Five Great Books

I am so lucky that my birthday and Christmas are six months apart. This means every half a year I receive an influx of books. As I rarely purchase something to read, upon receiving these gifts, I, starved of literature, inevitably rush through them, sometimes at the rate of one a day, so desperate that I am to get my fix.

As a result, with Twelfth Night only just in the rear-view, I have already finished all my holiday reads. Here are some of my favourites.

I am a sucker for a murder mystery. I enjoy a well-constructed puzzle and I like the big characters that populate the genre. Crime caper Dead on Dartmoor by Stephanie Austen provides me with an extra kick as it is set in my county. Its predecessor, Dead in Devon, even namechecks my hometown, describing it as 'a lovely town with an old stone-built market hall' (I can confirm - it is lovely and the market is old).

This series' amateur sleuth is Juno Browne, an odds job woman with an unfortunate habit of discovering dead bodies (a quirk which does not go unremarked by the local police). Once involved, Browne, with the help of a sweet recurring cast of colleagues, clients, and pals, uses her limited resources, plus some good old-fashioned snooping, to help catch the killer. The books are an easy read and a lovely addition to the genre.

Similarly cosy is Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree. This is a charming tale about an orc named Viv opening a town's first coffee shop. This fantasy follows an adventurer trying to define herself once she retires from questing. Once known for strength and swordplay, can she find fulfilment in a radically different career? 

The introduction of a contemporary invention into a fantasy setting will inevitably bring to mind Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. This is no way a bad thing. While I do not feel Baldree is trying to ape the great Sir Terry, his book certainly takes its comic central premise as seriously as Pratchett does with his. While townsfolks are sceptical about our lead's new venture, they never question it to the extent that the reader considers it silly.

My favourite character is Thimble, an utterly adorable rat chef. His pure enthusiasm for his work is endearing; his tendency to speak few words - a trait which could grate if overdone - is sweet. I love him so much.

Moving back to reality - albeit a virtual one - Escape by Marie Le Conte is a set of semi-autobiographical essays about the first generation of people (which includes me) to grow up within the internet. We are the children who first had access, who never knew a world where it did not exist. Did it hurt us or help us? This is what the book explores.

Using anecdotal evidence and interviews (including some with bloggers who put their entire personal life online), Le Conte considers the performative nature of being online, how we have unwittingly been trained to write with the knowledge we will be read, and the struggle to honour every version of yourself now that your potential audience is everyone in the world. This tribute to a version of the 'net we have lost is a thought-provoking book and, given that the Twitter takeover has prompted people to re-evaluate their relationship with social media, an unintentionally timely one.

The books I enjoyed most - and it is not even close - are Tim Key's two extraordinary collections about life during the pandemic. They are sensational. While one may assume the first and third UK lockdowns are too recent a scab to pick at, these sets of poems and semi-fictional dialogues are a revelation, a hilarious and frenetic account of one man's experience navigating the New Normal.

He Used Thought as a Wife covers the start of the pandemic, adeptly capturing the uncertainty, the everchanging rules, the new phrases. The dialogues (mainly phone calls and Zoom chats) take place entirely from within Key's flat. This gives the book a claustrophobic feel, mirroring how we all felt when confined to our homes in the name of the greater good.

In contrast, in Here we go Round the Mulberry Bush, a take on the third lockdown, Key rarely stops moving. Now daily exercise is part of the roadmap, he is always walking. Dialogues remain the backbone of the piece - there are still phone calls, plus meetups IRL for socially distanced hangs - but all take place outside.

Both books have a delightful meta element, the sequel more heavily. In the latter, everyone featured in the first volume has now read it and are consequently worried about Tim's wellbeing. They are also asking whether he is writing a follow-up. Naturally, given that we are reading this within the sequel means we know the answer, but the build up to that decision is wonderful.

One of the people asking about a second is the books' designer, Emily Juniper. Her friendship with Key shines through both editions. The affection they have for each other is clearly strong and their working relationship is a joy to witness.

Her incredible design work in the texts, not just her illustrations but the layout of the poems on the page, elevates these works to art. They are gorgeous.

I mean, honestly, look at this.

Poetry has never looked this elegant.

I hope the pair collaborate on many projects in the future (although fingers crossed this pandemic set does not become a trilogy). His words and her designs are a perfect match. The books are a delirious exhilarating read. I cannot recommend them enough.