Reviewing everything I read in the…year before last

Ok so this post has been sitting in my drafts for almost an entire year, as I have somehow not found the time to finish it! I’ve written up quite a few thoughts on most of the books, so I’m going to publish it in the state it is in now, and if you have questions on my thoughts for any that are missing, just let me know in a comment! 2026 is going to be my year of realism and taking things gently – including not worrying if this post isn’t perfect!

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This is my fourth year of looking back on everything I read in the year. Overall it was a much steadier year than previous ones – I have read slightly more books, but more consistently across the year. I would also say that my reading has been more evenly enjoyable this year – there weren’t many books that I struggled to finish, although some did take me longer than expected. My life has evolved a lot this year – I’m now out of the season of long night feeds, and I’ve also gone back to work full time. This has left me with more and less time to read, but I’m pleased that the habit has been embedded enough that I haven’t had to make an effort to keep reading. There have been a few books this year which I really loved, some new discoveries, and of course returns to old favourites (Christie once again being my most read author!). Read on for some thoughts on each book I read.

January

This turned out to be a bumper month. I’m not quite sure why, because it still felt like a more than usually busy time of the year. Now that I have a baby, there isn’t really the same languid idleness that January and the latter days of the Christmas holidays can present. But somehow I managed to get a lot read this month, and enjoyed almost all of it!

A Caribbean Mystery, Agatha Christie, 1964

I had previously avoided this one of Miss Marple’s outings as I was honestly a bit worried that it would be racist! Given Christie’s writings about the working classes (as I mentioned in my review of Murder at the Vicarage, which you can read here), I didn’t have high hopes that her writing about Caribbean people would be any better. My worries were however largely unfounded, for the simple fact that she manages to not really write about Caribbean people at all! Set in a hotel Miss Marple has been sent to by her ever philanthropic nephew Raymond, almost all of the characters are British. There are I think two Caribbean people in the whole book, and they do indeed have the slightly hackneyed writing one would expect. There are some references to the marital habits (or lack thereof) of the locals, but for the most part their absence protects them from any of the views Christie’s age might have imposed on them. I’m not sure if Christie herself was racist – she travelled so widely and experienced so many different cultures, but that hasn’t stopped most British people from being racist, so one can’t be too careful. As for the story itself, it was surprisingly good, and for once I did actually manage to figure it out! Perhaps for budgetary reasons, this story doesn’t seem to have been adapted much, if at all, and therefore it was a bit more of a genuine puzzle. A fun, light read, featuring Marple at her most active. One of the better Miss Marple books, in my opinion.

Kindred, Octavia E. Butler, 1979

I had been meaning to read this book for a long time, having bought it on Kindle. I finally took the plunge, and it was well worth it. A mixture of science fiction and historical novel, it isn’t at all what I expected, in the best way possible. It is pretty harrowing at times, and its setting largely on a slave plantation in the US south now feels quite familiar. But at the time she was writing, I think this was quite ground-breaking. The characters feel totally believable, and you soon forget the science fiction element because she so perfectly captures the feelings and settings of her characters. Definitely deserving of its high reputation, and has left me wanting to seek out more of Butler’s writing.

The Quarantine Princess, Meg CAbot, 2023

Oh my goodness, talk about a move from the sublime to the ridiculous. After the relatively heaviness of Kindred, I wanted something a little more upbeat and cheerful. I had really enjoyed several of Cabot’s books as a teenager, including the Princess Diaries books, and thought it might be fun and nostalgic to give it another go. Goodness, what a total drag this book was! So badly written, struggling to uphold the diary format, full of weird inaccuracies, and a flagrantly ‘goody goody’ approach to the COVID situation, that even I, an avid mask-wearer, vaccine volunteer, etc, was wishing Princess Mia would just shut up about it! I suppose one day this book might make an interest artefact for people researching the cultural history of the COVID years, but if you want something actually enjoyable to read, I highly suggest giving this is a miss.

THe Importance of Being Earnest, OScar Wilde, 1895

My first play of the year! I’m determined to read more plays this year, and after the dross of The Quarantine Princess, I wanted something that was both well-written and genuinely funny. I’m pretty sure I’ve read the play before, and I was a huge fan of the 2002 adaptation as a teenager. I even auditioned for an amateur production of it (needless to say, I did not get the part (Cecily)!). But it was lovely to revisit it, and find it just as wittily written as I remembered. A light, quick read that has a similar feel to a very decent high tea.

NO Shame, Tom Allen, 2020

I’ve always had a bit of a soft-spot for stand-up comedian Tom Allen. There’s something quite inspiring and heart-warming about someone who has just chosen to go their own way, and embrace their tastes and interests, regardless of what anyone else might think of them. I’d recently got back into the podcast he hosts with fellow comedian Suzi Ruffel, Like Minded Friends, and this spurred me to pick up his autobiography. I feel a strange sense of kinship with him because we have both lost our fathers. The book chronicles his experience growing up in Bromley, his relationships with his family, and his growing acceptance of his sexuality. It is hilarious and very insightful about why people behave the way they do. Add to this the overarching message of the importance of not worrying about what people think, and it makes for a really uplifting read.

Murder on the Orient Express, Agatha Christie, 1934

Another Christie, this time a much earlier one. I’ve only read one Poirot novel before, and didn’t particularly enjoy it, so I thought I could get away with skipping to the big hitters. I remember watching film adaptations of Murder on the Orient Express as a child, and have even brought myself to watch the recent Kenneth Brannagh adaptation (which I wouldn’t recommend!), so I knew the basic premise. In spite of this, the book still made for a fun and intriguing read. Some of the particularly 1920s way of speaking or writing that put me off the first Poirot was gone, and it felt more familiar to Christie’s lively writing. Definitely worth a read, as a true crime classic.

Bad ARt MOther, Edwina Preston, 2022

This was a book I had been meaning to read for a while, as I had seen it recommended and thought it was right up my street. It was an at times harrowing but fruitful read. It has quite a ‘classic’ sense to it, following the character Owen as he reflects on his mother, a poet. The title is to the point – it grapples with the issue of how to maintain artistic identity and ambition whilst being a mother. It has quite a ‘classic’ feel to it – the structure is straightforward and it is essentially and ‘easy’ read. Preston’s characters are realistic and honest – each feels like someone you could run into in the artsier suburbs of Melbourne. I wouldn’t say it really has any answers on the issue of motherhood and creativity, nor that it is particularly looking for any. It is more in line with the feminist reflections on the state of womanhood in the past – an observation on the pressures women have faced, the difficulty of creating nuanced identities, who we allow to prioritise creativity. It’s an interesting read, and a well-formed story.

Portrait of an UNknown Lady, Maria Gainza, Trans. Thomas Bunstead, 2022

This is a book I felt a little disappointed by. Coming from an art history background I thought I would find it really engaging, and the setting felt compelling. However in the end I found this dragged a little – there was not enough originality of voice and perspective, nor a vibrant enough plot to hold my focus. I can imagine it might be more engaging if read in its original language, but maybe that’s not giving the translator enough credit. I think if it had been billed differently I might have enjoyed it more – I was looking for a sort of art world mystery, but what followed was more reflective, slower paced, and enigmatic (if I’m being charitable).

The Lady in the Van, Alan Bennett, 1994

This is a strange and funny little book recounting Bennett’s experiences with Mary Shepherd, the eponymous lady in the van. An aging woman who lived in a van on his driveway for around 15 years, she was a difficult and complex character. Characters like Mary are rare in books, although really very common in real life, so it was in a way refreshing to see one being given so much time and consideration. She and Bennett clearly had a complicated relationship – her living situation was precarious and her hygiene almost non-existent. Perhaps what might be called a troubled soul, the humanity of Bennett’s observations on her is touching, without ever being saccharine. A short read, but a good one.

Too Much, Tom Allen, 2022

Another fun read from Allen. Having enjoyed his first book so much, I couldn’t resist going back for the second. It did have a slight ‘second book’ feeling, in that it felt less structured and considered than the first. But once again, his reflections and stories are engaging, humane, and as you would expect often very funny. A light but at times moving read, and one that brings a sense of optimism.

February

The Jerilderie LEtter, Ned Kelly, 1879

This is a rather strange thing to have read – the letter in which Ned Kelly attempts to justify murdering three policemen at Stringybark Creek. Kelly is the original Australian folk hero, or perhaps anti-hero would be better. Dictated rather than written, it reads as such, and is at times hard to follow. He tried to have it published himself, and as a historical document it is fascinating. The insight it gives into what life would have been like for colonisers at the time is fascinating – the hardness and roughness is undeniable. This must be contextualised within the English colonial project – while Kelly and his gang encountered corruption and mistreatment, atrocities were being carried out on the First Nations people of Australia. I’m not sure I would recommend reading this unless you have a specific interest in that part of history – a good biography of Kelly himself would probably give you a fuller picture of the times. But it was still a short, interesting read, and a good way of beginning to engage with that side of Australian history.

BUllet Train, Kotaro Isaka, trans. Sam Malissa, 2010

This was an unexpected hit for me! Not my usual fare, but I really enjoyed this pacey thriller. It kept me guessing, was surprisingly funny, and had very engaging characters. I can understand why they would want to adapt it into a film, but I cannot understand why it had to have Brad Pitt in it. I have not seen the film, but needless to say it differs somewhat (the cast of characters in the book are all Japanese). Don’t let the fact that it has been adapted put you off – it doesn’t read like a book that only exists in order to be adapted, it works brilliantly as a standalone piece.

The Australian Ugliness, Robin Boyd, 1960

Architecture in Australia is kind of intriguing. It’s a weird mish-mash of lots of different styles, the choices of colour are often bizarre, and you can read the country’s social history through its suburbs and architectural phases. Robin Boyd was and is one of the foremost architectural influences in Australia, having been a successful practicing architect and writer on the subject. He is quite scathing about the state of architecture in his home country, decrying the obsession with, and I paraphrase here, sticking bits on without any consideration of how they relate to each other. His writing is funny and insightful, and gives an interesting insight into the conservation movement and attitudes to architecture were developing in the 1960s in Australia. This is a time before the completion of the country’s stand-out architectural icon, the Sydney Opera House, and it gives a fascinating sense of the arguments and considerations that were dominating thought at the time.

The Hours, Michael Cunningham, 1998

Later on this list you will see Mrs Dalloway, and I really should have read that first. Despite its references and riffing off Mrs Dalloway, I was still able to enjoy this as a standalone piece. It is frankly a slightly odd novel, but one with a real sense of humanity, and which is strangely gripping. Now I have read its inspiration, I find the concept even stranger. I’m not quite sure what Cunningham was trying to achieve – why he felt the need to write this novel. But regardless of why, it is a successful piece (it did after all win him a Pulitzer), and one I can recommend if your tastes run more towards the ‘literary’ end of the scale.

March

The Last Devil to Die, Richard Osman, 2023

It’s hard to find that much to say about these books now! Surely there is no one left on earth who hasn’t already read them? This is another fun instalment, again well plotted albeit at some times slightly fantastical. An enjoyable, light read for when you want something engaging but easy going.

Landlines, Raynor Winn, 2022

In spite of enjoying her first book The Salt Path, I didn’t have a very good time with this one. You can read my full The Reading List review over here. One thing I forgot to mention in that review is the rather pompous references she makes to the times when people recommended her own book to her. When bumping into people along a major walking path it seems likely that you would meet people who had read her book, given its huge popularity, but there is something uncomfortably self-congratulatory about her telling us each time she does!

The Secret Adversary, Agatha Christie, 1922

Running out of Miss Marples, I had a go at another set of Christie characters, this time Tuppence and Tommy. I enjoyed it and would like to read more on these characters. It has a more comic, Jeeves and Wooster-esque feel to it than many of the Marples, whilst still having the clever plotting and pacing we’d expect of Christie. You can read my full review here.

The accidental tourist, Anne Tyler, 1985

The second Pulitzer Prize winner I read this year, and one I enjoyed more than The Hours. I really enjoy this kind of book, which focuses on the kind of mundane, simple issues people face in their lives – how to be happy, how to make relationships work, how to find a sense of purpose. While I love pacey, plot-driven adventures too, it is these seemingly more humdrum narratives that stay with me most. This doesn’t sound like a great review, but just trust that this book was one of my favourites, and it’s definitely worth picking up.

The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Taylor Jenkins REid, 2017

Oh boy, did I not enjoy this book. It took me absolutely ages to finish because I found it so poorly written. The subject matter – a secretly lesbian movie star navigating Old Hollywood, sounds as if it should be fascinating. I just didn’t find the writing lived up to the potential this offered. It has a dual timeline, one focusing on Evelyn herself and the other on the ‘present day’ with a young journalist who is interviewing Evelyn. It covers some very serious issues including sexual abuse and domestic violence, but I’m afraid these came across as more soap opera and less thoughtful examination. I know that this is going to be a controversial take, as the book was absolutely everywhere and read by seemingly everyone. But unfortunately it just didn’t do it for me. Earlier I noted that Bullet Train didn’t feel like it was written be adapted – Evelyn Hugo by contrast really does, and I think I might actually enjoy a carefully crafted adaptation TV series. Going by Jenkins Reid’s success, I’m sure one will be in the works!

All Our Hidden Gifts, Caroline O’Donaghue, 2021

I have at times been an obsessive listener to Caroline O’Donaghue’s incredible podcast ‘Sentimental Garbage’, which re-examines culture that has been dismissed due to be largely ‘female-coded’. I love her voice, literally and metaphorically, and the thoughtful, humane and pragmatic approach she takes to everything she engages with. So I thought it was high time I read one of her novels. Hidden Gifts I think would technically count as a YA, but I found it a really interesting and engaging read. Exploring what it’s like to be a teenager grappling with a sense of identity, with a cross over with fantasy via tarot cards, it was a really fun and surprisingly thought provoking read. It is exactly the kind of thing I would have devoured as a teenager. I’ll definitely be reading her other works, YA and adult, and am so pleased to have found this one.

The Woman in me, Britney Spears, 2023

I somehow felt I couldn’t not read this. One of my reading goals for the year was to read more biography, and was there any more significant biography in 2023? Well, maybe (see two entries down!), but this was still one that felt important. The Free Britney campaign and widespread publicity about her awful situation had kept this at the forefront of my mind, and somehow Spears seemed to have come to stand for much of the female experience of women in her generation. There are many sections that are deeply uncomfortable to read, alongside many that are surprisingly insightful and thought-provoking. I even found myself talking about it to my mum – one of the people least likely in the whole world to engage with Britney Spears! It is a damning picture of what women like Spears were put through by the media and the people around them, many of them in positions of care and responsibility. It’s an upsetting but necessary read, and one which transcends celebrity autobiography and comes to stand as a historical document (albeit one you must read critically, as with any primary source!).

April

Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Wolf, 1925

I had read very little Wolf, and after reading The Hours, I thought it was time to finally engage with her more seriously. I didn’t quite know what to expect – Wolf has a reputation as being a bit difficult to read. I can see why this might be the case, but if you go in expecting to have a slightly different experience, I found it in fact very easy to engage with. I love the way she captures that sense we all have sometimes that everyone we see, walk past on the street, is their own person with their own world. This is so hard to get across, and ultimately her characters all intersect in some way, but I found it just wonderful. We know I love a detective novel, and this short story is no exception. Despite being very short, the characters are all well drawn, with very distinct but recognisable personalities, and the mystery itself is intriguing enough to keep you gripped throughout. I appreciated the logical, meticulous approach to the crime plot itself, and all in all it was a fun and satisfying read.

Spare, Prince Harry, The Duke of Sussex, 2023

The celebrity auto-biography that really was everywhere. It certainly deserves its bonkers reputation – why on earth he felt to include the level of detail he did in some anecdotes is beyond me. Yet I found it strangely dull, and a bit of a chore to finish. It is largely chronological, and largely unenlightening. Although it shares intimate (graphically intimate in some cases) details, few of them can truly be considered surprising if you stop to think about the background and time he was living through. His reflections on his family again are hardly mind-blowing, confirming the widely held suspicion that they are all human beings, who at times behave horribly and times make an effort. I can’t say I could recommend this book to anyone but the most ardent admirers of the Prince himself. One thing we can say is that he does a good job of defending his beleaguered wife, and getting across a real sense of how deeply they care for each other, which is rather touching. I’m sure if I were him I would have tried to write a similar book (perhaps skipping some of the details), so I can understand why it exists. But I wouldn’t trouble yourself with it.

May

The Murder on the Links, Agatha Christie, 1923

I gave Poirot another go, and found this one more engaging than the first. Although I still don’t find Poirot a particularly endearing character, he was more developed in this book, and I can see how I could grow to like him with more time. So I guess this is me saying I’ll be reading more Christie in 2025 – what a surprise!

Yellowface, R.F. Kuang, 2023

Another book I was late to the party on. This was a bit of a curve ball from Kuang, whose Babel I had enjoyed the previous year. You can read my full review of Yellowface here.

The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (and your children will be glad that you did), Philippa Perry, 2021

I couldn’t get through the year without reading a single parenting book! This is the one that made the cut, and I’m glad I read it. Although it feels a little repetitive and loses its momentum towards the end, it does have some great practical tips about how to navigate the stresses and uncertainties of relationships and parenthood. I still think about advice from this book frequently, and I think it is one I will return to as my own child gets older. If I were to criticise it, it does have a slightly newspaper column feel to it, which is understandable – there’s a lot of anecdotal evidence and not much research referenced. But if you’re looking for a relatively light but practical book to prompt thoughts on your own relationships and how you want to function as a parent, you could do a lot worse than this one.

Pageboy, Elliot Page, 2023

Kudos to Page for this brilliant title – how could it be called anything else? Page has endured a difficult life even before transitioning in the public eye, and in this book he thoughtfully recounts his experiences. The seemingly unstoppable rise of transphobia in the UK, US and Canada makes this a timely book – it is hard to believe that anyone who actually engages with trans people can hold such vehemently unpleasant views about them. What struck me about Page’s story was the extent to which transitioning is just another facet of trying to come to terms with one’s own identity, whatever that means. The structure of the book is at times confusing, as he jumps backwards and forwards in time, and the momentum is slightly lost towards the end. However the overall impression is of a sensitive, creative and insightful individual searching for ways to feel fulfilled and to be fulfilling for others in their relationships.

June

The List, Yome Adegoke, 2023

This novel tackles the issue of being ‘cancelled’ and what it means to stand-up for our principles in relationships. Considering the heaviness of the topic, it was a fairly light and easy read, and it was interesting to see what is essentially a romance framed around these social justice issues. I kind of felt that Adegoke couldn’t quite go hard enough – the source of conflict felt at times a bit tenuous. But it was an enjoyable and thought-provoking read, and I’ll be keeping an eye out for Adegoke’s other work.

July

Martyr!, KAveh Akbar, 2024

I really wanted to love this book. A semi-autobiographical work of fiction with poems interspersed in the prose, it follows an Iranian poet living in the US, alongside the story of his mother in Iran. It is a really interesting piece, but I found the more experimental aspects didn’t really add to the story. That’s really just personal preference.

Come and Get It, Kiley Reid, 2024

Time for something genuinely different! This is the story of a girl who goes to work in a famous Sydney department store, and falls in love – with a dress! Something about this story really touched me – it wonderfully captured what it feels like to be a young woman on the verge of being a ‘proper’ adult. It I’d sweet without being saccharine, and reserves some acid whilst still being humane. An easy and fun but not flippant read, and one I greatly enjoyed.

August

A Marvellous Light, Freya MArske, 2021

September

Alone, Beverley Farmer, 1980

A Restless Truth, Freya Marske, 2022

October

Picnic at Hanging Rock, Joan Lindsay, 1967

December

On Green Dolphin Street, Sebastian Faulks, 2001

A Power UNbound, Freya MArske, 2022

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What were your favourite books this year? Are there any that surprised you, in good or bad ways? What do you think I should read next?