He Said She Said by Erin Kelly

He Said She Said opens in 2015 with Laura saying goodbye to her devoted husband Kit, as he sets off for the Faroe Islands. They are eclipse chasers, who travel great distances to witness the perfect moment of totality, but Laura, heavily pregnant, is staying home on this occasion. Both are fretful to be away from each other, but Kit eventually departs, leaving Laura to worry and reflect on the events of fifteen years ago.

In 1999, shortly after meeting, Kit and Laura travelled to Cornwall to see an eclipse, and in the hushed aftermath, witnessed a brutal sexual assault on a young woman. The pair of them called the police, and later presented evidence in court. Caught on the stand, Laura became flustered by the aggressive defence questioning, and found herself telling a little white lie. She knew what she saw, so she did the right thing, surely? But fifteen years later, they are in hiding, living in fear of Beth finding them… 

It’s hard to go much further, as the story builds to a shocking reveal that will make you completely question everything you think you know. It’s an astonishing thriller about the lengths a person will go to cover their tracks, the painful effects of guilt, which are almost anxiety-inducing to read about, as well as a heartrending and searing indictment of the way that rape victims are treated. 

Erin Kelly is a master storyteller, but this is by far her best book yet. It’s a magnificently complex, twisty and completely unputdownable thriller, which I cannot recommend enough. 

He Said She Said by Erin Kelly is out now, published by Hodder. 

All Grown Up by Jami Attenberg

Funny story about All Grown Up by Jami Attenberg. I first came across it on Twitter, when a blogger had tweeted out the jacket with their review, and I was particularly taken with the jacket quote on the front, from Hadley Freeman. It simply stated ‘I’ve read about being a single woman.’ It truly delighted me, even when I (eventually) realised that Twitter had cut off the top of the jacket and the quote actually read ‘One of the smartest and truest novels I’ve read about being a single woman.’ Oh well. Certainly a way to get a girl’s attention.


There’s an excellent chapter in All Grown Up, very early on, in which the narrator Andrea talks about ‘a book’, that everyone she knows is determined that she read. ‘It is’, she notes wryly, ‘a book about being single, written by an extremely attractive woman who is now married… I have no interest in reading this book. I am already single. I have been single a long time. There is nothing this book can teach me about being single that I don’t already know.’ It’s a very dry and brilliantly funny chapter – but also I think, a deliberately well-placed one, as I was this close to recommending All Grown Up to a family friend in her 40s who is single, and now, I think I’ll hold off, or at least try and think of a more subtle way of pushing it in front of her. I suspect – hope! – I am not alone in this.

But either way, this chapter in some ways sets us up brilliantly for All Grown Up – a clever, funny, compelling book about being single and childless on the verge of forty, whilst all your friends are settling down. But even as she’s advised from all sides to ‘find someone and settle down,’ not only do very few suitable partners present themselves, but not many of her happily married friends appear to be finding life particularly straightforward either.

All Grown Up is written in the form of vignettes, covering Andrea’s borderline stalking of an actress who lives in her block of flats; the parenting strife faced by her brother and his lovely wife; Andrea’s struggle to get rid of a chaise-longue that her father may have died in. All are told simply and compellingly – and incredibly relatably. I’ve read a few reviews which describe Andrea as ‘selfish’, but I didn’t feel that was quite right – she just felt human to me. Her mind wanders when her friends pour out their hearts to her, she sulks when her mother moves away to be closer to her brother, she is outraged when her friend, the implausibly-named Indigo, thrusts her equally implausibly-named baby Ephraim (‘we looked into his eyes when he was born and he seemed one thousand years old already’) into her arms. But I’ve met more self-absorbed people…

Do yourself a favour, and put this short, clever, relatable but equally heartfelt and honest book about life, choice and women on your summer reading list. And if your bag’s already full, buy a new one. Huge thanks to the marvellous Drew Jerrison for this one.

All Grown Up by Jami Attenberg is out now, published by Serpent’s Tail.

The Things We Thought We Knew by Mahsuda Snaith

I love picking up debuts, and The Things We Thought We Knew had already been sitting on my bookshelf for too long. I loved the premise, had spotted Mahsuda Snaith in The Observer’s ‘Faces of Fiction’ earlier this year, and Emily Glenister (of Goldsboro Books/David Headley fame) had assured me that it was ‘brilliant.’ So on the train home from Hay Festival, I dived in. 


Ravine is bedbound by chronic pain syndrome, a condition I cannot begin to get my head around. She lies in bed, ignoring her mother’s spectacular efforts to get her out of the house, until she is presented with a jauntily-named ‘Pain Diary’. Instead of recording pain (for some reason), Ravine remembers Marianne, her best friend when she was eight, and who vanished ten years ago. And as Ravine writes down what she can remember, her endless pain begins to fade. 

This is a beautifully written, convincing and heartbreaking novel, about childhood friendships and about buried childhood memories, with a painful reveal guaranteed to bring tears. However, it’s also, often, hysterically funny. Ravine’s dry observations about her life and her mother are laugh-out-loud material: the book opens with Amma inviting the entire neighbourhood round for a birthday party, despite Ravine’s express desire for ‘no balloons, no cake, no party. But somehow Amma’s brain has churned my words into all the balloons she can blow up, the biggest cake she can bake and as many party items as she can fill the room with.’ 

The Things We Thought We Knew is a book filled with gloriously memorable characters, from the loveable and tragic Uncle Walter, to the grieving ‘Mr Eccentric’ but Amma is a standout. She’s a strong contender for ‘best literary mother’: pairing trainers with saris (in the name of common sense), naming her daughter after a headline she saw on the day she was born (‘Young man drowns in ravine’) and making sarky quips about Gordon Brown (the book takes place during the 2010 election). But she’s also caring and savvy, and determined to help her bedbound daughter live a normal life. Ravine ironically, is equally determined to stay put, even after her pain fades, infantilising herself, as her mother encourages her to grow up. 

Even if Ravine’s recovery from chronic pain syndrome feels a little sudden, that doesn’t take away from a compelling read, with a clever and original concept, and packed with terrific, well-drawn characters. A fresh and exciting first novel, and I look forward to reading more from the author. 

The Things We Thought We Knew by Mahsuda Snaith is out now. 

The Marsh King’s Daughter by Karen Dionne

‘My mother was famous, though she never wanted to be. Hers wasn’t the kind of fame anyone would wish for. Jaycee Dugard, Amanda Berry, Elizabeth Smart – that kind of thing, though my mother was none of them…’ This is the enticing opening of The Marsh King’s Daughter, both an enthralling, eerie and gut-wrenching thriller, and a stunning, poetic homage to the great outdoors.

IMG_0154
Helena is the grown-up daughter of a woman who was kidnapped as a teenager, and kept captive. Similarly to that other great novel Room, she was ensnared by a man asking for help finding his dog, but rather than being kept in a purpose-built ‘room’ she was then taken to his isolated cabin in Michigan to be his ‘wife’, keep his home and bear him children, before she had even turned 16. The family lived as Ojibwe, a Native American tribe, even though, as Helena notes wryly, ‘imagine my surprise when I discovered the mother of the man I’d always thought of as Ojibwa was blonde and white.’

At the age of twelve, having had no contact with the outside world, Helena was eventually able to flee with her mother, and after a two year manhunt, her father was jailed for life. But now, he has escaped, and Helena knows that he’ll be coming for her. Now married with two children, having successfully kept her past hidden until now, she plans to capture him first. No one knows the great outdoors like Jacob Holbrook. No one will be best placed to evade capture, leaving misleading trails for the police. No one will be able to keep up with him – except possibly Helena. As she sets off after him, the story cuts back and forth between Helena tracking her father, and the story of her childhood, how she and her mother eventually escaped, and how she was thrust, painfully unprepared, into a totally unfamiliar new world.

As a child, Helena idolised her father, who taught her how to kill, how to survive and how to move around unseen and unheard. In many ways, the way Helena tells it, hers was an idyllic, outdoorsy upbringing for someone who knew no better. But even then, although she evidently idolised her father, darkness flashes through. His harsh discipline extends to smashing down on a bruised hand to teach her not to be so clumsy, and locking her in a well for days on end. Reflecting on the aftermath, Helena rationally knows that everything her father did was wrong, but reader is justifiably unconvinced that she’ll be able to go through with capturing him. On the kidnap and rape of her mother, she reasons, ‘He wanted a wife. No woman in her right mind would have joined him on that ridge. When you look at the situation from that point of view, what else was he supposed to do?

Denied even a name, her mother gets fairly short shrift in Helena’s tale. Helena sympathises with her mother, who died shortly before the book opened, having never been able get over her years of captivity, and often regrets not having been more understanding of her plight, but whilst her father features vividly in her story, her mother feels like a sad mouse of a character, unable to help her daughter, or defend herself from the horrifying situation in which she’s found herself. Helena often questions her mother’s version of events, asserting that she even was happy in spite of herself on occasion.

All suitably depressing stuff, but what lifts the story from a great thriller to an exceptional novel are the stunning details of the outdoors that Helena loves, from crunching through snow, to stalking deer, and even just watching crows blend in with the trees. The natural world is both uplifting, and terrifying, for although Helena loves it, and can use it her advantage, we know her father can too. Who will triumph in the inevitable reckoning?

A completely breathtaking thriller, both terrifyingly suspenseful, and beautifully atmospheric, which, oddly, really made me want to go camping… Many thanks the utterly fabulous Ella Bowman, for urgently pressing this memorable and original book into my hands!

The Marsh King’s Daughter by Karen Dionne is published 29th June by Sphere.

At First Light by Vanessa Lafaye

At First Light opens in 1993 with a murder in Key West. The victim is an elderly, wheelchair bound Klu Klux Klan official. The shooter, more surprisingly, is a 96 year old Cuban woman, Alicia Cortez, who will not say anything to the police except for ‘I did it. It was me.’ The answer lies in tragic events which took place over seventy years ago, just after the Great War, and there’s only one person that Alicia will share her story with.


The daughter of a Cuban father and an African mother, Alicia attracts plenty of attention when she arrives in Key West in 1919, fleeing scandal in Havana. Expecting employment in her cousin’s tea room, Alicia is horrified to learn that ‘Pearl’s Tea Room’ is in fact one of the nicer brothels in the area. Working with resentful prostitutes, and her mercenary cousin Beatriz, Alicia finds her place as best she can, until the Spanish influenza epidemic carries Beatriz away, and leaving her as the reluctant new madam of ‘Pearl’s Tea Room’. 

Another new arrival is John Morales, a war hero returned from France, haunted by he’s seen and done in battle. He lands to discover that whilst he was away, his father has died, and that there’s talk of Prohibition in Key West. Reckless and dangerous, John is determined not to get tied down with anyone, but as he and Alicia find themselves unwilling partners in the covert struggle against Prohibition, an attraction develops, soon turning into love. It’s scandalous behaviour, indeed illegal under Jim Crow laws, but doesn’t worry too many people, until the Klan come to Key West. John is determined to fight for Alicia, but maybe this once, he’s picked a fight he can’t win. 

Also present is young Dwayne Campbell, on the cusp of manhood, determined to prove himself to his Klansman father, but also to Alicia who he worships. Dwayne is desperate to please his father, but is torn by an unease about the Klan that he can’t shake. As the author explains in her note, At First Light is inspired by tragic events that were never resolved, yet the story wears its research lightly, giving an insight into how the Klan gained traction in the way that it did, and yet equally exposing its utter ridiculousness: “What in the world is a ‘klonklave’? And why did he call Pa a ‘Kludd’?” And yet despite this, their ideas are catching, and Dwayne makes a terrible mistake that will have repercussions for years to come. 

Having loved Vanessa Lafaye’s incredible debut Summertime, I was looking forward to reading her latest. Both joyous and tragic in equal measure, it’s a beautiful told and intensely readable account of a little known and shameful incident of Southern US history. The characterisation is utterly spot on; the tension is built carefully and effectively to a heartbreaking and explosive conclusion. On a happier note, fans will be delighted to read more about Dwayne Campbell’s childhood (with a possible answer given to the identity of Roy’s real father). But history – reality – rears its ugly head throughout: as in Summertime, the author has no qualms in killing off the characters you have grown to care about, as a reminder that sometimes stories don’t go the way you want them to.  

At First Light by Vanessa Lafaye is out now, published by Orion Books. 

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

When we first meet Eleanor, she is talking us through her routine, and tormenting a doctor. Afterwards, she is being mercilessly mocked by her coworkers, who are unaware that she is in earshot. And, to be quite honest, we can understand why.

img_0132

Eleanor is odd. She’s the coworker you don’t want to get stuck with in the office kitchen. She doesn’t pick up on social cues, and she’s judgemental. And this suits Eleanor just fine. Other than weekly conversations with her rather horrendous ‘Mummy’, she’s happy to avoid communication with other people. But could her life be about to change?

As it happens, Eleanor treats this mockery with detached amusement – she has ‘always taken great pride in managing her life alone.’

Eleanor wears the same clothes every day. She eats the same pasta with pesto every day, except at on Fridays, when she has a margherita pizza, and drinks the same two bottles of Glenn’s Vodka every weekend.

But Eleanor Oliphant has fallen in love. A chance visit to a gig has opened her eyes to Johnnie Rivers, the talented frontman of The Pioneers. Determined that he is her one true love, Eleanor embarks on a personal and physical reinvention. This coincides with the arrival of the friendly Raymond, an IT engineer, who is with her when they witness an elderly man take a fall, and sit with him together when he takes a fall. Despite her disdain for Raymond (‘I noticed that he was wearing a duffle coat. A duffle coat! Surely they were the preserve of children and small bears?‘ Classic burn.) Eleanor finds herself drawn in with him and as they become close with Sammy, the elderly man, and his family, and starts to find that there is something to human companionship after all.

There’s a touching ‘personal growth’ story throughout, which if it hadn’t been delivered with such heartfelt emotional appeal, mixed with Eleanor’s trademark sharpness. Make no mistake – this isn’t a Hollywood-style makeover story, in which Eleanor gets the guy. Although she’s developing a new look for the really rather crummy Johnnie Rivers, through simple and small acts of kindness from others, she learns to appreciate herself and value her appearance for herself. An especially poignant moment comes after a haircut from Sammy’s daughter Laura, when Eleanor is moved to tears: “‘You’ve made me shiny, Laura’ I said…’Thank you for making me shiny.'”

But as her confidence grows, and her friendship with Raymond blossoms, the calls from Mummy keep on coming, and the ghosts of Eleanor’s childhood trauma, which is hinted at throughout, resurface explosively. And Eleanor will realise that being ‘completely fine’ might not be enough to live.

Both unbearably poignant, with laugh out loud comic touches, Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine is the story of a damaged woman who has alienated herself from other people, and a tale of small kindnesses, and how they can go a long way. A beautifully written and emotionally captivating debut from an exciting new writer.

Welcome to Lagos by Chibundu Onuzo

The first thing that leapt out to me about this book was the title. A title which says joyous enthusiasm, exciting promise, all with its tongue firmly in its cheek. The second thing that really stands out at a glance is the exceptional cover design which, just to add in my tuppenny’s worth, really ought to be put forward for some kind of award. I’d describe it as ‘Lowry goes to Lagos’ – yes, you may have that for free Faber & Faber – and I bloody love it. Such a great jacket, such a great title. Can the inside possibly live up to such promise? (Spoiler: yes)


Welcome to Lagos brings together five disparate characters, all on the run, who find themselves in Lagos in search of a future: Chike, an officer and his private Yemi both having deserted after being ordered to massacre civilians; Fineboy, a militant with dreams of being a radio DJ; Isoken, who had escaped being raped by Fineboy and his fellow militants; and Oma, on the run from her rich but abusive husband. 

Thrown uneasily together by circumstance, the group finds shelter under a bridge, until they find an abandoned flat. Together, they make do, a tenderness growing between Oma and Chike, and Isoken coming to terms with the demons of her past. All until one night, Chief Sandayo, formerly the Education Minister before he fell out of favour with President (for reasons he doesn’t understand), crashes into their life with a suitcase of ‘liberated’ money. After some debate, they set about lavishly donating the money to schools – purchasing computers, books, and even playground equipment for schools whose education budget has been sifted away from them for too long. 

Inevitably, their philanthropy, along with the disappearance of a high-profile politician attracts attention. The press descends, and Sandayo is able to reposition himself as more than a ‘corrupt Nigerian politician’, but as a philanthropic benefactor. But how long can their luck last? 

Welcome to Lagos is a treat from start to finish, successfully juxtaposing the serious themes of corruption and state-sanctioned murder with a touching story of friendship, and trying to do the right thing. By turns touching, thought-provoking and funny, it’s packed with brilliantly-drawn characters, written with genuine affection, and who feel just as real as the larger-than-life character of Lagos itself, thrumming endlessly in the background. 

Welcome to Lagos by Chibundu Onuzo is out now, published by Faber & Faber.