The TV doctor and presenter of BBC Radio 4’s “What’s Up Docs?” picks his favourite books. He is talking about his own latest book, “Make Me Well”, at the Stratford Literary Festival on 30 October.

It’s So Easy (And Other Lies)

Duff McKagan, 2011

I thought this book by the Guns N’ Roses bassist would be all tales of rock’n’roll excess by my favourite childhood band. Instead, it is a fascinating account of his struggle with drink, drugs and health. He is saved by creativity, martial arts and a loving family. An antidote to the wellness industry, it changed my thinking about health and family.

Empire of Pain

Patrick Radden Keefe, 2021

I am from the generation of doctors who were educated about pain by Purdue Pharma. Its vast influence reached far beyond marketing – I never once saw an ad for OxyContin. We are still undoing the damage.

Calypso

David Sedaris, 2018

Sedaris is the funniest essayist alive. His stories help me make sense of my family, and find humour in the everyday.

Super-Infinite

Katherine Rundell, 2022

John Donne, the subject of this amazing book, is perhaps our greatest love poet. He’s raunchy, funny, and ended up as the Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral. No matter how little you know about poetry, this book will sweep you up and leave you breathless at the genius of both the subject and the author.

The Persian Boy

Mary Renault, 1972

The story of Alexander the Great, told by his slave and lover, Bagoas. It is an adventure story and a love story and, despite being set over 2,000 years ago, feels contemporary and relevant. Renault is one of the greats of historical fiction.

The White Road

Edmund de Waal, 2015

Edmund de Waal is perhaps best known as a potter, but he is also a wonderful writer. This book is his pilgrimage to understand the mysterious white clay. I defy you not to get sucked into porcelain mania as he tours the world.

Somewhat “miraculously”, Bonnie Garmus managed to make science and feminism “fun” in her bestselling debut novel “Lessons in Chemistry”, said The Boston Globe. In her second book, she is “poised to do the same thing for even more esoteric loves: poetry, fonts and literary publishing”.

The novel follows the life of Batter Gray, a middle-class Californian boy who possesses a “deep love” of poetry, much to his parents’ dismay. After graduating from college, he moves to New York to pursue his passion. “Like so many people coming of age in the city, he rents a terrible apartment, works three crummy jobs, and finally finds a girlfriend.”

Gray seems “destined” to end up at Peck & Peck, a “rarefied, pricey poetry journal”, though he’s the “copy guy”, working in the basement. Down there, “as is not uncommon in literary circles, he finds both mentors and nemeses” as he negotiates his way upwards.

In telling her story, Garmus creates a “Ferris wheel of characters”, like his font designer mother and “chaotic tyrant” of a boss. They and the many plot twists all “snap together delightfully” and make for a “rollicking good story”. If her debut novel “made you love chemistry, this one might just make you fall for poetry. Such is the force of happiness.”

There is a certain “mawkishness” that creeps into “Peck & Peck”, said The Guardian. As in Garmus’ first book, there is a “preternaturally intelligent dog”, added to a fragile love story and a hasty courtroom scene. But it is impossible not to be beguiled by the “freewheeling exuberance of her imagination”, and the “fierce exhortation to all of us to make words count”.

You might not have thought a novel set in the world of poetry could be funny, but “you’d be wrong”, said the Los Angeles Times. “The repartee sparkles” and the “farcical touches lighten the tone”. But it’s inspiring too. Batter, for all his quirks, is “perhaps the best poetry ambassador to have ever graced the pages of a novel”. Readers will be “hard-pressed to resist becoming a poetry stan”.

Above all, this is a “workplace comedy, a New York City coming-of-age story, and a giddy satire wrapped in a sometimes-ungainly bundle”, said Laura Miller on Slate. The Peck & Peck office, home to a whopping 39 editors and crowned with a “spectacular glass dome”, is “pure fantasia”, but Garmus does at times “ladle gooey dollops of sentimentality” into her work.

There is an “almost Wodehousian giddiness” to the book, but Garmus’ satire never comes across as “mean or bitter”. Characters sceptical of poetry and its place in the world are treated as generously as those who love it, because the form “is in truth both boring and transcendent”.

“Peck & Peck” may not reach the heights of “Lessons in Chemistry” but it is a “rare work of popular fiction that has prompted me to look up a William Carlos Williams poem, and I suspect I won’t be the only one on whom it has that particular, and very welcome, effect”.

Kate Atkinson is the celebrated author of Life After Life, Case Histories, and 12 other novels set mostly in her native U.K. In her latest, Our Noble Selves, a former POW becomes a murder suspect while helping stage a 1951 festival intended to boost national morale.

‘Middlemarch’ by George Eliot (1871–72)

Essentially, Middlemarch is a historical novel, set in the period 50 years prior to its publication. Eliot’s breadth and ambition and energy in painting a picture of a society in the midst of cataclysmic change is astounding. I also think it’s a very romantic book—not something Eliot is often accused of.

‘Slaughterhouse-Five’ by Kurt Vonnegut (1969)

It took many years before Vonnegut felt able to give fictional shape to his experiences as a POW in the Dresden firestorm. The time-­ traveling, science-­fiction elements along with Vonnegut’s typical off-­kilter style work against the odds to make this—along with its ­ brother-in-arms, Heller’s Catch-22—one of the most powerful novels about World War II.

‘Persuasion’ by Jane Austen (1817)

I could have simply picked all six of Austen’s novels, but if I had to choose one, then this final one—a profound exploration of the human heart—would be the one. It is also about the pain of the path not chosen and the absolute powerlessness of women.

‘Parade’s End’ by Ford Madox Ford (1924–28)

This is cheating perhaps, because it’s actually a tetralogy that follows the fortunes of Christopher Tietjens from before the First World War and into its aftermath. It’s one of those novels—sorry, four novels—that I have trouble describing and am inclined to say, “Just read it.”

‘The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman’ by Laurence Sterne (1759–67)

Tristram Shandy is a very funny, digressive novel about a man trying to write his autobiography and failing to get past the first scene. I always remember my English tutor at university introducing it by saying that it was one of the first novels and also one of the first antinovels, although nowadays I think they would probably call it metafiction.

‘Just William’ by Richmal Crompton (1922)

I had a quietly passive only-­childhood, but ­William provided an alternative, escapist universe of naughtiness and high spirits. Even now, I would, if I could, be happy to live in William’s world. And have a dog called Jumble.

“It is a shame how many people wouldn’t dream of reading James Marriott’s eloquent, learned, and admirably brief book,” said Daniel Akst in The Wall Street ­ Journal. Reading is dying, as the 33-year-old London Times columnist tells us, so it’s inevitable that most of the public will miss out on the joys of following him as he lays out his concerns. The causes of his worries aren’t new. A 2022 survey found that in the previous 12 months fewer than half of American adults had read a book. A year later, another study found that in an average day only 16% read anything for pleasure. Of course, there’s “a lot more at stake” in this decline than good books being left unread. Marriott, by revisiting ties between the rise of mass literacy and mass democracy, “makes a strong case” that long-form reading is a necessary ingredient to sustaining the kind of rational and probing collective dialogue that has made mass democracy possible.

Marriott “might be insufficiently pessimistic,” said George F. Will in The Washington Post. Though he’s right that smartphones and the short-form videos they spawn have contributed to reading’s decline, the larger problem is that too many of our fellow citizens have become “pathetically nostalgic for the mental lassitude of pre-literate people.” It was not until the 18th century that large numbers of our forebears began reading widely, but we have them to thank for launching the modern age, and today, as childish thinking spreads, we’re seeing that “reason, tolerance, and progress are contingent, not inherent, facets of humanity’s story.” Marriott, “like many alarmists,” builds his argument on ­ cherry-picked data, said Chris Ferguson in Reason. He reports that reading scores for U.S. students hit an all-time low in 2024 without mentioning that they’d peaked in 2012, several years after the advent of smartphones. Meanwhile, the supposed link between literacy and healthy democracies is undermined by the highly literate societies that gave birth to the fascist regimes of 20th-­century Germany, Italy, and Japan.

“The New Dark Ages is too ominously titled,” said Michael O’Donnell in the Los Angeles Review of Books. Throughout the book, Marriott “thoughtfully acknowledges” evidence that reading and reason might not be utterly doomed, though he could have done more to acknowledge that the work many of us do still requires a lot of reading and writing. “Are we courting the same scenario as the Middle Ages, when a select few held the keys to knowledge, to the exclusion of all others? Probably not.” Still, “the thrust of Marriott’s ­argument — there is a decline in reading that is antithetical to the progress of the ­Enlightenment — strikes me as persuasive.”

Go into a British bookshop and you may notice “a glaring stock gap”, said Lydia Spencer-Elliott in The Independent. “Star novelist” Sally Rooney, whose bestsellers include “Normal People” and “Conversations With Friends”, has announced that her books will no longer be sold in the UK due to her support for Palestine Action.

The Irish novelist had pledged to donate royalties from her books to the direct-action protest group, despite the fact that the UK has, controversially, proscribed it as a terrorist organisation. Rooney said last week that her publisher, Faber & Faber, had therefore decided it could no longer sell her work in the UK because doing so could “constitute a serious criminal offence”. For fans and bookshop owners, the news “hit like a gut punch”.

‘Affront to decency’

Rooney has shown courage in choosing “the thorniest path possible for this cause”, said Zoe Williams in The Guardian. Authors can “write essays and sign letters” in support of Palestinian people, musicians can shout about it on stage, but that doesn’t “entail actively breaking the terrorism laws”. It’s Rooney’s support for this specific group that’s “effectively both barred” and “banned” her work from the UK and cost her "innumerable” sales and opportunities.

For her “more excitable” home-grown fans, it’s a case of “perfidious Albion strikes again”, said Eilis O'Hanlon in the Irish Independent. Fellow Irish novelist Colm Tóibín said Britain had gone “insane”, and the whole issue is “an absolute affront to decency” and freedom of speech. But I think that framing is “ridiculous”. Even if “the fiendish Brits” wanted to prosecute one of its “most illustrious” publishers for paying one of its authors what she is owed, Rooney is an Irish citizen living in Ireland, and thus not subject to UK terror laws. Her personal freedom of speech and right to protest are not at any risk. And Faber can keep publishing and promoting her in other countries, including her native Ireland.

‘Attention-seeking self-aggrandisement’

Despite “the uproar”, this isn’t “massively risky” for either Rooney or Faber, said Camilla Long in The Times. How many of her “whopping 6 million” worldwide book sales will she forgo? Her books “remain in libraries” and in any bookshops where they were already stocked. This isn’t a “book ban”; it’s a millionaire’s “self-imposed withdrawing of one’s further sales”.

This is “attention-seeking self-aggrandisement”, said Lionel Shriver in The Telegraph. Thanks to lucrative TV adaptations of her novels, Rooney can “easily live without further British royalties” and continue to “shout her devotion to Palestinians from the rooftops” (or fund their cause via multiple legal outfits). Faber, on the other hand, was caught “between a rock and a hard place”.

I’m “no fan” of Palestine Action; some of its members have “committed a campaign of criminal damage”, said Sam Leith in The Spectator. But Rooney and Faber have pushed the “simultaneous intolerance and vagueness of the UK government’s position” on the group onto “the front tables at Waterstones”. Supporters of Palestine Action are “being bundled into paddy-wagons for wearing T-shirts”. Will a UK citizen now face arrest for saying “I support Sally Rooney” or “carrying a ‘Normal People’ tote bag”? The problem isn’t Rooney’s speech, free or otherwise; it’s Britain’s “inconsistent attempt to police the border between legitimate protest and criminal thuggery”. What a “fine mess” we’re in.

“Jeffrey Archer, who has died aged 86, was irrepressible,” said Stuart Jeffries in The Guardian – “though not necessarily in a good way.” At various points, he was accused of lying about his background, embellishing his CV, committing plagiarism and fraud and – perhaps worst of all – of being “unpleasant to underlings”. And while some of the allegations were never proved, he was convicted of perjury and perverting the course of justice and sentenced to four years in jail.

Yet Lord Archer of Weston-super-Mare – senior Tory politician, former athlete, bestselling novelist and bon viveur – simply sailed on. Editors continued to adulate him; his books kept selling in their millions; and sports stars, writers and politicians still flocked to the “shepherd’s pie and Krug” parties he hosted in his “sumptuous”, art-filled apartment overlooking the Thames. Archer, it turned out, was what the “Titanic” was supposed to be: “unsinkable”.

Murky beginnings

Growing up in Weston-super-Mare, Archer was doted on by his mother, who worked as a journalist on the local paper and sent him to Wellington School on a scholarship. As an adult, he’d imply that he had been to the grander Wellington College. Bullied for being puny, he threw himself into athletics and bodybuilding, and distinguished himself as a sprinter. He stayed at the school until 18, yet left with just three O levels.

On the basis of a false report that he had three A levels and had studied anatomy at a university in the US, he was then accepted to Oxford. But though he presented himself as an undergraduate at Brasenose, he was actually doing a one-year diploma in education at a teacher training college linked to it.

As a student in Oxford, he arranged fundraising drives for Oxfam, including via the coup of persuading The Beatles to appear at Brasenose. Yet as Michael Crick revealed in his biography, Oxfam was not only troubled by the way he exaggerated the sums he had raised; it also suspected that he was skimming off funds.

In Oxford, Archer met Mary Weeden, a chemistry student who became his wife in 1966. Settling in London, he found work as a fundraiser for the United Nations Association. Its chair, the ex-Tory MP Humphry Berkeley, became convinced that he was embezzling funds. But the UNA hushed it up, and Archer was accepted for the safe Tory seat in Louth, Lincolnshire, which he won at a by-election in 1969.

Pride and perjury

In his writing, Archer was no stylist, but he could tell a “rollicking story”, said The Times. In 1976, his debut novel, “Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less”, became a bestseller. His novels would go on to sell more than 300 million copies. He also returned to politics: Margaret Thatcher made him deputy Tory chairman in 1985, describing him as “the extrovert’s extrovert”.

Then, in 1986, the Daily Star sensationally accused Archer of having been a client of a sex worker named Monica Coghlan. He sued for libel and, in court, denied ever even meeting Coghlan (though he did admit to asking an intermediary to pay her £2,000 in cash to leave the country). She was vilified as a liar and an extortionist. In summing up, the judge famously highlighted Mary Archer’s testimony: “Remember Mary Archer in the witness box,” he told the jury. “Has she elegance? Has she fragrance?” With such a wife, how could Archer “possibly be in need of cold, unloving rubber-insulated sex in a seedy hotel?” Having presented what seemed to be a solid alibi, Archer won and was awarded £500,000 in damages.

Two years later, Archer was accused of insider dealing over shares he’d bought in Anglia TV just before a takeover bid. His wife sat on the firm’s board. He was cleared of that, but then fell out with a friend who had helped concoct his alibi in the libel case, and was charged with perjury.

Following his release from jail, Archer published his prison diaries, carried on with his charity work and wrote more novels. Mary, who survives him with their sons, remained by his side to the end. Explaining her loyalty, she once said: “I think I would find it a little monochrome, a little grey, to have a sort of a more conventional life with a more conventional husband.”

The broadcaster and champion of the high street, who transformed the fortunes of Harvey Nichols, picks her favourites. She will be talking about her latest book, “I Shop, Therefore I Am”, at Stratford Literary Festival on 1 November.

Letters to a Young Poet

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1929

This book isn’t really about how to become a better poet, it’s about how to live. Rilke writes about solitude, love, patience and learning to live with uncertainty.

The Sea, The Sea

Iris Murdoch, 1978

Both entertaining and deeply unsettling. I love the way Murdoch gets inside the mind of someone who is completely convinced by his own version of reality. I once followed her around an airport because I so wanted to talk to her about this book – but was too in awe to say anything.

The Cost of Living

Deborah Levy, 2018

In this moving memoir Levy details the reality of reclaiming autonomy post-divorce. It sharply critiques the invisible burdens placed on women, while weaving in hopeful observations of everyday life.

Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath

Heather Clark, 2020

This deeply researched book rescues Plath from the tragic cliché of her death and is focused instead on the immense vitality of how she lived. Plath is shown not as a passive victim of despair, but as a brilliant intellectual and visionary poet.

The Age of Innocence

Edith Wharton, 1920

Wharton’s portrayal of 1870s New York society shows a world that is both dazzling and suffocating. The central romance captures the conflict between desire and duty, while the bittersweet ending shows how the choices we make can shape an entire lifetime.

Cider with Rosie

Laurie Lee, 1959

I’m blessed to have a house in the Slad Valley where Lee grew up. When I see the apple trees in bloom, it brings home this chronicle of his childhood. He evokes the warmth of a chaotic, loving family and the transition of a rustic world into the modern age.

The popularity of the NBA, which begins its season on Oct. 20, skyrocketed starting in the early 1980s. And the heightened salience of the growing fast-paced sport in American popular culture has created its own literary canon, including these four standouts.

‘The Breaks of the Game’ by David Halberstam (1981)

David Halberstam embedded himself with the 1979-1980 Portland Trail Blazers and here describes the daily travails of a team struggling to return to championship form. It is “one of the best books I’ve ever read about American sports,” said Christopher Lehmann-Haupt at The New York Times.

‘The Whore of Akron: One Man’s Search for the Soul of LeBron James’ by Scott Raab (2011)

Esquire’s Scott Raab followed LeBron James in the years before and after he left the Cleveland Cavaliers for a book that doubles as a kind of memoir covering the writer’s tumultuous personal life. It’s a story of a “truly talented writer pouring his heart and soul into a book about a city he loves,” said John Krolik at Cavs: the blog.

‘Hoop Dreams: A True Story of Hardship and Triumph’ by Ben Joravsky (1995)

Joravsky movingly chronicles the lives and challenges of the celebrated film documentary’s protagonists, Arthur Agee and William Gates, both of whom hailed from troubled Chicago neighborhoods. “Hoop Dreams” is “at once a heart-wrenching and uplifting story of survival,” said Publisher’s Weekly.

‘Showtime: Magic, Kareem, Riley and the Los Angeles Lakers Dynasty of the 1980s’ by Jeff Pearlman (2014)

The 1980s-era Los Angeles Lakers won five NBA championships, and Pearlman covers the dramatic achievements of the team on the hardwood in addition to its off-court exploits. The book functions as an “excavation of a long-lost era, as well as a pulsing, utterly relevant roadmap into our 21st-century sports celebrity culture,” said Dave Zirin at The Nation.

“My most cherished, most powerful food memories involve two ingredients: rice and pork,” said chef Donald Link in his book “Real Cajun: Rustic Home Cooking from Donald Link’s Louisiana.” It is a common refrain for people who were raised in the prairies and bayous of southern Louisiana.

The rice is there in the region’s popular eggplant dressing, dirty rice with chicken livers and in crawfish pies. Pork appears as cracklins, those deep-fried nubbins of seasoned pork belly and in all manner of Deep South charcuterie. Rice and pork even tango together in the region’s legendary sausage called boudin. Donald Link, born in southwest Louisiana, is the owner of a handful of restaurants in New Orleans, and “Real Cajun” takes you on a personal tour of all these tastes of his homeland, plus legions more.

Two foundational ingredients

No two boudins are alike, but the “truth is, they are all good,” said Link in his book. If you have had the privilege of eating multiple boudins from different shops, you know Link spills facts. His stars both pork shoulder and liver, plus two types of fresh chiles, a glut of spices and, of course, white rice.

Lima beans appear in a stew alongside smoked sausage; a suave pork roast is served over, yes, rice. Even chicken thighs are stuffed with sausage. Pork is ubiquitous, and rice nearly as much so, appearing in a gratin with zucchini, a soup with chicken and a fritter known as calas.

And beyond

Freshness and fiber are everywhere across “Real Cajun” too. Tender lettuces are slicked with a scallion-buttermilk dressing. Tomatoes bring a lush tang to stewed okra.

A sweet finish is obligatory. So there are recipes for satsuma-buttermilk pie, chocolate-pecan tart, blueberry cobbler and a staple of Link’s youth: lemon meringue pie. Man cannot live on rice and pork alone.

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Five-time Booker Prize nominee Sebastian Barry is the author of A Long Long Way, On Canaan’s Side, and Days Without End. The Irish author’s new novel, The Newer World, follows a formerly enslaved Tennessean who’s navigating America’s post–Civil War era.

‘Letters and Journals: Katherine Mansfield’ (1977)

The dark wind of a fatal illness blows through these letters and journals. Mansfield was only 34 when she died. She was the only writer that Virginia Woolf truly felt as a rival, and with very good reason. Buy it here.

‘The Last Chronicle of Barset’ by Anthony Trollope (1867)

Trollope had his manservant wake him early every morning and he would write till 8 a.m. By this method he managed to produce a great number of long, long books. The six volumes of the Barchester novels are crowned by The Last Chronicle of Barset, 900 pages of infinite readability. Buy it here.

‘The Great Fires: Poems, 1982–1992’ by Jack Gilbert (1996)

I met Gilbert briefly on an old track in the mountains of Paros in 1981, just a moment of two strangers passing and nodding and saying three words. His poems are classical, but severely and lovingly contemporary too. Buy it here.

‘Avid Reader’ by Robert Gottlieb (2016)

This is the generous autobiography of the greatest editor of his time. I had an exciting friendship with him in the last years of his long life. He referred at one point in passing to Toni Morrison’s Beloved—“which I just happened to edit.” Well, yes, my good Lord Bob. Buy it here.

‘The Journal of Sir Walter Scott’ (1890)

These poignant and revealing journals cover the years after the financial disaster that engulfed Scott. Instead of being declared bankrupt, he made an arrangement with his creditors that he would write his way out of difficulty. He is 54 in 1825 when he begins his diary; it ends about six years later, with his early demise. Almost on the stroke of that midnight, the debts were fully paid off. Buy it here.

‘The Hours’ by Michael Cunningham (1998)

This was the book everyone seemed to be reading in New York when I was there in 1998. Which was an encouraging fact, because it is in a way a very austere work of art, surreally channeling Virginia Woolf, its glistening surfaces suggesting somehow very great depths. If there are bookshops in heaven, I’d like to think Virginia Woolf was reading it too. Buy it here.

It’s tempting to think of the porn industry as a “seedy underground thing, which good people ignore and to which bad people are addicted”, said Lucy Thynne in The Telegraph. But as the journalist Patricia Nilsson argues in her fascinating book “Guilty Pleasure”, the reality is more complex and disturbing.

Porn, she points out, isn’t significant only because it is a big industry worth tens of billions, and is intensely addictive; it also provides “nothing less than the model for the internet we all use today”. Algorithms, targeted adverts, attention-grabbing headlines: all were forged in the “crucible of early porn websites”. Porn sites helped pioneer secure online payments and high-definition streaming.

All this, says Nilsson, helps explain why even using non-sexual content online often “makes us feel so weird”, and why scrolling feels like a compulsive, even “masturbatory” act of self-gratification. Her book isn’t perfect – the editing is sloppy – but it is intelligent and “necessary”.

Quite aside from the thesis it advances, “Guilty Pleasure” is a compelling history of porn, said Sarah Ditum in The Times. Nilsson begins with a sketch of the pre-internet industry. Here, “her tone is nostalgic, even rosy”, and she underplays the exploitation it involved. She then charts the rise of “tube sites”, which allowed user-uploaded videos, often pirated from traditional porn films, to be watched free with adverts. It was these sites that developed the “grammar of the attention economy, devising ways to keep users hooked that would be carefully studied by more salubrious businesses”. Then came a “more intimate kind of porn”, with the rise of platforms such as OnlyFans that enable “performers to sell sexual pictures and videos direct to consumers”. These, Nilsson writes, “formalised what the internet has been moving towards for years: the commodification of the self”.

Once, owners of porn companies were flash publicity-seekers like Larry Flynt and Hugh Hefner, said Amelia Gentleman in The Guardian. But Nilsson observes that today’s bosses tend to be “tech nerds” and money men with no particular interest in porn. She brings several such figures “out of the shadows”, including the “mysterious” Bernd Bergmair, an Austrian ex-banker who controlled the Pornhub empire between 2013 and 2023.

One might expect this book to be a “depressing read”, said Marie Le Conte in The Observer. But it proves surprisingly entertaining: “substantial, enriching and enjoyable enough that it leaves you feeling sated – just like having sex, instead of merely watching it”.

When the winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature was revealed today, “all eyes in the literary world” were firmly fixed on Stockholm, said Deutsche Welle.

But the announcement of 76-year-old Canadian poet and essayist Anne Carson as this year’s laureate marked the end of a lengthy, secretive selection process that began more than a year ago. And the world’s most prestigious literary award has, according to Euronews, “generated more controversies” than any of the other Nobel Prizes.

Who chooses the Nobel Prize laureates in literature?

Awards are chosen by the Swedish Academy, founded in 1786 by King Gustav III. The 18 members, known as “De Aderton” (The Eighteen), are currently made up of “distinguished Swedish writers, linguists, literary scholars, historians, and a prominent jurist”, according to the Nobel Prize website. They have tenure for life.

How do nominations work?

In September last year, the Academy’s “Nobel Committee” sent out hundreds of invitation forms to individuals and organisations eligible to submit nominations. These include literature and linguistics professors at universities, previous Nobel laureates in literature, and the heads of writers’ associations in various countries. The committee can also add names, such as past laureates. The list “can reach 200 names per year”, Gisele Sapiro, research director and Nobel Prize expert, told DW.

Those who don’t receive an invitation but are still qualified to submit nominations can do so – but no one can nominate themselves. That said, “there’s a tradition of writers lobbying for the prize by giving talks in Gothenburg or Stockholm and then flirting with Academy members over drinks”, said the Financial Times.

The Committee screens submissions after the January deadline and, over the next few months, “whittles down the nominations” to five candidates. The 18 then read and assess the work over the summer, confer in September, and vote in early October. The winner must receive more than half the votes. He or she takes home 12 million Swedish kronor (about £910,000), as well as a “lifetime of laurels”, said LitHub. But the public – and nominees – don’t learn which authors made the shortlist until 50 years later. Some authors are considered year after year, but never win.

What are they looking for?

In his will, Alfred Nobel stipulated that the prize should go to the writer of the “most outstanding work in an idealistic direction”. The Academy “spent decades puzzling over what ‘ideal’ meant”, said the FT, before “quietly dropping the criterion”.

Last year, the prize went to Hungarian modernist László Krasznahorkai, for his “compelling and visionary oeuvre that in the midst of apocalyptic terror reaffirms the power of art”. The prize is given to a writer’s body of work, rather than one book.

According to Sapiro, the Academy is looking for ambitious, influential literature that has spawned a new literary movement. The work must also be “universal, being able to transcend its own culture”, she told DW. Translations are key: most laureates are translated into English, French and German – “these three languages are the most important”. It’s also a “major advantage” if nominees have already won other prestigious literary awards, she said, such as the International Man Booker Prize.

So far, only 33 out of 122 laureates have come from outside Europe. Only about 15% of winners have been women, but since 2018, the prize has alternated between a man and a woman. Genre doesn’t seem to matter: in 2016, Bob Dylan won the prize for his song lyrics.

Why is it so controversial?

Possibly the most controversial winner was Peter Handke in 2019. The Austrian writer was a “known denier of the Bosnian genocide”, as well as a “close supporter” of former Serbian president Slobodan Milošević, said Euronews. Hundreds protested, and several countries either condemned the award or boycotted the ceremony. Even Bob Dylan’s fans were “baffled” by his selection.

“The prize is ritually mocked,” said the FT’s Simon Kuper. Because achievement in literature is more subjective than in the sciences, the decision “reliably angers critics”. There is also a “comic discrepancy between the weight of the prize and the parochialism of the judges”. Some of the 18 are “obscure even in Sweden”. They have also awarded eight Nobels to Sweden: more than Asia, Africa or Latin America have each received.

But the prize still “shapes the global canon – even if the globe can push back”. Dylan’s award may have been “ridiculed”, but it “sparked a global debate on what constitutes literature”. The prize can also “turbocharge sales”, which benefits small presses that publish literature in translation. It also gets authors’ names trending on social media, far beyond their countries. In a world where reading is “in decline”, the prize matters more than ever.

Whitney Houston was a cultural icon who sold more than 200 million records.

Yet her achievements “were, and remain, obscured by public interest in her private life: her sexuality, her relationships, her relationship with drugs”, which ultimately contributed to her untimely death in 2012 at the age of just 48, said Liam Kelly in The Telegraph.

This, in part, is what makes her such a “compelling character” for Emily Lordi’s new biography, “Holding Lightning: the Life, Loves and Art of Whitney Houston”.

The version of Houston’s story that has played out time and again in the many books and documentaries produced since her death is of the “wholesome choirgirl” destroyed by her marriage to bad boy singer Bobby Brown in 1992, said The Times’ Victoria Segal. The tale is one of a “sparkling pop princess sliding catastrophically off the rails and into the drug abuse that claimed her health, her voice and, ultimately, her life”.

Refusing to “reduce Houston’s story to another ‘good girl gone bad’ narrative”, Lordi, a critic and professor of English at Vanderbilt University, instead “presents a pluralistic take on her life” in which the singer’s “queerness, drug use and eccentricities are not dismissed as aberrations (as they were in her lifetime) but rather seen in the wider context of her unique talent and the pressures placed on her to embody Black excellence”, said Priya Elan in The Guardian.

Going even further, Lordi “repeatedly and persuasively” makes the case that while she almost never wrote her own material, Houston was an artistic “genius”, said The New York Times culture editor Leah Greenblatt.

While Lordi’s analysis can “tip into academic mode, and she sometimes overreaches in her attempt to make the singer all things to all people”, the book “works eloquently to elevate and re-reframe an icon, and in its best moments also allows her the grace of something she longed for and rarely got to be: life-size”.

Annie Dillard was just 28 when she published a collection of spare, meditative essays drawn from a year’s worth of wandering and watching in the wilds of Virginia’s Roanoke Valley. “A meteorological journal of the mind,” she called the book, in which she ruminated on plants, muskrats, butterflies, and the essential paradox of a natural world defined by beauty “tangled in a rapture with violence.” The 1974 book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, was a sensation, winning Dillard a Pulitzer and a reputation as one of her generation’s top literary voices. Other best sellers included the autobiography An American Childhood and The Writing Life, a discourse on creativity. While the natural world was her abiding theme, she rejected the tag “nature writer,” calling herself instead a theologian pondering the mysteries of God. “I walk out,” she wrote, “I see some event that would otherwise be utterly missed and lost, or something sees me, some enormous power brushes me with its clean wing, and I resound like a beaten bell.”

Born Meta Ann Doak in Pittsburgh, she “grew up in affluent circumstances,” said The Washington Post. A devout reader, she was also “an admitted rebel,” suspended from her private school for smoking. To “smooth off her rough edges,” her parents sent her to what’s now Hollins University, a women’s college near Roanoke. There she married her creative-writing professor, and though the marriage would end, she kept his last name. She wrote a master’s thesis on Thoreau’s classic Walden, then began “exploring the nearby mountains and streams.” After Tinker’s success she was “overwhelmed” by attention, said The New York Times, some of it built on the allure of “a photogenic young woman” probing a subject previously the “province of men with beards.” Repelled, she fled to rural Washington state, then to Connecticut, where she spent 21 years teaching at Wesleyan University.

Over the years she became known “for her tremendous range,” said The Guardian, publishing poems, journalism, essays, and novels. In 2014, she was awarded the National Humanities Medal; soon after, she announced on her website that she could no longer travel and planned to “read and concentrate” at her home on Cape Cod. Her retreat was in line with a message she often told students: that the creative life was an all-or-nothing proposition. If you wish to be a writer, she said, “you can’t be anything else. You must go at your life with a broadax.

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Bring on the burning stoves and the hot-air blast of a roaring oven. Autumn’s new cookbooks are an inspiriting combination of history, practicality, design and, of course, endless attractive recipes.

‘Boucherie’ by Chase Cormier

One-time butcher, now a scholar, Chase Cormier is an ideal documentarian of the indispensable south Louisiana culinary tradition known as boucherie. The term, deep in the rural stretches of the Pelican State, can signify the art of butchering; it can also denote the raucous gatherings in which a pig — or pigs — is slaughtered and its parts processed and preserved for future sustenance.

Cormier is “not sentimental,” said Kitchen Arts & Letters in an email review. Instead, he tells the story of how meat processing has changed over the centuries and how the idea of Cajun food has been “shaped, sold and reinvented.” Personal and regarded from a keen bird’s-eye view, “Boucherie” is a pocket-sized book that has a grand vision. (out now, $23, LSU Press, Amazon)

‘Cookbooking: A Fan’s Guide’ by Debbie Berne

Beauty is not strictly in a successful recipe but also in how the best cookbooks are presented. “Cookbooking,” by designer Debbie Berne who designed innumerable cookbooks and died last December, is a “savory tribute to cookbooks as aesthetic objects,” said Publisher’s Weekly.

The book’s range is astonishing. It touches on iconic tomes like “The Joy of Cooking,” dissects homespun community cookbooks often assembled by-hand and draws the thread from TV show-themed cookbooks to the current wash of food — and very much not-food — celebrity cookbooks. “Cookbooking” presents the finished product with a “lighthearted tone and loose structure,” a “colorful celebration” of a cookbook factor that the genre’s lovers sometimes take for granted. (out now, $30, Hardie Grant, Amazon)

‘Happy Snacking, Don’t Die!: Foraging and Vegan Recipes with Black Forager’ by Alexis Nikole Nelson with Jeanelle Hayner Olson

If you know the Black Forager on social media, you love her — or you should. Alexis Nikole Nelson, the freewheeling, insanely knowledgeable person beyond the handle, debuts her first cookbook, “Happy Snacking Don’t Die,” and as the title intimates, the book is a bounty of charming encouragement and cheeky asides. The “joy Nelson injects into the book makes foraging approachable,” said Emily Conover at ScienceNews.

You will learn that the fruits of the linden tree are akin to an earthier chocolate and that “practicality, safety and play” can coexist, said Bettina Makalintal at Eater. All this while you fumble your way into better trying understand and, yes, consume the plant world gloriously sprouting everywhere around you. (out now, $35, Simon & Schuster, Amazon)

‘Kincentricity: Connecting to Nature with American Indian Food Traditions’ by Enrique Salmón

Enrique Salmón, a Rarámuri (Tarahumara) scholar and professor in the San Francisco Bay Area, trumpets his book’s central tenet, “kincentricity,” as an “Indigenous worldview emphasizing the interconnectedness of all living beings and our responsibility to be good stewards of the planet we share,” said Jamie Feldmar at Saveur.

The book’s introduction, subtitled “Sharing Breath with Our Relatives,” takes the reader on a wander through the kincentricity’s complementary notion, iwigara, the “total interconnectedness and integration of all life in the Sierra Madre [Mountains], physical and spiritual.” You acquire, through Salmón’s clear sense of place, an ethnography of the people tied to this land and then glean, in the ensuing chapters on native foodstuffs like huckleberries, mesquite and stinging nettles, that no matter where you live, plucking the thread that links all life is a right and proper way to exist on this planet. (out now, $35, Rizzoli, Amazon)

‘No. 1 Best Indian Cookbook in the World’ by Meherwan Irani with Jamie Feldmar

Meherwan Irani, owner of a few Chai Pani restaurants in the southern United States along with the spice company Spicewalla, is one of a number of Indian American chefs who have noted the strong parallels between the cooking of the Indian subcontinent and that of the South. In Irani’s debut cookbook, “No. 1 Best Indian Cookbook in the World,” he drives the point home, with a “healthy mix of expected recipes and those likely new to most Americans, allowing readers to explore a wider variety of Indian cuisine,” said Aaron Pahl at Library Journal.

Collards, black-eyed peas and chiles are a few of the through lines between the cuisines. Irani sometimes rams them together in innovative ways. His Sloppy Jai is his adaptation of keema, a spiced ground meat dish, served like a Sloppy Joe as a thrilling, messy sandwich. Proof that “Indian cuisine is not only approachable, but that it’s not that different from what you’re already cooking and eating,” said Alana Al-Hatlani at Southern Living. (out now, $40, Ten Speed Press, Amazon)

‘Gather Around My Table: Simple, Flavorful Recipes from My Global Pantry’ by Kay Chun

Imagine, if you will, those translucent shrimp dumplings, har gow, you snag as a dim sum cart wheels past you. These, though, are dressed with butter and parmesan, like the liveliest comfort pasta you have ever eaten. Welcome to Kay Chun’s recipe-creating world, where you can use her book “Gather Around My Table” as your guide.

There is an effortlessness and an inevitability to how Chun creates dishes. She employs “low-lift but flavor-packed flourishes,” said Makalintal at Eater, to recipes like chicories in a caper-raisin vinaigrette and sticky date snacking cake with the addition of prunes for a double wallop of dried-fruit vigor. All the things you ever wanted to eat, in Chun’s capable hands, were there all along. (Oct. 6, $40, Knopf, Amazon)

‘Daily Dessert: Treats on Repeat’ by Caroline Schiff

Dessert-making need not always be like climbing Kilimanjaro. Sometimes it can be a stroll across a hillock, and celebrated New York City pastry chef Caroline Schiff has written a “book about making baking less annoying and more chill, a boon for anyone who would love baked goods more often but hates the thought of all the fuss,” said Makalintal at Eater.

One steady aspect of frippery-free baking is desserts that keep. Expect clementine snacking cake, granola treated with the flavors of halvah, malted milk chocolate truffles and rosemary-hazelnut shortbreads. A sweet treat should be both for now and later because, as Schiff wrote in the book’s introduction, “around the globe, dessert is, well, just that — daily. Many countries and cultures have joyfully and intentionally built the practice into their everyday lives,” Now it’s your turn. (Oct. 13, $35, Abrams, Amazon)

‘East to East: Recipes and Stories from Mumbai to New York’ by Rachel Gurjar

Forever toggling between the tastes of Mumbai and New York, the recipes of Gurjar, a former editor at Bon Appétit, are like skyscrapers: big-flavored with dependable foundations.

Burrata, served with pistachios and tamarind-glazed roasted grapes, yelps why it will forever be craveable. A chicken Caesar salad receives a deep plane facelift by treating the bird kebab-style. Yes, those are the invigorating spices of chai in that espresso martini and that taco bowl is loaded not with seasoning packet-laced ground beef but spunky lamb keema. The familiar has never been quite so promisingly electroshocked. (Oct. 13, $35, Chronicle Books, Amazon)

The acronym Mice (money, ideology, coercion, ego) is sometimes used to describe what motivates people to betray their countries, said Oliver Bullough in The Guardian. But in Ben Macintyre’s enthralling new “work of true-espionage”, a fresh motivation emerges: erectile dysfunction.

Vladimir Kuzichkin was a KGB agent stationed in Tehran in the aftermath of the 1979 revolution. With the West “on the back foot” there, the Soviets saw an “opportunity to spread their influence south, to a strategic and oil-rich country”.

Kuzichkin’s role was “to further this aim by distributing money, arms and encouragement” to Iran’s communist party. Yet it was a job he loathed. Stressed and under constant surveillance, he was also frustrated by the corruption and incompetence of his colleagues, who’d celebrate each tiny success with “vast quantities of vodka”. All this took a toll on his marriage (to Galina), including on his performance in the bedroom.

Convinced that his problems were caused by an “overly tight foreskin”, Kuzichkin resolved to be circumcised, said Joseph Finder in The New York Times. But to prevent his “impairment” becoming known to his colleagues, he wanted the operation performed in the West.

And so, in October 1981, he entered the British Embassy in Tehran, and offered to “spy for Britain” – thus becoming, as Macintyre notes, the “first spy in history to demand, as the price of defection, the removal of his foreskin”.

Trivial though his motivations seemed, Kuzichkin’s actions had profound consequences, said James Owen in The Times. The Soviets were planning to foment a communist “coup against the ayatollahs, backed up by an armed invasion”; had this come to fruition, the US might have responded with tactical nuclear weapons.

The intelligence Kuzichkin provided alerted the UK and the US to the Soviets’ plan; MI6 informed the ayatollahs, who savagely clamped down on Iran’s communist party, ending any possibility of a coup.

The victory, however, was double-edged, said Clare Mulley in The Spectator. For in administering the “coup de grâce to Soviet aspirations”, MI6 “bolstered a murderous, fundamentalist regime” – with consequences that are still playing out today.

Redwood – named after MI6’s inadvertently humorous codename for the tall Russian – is an “enjoyable caper”, full of “twists, turns, desires, betrayals and unexpected outcomes”. And it serves as a useful reminder that “history is not solely written by great powers”; in some cases, the “very personal choices, desires and decisions” of a flawed individual can be equally important.

Booker Prize judge and Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker said it was a “surprise” that four novels written by men have ended up on this year’s shortlist of six – because, “generally speaking, the male-written books weren’t as good as the ones written by women”. The male authors still in the running for the prestigious 2026 literary award are those who are able to “rethink their roles”.

‘Masculine authority in crisis’

This year’s shortlisted authors span a “generational arc”, stretching from 40-year-old Rebecca Perry to the “81-year-old veteran of experimental speculative fiction” M. John Harrison, said Johanna Thomas-Corr in The Times. Men outnumber women but the “novels’ subject matter” is “more revealing” than any author’s “identity characteristics”. An “overarching theme” emerges: “masculine authority in crisis – and discomfort”. These are tales of fathers, sons and husbands who are “struggling to inhabit the roles, structures and stories that are supposed to contain them”.

Luke Kennard’s brilliantly funny campus novel, “Black Bag”, sees an out-of-work actor paid to lurk inside a “leather suit bag, as status and confidence evaporate”, while Douglas Stuart “examines the weight of male expectation” in “John of John”, a story about a young gay art student who returns to his repressive home in the Hebrides. In “The Disappearers”, Marlon James charts how masculinity is “brutally policed” in a murderous homophobic attack in 1980s Jamaica. And “The End of Everything", Harrison’s “unsettling” post-apocalyptic tale, “tests the masculine survivalist fantasy of practical competence”.

The female authors on the list also turn their lens on male characters: with “domestic precision”, Elizabeth Strout portrays an increasingly isolated husband in “The Things We Never Say”, while in “May We Feed the King”, Perry follows a “reluctant medieval monarch who inherits the ultimate ‘great man’ role without wanting it”.

None of the books fulfill expectations of what a “male” novel is meant to be. Instead, they reject the very things that male protagonists would once have taken “for granted”, from sexual legitimacy and paternal authority to economic security and “mastery of the world”.

‘Are men OK?’

Last year’s winner, David Szalay’s “Flesh”, a rags-to-riches story about a Hungarian man catapulted into the world of the super-wealthy, sparked much debate about “literary fiction’s renewed interest in masculinity”, said Anthony Cummins in The Observer. This year’s list will only intensify the discussion, “the theme of which might be summed up as: are men OK?”

Some of the writers are “playfully experimental” and I’m glad to see Kennard’s “howlingly funny” book made the cut. His is the “most purely enjoyable” read and contains the “single best scene of any of the novels on the list (if you’ve read it you’ll know the one I’m talking about)”. I found the politics in Strout’s book about a history teacher living through “the second coming” of Donald Trump “too unsubtle”, and Perry and Kennard, “the juniors in the pack”, have “better novels to come”. If “seduced by heft”, the judges might opt for James’ “gruelling saga” but “I suspect it’s the straightforward page-turning jeopardy” of Stuart’s “John of John” that will scoop the top prize.

I’m betting on “British oddball” Harrison, said Lucy Thynne in The Telegraph. This is the first time the octogenarian cult sci-fi writer has got “so much as a look-in” at the Booker, and, if he takes the gong, he’ll be the “oldest winner in its history”. His “stunningly weird vision of the collapse of England” is a “cut above” the other contenders. “I would love it to win”.

Revenge, for Charles Spencer, is “best served in a primetime television slot with the merest hint of a smirk and, where appropriate, a few tears”, said The Times.

Princess Diana’s brother, the 9th Earl Spencer, sat down with Laura Kuenssberg for a 30-minute interview on the BBC and expanded on a series of controversial allegations set out in his new memoir, “Swan Song: Diana, My Sister”.

‘Gaslit by the King’

Perhaps the most shocking claim in the book relates to a comment allegedly made by King Charles, then the Prince of Wales, in 1997 in the days immediately after his wife Diana’s death.

During a heated telephone call discussing the funeral arrangements, and specifically whether Prince William and Prince Harry, then aged 15 and 12, should walk in the procession, Spencer claims that Charles “hissed” the words “we’ll forget her soon enough”. The earl told Kuenssberg “I’m telling the truth” and described the alleged comment as “monstrous”.

He also alleges that Charles sounded “giddily elated” on the phone shortly after receiving news that Diana had been killed in a car crash in Paris. Spencer speculated that this was because the King would now be free to marry Camilla. When Kuenssberg asked him whether he could be certain this was what Charles was thinking, he responded: “I cannot be sure, I’m saying that’s what I assume from his tone was a possibility.”

Buckingham Palace issued a statement on behalf of the King suggesting that “fraternal grief can cloud reason, affect judgment and colour memory in ways others do not recognise, even many years after such a loss”.

The response was “astonishingly provocative and below the belt”, the earl told The Mail on Sunday. “It is not every day you wake up to find you’ve been gaslit by the King,” he said, calling the statement a “rather poor imitation” of the late Queen’s “‘recollections may vary’ quote”.

‘Cancerous’ tabloids

Beyond the headline-grabbing claims, Spencer’s memoir also reveals details of a deeply unhappy marriage. Diana allegedly told a friend in the days before their wedding in 1981 that Charles had told her he was “very happy to marry her” but that he was “not actually in love with her” and she was sure his “heart was elsewhere”.

Spencer also alleges that Charles contributed to Diana’s eating disorder by squeezing her waist soon after their engagement and saying, “Oh, a bit chubby here, aren’t we?” As her doubts grew, the earl claims she went to their father to ask to break off the engagement but he refused, believing it would embarrass the royal family. After the marriage went ahead, Diana allegedly drove to Beachy Head on several occasions “while contemplating ending it all”.

According to Spencer, Diana was also “dreadfully hurt” by the “petty and vindictive” removal of her HRH title following her divorce from Charles. On the day of her funeral, the Queen allegedly offered to restore the title posthumously, but her brother declined the offer, saying it was a “consolation prize”. He says he told Robert Fellowes, the Queen’s private secretary, “what’s the point, Robert? Now? I mean – Diana’s dead.”

He also claims there was a “lack of obvious care” for 12-year-old Harry, who seemed “so very alone in his despair and torment” following his mother’s death, and suggests the prince was “allowed to spin out of control”. When asked by Kuenssberg how he feels about the Duke and Duchess of Sussex now, he expressed concerns over their security and the “cancerous influence” that tabloid newspaper articles can have. “It would really be beholden on people to learn from Diana’s example.”

Anita Brookner was in her early 50s when she began writing fiction. She was a respected art critic, and unmarried. Anthony Blunt, her boss and mentor at the Courtauld Institute (where she was a lecturer), had just been exposed as a Soviet spy. “Reeling”, depressed and lonely, she found herself writing what would become “A Start in Life” (1981), said Lucy Atkins in The Guardian. It established a “process” that she stuck to religiously over the next two decades.

“Each novel took only three months from start to finish. She’d roam London forming sentences in her head, then simply write them down, at speed.” The novels sold well, and her fourth, “Hotel du Lac”, won the 1984 Booker Prize. But there was also much carping from male critics about how they were all about “sad spinsters” pining for love. (Private Eye called it “Hotel du Lac of Interest”.) Ten years on from Brookner’s death, aged 87, Hermione Lee has written an “astute and tireless” biography bringing this “intriguing, contradictory” figure to life.

Brookner was extraordinarily private, and did her best, as she put it, to “leave no trace”, said Johanna Thomas-Corr in The Times. She destroyed all her private papers. With “heroic” scholarly devotion, Lee pieces her life together from the scraps of evidence that remain: her alienating upbringing, an only child in a large extended family of Polish-Jewish émigrés in south London; a few “intoxicating years” in post-war Paris; an unwanted return to London to care for her “increasingly demanding, ailing mother”. Lee scours Brookner’s “few appointment diaries” for liaisons with possible lovers – such as the art historian Michael Jaffé and the publisher Christopher MacLehose. And while the “narrative suffers in the second half”, with “dutiful summaries of Brookner’s 25 novels”, overall it displays the “rigour and authority” that made Lee’s previous lives – of Penelope Fitzgerald and Tom Stoppard, among others – so “indispensable”.

This is indeed a “tremendous” biography, full of striking details about Brookner’s quirks, said Laura Cumming in The Observer. (She often lied about her age, was a “slavish” fan of Philip Roth, and “never missed” “The Archers” or “The Bill”.) Lee describes her appearance brilliantly: “When she was young, she looked old and, when old, she became ageless.”

Lee’s portrait of this “recalcitrant” subject is “gripping and illuminating”, said Lucy Scholes in the Financial Times. “One likes to think that, while she might not have fully approved, Brookner would nevertheless admire the result.”

The modern history of civilization provides ample, almost endless, inspiration for writers, who can draw on both well-known and obscure events to build dazzling narratives. From classic works to recent and more structurally daring standouts, historical fiction remains one of writing’s most popular forms.

‘A Tale of Two Cities’ by Charles Dickens (1859)

Some classic works of literature from centuries ago were themselves works of historical fiction, perhaps none more beloved than Charles Dickens’ sprawling saga “A Tale of Two Cities.” Set against the backdrop of events prior to, during and after the French Revolution, it’s the story of Lucie Manette and her two suitors, the wealthy Frenchman Charles Darnay and the melancholy English lawyer Sydney Carton, who bear a physical resemblance to one another that serves the plot machinations at key moments. “Epic in historical scale, it is also an intimate book, showing how the personal and political intermingle and what the causes and effects of violence are,” said Anita Sethi at The Guardian.

‘Cities of Salt’ by Abdelrahman Munif (1984)

Abdelrahman Munif’s haunting novel traces the rapid transformation of an unnamed Gulf country into a petrostate starting in the 1930s. Set in an oasis called Wadi Al-Uyoun, its historical arc begins with the arrival of American surveyors and concludes with the transformation of Harran from a sleepy fishing port to a kind of Dubai, casting a critical eye on corruption and the ways that Gulf societies were warped by such a sudden change. This “timely and intelligent novel” brilliantly “captures the confusion and, in the end, the sadness wrought by sudden change, by greed and by two peoples who understand too little of each other,” said David Lamb at the Los Angeles Times.

‘Blood Meridian: or the Evening Redness in The West’ by Cormac McCarthy (1985)

The Kid is an illiterate 14-year-old runaway with a “taste for mindless violence” who gets swept up in the gruesome rampage of the Glanton gang, led by the hairless, philosophizing sociopath Judge Holden. “The Judge” dispenses wisdom like “moral law is an invention of mankind for the disenfranchisement of the powerful in favor of the weak” as he commits unspeakable crimes.

The gang hunts members of the Apache tribe and sells their scalps at the behest of the Mexican government, and Cormac McCarthy’s unrelenting novel follows its members around Mexico and the American Southwest during the 1840s. This “extraordinary poetic novel” serves as an “exploration, at times explicitly philosophical, of the relationship between culture and violence,” said Andrew Hislop at the Times Literary Supplement.

‘Lonesome Dove’ by Larry McMurtry (1985)

Larry McMurtry’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel is regarded as one of the finest novels of the American frontier. Augustus “Gus” McCrae and Woodrow Call are former rangers living in the titular border town in Texas when a former colleague, Jake Spoon, convinces them to pick up and move to the Montana Territory. Driving a herd of stolen cattle, the novel depicts their often violent and brutal journey from the Mexican border to Montana less as a heroic embodiment of the American spirit and more as a slow-moving tragedy. A “crushingly brutal” book, in McMurtry’s world “there’s also love and humor and heroism” in the air “despite the copious death,” said Nate Rogers at the Los Angeles Review of Books.

‘Wolf Hall’ by Hilary Mantel (2009)

Hilary Mantel’s “Wolf Hall” is the kind of sensation that pushed through the boundaries between literature and pop culture. The book is a fictionalized account of the erratic and emotional Henry VIII’s history-altering divorce and then marriage to Anne Boleyn, told through the eyes of the king’s adviser Thomas Cromwell.

The book follows this story for the critical eight years between 1527 and 1535, which led to the enduring schism that created the Church of England. An “expansive novel that unfolds in bits of gossip and dreamlike flashback,” this revisionist portrait of Thomas Cromwell “could forever alter him in the popular imagination,” said Macy Halford at The New Yorker.

‘The Luminaries’ by Eleanor Catton (2013)

Eleanor Catton’s “The Luminaries” burst onto the literary scene by making her the winner of the prestigious Booker Prize for fiction at the age of 28. Set in 1866 New Zealand, it follows Walter Moody, a gold prospector who meets twelve local notables convening in his hotel to discuss a series of strange events, from disappearances and murders to a cache of stolen gold, that have engulfed the town.

The events are recounted from each of the locals’ perspectives and at 832 pages, it remains the longest Booker Prize winner. It’s a novel that is “trying both to revive plot as a literary mode and to consider what a storyline looks like in our real, unplotted life, in which things reveal themselves to have a shape only in retrospect,” said B.D. McClay at The New Yorker.

‘The Underground Railroad’ by Colson Whitehead (2016)

Colson Whitehead blends both science fiction and history with “Underground Railroad,” which imagines the slavery-era patchwork of safe houses and escape routes as a literal underground railroad. Cora, the granddaughter of a woman kidnapped from West Africa and sold into slavery, flees her captor’s plantation, plunging her into the book’s alternate steampunk reality where she is pursued by the merciless slave catcher Ridgeway. It is “essential reading, forcing us to examine the chasms that we have willingly created and maintained in our attempts to wrestle with the gravity of atrocity and turn away from our own roles in mythologizing its content and consequences,” said The Book Habit.

‘Great Circle’ by Maggie Shipstead (2021)

Maggie Shipstead sets her novel in two timelines. In one, we follow the exploits of an aviator named Marian Graves, from her impoverished Montana childhood to her improbable career as a fearless pilot, which culminates in an attempt to circumnavigate the globe. The second follows Hadley Baxter, a troubled actress who has signed on to star in a biopic of Graves after her journal from the grand flight is found.

Shipstead’s electrifying novel spans decades and brings the period of early aviation to thrilling life, in the process touching on themes of women’s empowerment and struggle. A novel that “starts high and maintains altitude,” it “grasps for and ultimately reaches something extraordinary,” said Lynn Steger Strong at The New York Times.

‘Matrix’ by Lauren Groff (2021)

The best historical fiction gives readers a visceral sense of what it might have been like to be alive at different points in history, something Lauren Groff excels at with “Matrix.” In Groff’s imagining, the real figure of Marie de France is a gangly teenager exiled by her lover, Eleanor of Aquitaine, to oversee a dreary English abbey sometime during the 12th century.

Marie painstakingly builds the abbey into a regional power center to which notables must pay their respects. Loosely based on real-life figures and events, “Matrix” is a “highly distinctive novel of great vigor and boldness” that plunges readers into everything from “mystical visions that may or may not be divine, to the earthy business of abbey pigs, diseases and account books,” said Alexandra Harris at The Guardian.

It’s been over two decades since a “brown furry beast with purple prickles all over his back” made children’s book author Julia Donaldson a “household name”, said Laura Harding in The Independent. Now, she is back with a third instalment in her “witty and smart” Gruffalo series. “Gruffalo Granny” sees the Gruffalo and his daughter venture into the “deep dark wood” to source and prepare a special meal for grandma. Donaldson’s prose is as “pleasing as it ever was” and her long-time collaborator Axel Scheffler turns in some “incomparable” illustrations. “It was worth the wait.”

Donaldson is no one-beast wonder, though; she has written plenty of other enchanting children’s books. Here are our top picks.

Stick Man

This tale about a stick who is torn away from his family and must make an “Odyssean journey” home is “just about as epic as picture books get”, said Stuart Heritage in The Guardian. At one point, he approaches “what seems like certain death” – an “impressive” moment “in any story” but “doubly so” in a book for toddlers.

The Snail and the Whale

It’s “impossible” to separate Donaldson’s rhyming text about a tiny snail who hitches a ride on the tail of a whale from Scheffler’s incredible pictures, said Heritage in The Guardian. “Quite frankly, the whole thing reads like a love letter between them.” It’s one of their “very best” collaborations.

The Highway Rat

A “greedy rat” rides along the highway, terrorising other animals and stealing their food in this “swaggeringly illustrated” book, said Marianne Levy in The i Paper. “Nuts, milk, clover – nothing is safe from his dastardly paws”. That is, until he crosses paths with a “devious duck who lures him into an echoing trap”. Donaldson herself has said this gallopingly rhythmic tale is one of her favourites.

The Paper Dolls

No Scheffler artwork on this one but Rebecca Cobb’s “gentle illustrations” are the perfect accompaniment for this “exquisitely subtle” story, said Levy in The i Paper. A chain of paper dolls “dance through the house and garden, singing”, until a boy “snips them into confetti”. He thinks they’re “gone for ever” but he’s wrong: the dolls “have flown into the little girl’s memory”, where they dance on. “Are you crying yet?”

The Gruffalo

Our list would, of course, not be complete without mentioning “The Gruffalo”. Published in 1999, it quickly became a “publishing phenomenon”, said Sophie Knight in Closer. The “simplicity” of the tale about a “clever mouse escaping the clutches” of other animals by inventing a terrifying monster, combined with Scheffler’s “wonderful” pictures, have kept it a “firm family favourite” ever since.

Barbara Cartland, like most successful writers, was a creature of routine. Every day, between 1.15pm and 4pm, she would recline on a chaise longue, “clad in brilliant pink, hair a platinum helmet”, and dictate around 7,000 words to a secretary while “fondling a Pekingese”, said Wendy Holden in Literary Review.

By these means, she churned out roughly 20 novels a year – more than 700 over the course of her lifetime – and sold 750 million copies, a figure “exceeded only by Shakespeare and Agatha Christie”.

While her “tales of virgins and sheikhs, pirates and princesses” were devoured across the world, they proved especially durable in the Middle East: “Arab men,” she noted, “can’t get enough of the sort of girl I write about.”

It would be easy simply to mock Cartland, but the journalist and broadcaster Matthew Sweet avoids this trap in “The Great Dictator”. Without skipping over her faults, he “gives her virtues full credit” and treats her as a figure of “cultural and historical importance”. The result is a “fantastically enjoyable, drily hilarious and incredibly well-researched biography”.

Cartland may have had a “marshmallowy exterior”, but Sweet shows in this “brilliant book” that behind it “lurked sinews of high-tensile steel”, said Kathryn Hughes in The Guardian.

Coming of age just after the First World War, at a time when there “were not enough husbands to go around”, she resolved to be “financially self-sufficient”.

She spent the 1920s working as a gossip columnist, reporting on the escapades of the Bright Young Things, before making a “tactical marriage to a dull man called Alexander McCorquodale”, who proved to be an alcoholic. Divorcing him after having a daughter, Raine (the future Countess Spencer, stepmother to Diana, Princess of Wales), she “effected a neat swap” by marrying his paternal cousin, which meant she didn’t even need to change her surname. In 1950, the pair settled in Camfield Place, a manor house in Hertfordshire, where she lived until her death in 2000, aged 98.

“Sweet writes with great wit and brio but also considerable sympathy,” said Lynn Barber in The Observer. He points out that Cartland was a “great organiser”. While clothes were rationed during the Second World War, she set up a scheme to lend wedding dresses to Auxiliary Territorial Service brides. Later, she led a campaign to create a reservation for Gypsies near Camfield Place: “Barbaraville” opened in 1963 and “remains to this day”. It is, Sweet suggests, “perhaps her most lasting achievement”.

Jean-Georges Vongerichten, the prolific chef and restaurateur in New York City, operates more than 45 restaurants around the world and has written five cookbooks. All of his books capture the remarkable way he merges simplicity and elucidative flavor combinations. His fourth book, 2011’s “Home Cooking with Jean-Georges ($40),” does so in a particularly utilitarian fashion.

Cooking with eyes wide open

Vongerichten’s five-ingredient watermelon salad, for example, is a ferocious overturning of how to think about a favorite fruit. The rich funk of the blue cheese and resonant twang of freshly ground black pepper convince the watermelon to let its sweetness glow. The fruit’s juicy core tangoes with extra-virgin olive oil’s grassy unctuousness. Pop, pop goes a dusting of flaky salt.

In the recipe’s intro, Vongerichten offhandedly notes the salad “tastes even better when the watermelon is cold and the cheese is room temperature and soft.” Texture steps into the spotlight and turns a sublime recipe all the grander. Vongerichten tosses this intel at the reader as an aside. He cannot help himself. Wisdom plops out of him like ice in a sleet storm.

Such is how “Home Cooking with Jean-Georges” flows. This is a book in which the tricks, takeaways and techniques are embedded in the recipes themselves. Parmesan chicken teaches you that breadcrumbs are extraneous when you grate Parmesan on both large and small holes on a grater, coat chicken breasts with it, bake, and, whammo, savory, textural contrast without the filler.

You might in no other cookbook see someone add a stick and a half of butter to boiling water to cook mustard greens. Then you eat those greens, all silky, their jagged acerbity mellowed after four minutes of boiling, and you shake your head in confounded appreciation.

Famous chef, best-in-class writer

A chef creating a cookbook is only as reliable as their writer. For “Home Cooking,” Vongerichten enlisted one of the finest recipe writer-developers in the game, Genevieve Ko, who is currently an editor at The New York Times.

Ko ensured the recipe’s instructions in this book were as pristine and legible as Vongerichten’s cooking is nimble and gleaming. A watermelon salad can say so much and teach so readily if its quiddities are conveyed with precision. Effortlessness has perhaps never been presented with such rigor.

“What a challenge”, said Liz Else in New Scientist. Penning the “first major biography” of Stephen Hawking with the theoretical physicist’s estate and the “whole scientific world” all “watching closely to see the result”. But science writer Graham Farmelo has pulled it off. “Kudos all round.”

Farmelo paints a “comprehensive and accessible portrait” of Hawking as an “extraordinarily determined man” who had a darker side to which the public and scientific community “mostly turned a blind eye”, said Philip Ball in The Guardian.

The “uncomfortable but unavoidable truth” is that Hawking’s refusal to give scientific credit to others, sexism and “controlling behaviour” were largely “ignored because of his disability”. “I think it is indeed going to take us years to process that.”

Farmelo first covers the science which offers a “genuinely inspirational tale”. Hawking’s work on black-hole thermodynamics would have been “impressive by any measure”. But achieving it while living with “debilitating and ultimately paralysing” motor neurone disease is remarkable.

The “problematic stuff” emerges from “those closest to him”. His friends at Oxford found him “lazy and entitled”; his youngest son said his father never let him win at board games as a child; and his “unsparing ridicule” of the religious beliefs of his first wife, Jane, contributed to the unravelling of their marriage. We also learn how “scandalously bad” he was at acknowledging the work of others, something that became clear early on when he “failed to indicate his debt” to the physicist Roger Penrose.

This pattern of “accepting more than his fair share of credit” certainly “ruffled feathers” in the scientific community, said John Gribbin in Literary Review. But in person he was “gregarious and generous” to his students.

Farmelo gives non-scientists a “good sense” of why Hawking’s work matters, including “succinct discussions of how black holes evaporate” and the “nature of gravitational waves”. But his book also puts the facts into “context”. The result is an “absorbing and informative account of the life of the most interesting physicist of the second half of the 20th century”.

The chemical compound 5-MeO-DMT, secreted by the Sonoran Desert toad, has been dubbed the “Everest” of psychedelics, said Olivia Goldhill in New Scientist. Whereas LSD creates hallucinations, the “god molecule”, as some call it, “completely shatters all perception”. A trip lasts no more than half an hour but “creates a total obliteration of the ego”.

Smoking 5-MeO-DMT has been a fringe practice since the 1980s but it has recently become better known – with adherents including Mike Tyson, who in 2019 described taking the drug as “almost like dying and being reborn”. In “The Ego Trip”, the journalist Kimon de Greef charts its history, with a particular focus on one of its main popularisers, the Mexican doctor Octavio Rettig Hinojosa. The story de Greef tells is “often dark” but his book is “compelling”.

Rettig Hinojosa – or Octavio, as he prefers – “burst onto the Silicon Valley scene” in 2013, when he gave an online talk describing how 5-MeO-DMT had helped him kick his crack cocaine addiction, said Kristen Martin on Bloomberg. Presenting “smoking toad” as an “ancient Mesoamerican ritual”, he claimed to have been introduced to it by the Seri tribe, who live in the Sonora region of northwestern Mexico. Often dressed in “Seri garb”, he went on to “serve toad” to thousands.

“If you’re familiar with the guru playbook, you know where this is going,” said Susannah Cahalan in The New York Times. Octavio “bragged about the number of clients he had bedded” and dosed children as young as five with his “medicine”. He was filmed “kicking and slapping a terrified man”, forcing him to take more hits of toad. At least two people have died after attending his ceremonies. De Greef offers an “enthralling and galling travelogue into the deeply weird underbelly of the psychedelic renaissance”.

“A different writer might have been tempted to go gonzo, to smoke toad himself, and to come back with stories of ego death, the space-time continuum and the rest of it,” said Oliver Bullough in The Guardian. Mercifully, de Greef resists that temptation. He remains “clear-eyed” throughout “The Ego Trip” (except when Octavio dupes him into trying an “essential oil” which proves to have been laced with an LSD-like substance). As well as charting Octavio’s story, de Greef offers “entertaining digressions”, including into “how pharmaceutical companies are harnessing 5-MeO-DMT for their own ends”. The result is a “highly enjoyable” book that sheds light on some extremely “grim” practices.

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The Mediterranean is a place, a mood, a cooking ethos. Twenty-two countries border the cherished body of water, each with its own specialized manner of feeding their people. These books are no comprehensive consideration of every kitchen in the Mediterranean. But they sure are an exhilarating starting point.

‘The Food of Morocco’ by Paula Wolfert

Wolfert’s original book on Moroccan food was published in 1973, far ahead of its time in its insistence on the proper way to cook the food of the North African country. In 2011, she published an even more deeply considered version of that landmark book. “The Food of Morocco” is “hardly the quintessential Paula Wolfert cookbook,” said LA Weekly. “This book is Paula Wolfert.”

Her influence in the intervening decades was immense. The popularity of clay pots for cooking and the ubiquity of preserved lemons in many an American kitchen are all Wolfert’s doing. With “The Food of Morocco,” tagines of all sorts, lively salads with touches of flower water, and the proper way to make couscous can become second nature in American kitchens far from the shores of Rabat and Tangier. ($60, HarperCollins, Amazon)

‘The Food of Sicily’ by Fabrizia Lanza

Italy points its finger well into the Mediterranean Sea, but you could argue that the region most influenced by that body of water is the island of Sicily. Lanza runs a cooking school in Palermo, and “The Food of Sicily” (2023) sings a song many Americans know well, being that so many Italian immigrants to the U.S. were Sicilian.

But no entire cuisine travels with its migrants, so “The Food of Sicily” is loaded with surprises, too — swordfish stuffed with garlic and mint, octopus salad, and watermelon pudding included. Sicily has “always been at the crossroads of the Mediterranean,” said Lanza to Monocle magazine. “It’s a place where people have brought their own unique customs to enrich our table.” ($40, Artisan, Amazon)

‘The Glorious Foods of Greece’ by Diane Kochilas

Love your Greek salad and gyros to your heart’s oregano-laced content. There is a world of Greek food most Americans have never experienced. A “landmark for Greek cooking in the U.S.,” Kochilas' seminal 2001 book, “The Glorious Foods of Greece,” is the result of eight years of research across the country’s varied regions, from the mountains of Macedonia and Thrace in the north to Greece’s six main island groups, and “displays a deep grasp of history,” said Publishers Weekly.

The 400-odd recipes include savory pies of all stripes, a mind-boggling array of uses for many styles of cheese, and boundless vegetable dishes. Moussaka, you are adored, but Kochilas will have you seeing Greek cuisine in colors beyond blue and white. ($40, ThriftBooks, Amazon)

‘Istanbul and Beyond: Exploring the Diverse Cuisines of Turkey’ by Robyn Eckhardt

Turkey, a sprawling, varied country, in the hands of Eckhardt and the photographer David Hagerman, is a “picaresque portrait of a country that doesn’t really have a national cuisine at all; it has dozens,” said Max Falkowitz at Saveur. There are the famed Urfa chiles of the country’s southeast, the seafood, greens and corn in the north that edge the Black Sea, and the grand amalgam of influences in Istanbul.

“Istanbul and Beyond” (2017) is organized according to a number of Turkey’s regions, so you acquire a sense of place as you deepen your knowledge of Mediterranean cooking. Corn and creme fraiche biscuits, brown butter scrambled eggs, sun-dried tomato and pomegranate salad, and herbed fish cakes — this is Turkish food in its truest, most varied form with an aperture in every recipe. ($22, HarperCollins, Amazon)

‘Lebanon: Cooking the Foods of My Homeland’ by Anissa Helou

In “Lebanon” (2026), a book both personal and anthropological, the famed Beirut-born author Helou “returns to her girlhood roots, examining the country’s regional cooking as she makes her way from place to place,” said The Boston Globe. She learns aspects of her native cuisine she had never fathomed. Imagine, then, what we nonnatives glean.

Yogurt is everywhere, from dressing fava bean fatteh (bread salad) to wee meatballs. Vegetables, like chicory, plus artichokes and potatoes, are braised in extra-virgin olive oil. Zucchini and cabbages are stuffed; fish is cooked with tahini. This is Lebanese cuisine in all its familiar, surprising brilliance. ($50, Ecco, Amazon)

‘The New Book of Middle Eastern Food’ by Claudia Roden

Be not fooled by the title. The Middle East is a construct created by people in the West. Across 500-plus pages, the “great cook” and “captivating food historian” Roden captures the foods of countries like Greece, Lebanon, Morocco, Syria, Tunisia and Turkey, said the blog Cooks Without Borders. What do all these countries have in common? Yes, they abut the Mediterranean Sea, just not the well-trod Mediterranean of the average American tourist.

In the book’s 16 central chapters, Roden wanders from central categories such as yogurt, egg dishes, breads and pickles, showing how the countries of this region prepare stunning variations of common foodstuffs. Your kitchen repertoire will mature as handily as your new lens on geography will if you take an open-eyed tour of “The New Book of Middle Eastern Food” (1985). ($55, Knopf, Amazon)

‘The New Spanish Table’ by Anya von Bremzen

All the hits are here — Spanish tortilla, patatas bravas, various kinds of paella. But “The New Spanish Table” (2005) is also a snapshot of the revolution in cooking that happened across Spain during the early part of the 20th century, an era in which Spanish cuisine began “rapidly usurping the culinary dominance of Italy and France,” said Publishers Weekly.

Von Bremzen spent decades traveling across and writing about Spain. There is both modernity and history in this book. The text profiles the cooking of such influential figures as the Catalan chef Ferran Adrià and the Basque Country’s Juan Mari Arzak and provides recipes for centuries-old dishes from Madrid. ($25, ThriftBooks, Amazon)

Kazimierz Moczarski, the author of this “astonishing” book, was a Polish Resistance officer in the Second World War captured by Stalin’s secret police in 1945, and declared an enemy of the state and incarcerated for 11 years in Warsaw’s Mokotów Prison, said Frances Wilson in The Telegraph.

While there, he “endured 49 different types of torture”, one of which was to share a cell for 255 days in 1949 with the former SS Commander Jürgen Stroop, an “architect of the Holocaust and liquidator of the Warsaw ghetto, now awaiting execution”.

Moczarski, who had once tried to assassinate Stroop, discovered that his cellmate was entirely unrepentant, and willing to discuss his crimes freely. Lacking notebooks, he memorised what he was told and later used those memories to produce “Conversations with an Executioner” – a book first published in a censored edition in Poland in 1977, and only now fully translated into English. Composed largely of dialogue, it offers a unique perspective on the “narcissism of Nazism” – and deserves to be considered a “masterpiece”.

Moczarski, a trained journalist and former law student, “grasped that he had been handed the opportunity of a professional lifetime” when he was forced to bunk up with Stroop, said Roger Boyes in The Times. Guided by Moczarski’s promptings, Stroop told him everything: about his rise through the Nazi ranks; about his time setting up Jewish labour camps in southern Poland; and finally, about how he oversaw the destruction of the Warsaw ghetto in 1943, which he still regarded as a “career high”.

With relish, Stroop recalled “tucking into steak and pommes frites” after spending the day watching flame-throwers being “blasted at Jews in hiding”. Asked if he ever pitied his victims, Stroop replied: “Praise be what hardens.” Superbly translated by Sean Gasper Bye, this book will “gnaw at you like a prison rat”.

Because Moczarski was forced to rely on memory, questions have been raised about the reliability of his account, said Jo Glanville in The Guardian. He argued that imprisonment had so intensified his recollections “that he could replay his conversations with Stroop as if they were a tape recording”. While writing the book after his release in 1956, he “fact-checked Stroop’s version of events” – and found that everything the SS general had told him seemed true. Moczarski died in 1975, two years before his book was finally published. It offers a “remarkable insight into the genesis and mindset of a Nazi war criminal”.

The Week is partnering with Stratford Literary Festival and Dorchester Literary Festival

Autumn is the busiest season of the publishing year, with new books by Richard Osman, Marlon James and Barbara Kingsolver set to hit shelves. That means it’s time to start planning which literary festivals to visit. The UK is home to an array of events where you can meet your favourite authors, attend talks and workshops, discover rising stars and, of course, come away with plenty of reading to keep you busy right through the winter. Here are some of our top picks.

Cheltenham Literature Festival

Launched in 1949, Cheltenham Literature Festival is still going strong over seven decades later. The revered author of “Empire of Pain”, Patrick Radden Keefe, will be discussing his latest book about the mysterious death of a 19-year-old in London with The Sunday Times chief literary critic Johanna Thomas-Corr, and Mary Beard will be making an appearance to examine the surprising ties between antiquity and the present. Budding writers can also book a lively two-hour workshop that will help them finally write their first novel.
cheltenhamfestivals.org; 9–18 October

Durham Book Festival

Pet Shop Boys icon Neil Tennant will join Durham University Chancellor Fiona Hill to talk about how growing up in Newcastle shaped his music, as part of the festival’s “Forged in the North” series. And if you’re interested in life writing, join Louise Doughty and Nicola Wilding to find out how they used letters and photos to examine the complex lives of family members for new memoirs. Bestselling author Susanna Clarke will also be introducing her historic novella, “The Bishop of Durham Attempts to Surrender the City”.
newwritingnorth.com; 9–11 October

Dorchester Literary Festival

Dorchester Literary Festival returns in October for an exciting week of star-studded talks, debates and live events covering everything from poetry to politics. Highlights include Jung Chang discussing the follow-up to her epic memoir, “Wild Swans”; the creator of “Downton Abbey”, Julian Fellowes, reflecting on his glittering, multi-decade career; and bestselling author Victoria Hislop sharing details of her thrilling new novel set in post-war Greece. Don’t miss the literary walk hosted by Mark Chutter, chairman and academic director of the Thomas Hardy Society, followed by a cream tea.
Tickets are on sale from 31 August, and The Week readers can receive a 10% discount using code T4YVJSDM (valid for a maximum of 10 tickets bought before 30 September). dorchesterliteraryfestival.com, 17–24 October

London Literature Festival

Dua Lipa has curated this year’s festival at the Southbank Centre. The pop star and founder of the Service95 Book Club will be hosting a series of conversations with her favourite writers including Zadie Smith. Other literary stars to look out for include “Noughts & Crosses” author Malorie Blackman and the Sudanese Canadian poet Mustafa.
southbankcentre.co.uk; 20 October – 1 November

Stratford Literary Festival

Expect another jam-packed line-up at Stratford Literary Festival this year, with fascinating talks by the likes of Celia Imrie, Greg James and Marina Litvinenko. Baroness Margaret Hodge will be discussing her memoir, “Battle Axe”, and Bonnie Garmus will be talking about her new novel, “Peck and Peck”, about a young man whose life is turned upside down when he lands a job at a prestigious poetry journal. Neill Cameron will also be discussing the latest instalment of his bestselling kids’ graphic novel series “Donut Squad”.

The Week is the Festival’s media partner and there is an inclusive discount on tickets to some events for The Week readers with the code SLFW26A on checkout. stratfordliteraryfestival.co.uk, 29 October–1 November

This summer, Dominic Sessa stars as a young Anthony Bourdain in “Tony”. The “coming-of-age” film set during a summer restaurant job which “helped shape the beloved late chef and TV host into the icon he ultimately became”, said Deadline.

Alongside his work as a chef and presenter, Bourdain was also “one of the best food memoirists of all time”, said Izzy Titherington in The i Paper. His “seminal” 2000 book “Kitchen Confidential” opened readers’ eyes with an “unfiltered” portrayal of “work in professional kitchens”, including everything from poor food practices to his own “struggles with drug use”. Here are some of our other favourite culinary memoirs.

‘Blood, Bones, and Butter’ by Gabrielle Hamilton

“If Bourdain wrote like a rock star, Hamilton writes like a poet,” said Abhya Adlakha in Esquire India. She rose to fame at the helm of Prune, which she described as a “tiny restaurant with 30 seats and a kitchen the size of a school bus”. Bourdain called her “magnificent” book “simply the best memoir by a chef ever. Ever.” The sentences are “so beautiful you forget to be impressed that she's also feeding people”. The opening to her work, describing a lamb roast in a New Jersey field, with her “bohemian mother in espadrilles” is “one of the great first chapters in American memoir, full stop”.

‘The Devil in the Kitchen: Sex, Pain, Madness and the Making of a Great Chef’ by Marco Pierre White

This memoir is simply “exhilarating”, said Titherington in The i Paper. White gives us an insight into the “obsession and sacrifice” behind his journey as the “youngest-ever chef in the UK (and the youngest anywhere at the time) to earn three Michelin stars – and then the first to give them all back”. We follow him through his working-class upbringing in Leeds, dealing with the death of his mother when he was six, and his subsequent “rise as one of the culinary world’s original rock-star chefs”.

‘Cellar Rat’ by Hannah Selinger

“If you harbour romantic ideals of what it’s like to work in a fast-paced, high-pressure restaurant, here’s a reality check,” said Jim Webster in Smithsonian Magazine. Hannah Selinger’s memoir explores her years working in some of the “most recognisable temples of gastronomy” in New York. For all the adrenaline, in a professional kitchen “drama can be more like trauma, and a lot of the actual romance falls far short of ideal”. She tells “raw” stories, “names names” and “takes responsibility for many of the things that happen along the way”, in adventures that are “as believable as they are heartbreaking”.

‘Accidentally on Purpose’ by Kristen Kish

Having grown up as a South Korean adoptee in the American Midwest, Kish “interlaces kitchen anecdotes, the rigours of culinary school and restaurant life with deeper reckonings about identity, belonging and love”, said Saskia Kemsley in The Standard. Still only 42, Michelin‑trained Kish won the 10th season of “Top Chef”, and, most recently, became the “Emmy‑nominated host of the show she once watched as a young child”. She writes “candidly” about coming out, the “pressures and pleasures of professional kitchens, and how comfort can take shape in both food and relationships”. This is not just about the prodigal rise of a chef, but a “reflective account of how an unpredictable life can resolve into purpose on its own terms”.

‘Salt, Sweat & Steam: The Fiery Education of an Accidental Chef’ by Brigid Washington

In Washington’s “fast-moving coming-of-age” memoir, there are “injuries, flirtations, squabbles, name-drops, and dishes gone awry”, said Bettina Makalintal in Eater. It has been described as “‘The Devil Wears Prada’ for the ‘yes chef’ generation”. The work explores her “gruelling” days at the Culinary Institute of America, where she “reluctantly chose to enrol after a breakup pushes her to get out of North Carolina”. She reconstructs “vivid scenes” and recalls distant characters “with a sense of ease”. This book will appeal to “anyone who’s been curious about culinary school but hasn’t made the commitment themself. You might even learn a few things.”

By the time he won the Literature Nobel in 2010, Mario Vargas Llosa, the Peruvian novelist who died last year aged 89, had come to be regarded as the “Julio Iglesias of contemporary fiction”, said Nicholas Shakespeare in The Spectator.

For six decades he’d “defined headlines”: a global celebrity, owing not least to his “turbulent private life”, the winner of “numerous literary prizes” (some awarded “for mere famousness”, in the words of a critic). As Gerald Martin puts it in this biography, Llosa was a “literary adventurer, politician, diplomat and warrior” in one.

Politically, he had shifted from communist student to “reverential supporter of Thatcher and Reagan” – and come close to Peru’s presidency. Personally, he was an iron-willed, selfish man motivated by resentment and revenge.

It all began with “a whopping lie”, said Maya Jaggi in The New Statesman. Born in 1936, the Nobel laureate spent his first 10 years living with his mother and her snobby family, believing that his father, a merchant seaman, was dead; then, aged 11, he was told that his father was not only alive, but coming to live with them.

Ernesto Vargas proved to be a tyrant who beat his “spoiled son”. Thus, as Martin puts it, “10 ostensibly idyllic years without a father” were followed by 10 brutal years with one. His subsequent experiences – at a cadet school in Lima, a spell as a reporter on a crime beat – would feed his “brilliant early novels”; later, his decision to elope, aged 19, with his uncle’s sister-in-law inspired his 1977 novel “Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter”. Portrayed here as a cynical love rat, he dumped Julia to marry his cousin Patricia, 10 years his junior and “practically his sister”.

Martin believes that his “sadistic and often pornographic” fantasies about his “Lima Lolita” fuelled his 1966 novel “The Green House”. Fifty years on, he abruptly left Patricia for the socialite Isabel Preysler (Iglesias’ ex).

Martin – also the biographer of Gabriel García Márquez, with whom Llosa spectacularly fell out – has written a “genuinely critical life”, said Pratinav Anil in The Guardian. He “restores the women whom Llosa reduced to literary raw material”, and argues the writer was never really a socialist, so much as beguiled by a socialist he met at college (Lea Barba).

The book has flaws, said Ian Thomson in Literary Review. There are too many exclamation marks and the writing “can be breathy”. Still, it is a “considerable achievement”: “gossipy, erudite and deeply researched”, it will be the “last word on the man who wanted to be the most famous writer in the Hispanic world since Cervantes”.

While promoting his latest blockbuster, filmmaker Christopher Nolan listed scholar Emily Wilson’s translation of “The Odyssey” as one of his influences. Now, Wilson’s scathing critique of Nolan’s cinematic take on the epic poem has gone viral, inspiring additional backlash from critics and academics alike. Amid the heated controversy over one of the year’s biggest films, there may be a silver lining to the discourse.

Why Wilson trashed Nolan’s adaptation

Wilson’s expertise in the classics is undeniable. She is also no stranger to backlash. In 2017, she became the first woman to translate “The Odyssey” from ancient Greek into English, an interpretation “widely celebrated in academia and the literary world” as “comprehensive, modern in sensibilities and faithful” to Homer’s almost 3,000-year-old classic, said The New York Times. Her translation departs from the “masculine framing used by her male predecessors,” a move that has “subjected her to online harassment and misogyny from men and far-right figures.”

Before Nolan’s movie premiered, Wilson was “pumped” to see how the epic played out on the big screen, she said on The New York Times’ The Daily podcast. However, after seeing Nolan’s adaptation, Wilson said she would be “ashamed to have written any part of this script” at The London Review of Books. The film had “nothing convincing to say,” it lacked “psychological, emotional, political and ethical depth,” and the “writing is abysmal,” Wilson added. It was a “family-friendly audiovisual spectacle” comparable to an “elaborate Fourth of July fireworks display.”

Most of the nonwhite actors “play versions of the Black best friend, whose only role in the drama is to provide aid to the white protagonist,” Wilson said in her LRB review. She has since expressed regret for this “paragraph about the uses of the POC actors — who are all great, but IMO under-utilized,” Wilson wrote on social media. She still thinks the film “largely wastes its strong cast,” but she “framed it badly.”

A debate reminiscent of the golden era of critics

One of the most prominent figures to come to Nolan’s defense against Wilson was Joyce Carol Oates, a retired professor of the humanities and a prolific writer who has won a National Book Award. Wilson’s “tone of dismissal & haughty superiority strike a sour note,” Oates said on X. Instead of “disagreeing with interpretations of Homer in a collegial manner,” Wilson, who has “benefited enormously from Nolan’s film,” speaks in the “crude language of MAGA folks attacking someone with ideas that differ from hers.” Within the world of translators, Wilson’s review “seems all the more surprising since all translations are, presumably, subjective & not equivalent to the original text.” One would expect a translator to be “just a wee bit more thoughtful & respectful of others who are acting in good faith just as (she would claim) she is.”

Wilson used “baffling arguments” to “flay” Nolan’s adaptation of Homer’s poem, classicist Theo Nash said at Slate. She criticizes Nolan for deviating from the text, “as if the filmmaker’s choices were not also an act of interpretation.” The close attention that informs her translation is “lacking in her reading of the movie,” and the “idea that Nolan might have something new to say about ‘The Odyssey’ is denied.”

Whether or not you agree with Wilson’s perspective, it’s “always exciting to read a particularly full-throated pan,” said critic Kathryn VanArendonk at Vulture. Even if you don’t believe Wilson did her job as a critic, she has “done her job as a writer,” which is to “be a compelling read who makes her argument unmistakably clear.”

Figuring out “who is punching down here is really interesting,” VanArendonk added. Since Wilson has “academic authority” and is “writing with such vigor,” it is “easy to forget that she has less power” than Nolan, a Hollywood darling. That is also “part of the pleasure of the conversation.” Wilson is not interested in “softening any of it.” Still Nolan’s the one who “walks away unscathed, no question.” Of all the topics we could watch people fight about online, “how someone adapted ‘The Odyssey’ is such a good one.”

An AI company has “destroyed” millions of books as part of a “controversial project” to train its models, said City A.M.

Tech giants want to “feed an insatiable demand for training data” but their methods could have serious ramifications for the publishing industry and the quality of future books.

Suspicious orders

The alarm was first raised when antiquarian booksellers in the UK and across Europe started to receive curious requests for thousands of obscure titles from anonymous buyers.

A London-based seller of rare books received two “unusually large” enquiries for specialist books from anonymous email addresses, with “no names or company details attached”, said City A.M. The buyers asked for additional photographs of the books before placing sizeable orders.

When the bookseller asked the purchasers “who they were and where the books were going, neither replied”. The retailer suspects the orders were placed by AI companies.

According to recent court documents, Anthropic, the developer behind Claude, launched an internal programme known as “Project Panama”, which concluded that books were “essential” for training advanced AI models.

One senior executive at the AI giant said that books taught systems “how to write well”, as opposed to using “low-quality internet speak”. The company bought millions of second-hand books, “sliced off their spines” using “industrial cutting machines”, scanned every page and recycled the rest.

Internal planning documents at Anthropic also showed bosses wanted to keep the programme secret, said Futurism. One executive said: “We don’t want it to be known that we are pursuing this project,” according to those recent court documents.

Orders have also come from Canadian company Zoom Books, according to AA, but the company has denied participating in the digitisation and destruction of books for AI development.

‘Legal loopholes’

This trend has “raised fresh concerns about copyright and the future of physical books”, said AA. But dealing with the issue could be quite another matter; copyright violations are “difficult to prove in court” because of “legal loopholes”.

Thomas Koch, of the German Publishers and Booksellers Association, said it “appears to be yet another example of AI companies using vast quantities of copyright-protected works to train their language models, without consent and without payment”.

The absence of disclosure obligations makes it “nearly impossible” for authors and publishers to determine whether their works have been incorporated into AI training datasets. Also, the legal standing “differs significantly across jurisdictions”.

AI systems have been “trained on copyrighted books” and can now produce new books “almost instantly”, leading to an “influx” of “low-cost, AI-generated titles” on digital marketplaces. Publishers are calling for stronger regulation from national governments and the EU.

Doctor-turned-writer Adam Kay is a National Year of Reading ambassador. He’s supporting the “Go All In” campaign to help people discover the joy of reading. His latest book, “A Particularly Nasty Case”, is out now in paperback.

Me Talk Pretty One Day

David Sedaris, 2000

I’d read anything by the ultimate acerbic essayist: bus timetables, laundry care labels... Luckily, I don’t have to, as he writes books. This one is warm and funny but sharp enough to cut, confronting Sedaris’ North Carolina upbringing and his brilliantly deranged family, before switching to his move to France and the frustrations of being a foreigner. Solid gold.

The Glorious Dead

Justin Myers, 2025

One of my faves from last year: a funny and twisty examination of grief, reputational damage and toxic friendship. A famous writer dies unexpectedly, leaving friends and family bereft but their rose-tinted memories aren’t long for the world when his memoir is unearthed.

Heartburn

Nora Ephron, 1983

Ephron was known for writing blockbuster comedies like “When Harry Met Sally” but this novel was her greatest achievement – one of the funniest books ever written. Based on the collapse of her marriage after her husband’s affair, it’s an unflinching portrait of betrayal and petty vengeance. With recipes!

The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾

Sue Townsend, 1982

The inner yearnings of Leicester’s most lovable loser are an instruction manual for every teenage boy on how not to navigate adolescence. Townsend’s genius creation works just as well 44 (aaagh!) years later; the political satire and impeccable comic timing make it so much more than the diary of history’s greatest frustrated intellectual.

The Phantom Tollbooth

Norton Juster, 1961

My favourite book as a child, which I will be pushing on my own kids. A boy, bored by school, is transported to a magical kingdom and goes on a series of ludicrous quests. It is really a front for reinforcing the importance of a thirst for knowledge but is so funny and engrossing that young readers will never suspect a thing.

Douglas Stuart’s two previous novels – the Booker Prize-winning “Shuggie Bain” (2020) and “Young Mungo” (2022) – were both set in Glasgow tenements, said Michael Arditti in The Spectator. For his third, Stuart has “moved north”, to the island of Harris in the Outer Hebrides.

Cal, 22, “returns to his family croft” on the island, after spending four years studying textiles in Edinburgh, in response to a call from his father, John, telling him that his grandmother is dying. Cal is gay, and comfortable with that fact; his father, a deacon of the island’s Free Presbyterian Church, which adheres to an “extreme biblical morality”, is in denial about his own homosexual leanings. The relationship between the two – by turns loving and violent – is at the heart of this “beautifully observed” novel.

“This is a magnificent book of disarming intensity,” said Maria Albano in The Telegraph. Stuart excels at “rendering the soul of a place” in all its variety: the “descriptions of pulling a lamb from the ewe in her labour are as confident as his mastery of weaving argot”. And his “character-building” is no less superb: all his portraits are “equally lifelike”.

While “John of John” is an “unashamedly emotional novel”, full of “vivid, generous” prose, it is also, at times, very funny, said Johanna Thomas-Corr in The Sunday Times. A scene in which Cal climbs through a window clutching flowers “has the farcical quality of Shakespearean comedy”. It also features “one of the funniest and most memorable depictions of masturbation in fiction”.

It’s already on the longlist for this year’s Booker Prize, and it’s “difficult to imagine” that it won’t be shortlisted.

Rachel Cusk is no stranger to controversy. Her candid memoirs on the perils of motherhood and her messy divorce drew a particularly hostile reaction, and her latest book – “Life of M” – has sent the rumour mill into overdrive that a character is based on Natalie Portman. But the British novelist has also transformed autofiction and scooped multiple literary awards for her icy dissections of human behaviour. Here we take a look at some of her best books.

A Life’s Work: On Becoming a Mother (2001)

Cusk’s “brutally honest and somewhat confronting” memoir about motherhood sparked an almighty backlash and accusations of child-hating, said Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett in The Guardian. But it’s also “bitterly funny about the culture and institutions of motherhood”, and over two decades later remains “one of the best, and least sentimental”, accounts of pregnancy, childbirth and caring for a newborn.

Outline (2014)

The first book in Cusk’s “groundbreaking” trilogy of the same name is a “fitting entry point” to her work, said The Guardian. It follows “divorced novelist and mother-of-two” Faye on her journey to Athens to teach a writing course, and unfolds through a series of conversations with people she “meets along the way”. Conventional plot is “practically non-existent” here which turns out to be “revelatory”. “Really, it’s a masterpiece.”

Coventry (2019)

In her first book of essays, Cusk proves her non-fiction can be as “coolly glittering” as her novels, said Dwight Garner in The New York Times. Tackling themes she’s known for – “her obligations as mother, daughter, citizen, artist and breadwinner” – she writes with “candour”, “seriousness”, and a “subtle” touch. These are “first-rate” essays, well worth reading.

Second Place (2021)

This “feverish” novel follows a woman named ‘M’ who invites a “visionary painter” to spend the summer at her remote coastal home, said Emily Watkins in The i Paper. Written as a series in “confessional letter form” to someone called Jeffers, it’s a “delicious” read that’s best devoured in one sitting.

Parade (2024)

Cusk writes about several different artists – each referred to only as ‘G’ – in this “masterful exploration of art and identity”, said Buzz Magazine. This isn’t a new topic for the writer but her language is “always fresh and ambitious”, and her prose is “ablaze with wit”, making it worth “the time it might take to settle in” to this experimental novel.

The psychotherapist and author of "Grief Works" picks books that changed how she understands dying and grief. She will be speaking at the inaugural Big Brue festival of ideas in Bruton, Somerset, 19-20 September.

Grief Counselling and Grief Therapy

J. William Worden, 1982

This is a book for therapists, but valuable to anyone. Worden’s four tasks of mourning helped us move away from the rigid idea that grief follows fixed stages. We cannot control the loss, but we can engage with the work of adapting to it. That idea offers agency when life feels helpless.

With the End in Mind

Kathryn Mannix, 2017

Drawing on decades in palliative medicine, Mannix tells stories of ordinary people as they approach death. She writes with such compassion and clarity that the frightening becomes more knowable. It’s a book that helps us prepare for the deaths of those we love and have the conversations we often avoid.

The Grieving Brain

Mary-Frances O’Connor, 2022

A neuroscientist, O’Connor explains that grief is a form of learning. After someone dies, the brain must slowly update its understanding of the world. She helps explain the yearning, confusion and repetition of grief, while offering the deeply reassuring knowledge that adaptation takes time.

Continuing Bonds

Dennis Klass, Phyllis R. Silverman and Steven L. Nickman, 1996

This collection challenges the old belief that we should detach from the person who died – forget and move on. Instead, it shows that the relationship carries on, in a changed form. Death ends a life, but the love never dies.

The Year of Magical Thinking

Joan Didion, 2005

Didion’s account of her husband’s sudden death captures the strange logic of grief with great precision. She shows how the mind knows someone has died while another part still expects them to return. It is fiercely personal, yet almost every bereaved reader will recognise something of themselves within it.

For more than 50 years, David Thomson has been “watching and writing about movies and hanging out with movie people”, said Ed Potton in The Times. The author of more than 40 books, including the highly influential “The New Biographical Dictionary of Film” (1975), he is “unique in his field”, being “intellectual, opinionated, informed and funny”. Now, at the age of 85, Thomson has written a book “billed as the capstone of his career”. A history of the movies, “from the Lumière brothers to the Coen brothers”, from “Psycho” to “Pretty Woman” to Jean-Luc Godard, it also covers much else besides: “we get detours to John Keats, Gustav Mahler, Werner Heisenberg and Tracey Emin, none of which feels dilettantish”. Thomson also celebrates the “written word”, and suggests that novels are in many ways superior to films. Written in a style that “veers between conspiratorial and donnish”, this book has the “learning of an encyclopaedia, the wisdom of a novel and the zingers of a screwball comedy”.

While he remains as obsessed by film as ever, Thomson is increasingly fearful that “movies may be bad for us”, said Mark Glancy in Literary Review. There is, of course, nothing new about claims that they shorten attention spans and flatten our sense of evil. But Thomson suggests such anxieties have been “given new weight and immediacy by the rise of Donald Trump, with his constant demand for our attention and his indifference to morality”. It’s an argument which seems, alas, a bit of a “rabbit hole”. Fortunately, such “wintry and sombre ponderings” don’t take up too much space, said Peter Bradshaw in The Guardian. For the most part, this book is a “straightforwardly rapturous, rhapsodic celebration of the extraordinary adventure of cinema”, written by an author who, despite his advanced age, is as “eccentric, exasperating and absorbing as ever”.

The school holidays are here, marking the start of the Summer Reading Challenge for four- to 11-year-olds. Kids up and down the country are being encouraged to sign up online or visit their local library to get involved. For every book they read, they’ll be rewarded with stickers and character cards, and if they tick off six titles they can expect a certificate and medal.

Whether your little one has signed up for the challenge, or you’re looking for the perfect present for your niece or nephew, here are some fun, absorbing books to help spark a love of reading.

Dogs and bears by Max Porter, ages 3-6

“KRUMP! POFF! The dogs and the bears are brawling again,” said Imogen Russell Williams in The Guardian. “What will it take to cool off their combat?” Dorotheé de Monfreid’s “vigorous” illustrations combine perfectly with Porter’s “wittily portentous text” in this “highly original” book about squabbling animals.

Who Says Moo? by Axel Scheffler, ages 3-6

The latest board book from Scheffler, illustrator of “The Gruffalo”, will instantly draw in younger children, said Emily Bearn in The Telegraph. Follow Little Calf as she meets different animals on the farm: will she ever learn to say “moo”? Scheffler’s sheep, ducks, pigs and cockerels are “expressive and instantly legible, inviting even the youngest children to point, name and imitate”.

Monsieur Mustard by Charley Rabbit, ages 5-9

When Fabio Fangtooth goes missing from his restaurant, it’s up to the “charming mouse detective”, Monsieur Mustard, to figure out what happened, said Anna Bonet in The i Paper. But he soon gets “tangled in an even bigger mystery”. Bringing together “graphic novel elements with classic detective storytelling”, this beautifully illustrated book is a “witty and inventive” read.

Detective Thingy Majiggy by Cecelia Ahern, ages 7+

The bestselling author of “PS, I Love You” has written her first book for children. It's about “a 10-year-old girl who can hold conversations with inanimate objects”, said Bearn in The Telegraph. When Mia is accused of starting a fire at her school, can a “broken toaster” help to “prove her innocence”? The “chatty, accessible” narration will help Ahern’s book find “wide appeal”.

The Common Criminals’ Club: Death Before Detention by Alison Weatherby, ages 9+

This cosy murder mystery is set in a rural Irish Catholic boarding school. When a dead body is discovered in the kitchen, “Mae and her friends are determined to solve the mystery”, said Russell Williams in The Guardian. “Funny” and “twisty”, with an “irresistible heroine and a fantastically distinctive voice”, Weatherby’s book is perfect for fans of bestselling children's author Robin Stevens.

The Not-So Great Escape by Emma Green, ages 9+

When tragedy strikes, “risk-averse” 12-year-old Hedley finds himself on a road trip adventure with his younger sister Lilly, “troublemaker” Aiden and a “stolen alpaca”, said James Lovegrove in the Financial Times. “Silly” and fun with a “heart-rending twist” at the end, it’s a gripping read.

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A good coffee table book can spark infinite conversations, and this is especially true when the focus is on travel. Guests connect over destinations they’ve visited or dream of seeing, sharing memories and tips, and the spectacular photography might also encourage them to pick up a camera and better document their future trips. Stack these books in your living room, and see how they inspire.

‘African Adventures: The Greatest Safari on Earth’ by Aline Coquelle

Let photographer Aline Coquelle show you Africa through her eyes. The book is split into four experiences: seeing Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, the Okavango Delta in Botswana, the Great Migration in Kenya and the silverback mountain gorillas in Rwanda.

“African Adventures” features “epic” wildlife photos of baby elephants learning to walk and protective lionesses with their cubs along with snaps of the “most beautiful” boutique lodges, said Condé Nast Traveler. Coquelle’s “stunning” photography also offers a “deeper exploration” of each area’s “talented contemporary artists, artisans and conservationists.” ($120, Assouline)

‘Destinations of a Lifetime: 225 of the World’s Most Amazing Places’ by National Geographic

“Destinations of a Lifetime” combines the breathtaking photography National Geographic is known for with helpful insider information on how to visit like a local and the histories of each spot. Chapters include “Sea and Shore,” “Mountain Majesty” and “Town & Country,” showcasing different locales and pulling together itineraries that allow you to see as many of these connected places as possible. If you’re stuck on the next country or city you want to visit, flip through “Destinations of a Lifetime,” pick any page and you’ll be booking a plane ticket in no time. ($21, Amazon)

‘Dream Trips of the World’ by Lonely Planet

This comprehensive guide explores 100 spectacular travel opportunities, including witnessing the Northern Lights in Norway, cruising down the Nile River and visiting Bhutan’s monasteries. Each trip featured is accompanied by a detailed itinerary on where to go and what to see, tips on places to eat and how to pack, beautiful photography, and comments from local residents and travel experts on ways to best approach the destination. ($45, Lonely Planet)

‘Gray Malin: Dogs’ by Gray Malin

Welcome to the whimsical world of fine-art photographer Gray Malin and his model pups. Malin took his canine muses on his travels, capturing the dogs as they relaxed poolside at the Beverly Hills Hotel, took a ski lift in Aspen and explored the streets of London. Use this as inspiration for places to go with your own pooch. ($50, Barnes & Noble)

‘Great Maps: The World’s Masterpieces Explored and Explained’ by Jerry Brotton

This collection of 64 highly detailed maps spanning “continents and centuries” is a “pleasure to peruse,” said Reader’s Digest. Historian Jerry Brotton digs deep, explaining why each map was created and who its audience was. The two-page spreads bring the illustrations to life, and anyone who enjoys “maps, data, visualization and history” will spend hours poring over the book. ($21, Amazon)

‘100 Hikes of a Lifetime U.S.A.: The Country’s Ultimate Scenic Trails’ by Stephanie Pearson

When choosing which quests to feature in her book, Stephanie Pearson selected some challenging ones that will test your mettle. She also included “incredible” opportunities that “aren’t necessarily long and difficult,” letting hikers of all abilities “see migrating birds, walk in the footsteps of ancient humans” or learn a “little-known slice of American history,” she told Outside. You’ll find extreme adventures, like the 6,800-mile American Discovery Trail from California to Delaware, alongside day hikes families can accomplish together. ($29, Amazon)

‘Slim Aarons: The Essential Collection’ by Slim Aarons and Shawn Waldron

After spending World War II as a U.S. Army photographer, Slim Aarons vowed to only take photos of “attractive people who were doing attractive things in attractive places.” He stayed true to his word, famously shooting the “playgrounds of Gstaad and Mallorca, Bali and Beverly Hills,” said Vanity Fair. “Slim Aarons: The Essential Collection” features hundreds of his renowned portraits of “socialites and literary lights, royals and moguls, ingenues and artists,” and his focus on “tiny design elements” give “each frame an extra layer of texture, color and nuance.” ($121, Amazon)

‘There and Back: Photographs from the Edge’ by Jimmy Chin

Mountaineer and “Free Solo” director Jimmy Chin doesn’t shy from extremes, and “There and Back” is filled with “jaw-dropping imagery” from his adventures around the globe, said Condé Nast Traveler. The “soaring formations” of the Ennedi Desert in Chad and “frozen expanses” of Antarctica’s Queen Maud Land are some of the “thrilling” natural wonders featured in the book, which is “sure to inspire” the “adventurer in your life.” ($21, Amazon)

‘Treasured Lands: A Photographic Odyssey Through America’s National Parks’ by QT Luong

Every U.S. National Park shines in “Treasured Lands.” More than 600 vivid images show off the beauty of each spot, from the tight Slot Canyons of Zion to the jagged Grand Teton peaks reflected in the Schwabacher Landing pond. Photographer QT Luong took the pictures during all four seasons and in all kinds of weather, and explains in captions how and when each stunning visual was captured. ($90, Amazon)

‘Walk With Me: New York’ by Susan Kaufman

Everyone knows what the Empire State Building and Brooklyn Bridge look like. In “Walk With Me: New York,” photographer Susan Kaufman captures a side of the city that postcards miss, turning her camera toward colorful stoops, charming park corners and quaint storefronts. It’s a fresh look at one of the world’s most photographed places. ($26, Amazon)

If the “gossip in publishing circles” has any merit, novelist Rachel Cusk has turned her eye to Natalie Portman for her latest book, said Leaf Arbuthnot in The Telegraph. The actor isn’t named in “Life of M”. But the similarities between the character “M” and Portman are “so glaring they become hard to ignore” – and the portrayal is far from complimentary.

An unflattering portrait

“Life of M”, which is published next month, is about a film star who allows an unnamed writer to chronicle her life. There are “certainly points of correspondence” between Portman and M in the novel, said John Self in The Times. M “played a ballerina” in a movie and is a “model for a major brand”; Portman starred in “Black Swan” and her face is splashed across billboards as the long-time ambassador for Miss Dior.

Cusk’s character was also a child actor whose first film included sexual scenes that “originally included several scenes in which the child was shown wanting or inviting sexual interaction with the central male character”. Portman’s debut in “Leon” in 1994 saw her mother step in to insist scenes with her daughter and an older co-star were removed from the film.

Cusk has remained “tight-lipped” on the rumours. It’s “handy” to generate a buzz ahead of publication and the novelist has never been shy about putting “whoever she likes into her books”. Her divorce memoir “Aftermath” explored the breakdown of her marriage to her ex-husband in vivid detail, while her “bracingly honest” book about parenting, “A Life’s Work”, was widely criticised for her unflinching portrayal of motherhood. “It has reached the stage, in fact, where an effective modern curse might be ‘May you appear in a Rachel Cusk book’”.

Portman and Cusk both live in Paris, and move in similar circles. The actor is (or was) a fan of Cusk and even interviewed the writer, picking two of her novels to discuss in her Instagram book club. But “no one in her right mind who understood Rachel Cusk’s work would allow her to write about her”, said Valerie Stivers on UnHerd. Cusk excels at “reducing the human to the mathematical product of cold existential forces” – appearing in one of her books is “never going to be flattering”.

“As literary assassinations go, Cusk’s of M is sly and subtle, but it is lethal nonetheless,” said Arbuthnot in The Telegraph. Cusk stresses M is pretty, “humble” and “gracious”, but the “unsettling argument” she carefully builds is that “M is engaged in a constant effort to seem like a believable person”. What is “cruel” about the character is the “impregnable fort of isolation she believes the actress lives within”.

A ‘delicate balancing act’

Cusk is just the latest in a “long line of writers” to cause upset by basing their characters on real people, said Self in The Times. Philip Roth was a “master” at it, first casting a “thinly disguised avatar of his wife”, Claire Bloom, in his 1990 novel “Deception”, before he “twisted the knife”, with another caricature of Bloom, this time as a self-loathing antisemitic Jewish actor in “I Married a Communist”. And Nora Ephron famously wrote about her divorce from the journalist Carl Bernstein in her novel, “Heartburn”, which features a food writer who is seven months pregnant when she discovers her husband’s affair.

Non-writers assume we novelists insert real-life people into our books out of “spite”, said Amanda Craig in The i Paper, but a novel is “what it says on the tin – a work with made-up characters and situations”. My “long-ago ex-boyfriend”, the literary critic David Sexton, thought he had been “unflatteringly depicted” in my novel “A Vicious Circle” and “threatened to sue”. I might use a line of dialogue I’ve heard “uttered by a real-life person” but most writers I know “go through agonies” to make their characters who might “have their roots in reality as remote as possible from the original”.

Creating characters inspired by real people is a “delicate balancing act”, said Marshall Fine on BookTrib. Novelists run the risk of “being accused of writing a roman à clef, in which only the names have been changed to protect the guilty”. The “trick” is to find ways of using real people in creative ways to “inspire characters who are products of your imagination”.

While there is no legal requirement to seek permission from the real person who inspires a work of fiction, the Writers’ Guild of Great Britain advises that it is “good practice” to inform subjects of creative writing projects in advance, to get their “blessing” to reduce the risk of future legal action, and to remove any “identifying information”.

For now, Cusk hasn’t addressed the rumours about “Life of M”, and unless the actor speaks out to “correct the record, the truth will never be known – nor can it really matter”, said Stivers on UnHerd. “If the result of the two women’s friendship is a very strong Cusk book indeed, everyone should be happy – including, if her art-appreciation is real, Natalie Portman.”

In 2023, the South Carolina lawyer Alex Murdaugh was convicted of murdering his wife, Maggie, and 22-year-old son Paul. The pair had been shot at the family’s hunting estate; Murdaugh claimed to have discovered the bodies after returning from a visit to his mother.

It’s not hard to see why the case “gripped America”, said Robbie Millen in The Times. It involved the “privileged and powerful” – the Murdaughs were big cheeses in the South Carolina Lowcountry – and the man himself, known as “Big Red”, didn’t seem the murdering type: he appeared to be a “loving husband and doting father” with a charming “down-home manner”.

Yet as the novelist James Lasdun shows in this “elegant and intelligent” book, Murdaugh was in fact a fraudster who swindled millions out of clients and law firm colleagues, and was addicted to opioid painkillers. In “Family Man”, Lasdun does a “skilful job of juggling all the elements of the story, which takes some dark and ludicrous turns”.

Prosecutors claimed Murdaugh was driven to murder because his financial deceptions were about to be revealed, said Kathryn Hughes in The Guardian. They said he believed that no one would launch proceedings against him while he was dealing with a “tragedy of such biblical proportions”.

At first, Lasdun was sceptical of this theory, refusing to believe that a man with no history of domestic violence could “bring himself to shoot loved ones merely to delay his own imminent financial exposure”. Yet in his “meticulous” retelling – the “prose is pure pleasure” – Lasdun comes to accept that “Big Red” was probably guilty, despite never reaching an “iron-clad conclusion”.

“More than 10 books about the Murdaughs have been published to date”, and HBO and Netflix have both released miniseries about the killings, said Orlando Whitfield in The New York Times. Lasdun “does not pretend to reveal new evidence about the murders”; instead, he relays the tale of the “fall of the house of Murdaugh” in often “staggering” detail.

While at times this threatens to become overwhelming, his approach does “illuminate, to devastating effect”, how the case encompassed many of the “direst aspects of contemporary American life: opioid addiction, litigiousness, brazen mendacity”. And the final chapters are “stunning”. Even now, “there’s more to come”, said Millen in The Times. This May, Murdaugh’s conviction was overturned on appeal, owing to jury interference. A retrial is expected. “I can’t wait to read Lasdun’s musings in an updated paperback.”

The blowing up of the Nord Stream gas pipeline in the Baltic in September 2022 “has been called the greatest act of sabotage in modern times”, said Robert F. Worth in The New York Times. In one blow, the explosions ended Germany’s energy dependence on Russia – where the gas originated – and “set off a year-long argument about who was responsible”, with Russia, the US and Ukraine all identified as possible culprits.

Partly thanks to a “meticulous German police investigation, and partly because of some very dogged reporters”, we now know that Ukraine’s SBU intelligence agency was responsible. Their motive was to “stop Germany from feeding Russia’s war machine with billions of dollars in annual gas payments”.

Bojan Pancevski, a US-based reporter who “spent years untangling the plot”, has now written a “spectacular book” about the bombings, which reads like a “police procedural”.

The team of divers – four men and one woman – who headed to Germany’s Baltic coast had “possibly the daftest cover story in the history of espionage”, said Colin Freeman in The Telegraph. If stopped, they were “ready to claim that they were making an aquatic-themed pornographic film”. But they weren’t, and “the bombs went like clockwork”, damaging three of the four pipelines beyond repair.

Because the pipelines lay 80 metres below the surface, beyond the reach of “even the best-trained special-forces divers”, the organisers recruited “civilian deep-sea divers” from Ukraine’s Black Sea diving fraternity, who practised for months in disused Ukrainian quarries. They escaped from Germany by van, and only one has been arrested (he’s to stand trial in Germany later this year).

These days, it is common for current affairs to be trumpeted with the phrase “reads like a thriller”. “‘The Nord Stream Conspiracy’ genuinely does.”

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the tomes piling up on your bedside table, try reaching for a novella instead. These slim, punchy books can be finished in a single day – and might just reignite your love of reading. Here are some of our favourites.

Assembly by Natasha Brown

Inspired by her career working in finance, Brown’s thrilling debut is just a hundred pages long and “written in vignettes that leave a lot of white space on the page”, said The Guardian. The story follows a young Black woman who “seems to have it all”: a great job, money, and a “loving, liberal, generationally wealthy boyfriend”. But simmering beneath the surface is a “desperate rage” at the racism and misogyny she navigates every day.

Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner

This “deeply strange” novel begins “conventionally enough”, with a quiet young woman leaving London to start afresh in a rural village, said The Guardian. But Townsend Warner “gleefully” changes tack when her heroine, Lolly Willowes, becomes a witch. “Smashing together” an array of genres from folk horror to nature writing, it’s a short but mighty book that helped cement its author as “one of the true originals of 20th-century English literature”.

Orbital by Samantha Harvey

Harvey’s “otherworldly” 140-page novel scooped the Booker Prize in 2024, proving longer doesn’t necessarily mean better, said Good Housekeeping. Set aboard the International Space Station, her “gorgeously written” book follows six astronauts orbiting Earth over 24 hours. Filled with beautiful prose and breathtaking imagery, she offers an “intriguing perspective on the human race’s treatment of our planet”. It’s a must-read.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

Set in a small Irish town in the 1980s, this is a “quiet but deeply moving” story, said Daisy Lester in The Independent. It follows a “duteous father” who is confronted with the harrowing treatment of unmarried young women at the hands of the church at one of the country’s infamous Magdalene Laundries. “Haunting yet hopeful”, I devoured the entire book in “one short afternoon, but have been reflecting on it for far longer”.

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Rhys’ “chilling, dreamlike” prequel to “Jane Eyre” explores another side to Charlotte Brontë’s “madwoman in the attic”, said Adrienne Westenfeld in Esquire. We meet the white Creole heiress, Antoinette Cosway, in Jamaica years before the events of Thornfield Hall. Isolated and lonely, she is soon “driven to despair” by the cruelty of her new husband Edward Rochester. Rhys’ book is just 176 pages long; packed with “gorgeous imagery and turbulent emotions”, it will roll over you like a “hazy island fever dream”.

Who Will Run the Frog Hospital? by Lorrie Moore

Moore expertly captures “female adolescence and the intensity of its friendships” in her “luscious and funny” book, said The Economist. The action follows Berie as she looks back at the “small, wild joys of her teenage years”, and tries to figure out how her life has become so “staid and unfulfilling”. She begins to see the “mockery and rebellion” she and her best friend had loved as “callow answers to teenage insecurities” – but her story still “vibrates with regret for what she has lost”.

The best newly published holiday reads.

All In by Claire Powell

Very few authors write about “contemporary Englishness as astutely, mercilessly and affectionately as Claire Powell”, said The Guardian. In “All In”, she “puts her perfectly observed characters in the pressure cooker” of an all-inclusive family holiday, creating a “kind of meta-beach read”. Best known for “At the Table” (2022), Powell has a knack for creating “characters you feel you really know”, said The Times. “Funny and moving”, this is a “brilliant summer read”.

Kids, Wait Till You Hear This! by Liza Minnelli

From “drug addiction to choosing unsuitable lovers, Liza Minnelli inherited plenty” from her mother Judy Garland, said The Telegraph. It has made for a fascinating life, which she documents in an “intimate, chatty style” in this “rip-roaring memoir”. The most vivid sections focus on Garland, whose mood swings Minelli had to manage as a teenager, said The Sunday Times. But Minnelli’s love life also “makes for anecdotes galore”.

Transcription by Ben Lerner

On his way to interview his literary hero, the narrator of “Transcription” drops his iPhone in the sink. He has no means to record the conversation, but presses ahead with the interview anyway. From this simple premise unfolds an “intelligent, absorbing” study that “plays with the boundary between the truth and fiction”, said the Financial Times. A deserving winner of the Orwell Prize for Political Fiction, this “compact and endlessly surprising” novel “exerts a powerful grip”, said The Times.

Land by Maggie O’Farrell

The “Hamnet” author’s latest is set in Ireland just after the Great Famine, and begins with the story of a cartographer and his son surveying a windswept peninsula, said The Independent. “Moving and magnificent”, it is O’Farrell’s “most ambitious book to date”. Incorporating elements of folklore and the supernatural, this is a “gripping” work about a land and its people, said London’s The Standard. “You’ll struggle to look up” from it while on holiday.

Jan Morris: A Life by Sara Wheeler

“From reporting on the first ascent of Everest in 1953 to transitioning in the 1970s”, Jan Morris led a “unique and astonishing” life, said the Financial Times. And it is superbly captured by Sara Wheeler in this “engrossing authorised biography”. For all that she was trail-blazing, Morris was “not a lovely person”, said The Times: “she was sharp-elbowed, slapdash, imperious and narcissistic”. It’s to Wheeler’s credit that she acknowledges such traits in her “sympathetic but candid biography”.

London Falling by Patrick Radden Keefe

When Zac Brettler, a middle-class 19-year-old, fell to his death from a Thames-side apartment in 2019, police initially treated his death as suicide, said The Telegraph. But this “extraordinary” work of investigative journalism presents a darker, more complex take. At once a portrait of a family’s grief and of “a city at a particular point in its history”, said the Financial Times, “London Falling” is “a masterpiece” from the award-winning author of “Empire of Pain”.

Consider Yourself Kissed by Jessica Stanley

There can’t be many romantic novels that feature “Boris Johnson’s ICU stay”, said The Guardian. But in this “treasure” of a book, Jessica Stanley braids the personal and political as she chronicles the relationship between copywriter Coralie and journalist Adam. Full of “on-the-nose” references, this is a “stellar summer read”, said The Times.

The Correspondent by Virginia Evans

This epistolary novel about a 73-year-old retired lawyer who lives alone in Maryland was a “startling word-of-mouth success”, said The Times. “When you read it you’ll understand why.” Sybil, the protagonist, is someone “you want to spent hours with”, said The Independent. The winner of this year’s Women’s Prize For Fiction, this book is the “best kind of summer read”.

Fair Play by Louise Hegarty

When a group of friends holds a murder mystery party and one is found dead, we seem set for a conventional “whodunnit”, said The New York Times. But this “terrific debut” works on several levels: part “knowing homage to classic detective fiction”, it’s also a “sensitive examination” of grief. It’s the “most original crime novel you’ll read all year”, said The Guardian.

“What can there possibly be left in the Sedaris backstory that the writer hasn’t already mined?” asked Emma Brockes in The Guardian. The American humourist has written nine volumes of essays over his decades-long career, which leaves you wondering whether he’s “suffering from a problem that comes to all writers in the end” – a “dearth of usable material”.

But his latest collection reveals that he hasn’t run out of ideas yet. While reading Sedaris is a “glitchier experience” than it once was, his “tone still charms, even as it advances to a state of crankiness that makes him look like a gay Larry David”.

In the 28 pieces that make up “The Land and its People”, Sedaris sticks to his tried-and-tested formula of harvesting from “everyday experiences with his husband, Hugh, his siblings and his friends”. The book is peppered with “laugh-out-loud moments”, like his experience of a No Kings protest against Trump in which he finds himself “baffled by his fellow protesters’ lack of focus”. But there are also sections that “an editor could have put a red line through”, where he veers into an “occasionally too rote adoption of the grumpy-old-man trope”.

Inevitably some of the essays “have more going for them, and more in them, than others”, said Roddy Doyle in The New York Times. Is it as funny as his earlier books? “We’re very lucky to have both.” Sedaris has grown older and the “world seems weirder”. That’s why I love reading his work: “for him, being alive has always been strange and atrocious, contradictory, unfair and hilarious”. Now approaching 70, he “examines ageing with the same vigour, curiosity and grim glee” that brought his other books to life.

It is when he reflects on the “minutiae of everyday life” that his writing “really shines”, said Buzz Magazine. Whether he’s “documenting a humdrum car journey” or “arguing in bad French with an AI assistant on Duolingo”, Sedaris remains a “masterful storyteller” who is “always outrageous and highly entertaining company”.

Sometimes “ill-tempered and frequently hilarious”, he brings readers with him on a “touchingly honest journey through life’s peaks and troughs”, and continues to “mine gold from both the mundane and absurd”.

Whether you are after memoirs or analysis, here are the most compelling business books to pick up this summer.

1873 by Liaquat Ahamed

A “lively and compelling” account of how America’s Gilded Age economy broke the world, says The New York Times. Action sweeps from America’s railroad barons to Vienna’s stock market crash. Ahamed tackles “one of the great forgotten financial crises”, combining the nuances of high finance with some excellent vignettes, says Robin Wigglesworth in the Financial Times. The cast of characters, says The Wall Street Journal, ranges from the Rothschild clan to a “still-obscure” Karl Marx.

Super Nintendo by Keza MacDonald

How did a 19th-century Japanese playing-card manufacturer become one of the most influential companies in the entertainment world, asks Stephen Bush in the FT. This “engaging” history of the home of Mario, Zelda and Pokémon, by The Guardian’s video games editor, is a delight whether you’re a gamer or not.

Suing the Kremlin by Martin Sixsmith

“If you want to see Vladimir Putin’s soul, study the fate of Yukos,” says The Economist. An early indicator of his “authoritarian turn” was the “seizure and dismemberment” of the Russian oil giant and imprisonment of its boss Mikhail Khodorkovsky. Here, Sixsmith, a former BBC Moscow correspondent, charts how shareholders fought back. “Their unlikely champion was a cheery, phlegmatic London-based tax lawyer, Tim Osborne.”

Streetwise: Getting to and Through Goldman Sachs by Lloyd Blankfein

This memoir, from the “ultimate Goldman insider”, doesn’t quite break the bank’s “blood oath” of silence, says Literary Review. But it’s interesting on Blankfein’s ascent from working-class New York, and includes a “vivid retelling of the desperate days of September 2008”. Blankfein emerges as a “straight-arrow guy”.

Surviving Rome: The Economic Lives of the Ninety Percent by Kim Bowes

This history examines the everyday finances, food and working practices of ordinary Romans in “thrilling detail”, said the FT. Don’t be put off by the 35 bar charts, said the Times Literary Supplement. This is “that rarest of birds”: an “utterly gripping piece of economic history”.

Bonfire of the Murdochs by Gabriel Sherman

“A brief, deft account” of one of the most consequential family feuds of recent corporate history, says the FT – and the costs of elevating just one child to run the empire.

Money Beyond Borders: Global Currencies from Croesus to Crypto by Barry Eichengreen

In this “timely book”, Eichengreen – an expert on the international monetary system – puts today’s concerns about the global role of the dollar into historical context, says the FT. Technological change is important, but it all depends on “trust”.

From a very modern romantic entanglement to an epic tale of power and class in Pakistan, here are some of the most exciting debut novels of the year so far.

Prestige Drama by Séamas O’Reilly

In his 2021 memoir, “Did Ye Hear Mammy Died?”, Derry-born journalist Séamas O’Reilly applied “gallows humour” to the death of his mother, said Michael Delgado in Literary Review. In his “slim but impressive” first novel, he adopts a similar approach, finding comedy in “the Troubles and the shadow they continue to cast”. The action – set in present-day Derry – centres on the disappearance of “glamorous American actress” Monica Logue, who came to the city to film a 1980s-set crime series, said Miriam Balanescu in The Spectator. Featuring a “cacophony of voices” (each chapter is narrated by a different townsperson), this is a “thoughtful novel” from a “startlingly perceptive writer”. O’Reilly doesn’t fully pursue the “missing-actor thread”, said Joanna Quinn in The Guardian. Some may wish he had given it “more prominence”. But his main goal is to create a “patchwork portrait of the city”. Full of “gloriously vivid” writing, and insights about how Northern Ireland’s past misfortunes are recreated and commodified in the present day, “Prestige Drama” is a “brilliant” debut.

I Want You to Be Happy by Jem Calder

Jem Calder – who grew up in Essex before moving to London 10 years ago – is a writer much concerned with the “specific indignities of living in the capital”, said Laura Hackett in The Times. Both his 2022 story collection, “Reward System”, and now this debut novel are full of observations about “extortionate rent, overpriced coffees and fickle trends”. Chuck, 35, is a copywriter who has just broken up with his long-term girlfriend. At a party, he meets 23-year-old barista Joey, and they begin a “halting relationship” – one driven by their shared ambition to be writers. “Calder is brilliant at parsing the nuanced power dynamics of this situationship”; he’s a writer of “genuine talent”. “Frustrated romantic entanglements” are hardly rare in novels, but “I Want You to Be Happy” also presents a “hyper-specific chronicle of the current moment”, said Natalie Perman in Literary Review. “A significant plotline involves the opening of a branch of Gail’s”; characters spend “a lot of time” on WhatsApp. Impressively, Calder makes us care about what happens; and his “humour lands”.

Upward Bound by Woody Brown

Woody Brown is a 28-year-old with a severe form of autism, which means he’s unable to speak or type, said Xan Brooks in The Guardian. And yet, he has produced a “triumphant first novel”, about a “non-speaking” person like himself and his experiences at Upward Bound, a “dismal adult daycare centre” in Los Angeles. Told from multiple perspectives, the novel is essentially a “series of vivid character sketches”, although it builds to a climax when a “client” of Upward Bound escapes. Both a “garrulous, charming story of a young man who can’t speak, and an inclusive, friendly guide to the overlooked and the isolated”, it is “moving and ringing with life”. It is controversial, though, said Laura Hackett in The Times. Brown communicates using a system known as “rapid prompting”, which involves him pointing at a letter board. Some say helpers can influence the process – others even suggest that his mother wrote the book. Yet even if you ignore its background, the novel “stands proudly on its own”. It offers a “fascinating insight” into the mind of a non-speaking autistic person, and is “genuinely entertaining”.

Discipline by Larissa Pham

This “spare” debut tells of a “lapsed art student”, Christine, who’s touring America to promote her own first novel, said Alexandra Jacobs in The New York Times. That book is a revenge fantasy about the former art school professor who seduced her, discarded her and destroyed her confidence as a painter. On her travels she shares her story with a variety of interesting characters. But all roads lead to a confrontation with the professor on an island off Maine, at which point the book “acquires Stephen King vibes”. Will Christine, like her protagonist, resort to murder? “Thickly pigmented” with suspense, Discipline shows that Larissa Pham “is a writer to keep a close eye on”. Pham’s “spiky” novel provides rich insights into the art world, said Ceci Browning in The Sunday Times. It’s “splattered with colourful descriptions of artists’ materials and references to specific paintings that will have you gleefully googling them”. On the surface, it’s about the aftermath of an illicit affair: but, as with a painting, “far more can be revealed with a longer, more thorough look”.

This is Where the Serpent Lives by Daniyal Mueenuddin

Writers who leave a long gap between books run the risk of being forgotten, said John Self in The Times. But I think Daniyal Mueenuddin “will get away with it”. The Pakistani-American author published his first book – the short-story collection “In Other Rooms, Other Wonders” – in 2009. It was widely acclaimed, and he was hailed as “Pakistan’s answer to Chekhov”. Now, 17 years later, comes his first novel, a “sweeping parable of power and fortune” set in Pakistan in the decades following Partition. Filled with “lovingly created characters”, it more than “lives up to expectations” – and is sure to be “all over the prize lists later this year”. Divided into four self-contained sections, the novel immerses us in a semi-feudal world where “property and influence are everything”, said Lucy Popescu in The Observer. We meet those at the top, and those at the bottom – and observe their fraught, often complex interactions. The prose is “exquisite, lush” and “evocative”. It really is an “exceptional novel”, said Stevie Davies in Literary Review. “From the opening pages, I knew I held a masterpiece in my hands.”

Workhorse by Caroline Palmer

Clo, the protagonist of this “diverting” debut, is a lowly assistant at a New York fashion magazine, said Siobhan Murphy in The Times. She starts out as a “classic outsider”, who’s often mocked by her snobbish colleagues. But while she poses as a “self-deprecating storyteller”, she’s actually ruthlessly ambitious – and has an “ample amoral streak”. Caroline Palmer, a former Vogue staffer, “brings impeccable insider knowledge to her takedown of the absurdities and indignities” of the glossy magazine world. The novel is too long – and sometimes loses “propulsion” – but it’s “often punchily funny”. Any novel set at a Vogue-like magazine will inevitably draw comparisons with “The Devil Wears Prada”, said Alex Beggs in The New York Times. Yet “Workhorse” feels closer to a more “sinister story, with a paranoid and untrustworthy antihero”: “The Talented Mr. Ripley”. Palmer is a witty writer, and her observations are “razor-sharp”, said Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett in The Guardian. Still, it’s quite an ask to spend 560 pages in the head of such a “seething, grasping” central character.

This, My Second Life by Patrick Charnley

In 2021, a “near-fatal cardiac arrest” left Patrick Charnley with a brain injury, said Tilda Coleman in The Telegraph. The former lawyer draws on this experience in his “impressive” debut – about a 20-year-old who has just suffered a similar injury. Needing to lead a simple life, Jago has returned to the Cornish village where he grew up, to help his uncle on his farm. It’s not a novel in which a great deal happens (though there is “some plot”, involving a local drug dealer). Charnley’s aim, rather, is to convey the “limitations of life after such an event” – and this he does “expertly”. Like his mother, the late poet and novelist Helen Dunmore, he has a “mellow, pared-back style”. Although this novel is inspired by Charnley’s experiences (as he acknowledges in a brief preface), to see it mainly “through the lens of personal trauma would be to do it a grave injustice”, said Christobel Kent in The Guardian. It succeeds as a work of art: written in “spare and beautiful” prose, it’s as “finely wrought as poetry, luminous with Jago’s sheer delight in the world”. This is a work of “piercing intensity”.

The life of Juan Carlos I, Spain’s 88-year-old former king, has been one of “richly deserved triumph followed by richly deserved disgrace”, said Jim Lawley in The Spectator. And it’s a life that is superbly charted by Paul Preston in this “magisterial” biography.

Born in Rome in 1938, Juan Carlos was the son of Don Juan de Borbon, the exiled heir to the Spanish throne. Aged 10, he was sent back to Spain by his father, to be indoctrinated in the “political tenets” of Spain’s fascist leader, General Franco – who’d intimated that this could pave the way for a “restoration of an authoritarian monarchy”. Taking a close interest in the prince’s education, Franco would regularly lecture his charge “on the mistakes made by previous Spanish monarchs”.

It was a “very lonely” childhood, but Juan Carlos emerged as Franco’s chosen successor, and was proclaimed king after Franco’s death in 1975. Contrary to the dictator’s wishes, he then set about initiating democratic reform. In 1981, his “supreme test came” when he faced down a military coup. “Grateful Spaniards poured out onto the streets”, to hail the king who’d saved their democracy.

If the first half of this book “tells the tale of a lonely boy who turns into a noble king”, then the second “tells of his transformation from noble king into corrupt sleazebag”, said Craig Brown in The Sunday Times.

Having always been “something of a playboy”, Juan Carlos married Princess Sofia of Greece in 1962. But that didn’t staunch his appetite for what Preston calls “industrial-scale adulteries”. Although estimates vary, according to the highest figure mentioned he has slept with 4,786 different women – a voraciousness matched by his talent for procuring mammoth “gifts” from Middle Eastern rulers ($10 million from the Shah of Iran; $100 million from the Saudis), and a taste for “bear hunts and elephant hunts”. In 2014, “beset by political scandal and ill health”, he was “obliged to abdicate in favour of his son, Felipe”. Since 2023, he has lived in Abu Dhabi.

“Preston’s narrative is perhaps needlessly haunted by the question ‘Why?’,” said Jeremy Treglown in Literary Review. Seeking psychological reasons for Juan Carlos’ self-indulgence, he writes of the “strain of having to please two antagonistic masters” – his father and General Franco – and describes a horrifying accident in his late teens, when he fatally shot his “intellectually more able” younger brother while playing a game with an ornamental pistol. Yet the references to his “damaged psyche” don’t seem altogether convincing. “You don’t need to have read ‘Don Quixote’ or ‘King Lear’ to know that some men just go nuts.”

“It’s well known that pregnancy and childbirth affect women’s brains and hormones,” said Camilla Cavendish in the Financial Times: so profound is the impact of “baby brain” that “a computer can tell a mother from a non-mother just by looking at a scan”.

How parenthood affects men is less well understood; but in her new book, Darby Saxbe, a professor of psychology at the University of Southern California, “fills an important gap in our understanding”.

Saxbe herself carried out one of the world’s only studies into how men’s brains are altered by having a child, and it revealed that men undergo many of the same changes as women, “though not quite as dramatically”.

In men, the “volume of grey matter shrinks”, enabling a “temporary tuning-up of the parts of the cortex that connect us to others’ emotions”. New fathers also suffer a drop in testosterone, which facilitates bonding with their infant, as well as making a “dad bod” likely.

Combining academic data with “stories about the men in her own life”, Saxbe’s book is a “refreshing” call to “bust the stereotypes of fathers as clueless or uncaring”.

Kierkegaard described becoming a father as a transition from the “aesthetic stage, which is mainly about yourself, to the ethical stage, which is mainly about other people”, said Thomas W. Hodgkinson in Literary Review. “Dad Brain” engagingly explores how such a “massive life change” manifests itself physically. The fact that it is about such an under-investigated area is both its “USP” and a weakness: Saxbe’s account of the “science of fatherhood” inevitably ends up feeling frustratingly patchy. New fathers lose 1% of their brain matter. Is that a lot to lose or a little? I’m still not clear. Still, “anyone due to become a dad” could do a lot worse than this accessible, “nicely done primer”.

Buy “Dad Brain” for £19.99 from The Week Bookshop

Production of a film adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel “Northanger Abbey” has collapsed, leaving crew members owed “potentially hundreds of thousands of pounds”, said Deadline.

The project began as an ambitious reimagining of Austen’s gothic novel but it fell apart before cameras could roll. Some of the “hardest hit” workers have even been “left having to borrow petrol money to return home”, said The Times.

‘Uniquely vulnerable’

“A lack of money is at the root of many of the issues”, as funding “proved catastrophic” for the independent company behind the adaptation of the 19th-century book.

The £7 million production, “mounted in the UK by a team of inexperienced US producers”, got under way in Bath and Bristol but “fell apart during advanced prep” early last year, said Deadline. The company has collapsed and “failed to deliver on its promises to pay workers what they are owed”, so a “handful” of crew are taking legal action.

It’s thought that around 50 freelancers could be owed up to £200,000 after signing contracts with the independent business Northanger Limited. In a leaked recording, David Alan Ruben, the company’s chief who is also credited as the film’s writer, director and producer, said that its investors had failed to provide funding. “It has been the most brutal, horrible experience, and I’m just so sorry,” he told staff in February last year.

The UK has “no rules” around putting crew cash in an escrow account, so freelancers here are “uniquely vulnerable” when films run into financing issues, said Deadline.

Philippa Childs, head of the broadcasting union Bectu, said that “this kind of thing happens all too often” when production companies commission work without “secure funding for the project in place”.

Austen’s ‘most nuanced’ works

Austen is “one of the most adapted authors of all time” with her life and novels dramatised for film and TV from “every angle imaginable”, said Amy Wilcockson, from Queen Mary University of London, on The Conversation.

But when it comes to “Northanger Abbey” and “Mansfield Park” filmmakers seem “happy to leave these stories be”. “Northanger Abbey” offers a “harsh criticism of the conventions of marriage, wealth and social status faced by young women”, while “Mansfield Park” shows that Austen was “interested in questions of slavery and race”.

Perhaps this “serious and timely subject matter”, which is “unlike the usual” Austen narrative, “puts off filmmakers”, but they’re her “most nuanced works”, which focus “not just on romance” but on society’s “wider issues”. They “deserve their time in the limelight”.