The Girl Who Chased the Moon, by Sarah Addison Allen

Allen weaves her usual brand of magic in this small town tale of love and family lost and found. After her mother’s death in a car crash Emily moves to the southern barbecue town of Mullaby to live with her previously unknown grandfather. Here she must unravel the mystery of her mother’s former life and bring the town’s secrets out into the moonlight. Along the way she befriends her mother’s former enemies, who have some secrets of their own to unearth, and finds a bright and shining future for herself. The fantastical sits comfortably amid the everyday, with mood-influencing wallpaper and baking skills mixing up their own magic. Some darker story elements add depth and conviction to a suite of appealing characters, preventing what could have been a spiral into sickly sweetness. Challenging traditions, finding forgiveness, savouring food and drink – all contribute to a recipe for a good read.

Whiplash (2014), directed by Damien Chazelle

How far is too far when pushing for excellence? Whiplash poses the question but doesn’t really answer it. Aspiring jazz drummer Andrew has no friends and no family tradition of music but possesses a drive to be the best he can be. Initial success at Uni inspires him to ask out the girl he has had his eye on for a while; continued success makes him sabotage the relationship for fear it will interfere with his focus on future success. Miles Teller is compelling as Andrew and JK Simmons won an Oscar for his portrayal of the monster who won’t apologise for driving his students no matter the cost. It’s difficult to understand the dedication of the jazz drummer, because who actually cares and what are the rewards? This makes it even more difficult to understand why the students are so cowed before the monster tutor and the drummers in particular don’t shove a drumstick through his eyeball. The only possible parallels are with an Olympic athlete in an obscure sport who is driven to succeed regardless of the rewards or lack thereof. But you have to question the dedication to an empty cause and the validation of methods that border on torture – if that is really what it takes to achieve greatness – fuck it!

Keep Calm and Carry a Big Drink, by Kim Gruenenfelder

A sequel to There’s Cake in My Future (AKA Wedding Fever), this novel lacks the zip and zing of its predecessor. Using the same cake pull charm motif gets a bit tired the second time around and the plot clunks in several places. We get to experience Seema and Scott’s catastrophic Anglo-Indian wedding and the birth of Nic’s child but it is essentially Mel’s story. The sole remaining single girl must take some risks to find her true self, get over her dark dating past and find true love. Along the way there is sex, laughter, friendship and lots of alcohol. Reading more like a Maui travelogue than a novel towards the end, it does inspire a desire to visit to Hawaii, but hopefully it sees the end of the cake charm tales.

The Raven King, by Maggie Stiefvater

Pages 379 to 410 of this 438 page book were missing, which detracted significantly from enjoyment of the conclusion. Instead pages 347 to 378 were repeated, upside down; quality publishing there from Scholastic. Book four of the Raven Cycle sees a conclusion in the quest to find Glendower and a resolution of the complicated relationships between Blue Sargent and the Aglionby boys – Gansey, Ronan and Adam. Stiefvater combines dark and twisty fantasy with believable and appealing main characters. You care about their dilemmas and thwarted desires, more so than the rather convoluted plot lines, which get extremely complicated at times; you could definitely not get your head around this book without reading the first three. Unfortunately, with 30 pages missing towards the end it is impossible to judge how well the threads are joined together in a satisfying finale.

Manchester By the Sea (2016) directed by Kenneth Lonergan

A study in grief and the different ways people deal with it, or not, Manchester By the Sea is a slow, quiet film, beautifully shot. Casey Affleck owns the part of Lee, a withdrawn Boston handyman who has no life and rejects any kind of social interaction. Outwardly calm and indifferent, it becomes clear he has a deep well of anger that can erupt into violence. The death of his brother draws him back to the small coastal town of Manchester to care for his 16-year-old nephew. Flashbacks show a happy-go-lucky Lee who adores his family, but drinks too much and has asshole tendencies that are mostly kept in check. He is close to his older brother, who has similar characteristics. Then we see the tragedy that has removed all joy from his life. In the present day Lee is forced into the interactions and relationships he shuns and, for his nephew’s sake, he manages to grow a little to accommodate what needs to be done. The nephew is a chip off the old block and badly needs guidance that Lee cannot supply. An encounter with his ex-wife demonstrates that while a shattered vessel may be mended it will always have cracks and will likely never again be fully functional. Landscape and the sea are important aspects, representing the beauty and pleasure Lee cannot allow himself. The score is unsubtle to the point of intrusive, detracting from an otherwise effective film that is sad, beautiful and bitingly real, with very strong performances.

Secrets, by Freya North

Life must have turned a bit sour for bestselling author Freya North. Her earlier books were joyous and enjoyable relationship comedies, with a touch of magic to them. Later books have become darker, with more complex issues affecting their protagonists’ love lives. The putative lovers of Secrets are hard to like. Both have had difficult childhoods, which affect their adult relationships but don’t excuse their obnoxious behaviour and callous treatment of others. Falling in love miraculously turns them both into nicer people who tell each other the utter truth and they are able to overcome their dark pasts to build a rosy future together. There is some carelessness in the plotting that creates loose timelines – probably deliberately vague to hold the suspense of the ‘secrets’, but nonetheless annoying and never satisfactorily resolved. Lack of decent, basic, consistent editing has become a persistent beef on this blog. Publishers’ cost cutting, cowardice or both are a crime against readers for which there is no excuse.

Goldenhand, by Garth Nix

The fifth visit to the Old Kingdom sees Abhorsen-in-waiting Lirael growing into her powers. The first half of the story alternates between Lirael tentatively discovering her soul mate and the journey of Firin, a messenger from the north with difficult news for Lirael, Sabriel and the Clayr. Once again they must risk everything to do battle with death. Nix creates a well-realised world of competing magics – the orderly and structured Charter magic and the wild free magic. The two magics somehow come together in the person of Nicholas Sayre, which will prove important to Lirael in many ways. An edge of darkness pervades the story, with necromancers and monstrous creatures manipulating innocents and wreaking havoc. Who could fail to enjoy visiting a world where women take the lead but men are equal and librarians are champions?

Stet: An Editor’s Life, by Diana Athill

A memoir of professional life, Stet provides a fascinating insight into the British publishing industry from immediately after WWII to the 1980s. Athill worked with many prominent 20th century authors, including Phillip Roth, Jean Rhys, John Updike and VS Naipaul, as an editor and as a director of independent publishing house Andre Deutsch Ltd. She touches lightly on the times and on personal issues, but concentrates on the working environment and associated personalities, focusing in particular on half a dozen authors she knew particularly well. Her pen portraits of these writers – some very well known, others not so much – are funny and insightful. The book is marred by the occasional grammatical error which seems very odd in an editor, but everyone makes mistakes and perhaps her own editor was too intimidated to make corrections! She saw enormous changes in the publishing industry and at the time this memoir was published, 2000, was still optimistic about its future despite a decline in editorial standards. She is still going strong and will turn 100 in 2017. It would be interesting to read her thoughts on developments in digital publishing and its impact on the industry.

The Musketeers Series 1 & 2 (BBC)

Based loosely on the Dumas novel, this series starts with a clunk rather than a bang with some dodgy dialogue and clumsy set-up. It warms up after the first few episodes and starts to match the lively theme music. The casting is interesting – Peter Capaldi is far more suited to play the scheming Robespierre than Dr Who, so it is a pity he opted for the latter after the first series. Luke Pasqualino gets his shirt off rather a lot, which enhances his smouldering performance as D’Artagnan. The individual backstories of the main three Musketeers are nicely explored and used to develop depth to the overarching storyline of 17th century French royal political intrigue. Ladies’ man Aramis, troubled leader Athos and slumdog made good Porthos grow in appeal throughout and there is something satisfying about men in leather brandishing swords. The costumes and staging are meticulous and beautiful, adding a layer of authenticity to proceedings. The exquisite backdrop of the Czech Republic is a convincing stand-in for Paris and its surrounds. Series two takes on a rather wild west vibe alongside the Parisian political intrigue, with the superhero musketeers winning through the shoot-ups and sword fights with barely a scratch. Marc Warren creates a nicely evil villain in Rochefort, but the second series is notable for its strong women characters. Queen Anne, Constance and Milady are all given room to grow and develop and they are joined by some interesting minor players. The music is wonderful, supporting but never overwhelming the narrative.

Designated Targets, by John Birmingham

Late 1942 and the arrival of the multinational fleet from the 21st century is having a huge impact on the world. Knowledge of the future inevitably affects the present and therefore creates an alternate future. Thus Japan actually invades Australia and Germany actually invades Britain - will new technology mean the invasions succeed, changing the outcome of WWII? A bit of fun with naming characters goes too far in this sequel to Weapons of Choice. Honouring Australian author-mates such as Kirsty Brooks and Amanda Lohrey is one thing, having Asterix Creators Goscinny and Underzo as French naval commanders is a bit much. Slight jarring notes are caused by the novel being overtaken by events predicted wrongly – few could have foreseen Trump becoming president rather than Hillary Clinton, but it was surely not too big a stretch to imagine King William having children that would have displaced Harry as heir. These may seem minor quibbles, but they are distractions in an otherwise gripping and absorbing tale. The culture clash between the values of the 1940s and the 2020s provides huge interest, personally, socially, politically and militarily, not just on the macro levels of gender and race, but with everyday interactions to do with sex, violence, money and even smoking. The book needed better proofing as there are more than a few typos – a sloppiness that lets the story down. As ever Birmingham seemingly effortlessly balances the human story with the relentless gadgetry in a tale that leaves readers wanting to know what happens next.