict and distraction, this ship is crewed entirely by women, who intend to artificially inseminate themselves in order to populate the new colony. Questionable, but ok. And rather than wait until the end of the mission to do so, they all inseminate themselves currently, while the mission is ongoing. Because apparently no one considered that a dangerous space mission crewed entirely by pregnant women, all pregnant at the same time no less, might be a bad idea.

So the premise is pretty silly, not helped by the fact that the crew are written more like stroppy teenagers than trained professionals. But most egregious is the science. This book is written by someone who clearly does not grasp the basics of space. The terminology is wrong, the use of relativity is wrong, so much is wrong. And yeah, I suppose this is all a bit wonkish, but why write a sci-fi novel if you don't really care about the science? 

This is a great read for anyone with an interest in the business side of football. From the creators of The Price of Football podcast, Unfit and Improper Persons takes a deep dive into the inequities of the football pyramid, the financial aspects of running a football club, and the myriad and often bafflingly archaic red tape that must be navigated in order to play what, on paper, appears to be such a simple game.

All of this is broken down into simple and easily digestible tidbits, illustrated through the narrative of a fictional football club, established at the foot of the English league system, with aspirations of reaching the Premier League, Wrexham style. It's this narrative simplicity that works best, bringing to life what could otherwise be dry and technical subject matter with humour and clarity. If there is a downside, it's that those who are already well-versed in the material may find this all a bit familiar, but for those looking to learn, it's about as fine a primer as has been written.

Based on the true story of Ana Mendieta, Anita de Monte is a Cuban-American artist whose sudden and untimely death at the hand of her husband is quietly swept under the rug. Flashforward a few decades and we have Raquel, an art history student currently working on her thesis, who slowly becomes fixated on the work of the long-forgotten Anita de Monte, and uncovers the truth of her past. 

What follows is ultimately a revenge tale, a parable of inequality in the art world, and a charming enough example of magical realism in fiction. But it suffers from inconsistency. One of the two main perspectives is clearly a more interesting story than the other, and the shifts between humour and drama can be quite jarring. So the result is a book of two halves, one interesting, one lacking any real urgency, with some odd tonal choices.

An intriguing, high concept story. The Last Murder at the End of the World is set on an idyllic, but strictly controlled island, the last refuge of a post-apocalyptic world that has been overrun by killer fog. This seemingly safe and well ordered community is rocked by the murder of one of the island leaders, a murder which triggers a series of failsafes that had been keeping the fog at bay. A race against time ensues to solve the case before the fog consumes everything.

It's all very interesting, bringing to mind the works of Isaac Asimov, or the high concept sci-fi films of the 1970s and 1980s. But, frankly, it's also a bit derivative and you’ll see the twist coming from two towns over (especially fans of the aforementioned Asimov). There's also a few writing issues. The narrative can be difficult to visualise due to lack of meaningful description or context. It's not helped by the fact that there are a huge number of characters, many of whom appear only briefly and for largely inconsequential purposes. It can be a lot of work to memorise their roles and relationships for not much benefit. I did enjoy the ending, however.

One of the year's most hyped books, and it did not disappoint. James has quite the concept behind it. A re-telling of the classic Mark Twain novel Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from the perspective of the slave Jim. But whatever preconceptions you might have about what this book will be, it defies expectations. 

What follows is an electrifying, action-filled turn-pager that expands on its subject matter through a 21st Century mindset. Subversively spotlighting the depravity of contemporary institutions in a way that is both insightful and hugely entertaining. Through the protagonist's journey, Everett deftly examines the complexities of societal expectations and personal authenticity, presenting a narrative that is both thought-provoking and deeply moving. It's about as accurate to history as a Tarantino film, sure, but that doesn't make it any less immersive or memorable.

A new short stories collection from Stephen King, including expanded versions of old work, as well as some never before published stories. Pretty darn good collection as well, some of better work King has put out in a while. 

King's work is often blankly labeled as "horror", which does a disservice to work that is often more thought-provoking than scary. This collection falls firmly into the thought-provoking camp, with a number of highly memorable stories. One in particular, Danny Coughlin's Bad Dream, is mesmerising. More novella than short story, this one occupies around 200 of the collection's 500 pages and is practically begging for a film adaptation at some point.

With two very long books on either side, I admittedly chose the graphic novel Zodiac to provide a bit of a break. I'm glad I did, however.

Zodiac is a graphical memoir from Chinese dissident artist Ai WeiWei, recounting stories of his life, career, and imprisonment, built around a framework of the twelve signs of the Zodiac, and interweaved with Chinese folklore. It's a fresh and deeply creative way to depict such a narrative, helped by some truly gorgeous artwork by Italian comic artist Gianluca Costantini. This is not one for your Kindle, print copy or colour screen only.

After being blown away by last year's book of the year, the non-fiction The Wager by David Grann, I decided to make non-fiction a regular staple of my year's readings. For 2024, I went with The Demon of Unrest, by Erik larson.

This is a vivid and detailed recounting of the five months between the election of Abraham Lincoln, and the onset of the American Civil War. The Demon of Unrest introduces the relevant characters and personalities, the agendas and dynamics that made this slow-burn crisis an inexorable march towards war. Like the best non-fiction, this focuses on the people and their motivations, immersing you into each event as if it were a novel. Larson uncovers far greater depths and intrigue than most of us would ever have suspected could fit into such a short space of time, and the result is a genuine page turner of a book.

Opting for something a bit lighter next, and upon announcement of the incoming Netflix film, I went with The Thursday Murder Club, the first novel in Richard Osman's series of the same name.

Set in a peaceful retirement village, the story follows a group of quirky and endearing seniors who spend their days solving cold cases—until a real murder lands in their laps. Osman’s debut novel appeals with its sharp dialogue and wit, but I found myself left strangely cold. For a whodunnit, the breadcrumbs left throughout the novel mostly don't lead to anything, with the various mysteries left unrelated and disconnected. The super short chapters (many coming in at less than a page long) and constant switching between characters also makes it difficult to connect to any one person in this novel, or to explore their depths beyond the surface level. Breezy, fun, but largely inconsequential.

Set in a not-too-distant future America, one which has seemingly collapsed into chaos and lawlessness, I Cheerfully Refuse follows an aspiring musician as he sets sail on Lake Superior in search of his departed, deeply beloved, bookselling wife. If the tagline reads a bit like ChatGPT coming up with a concept targeted at 2024 literary critics, the result actually lives up to its high concept premise.

This is a novel that grows on you after reading. Truthfully, there were times when I found it difficult to get through while reading, slow-burning and somber as it is. But ultimately, there is something deeply ingraining about this novel's quirky characters and the bizarre incidents and dilemmas they encounter. Through its lyrical prose and richly drawn characters, the novel delves into themes of resistance, renewal, and the pursuit of joy in the face of life’s challenges. The story is a gentle reminder that even small acts of defiance can carry profound meaning, making it a deeply resonant and uplifting read for those seeking hope and inspiration in everyday life.

Following up his best-selling blockbuster of a novel, The Midnight Library, was always going to be a tough ask for Matt Haig. With that in mind, I actually quite enjoyed this.

Told through the framing of a series of personal correspondence, The Life Impossible follows a retired math teacher who travels to Ibiza in search of a long lost friend, and uncovers a mystery far greater than she ever imagined. There is something I find quite nostalgic about this novel, almost a throwback to the classic feel-good sci-fi fantasy movies of the 1990s that I grew up with. An expat travels to an exotic island, ingratiates herself with the locals, hears their tall tales and slowly realises the limits of her skepticism. The trouble is, there isn't much here that we haven't seen before. It all feels a bit too familiar, and while it's all good, there isn't much in the way of truly original ideas.

Oof. I am usually a pretty big fan of Haruki Murakami. In his decades long career, the legendary Japanese novelist is credited with getting many, myself included, into reading. His blend of magical realism and the mundanity of life is practically a unique genre unto itself, one that has spawned many copycats over the years. Yet, his work has fallen out of fashion in recent times. The City and its Uncertain Walls is a perfect illustration of why that is.

This is a novel that just never really gets going. The key to the success of his earlier work has been to seamlessly integrate the weird to the mundane, to make it relatable and easily digestible, and in doing so, to open up readers to entirely new ideas without them even realising. This novel feels like it skips that first step, it starts off full of alien concepts and terminology which are never really defined or traced back to the real world, making them difficult for readers to relate. The plot meanders with little direction and at a glacial pace, and while it does pick up a little in the second half, it rarely feels like it justifies its own existence. This feels like Murakami by the numbers..

So there it is. Twelve months in books. Can I keep it going another year? You bet, because reading is awesome.