The Guilty Feminist, by Deborah Frances-White

Comedian and scriptwriter Frances-White grew up on the Gold Coast but has lived in the UK since escaping the Jehovah’s Witnesses to attend university. In 2015 she started The Guilty Feminist podcast with fellow comedian Sofie Hagen and her career has boomed. The weekly podcast is topical, political and laugh-out-loud funny, recorded at raucous live shows featuring a wide range of special guests who are mostly women. Comedians, performers, writers and activists – some are recognisable from stage and screen; others rarely get that opportunity despite their ability and interesting work. This book is an expansion and reiteration of the podcast; the themes and some of the specific jokes and stories will be familiar – and occasionally repetitive - to regular listeners. The book goes more in depth than it is possible to do in a podcast that is tightly organised for an evening of live entertainment then edited before release. It includes a series of interviews with activists and performers who have appeared on the show. The values demonstrated are intersectional, asking everyone to check their privilege and become allies towards achieving equality. Frances-White argues for a feminism that is kind, compassionate and inclusive, opening up space and opportunities for women of all shapes, sizes and backgrounds. It is not anti-men, but anti-patriarchy, wanting to break down the rigid rules and expectations that damage and restrict women and men. Her book is a call to action – for all of us to do whatever we can, however small, to make a difference and contribute to change for the better of all.

A Star is Born (2018), directed by Bradley Cooper

When a film has been overhyped and you see it late in its run it can often be a disappointment. Not so with this fourth iteration of A Star is Born, which is engaging and moving despite its familiarity. Lady Gaga is a revelation as Ally, a budding singer-songwriter discovered and nurtured by rock star Jackson Maine. Pretty boy Cooper is attractively weather-beaten as the alcoholic Jack, who is suffering from career-threatening tinnitus. He also sings really well. The music is strong; the largely anonymous supporting cast is solid; the central relationship is mostly believable. There are a few negatives: some of Cooper’s dialogue is mumbled and lost; except for Ally there is a striking lack of female characters and the film therefore doesn’t pass the Bechdel test, which is a pity; Ally’s total devotion to Jack occasionally strains credulity. In the end Gaga carries the day. She was born to play the role, so it will be interesting to see what she does next.

Fantastic Beasts 2: The Crimes of Grindelwald (2018), directed by David Yates

The usual wonderful special effects create the required magical universe, spiriting the audience into 1920s New York, London and Paris. Grindelwald has escaped custody to search for and use the incredibly powerful Creedence. Everyone else is searching for him too – either to kill him or to save him; who will get there first? With the wizarding world divided familiar characters make some unexpected choices as they pick sides. The geeky appeal of Eddie Redmayne as Newt and the charm of Jude Law as the younger Dumbledore carry the film, which makes some unsubtle parallels with real word populists who twist and manipulate the gullible and vulnerable to victimise a segment of society. The film is too long and its inconclusive ending exists solely to set up the next film, without generating any great expectation that it will be worth waiting for.

The Biographer’s Lover, by Ruby J Murray

This is a very Melbourne book, although chunks are set in Geelong and bits in Sorrento. A hand-to-mouth writer is hired to write a biography of an uncelebrated deceased artist, Edna Cranmer, by her daughter, who is determined that her mother will receive the recognition she deserves. Other family members are not keen and provide obstructions to the writer digging into the artist’s life. Chapters alternate between the anonymous biographer and her subject. She describes her own life and troubles at the time of writing the biography in her personal chapters, while uncovering the secrets of Edna’s past in the others. Both stories are fascinating, examining the role of female artists and the career obstacles they face; touching on rape; and looking at the impact of war on women. The biographer chapters occasionally leap ahead 20 years to give hints of what develops from that earlier time. This is sometimes jarring and unnecessarily intrusive – do we really need a preview? The strange name of the biographer’s son is never explained and seems to have been chosen in a clumsy attempt to misdirect. Edna and the biographer are both women of their time and the book uses this to show the changing lives of women from the 1930s to the 1990s. Chunks of history and art history are shoehorned into the narrative, which Murray largely gets away with by making it part of a ‘life and times’ biography. It makes the character of Edna totally believable and only occasionally strays towards the didactic.

Robin Hood (2018), directed by Otto Bathurst

Did we really need yet another remake of Robin Hood? Probably not, although this version does attempt something different. It declares from the start that we should forget the actual history, despite keeping the names and ranks of the key players and maintaining the overall theme of challenging corrupt authorities that oppress the poor. Apart from the Crusades it avoids all reference to historical events and dates and both language and costumes are vaguely modern and vaguely Game of Thrones – in fact very odd. It is a pity therefore that the filmmakers didn’t depart from the traditional story in other ways – such as creating some leading female characters besides Marian instead of sticking to the usual sausage fest. Taron Egerton is surprisingly charming as Robin; Ben Mendelsohn upholds his villainous reputation as the Sheriff of Nottingham; Eve Hewson plays a suitably feisty Marian, although her Irish accent seems out of place - as does Jamie Dornan’s as Will Scarlett; Jamie Foxx seems to enjoy himself as a slightly different little John; and Tim Minchin is delightful as a skinny and revolutionary Friar Tuck. The action is packed in hard enough to mostly overcome the many plot improbabilities; the film is never dull, if often stupid.

Daughter of Albion, by Ilke Tampke

Ailia is a foundling, raised in the Royal kitchen of a British tribe under threat of Roman invasion. The girl is well cared for but her future is limited by a lack of family; regardless of her talent or ability, learning and marriage are forbidden. But Ailia’s talents are remarkable and she finds herself called to a higher purpose. She must overcome her shortcomings to achieve her potential and help her tribe to survive. Tampke seamlessly fuses ancient history with fantasy elements based on druid lore to create a thoroughly believable culture and an appealingly flawed heroine. Some bizarre time shifts are very convenient to the plot, but are made more acceptable by their patent inconvenience to the heroine. There is a bit of a rush to the finish, with one glaring inconsistency not adequately explained. It paves the way for a sequel, which will hopefully build on a promising start

The Botanist’s Daughter, by Kayte Nunn

Gardener Anna is renovating an old house in central Sydney, left to her by her beloved grandmother. She uncovers an old box full of botanical illustrations and starts to investigate the mystery of how they came to be in her house. Anna’s story is alternated with that of Elizabeth in 1880s Cornwall. The daughter of a botanist/explorer, Elizabeth is determined to continue her father’s legacy of discovering and documenting rare and useful plants. The scene is set for a rollicking adventure story of a woman breaking boundaries, with interesting parallels and lessons to learn in the present day story. Not exactly ground breaking storytelling, but potentially enjoyable. Unfortunately it is undermined by the poor quality of the writing, with paper-thin characterisation and horrendously clunky dialogue. There are lots of good ideas bubbling around and the botany angle is interesting, but it suffers from the same over-exposition as the history. There is just too much telling and not enough doing, compounded by a few gaping plot holes and some literally incredible coincidences. The book finishes on an odd, unsettling note that possibly flags a sequel, or just indicates a continuation of the ostensibly solved mystery to lift it above a bog-standard romance novel.

The Good Place (Netflix) season 3

Back on earth for a second chance at their separate lives, at first everything goes well for Eleanor, Chidi, Tahani and Jason. But they all too soon revert to their true characters so Michael and Janet decide to break the rules and interfere. They bring the four together in Australia (because of course where else?), so they can again influence each other for good. Nowhere near as sharp and funny as the first two series, this one is mildly amusing at best and therefore disappointing. With so many Australian actors in Hollywood it’s a pity more of them weren’t employed here, as some of the attempts at the accent are very bad indeed. The quality picks up a bit once the gang returns to the afterworld, with some fun cameos but it’s still a bit meh. The ending goes back to the future, leaving things open for another series, but they probably shouldn’t bother.

The Book of Life, by Deborah Harkness

The final instalment of the A Discovery of Witches trilogy goes off on a bit of tangent when Diana and Matthew return to their own time to await the birth of their twins. Extended family dramas rather take over from the pressing task of finding the missing manuscript that may be the book of life, providing the secrets of the origins of vampire, witches and daemons and the key to their future. There is less scholarly exposition and more unlikely plot twists as Matthew deliberately puts himself in danger for reasons hard to fathom. Meanwhile Diana comes fully into her powers and realises that giving up something she cherishes could bring her more than she imagined. Harkness champions the benefits to society as a whole of diversity over supposed racial purity with her blended, extended families. The book of life’s revelations come as little surprise as they have been building throughout the series, but there are a few very convenient developments that confirm and enhance the liaison of Diana and Matthew.

Shadow of Night, by Deborah Harkness

The sequel to A Discovery of Witches sees witch Diana Bishop and vampire Matthew Clairmont timewalking back to 1590. The plan is to hide from the Congregation, the authority that has banned their relationship, while Diana finds some advanced training to control her unusual powers. They also want to search for the mysterious alchemical text that could supply the answers to the declining numbers of creatures – vampires, witches and daemons. Queen Elizabeth I, Christopher Marlowe, William Shakespeare, Walter Raleigh and many more literary, scientific and political identities of the age figure in the drama; apparently aware of supernatural creatures and ok with it. The couple gains the blessing of Matthew’s formidable father for their marriage; travels to Prague; and deals with treachery and tragedy at home and abroad. Suspension of disbelief is a challenge at times, as can often be the case when dealing with the rules and impact of time travel. But the narrative is involving, with complex relationships informed by (mostly) interesting historical detail. The scene is well set for a thrilling final instalment back in the present time, with Matthew and Diana’s motley alliance of creatures and humans preparing to battle the Congregation.

Godless (Netflix)

All the clichés of the Wild West are given substance and depth in this brutal drama set on the frontier in 19th century New Mexico. The mining town of La Belle has been inhabited and run mostly by women since a tragic accident took out almost all of the men. Everyone has had it tough, but none more than twice-widowed Alice Fletcher, an outsider who struggles to run a horse ranch with her native American mother-in-law and mixed race son. La Belle’s precarious existence is threatened when runaway outlaw Roy Goode stumbles into town, chased down by wrathful criminal boss Frank Griffin. Flashbacks illuminate how the main characters came to be whom and where they are, but are occasionally confusing as to timeline. No character is entirely good or entirely bad; the outstanding cast, including Michelle Dockery and Jeff Daniels, brings nuance and shades of grey to the sunny prairie skies. Complex relationships, an evocative soundtrack and touches of humour leaven the violence of this powerful and moving series.

Hive, by AJ Betts

Beekeeper Hayley lives in an underground religious commune organised by rigid rules and roles. Gardeners marry netters and their children are raised as Enginers. The only child who follows its parent is the son or daughter of the Judge, who oversees the community. Although largely content among the gardeners, Hayley keeps a secret from all but her best friend. She suffers from the head pains that may presage the onset of madness and ostracism. A sudden death leads Hayley to question her community and her place within it and she will need help from an unlikely source to find her way forward. A few holes in the structure are glossed over by a fast pace and an appealing and courageous heroine. A rush of exposition is needed to push through to the climax, but a neat cliff-hanger paves the way for the sequel.

Eligible, by Curtis Sittenfeld

For a Jane Austen fan an update of Pride and Prejudice set in modern day Cincinnati sounds like a very bad idea. In fact, the romantic tribulations of the five Bennet sisters translate quite well, in a story that is largely clever and funny despite a few quibbles. The Bennet family’s personalities are kept exactly as in Austen’s original text, with the heroine Lizzy particularly well realised. A pity then that the author introduced an unnecessarily large age gap between the five sisters. It makes sense that Lydia is now 23, rather than 15, and for Jane to be more than the original seven years older, but not 16 years older. Darcy as a surgeon is a good fit, while Bingley as a reality TV contestant is an interesting gambit. One quibble - if Darcy could keep his ridiculous first name of Fitzwilliam, why couldn’t Mr Bingley keep his perfectly reasonable Charles rather than being renamed Chip? Charming deceiver Wickham is split into two, quite effectively in the form of Lizzy’s lover Jasper Wick, less so as Lydia’s problematic boyfriend Ham. It is odd that some characters are almost exact, while others – such as Katherine de Bourgh – bear no resemblance and are seemingly there just to drop the name in. It’s all pretty entertaining, if lightweight and overly long. Mary is probably the least successfully translated Bennet sister, so it is a strange choice to end with her in a postscript that bears no relation to Jane Austen’s classic. Perhaps the author was trying to put a modern twist on the end of a classic – meh.

The Seagull (2018), directed by Michael Mayer

It is interesting to ponder whether there is touch of the Emperor’s New Clothes about some of the classics. Do they endure because they really are so profound or have they become a habit so ingrained they are beyond the kind of critical appraisal applied to new works? Chekov’s The Seagull is essentially a melodrama and only the outstanding cast stops this film version tripping over into pure soap opera. Everyone is in love with the wrong person; they make the wrong decisions and are determined to wallow in their misery. In fact, you just want to slap most of them. Saoirse Ronan inhabits naïve, betrayed Nina; Annette Bening is wonderful as ageing actress Irina eliciting some sympathy for a character so shallow, self-centred and vain; Elisabeth Moss makes a good fist of the rather thankless role of Masha, the most slappable of them all. The women outshine the men, but Corey Stoll is good as selfish writer Boris, while Billy Howle is suitably sulky as the moody and frustrated Konstantin. Set in the idyllic Russian countryside in the early 20th century, the film is beautifully shot and costumed. Most of the action centres on the many dysfunctional relationships – mother and son, lovers, husbands and wives, brother and sister – that are undermined by jealousy and dissatisfaction. But it is punctuated by occasional pithy references to the social climate, which leave little doubt as to why there was a revolution in the offing.

A Discovery of Witches, by Deborah Harkness

Dr Diana Bishop is the last in a long line of powerful witches, dating back to Salem, but she is in denial of her powers following the traumatic death of her parents when she was a child. She has turned her talents to academia, specialising in the history of science with a focus on alchemy. A research trip to Oxford uncovers an ancient text that draws a great deal of unwanted attention from other witches, daemons and vampires. One vampire in particular, the enigmatic Professor Matthew Clairmont, seems to get in her way at every turn, but is he a protector or a threat? Diana must come to terms with her past and get a handle on her magic to be able to deal with a challenging future. Rather too much detail bogs down the story in places – yes we get the author is familiar with Oxford; we don’t need a map of every street and statue to prove it. Nevertheless the narrative is underpinned by scholarship, which adds an interesting intellectual dimension to the story. When the action and the romance take off the story flys, which is just as well as at nearly 600 pages this Twilight for adults is quite the tome. This first of a trilogy has been made into a TV series, with Teresa Palmer and Matthew Goode cast in the lead roles.

We See the Stars, Kate Van Hooft

Life in a country town in the early seventies is evoked through the eyes of a young boy called Simon. He has barely spoken since something happened to his mum, several years ago, but he has always had issues that she used to help him with. This includes what he calls his angries, when he loses control. A school he is a weirdo who is bullied and he survives with the help of imaginary friends and a rich interior life. His dad and younger brother do their best to support him, but his grandma thinks he should be sent away to a special school in the city. Life looks up a bit when a girl with her own issues befriends Simon and a new teacher takes an interest in him. But it all goes to shit when the teacher goes missing and Simon is bound by a promise not to tell her secret, which could help find her. This is a deeply sad story of a community beset by ignorance and behind-closed-doors brutality. The voice of a troubled boy rings true and as flashbacks reveal a tragic past, which sheds light on the difficult present, the reader is inexorably led to an even more tragic future.

The Breakerupperers (2018), directed by Madeleine Sami & Jackie van Beek

This low budget New Zealand film had the potential to be very funny but unfortunately is not. Best friends and business partners Jen and Mel do the dirty work of breaking up relationships that people are too gutless to do for themselves. And that’s about all there is to say. Australian comedian Celia Paquola has a nice supporting role. Too often the film goes for cheap laughs and ends up being, at best, mildly amusing and at worst mildly offensive. All in all, disappointing.

Smoke and Iron, by Rachel Caine

Jess Brightwell is back in the belly of the beast, facing off with the Archivist of the Great Library in Alexandria, but this time he is impersonating his twin, Brendan. It is a desperate last ditch effort to combat the tyranny, enacted behind the backs of half his friends and allies. Even if he pulls it off they may never forgive him, which is problematic as he will need all their strengths to pull it off. Teacher Wolfe, general Santi, obscurist Morgan, engineer Thomas and soldier Glaine all have something to contribute, but it is the scholar Khalila who emerges as their true leader as she realises they need a plan for what comes after, should they miraculously succeed in their rebellion. This fourth book of the Great Library series was supposed to be the final one but, like Khalila, Rachel Caine clearly saw another story in its aftermath and there will be a fifth. This is a good thing as a gripping tale has invested us in discovering the future of the Great Library, if only to see if our intrepid eight can survive yet again. Each of the tight team of scholars and soldiers has suffered enormous loss in their quest to free the Great Library. With enemies gathering around the weakened institution how will they and it recover?

The Book Ninja, by Ali Berg & Michelle Kalus

Failed writer Frankie (short for Frankston, the train line on which she was conceived), works in a bookshop owned by her best friend Cat. Her love life is as much of a disaster as her career so she decides to take action and starts leaving copies of her favourite novels on trains, with a message to potential dates near the end. This flawed plan is as fraught as it sounds but miraculously results in a series of dates, which she uses to regain her mojo by writing a blog about it. At the same time she starts to fall for a man who walks in to the bookshop, but has really terrible taste in books. This is a very Melbourne book, firmly located in the hip inner suburbs and loaded with literary allusions, which sometimes become a bit too much – yeah we get it, you read a lot. All the characters are larger than life to the point of caricature, especially Frankie’s mother, Putu, and her potential boyfriend, Sunny Day (yes really). It all seems good fun – a light and easy read that will move fast to its inevitable chick lit conclusion. Unfortunately it starts to drag about half way through and takes way too long to get there, with far too much self-flagellation along the way.

Wind River (2017), directed by Taylor Sheridan

A professional hunter and tracker in the wilds of Wyoming discovers the body of a young Native American woman in the snow, barefoot and bloodied. The find is doubly distressing as it echoes the disappearance of his daughter three years earlier. The FBI is called in to support the ridiculously under-resourced local police but the lone officer who arrives is a young and inexperienced woman based in Las Vegas. She is dedicated and enthusiastic, but woefully unprepared to deal with the extreme climate and the local culture. It’s a powerful story set in a rugged and isolated place, which touches on a lot of issues to do with native dispossession and cultural disintegration, grief, misogyny and violence. A shocking burst of violent action towards the end leads to a form of rough justice. Jeremy Renner and Elisabeth Olsen are totally convincing in the lead roles, although Renner’s tendency to mumble does detract from his performance. Olsen is note perfect as the FBI agent with a lot to learn. Inspired by real events, the film closes with a chilling statement that there are no statistics on the numbers of Native American women who are missing persons, so there is no knowing how often this kind of crime is committed.

Like Father (2018), directed by Lauren Miller Rogan

This Netflix film is in danger of coming across as an extended advertisement for a cruise line. Fortunately the calibre of the cast and a slightly unusual storyline saves it from teetering completely over the edge. Kristen Bell is Rachel, a workaholic ad exec who is jilted at the altar when her fiancé realises she is working on their wedding day. Kelsey Grammar is her long absent father, seeking reconciliation. They wind up taking her honeymoon cruise to the Caribbean, on a ship that resembles a shopping mall. Predictably, they find their way to a relationship, but the route they take to arrive there is somewhat unexpected and is aided by their shipmates, three disparate couples. Seth Rogan adds some comedy in a small role, presumably because he is related to the director. A rom-com that is not one, there are some fascinating musical choices, which match the story well, particularly the closing track.

The Paris Seamstress, by Natasha Lester

Natasha Lester has undoubtedly done her research on the fashion industry for this book. Perhaps it is necessary for tax purposes to ensure that every last detail of it is inserted into the story. The first chapter is a gush of exposition, an almost overwhelming torrent of words in a hurry to set the scene, introduce the characters and explain their entire back stories. What follows is a complicated and convoluted plot that relies on a series of coincidences that defy belief. It took far too much time and a good deal of eye-rolling to get through this totally mediocre book, which needed several more drafts – or better, a complete rewrite - to make it less of a slog. Cardboard characters, an extremely muddy timeline and an almost irrelevant modern thread make it clear little effort was expended on editing. So it is interesting that the novel seems to have received quite the marketing push. Very good writers find it hard to get published, so how does dross like this make it through the slush pile? The publishing industry is indeed a mystery.

Lake Silence, by Anne Bishop

Nature is predominant in Anne Bishop’s world of The Others where humans live on the sufferance of the Terra Indigene, who are red in tooth and claw when those humans forget their place. Stupidity and greed means this happens all too often, making life difficult for smarter homo sapiens who try to live in harmony with nature. Lake Silence references the central place and characters of earlier books of The Others but stands alone. Following a nasty divorce Vicki DeVine has moved to the small town of Sproing, on the Finger Lakes, to run a guesthouse. Although she owns the buildings she is only a caretaker of the land, at the pleasure of the native inhabitants – and the consequences of transgression are fatal. When her ex husband turns up to try to wrest the property from her it takes an alliance of the town’s unusual inhabitants to combat the machinations of the evil consortium behind him. In Lake Silence Bishop takes her urban fantasy into the countryside, but retains the familiar nexus of crime, cops and creatures, along with enjoyable, fully-rounded characters. The underlying theme of environmentalism versus capitalism provides a satisfying depth to the dark thriller, which resonates with contemporary real-world issues.

Ladies in Black (2018), directed by Bruce Beresford

It is 1959 and Lisa has just started work as a Christmas temp in the cocktail gowns section of Groves department store. She is anxiously awaiting her final exam results and hopes to go on to University, if her father can be persuaded that it’s not a waste of time and money for a girl. Lisa grows up a little and learns a lot through her interactions with her fellow ‘ladies in black’ as they deal with the Christmas rush. A nostalgic ode to Sydney, there are many long lingering shots of the beauty of its architecture and natural surroundings, plus a few gratuitous digs at Melbourne. Some gentle points are made about the limitations set on women and on the potential benefits that refugees and migrants bring to a society, all of which have contemporary resonance. Julia Ormond is wonderful as Magda, the Slovenian ‘reffo’ with elegance and ambition. She is perfectly complemented by French heartthrob Vincent Perez as her laid back Hungarian husband. Up-and-comer Angourie Rice hits all the right notes as the ingénue Lisa, well supported by Susie Porter and Shane Jacobsen as her suburban mum and dad. Rachael Taylor is lovely as former dancer Faye and it’s a different role for Ryan Corr, playing her Hungarian suitor Rudi. Noni Hazlehurst does a particularly poignant turn as Miss Cartwright, the department store supervisor who encourages Lisa to make the most of her opportunities. The film occasionally hints that it will take a darker path, but steps back from the brink and stays charming but inconsequential, carried by its cast rather than its story.

The Colour of Bee Larkham’s Murder, by Sarah J Harris

Jasper doesn’t recognise faces and sees sounds as colours, just like his Mum did before she died of cancer and left him alone with his Dad. The 13-year-old likes to paint the colours he hears, especially the noise of the parakeets in the tree in his neighbour’s garden. He makes friends with his colourful neighbour, Bee Larkham, who seems to get him a bit more than others in the street, the kids at school, or his Dad. But there is a darker shade to Bee and when she goes missing Jasper thinks it’s his fault. As he desperately tries to paint the true colours of what happened a very strange tale unfolds. The story is reminiscent of the Curious Case of the Dog in the Nighttime, its young hero with mental challenges finding himself at the centre of a crime. It would be difficult to write a murder mystery from the POV of a teenage boy with ‘learning difficulties’ and this attempt is not entirely successful. The back and forth between the present, the past and Jasper’s clouded memories of the night Bee disappeared is occasionally confusing and sometimes tedious until the action steps up towards the end. Harris engenders great sympathy for the boy who believes he has killed someone and has trouble communicating with the world. Is Dad a villain? Is the neighbour across the road? In the end all is resolved a little too neatly, but it is an interesting look at childhood trauma and its consequences.

The Unexpected Education of Emily Dean, by Mira Robertson

During WWII teenage Emily is sent to country Victoria while her mother is ill. Insecure, lonely, immature Emily hates the family farm and doesn’t particularly like the family. The device of seeing events through Emily’s naïve eyes doesn’t quite work as it leads to a detachment from them and you end up not particularly caring about any of it. Even though the story takes place over only a few weeks, it comes across as a series of vignettes – Emily has a crush, Emily gets drunk, Emily gets a bra, Emily realises her cousin is a Lesbian – rather than as a full narrative. None of the characters is particularly appealing, least of all awkward adolescent Emily. She does manage to grow up a little but not much and her optimistic departure for Melbourne at the end seems overstated.

The Merger (2018), directed by Mark Grentell

The Bodgy Creek Roosters haven’t won a game in three years; they lack the players to make up a full team; and their asbestos-ridden clubrooms have been condemned. Troy Carrington was a local hero who made it to the AFL, but now he is hermit - regarded as a town killer after his activism resulted in closure of the timber mill. Can he really turn around the fortunes of the team and the town by involving the controversial refugee centre? It will come as no surprise to discover the answer is yes; the fun is in the journey Troy takes to arrive there. The messages of inclusivity and diversity are not subtle, but the film is nevertheless both heartwarming and funny as Troy forges a group of misfits and no-hopers into a true team. Comedian Damien Callinan adapted the screenplay from his own one-man play and stars as Troy. Some very familiar faces ably support him, including John Howard, Penny Cook, Kate Mulvaney and Angus McLaren, as well as newcomers Fayssal Bazzi and Rafferty Grierson. It is not often that the end credits of a film are greeted with an outbreak of applause. The Merger is a welcome addition to the ‘Aussie as’ genre.

Neverland, by Margot McGovern

Kit Learmonth was orphaned at the age of 10 when she survived a sailing accident that killed her parents. It is fair to say she has issues, with clouded memories and a tendency to self-harm. Kit’s uncle and guardian is a psychiatrist who has turned her childhood home, Learmonth Island, into a treatment centre for troubled teens but sends his niece to various boarding schools on the mainland. She regularly manages to get expelled in order to return to the island, which she calls Neverland, where she escapes into a fantasyland that she created with her author father. At 17 Kit is outgrowing her fantasy world of pirates, mermaids and monsters and needs to come to terms with her patchy memories and tragic past. The story is set in Australia, but could almost be anywhere - the otherworldly qualities of Neverland existing outside of time and geography. At the same time the experiences and responses of Kit and her friends in treatment are grounded in a rather dark reality, which makes for an interesting and challenging tale that is ultimately hopeful.

Annihilation (2018), directed by Alex Garland

Lena is a biologist, formerly in the Army, whose soldier husband went MIA while on a secret mission a year ago. She is depressed and isolated but continues with her academic career. A strange circumstance sees her investigating Kane's disappearance, along with a team of military scientists, who happen to all be women. Written by Alex Garland, with a stellar cast including Natalie Portman, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Oscar Isaac, the film is somehow less than the sum of its parts. Portman is good as Lena; Isaac’s role is barely more than a cameo; and JJL’s performance as a detached psychologist is just odd. There are good things about it; there is a suitably creepy atmosphere, some gripping action and suspense. The flashbacks work well to reveal the reasons for Lena’s mindset. Some interesting, even intriguing concepts are introduced but not fully explored, possibly because it is based on the first book of a trilogy. But the tone is off. For a good portion of the film Portman and JJL speak in a monotone, which is clearly a deliberate directorial choice, but is irritating. Ostensibly a sci fi/horror flick, the film seems confused about what it’s really all about – is it actually an allegory for grief and redemption?

The Golden Minute, by John Birmingham

This sequel to A Girl In Time sees game developer Cadence McCall and 19th century cowboy John Titanic Smith back in Cady’s right time in Seattle. The pair has reset and restored everything that went wrong in their previous adventure and now aim to use their two mysterious time travel appliances to retrace Smith’s steps through time and reunite him with his lost daughter. You would think that after their earlier experiences Cady would have learned not to spend a fortune amassing elaborate equipment to aid their quest – given that they inevitably lose it all when things go pear shaped. Again her confidence is misplaced as she and Smith are separated by centuries, each winding up in very troubled times. Can they manage to reunite and get back on (time) track? Or will Cady remain stranded among witches and pirates? Fast paced and action packed, like the first book, Cady and Smith are larger than life, rather exaggerated characters that border on cliché and caricature. But it is fun to see them contend with experiences well outside their respective comfort zones. Wry humour is the story’s saving grace, although there are few too many Handmaid’s Tale references and a rather unlikely romance, setting up for the next book.

The Emerald Sea, by Richelle Mead

The third tale of the Glittering Court follows feisty Tamsin, the perfectionist with a secret, who is driven to be the best and make the best possible marriage. She made friends with Adelaide and Mira despite her competitiveness, which is the only clue that this rather unlikeable character from the first two books will turn out to be a natural leader with a strong moral compass. Tamsin’s story is even more full of unlikely adventures than those of her former bosom buddies – shipwreck, encounters with ‘savage’ tribes, confinement in a religious community, and just about every man she encounters falling for her. Unfortunately none of her suitors can offer the financial security she needs and so she returns to her focussed and driven self in pursuit of her goals when she finally gets to the city. This leads Tamsin to further unlikely misadventures, which miraculously reunite her with most of the major players from the earlier adventures and show her the right path to security and happiness.

The Wife (2018), directed by Bjorn Runge

It is 1992 and New York writer Joseph Castleman has been awarded the Nobel Prize for literature, an achievement he openly acknowledges would not have been possible without his devoted wife Joan. Their relationship appears on the surface to be entirely conventional, but as the couple travels to Sweden for the award ceremony, a series of flashbacks to the 50s and 60s gradually reveal a deeper truth. The film explores the complexity behind the cliché of the good woman behind every great man, demonstrating how the patriarchy buries the talent and potential of women in order to maintain its power and predominance. Glen Close is amazing as Joan, ably supported by Jonathan Pryce as loveable arsehole Joseph and Christian Slater as a would-be biographer who stirs the pot. Max Irons battles with an underwritten character as their troubled son David. Annie Starke is well cast as the younger version of Joan, her similarity to Close no surprise when you realise she is her daughter. This is such an interesting film with many layers, painted in shades of grey, as no-one is wholly a hero or a villain. It exposes the hypocrisy of the literary and publishing worlds and its parallels in relationships.

Pandora’s Boy, by Lindsey Davis

Asked to look into the death of a teenage girl by her husband’s annoying first wife, Flavia Albia’s first instinct is to refuse. But then her husband goes missing; seemingly an after-effect of being struck by lightning on their wedding day, and the young informer needs a distraction. Clodia ran with an older, flighty crowd with complicated revolving love lives; was she poisoned by a love potion? The local witch/medium/ cosmetician is under suspicion by the vigils but has gang connections and can’t be pinned down. Albia must enlist the help of a dodgy, but familiar, lettuce seller to solve the mystery and obtain justice for Clodia. And Falco makes a welcome cameo appearance. As usual Davis draws clever parallels between social issues and mores in ancient Rome and those in contemporary life. This time, spoiled, privileged youth are targeted – all they would need is smart phones to fit right in to modern times. A dark tone pervades the story, which ends with a harbinger of criminal gang warfare across the city of Rome. At the very least the newlyweds finally get their household into some order, which should reassure their relatives and augurs well for their marriage.

Murder With the Lot, by Sue Williams

A take-away shop in a decaying country town in rural Victoria is an unlikely setting for a murder mystery, but it makes for a good jumping off point. There is an enormously appealing heroine in Cass Tuplin, a hard working widow, put upon, but flawed, who finds out that her husband was not quite who she had thought he was. Her loving but troubled relationship with her sons is very credible; although the eldest is so frustrating you want to thump him. A slightly tongue-in-cheek style sets the scene for an entertaining tale, but somehow it doesn’t quite work. The author seems to be trying a bit too hard for laughs, from the truly stupid names of the towns – Rusty Bore, Hustle and Muddy Soak - to the almost impenetrable stupidity and grossness of the town’s characters. It’s a pity because there are a lot of good elements – a fast-paced story, sympathetic heroine, some well-drawn supporting characters, but it’s all a bit too deliberately quirky in a way that doesn’t ring true.

Jessica Jones (Netflix) season 2

Exposed as a ‘super’ by the events of season 1, private eye Jessica Jones is training Malcolm as her assistant and trying to keep the cases turning over. Best friend Trish is trying to force her to deal with her traumatic childhood, but also has her own agenda and a new boyfriend. Ethically challenged lawyer Jeri is still interfering, but some devastating news sends her into a spin. Shifting loyalties and exploration of what family means underpin this season, which is lower key than the first. Ultimately all the previously close relationships are left up in the air, with Jessica possibly looking to take a new path.

The Succubus Gift, by BR Kingsolver

It is very evident from the style and layout of this novel that it is self-published and has been converted from an e-book format. It must have been reasonably successful in its original iteration to then make print, but one has to wonder if this has more to do with confusion over the author’s rather famous name than the quality if the writing. That said there are the bones of a good story here, with an interesting premise, solid research and an evolved culture and backstory underpinning the whole. Unfortunately it lacks in character and plot development, with a few annoying inconsistencies, and a sometimes clunky writing style. These shortcomings never stopped the like of EL James and a strong appetite for dark urban fantasy has seen Ms Kingsolver prosper, but there is much better available.

The Power Game, by Meg & Tom Kenneally

Ticket-of-leave convict Monsarrat and his intrepid housekeeper Mrs Mulrooney have been sent to solve a murder on the remote penal settlement on Maria Island, Tasmania. It seems a very long way to travel for such a purpose in the 1820s, but the accused is a political prisoner, Irish rebel aristocrat Tom Power. Mrs Mulrooney rather takes the lead in this investigation, her employer ceding to her superior skills and intelligence in a somewhat unlikely power shift. This does allow more light to be shed on the position of women in the colonies and on the fine distinctions of class that pervade all aspects of colonial life. The history is interesting but too much is shoehorned in to demonstrate the authors’ knowledge rather than to serve the plot, especially regarding the Irish troubles. We just don’t need to know that level of detail, particularly as the authors’ acknowledge in an end note that they have taken some liberties with the truth. The tale needed better editing, with some sloppiness and a few minor inconsistencies let through. Nevertheless it is a good read and a welcome addition to the Australian historical crime genre. The end once again presages the next mystery to be solved, this time back on home soil in Sydney.

Mama Mia – Here We Go Again (2018), directed by Ol Parker

Most of Abba’s big hits were used in the first film so minor hits and album tracks are more prominent in the sequel, but this actually serves the story better. Set several years after Mama Mia, it is coming up to the anniversary of Donna’s death. Her daughter Sophie has realised Donna’s dream of transforming the Greek island farmhouse into a hotel and is planning the grand opening, but everything is going wrong. Meanwhile we are taken back to Donna’s graduation and the story of her travels to Greece and how she met Sophie’s potential fathers. The casting of the younger versions of the main characters is great, with all of them recognisable and believable, but Lily Cole as Donna is outstanding and she sounds just like Agneta. This film is much better than the first at disguising the non-singers; Amanda Seyfried shoulders most of the musical burden and does it well. Slight but enjoyable, the plot and timeline don’t bear examination and the film could do with a few more laughs. It lifts at the very end with a poignant mother-daughter duet and a joyous whole cast finale, to go out on a high note.

The French Girl, by Lexie Elliot

Ten years ago, six English University students were celebrating graduation at a holiday home in France that belonged to the family of one of them. Around the time they left for home, the young French woman who lived next door disappeared. It was a mystery never solved. Now her body has been found on the holiday property and the French police are once again questioning the former students. Recruitment lawyer Kate is shocked by the discovery of the French girl’s body and uncomfortable with the way it has drawn the group of friends – and ‘frenemies’ – back together. As the investigation only raises more questions about the group and their behaviour on the holiday, Kate finds herself haunted by the dead girl and increasingly doubtful about who did what and when. Suspense is maintained throughout this taught and largely enjoyable tale of love, jealousy, betrayal and murder. Elliot gets a little too enamoured of one particular romantic-sounding metaphor towards the end, but this is a minor quibble about what is a satisfying story.

Little Gods, by Jenny Ackland

Oh what a tediously long time this novel takes to achieve nothing in particular. It has pretentions to something significant by its use of elliptical prose that frustrates rather than intrigues. It is difficult to fix the time – is it set in the 50s, 60s, 70s? It’s not until a fair way in to the story that some cultural references make it clear we are in the early 80s. This is presumably deliberate but it’s not clear what this vagueness is intended to do. After a very slow start the story builds a creepy tension to what is essentially a horror story. The main character, 12-year-old Olive, is not entirely credible. She has a precociousness combined with pre-teen naivety, which is a possible hallmark of an only child, but her stubborn refusal to see the obvious doesn’t quite compute. Appalling family dysfunction, mental illness and intergenerational damage don’t make for a cheery tale and a huge leap forward at the end seems unnecessary.

Ant Man & The Wasp (2018), directed by Peyton Reed

Ant Man was missing from the last Avengers ensemble movie, Infinity Wars, and now we find it was because he has been under house arrest for two years, following his exploits in Germany with Captain America. Three days before the ankle bracelet is to come off, his freedom is put in jeopardy by the reintroduction into his life of The Wasp. She needs his help to retrieve her mother, lost in another dimension for 30 years. What follows is an amusing caper, with Ant Man trying to evade and outwit the FBI; a very shady businessman and his evil henchmen; and a mysterious, suited assailant. There is plenty of action, not over the top; a few laughs, perhaps not quite enough; and a bit of science, possibly too much. Paul Rudd’s appealing persona carries the film; Evangeline Lilly is fine as The Wasp; there is a nice cameo from Michelle Pfeiffer; and an entertaining supporting cast. A much smaller film than the usual Marvel epics, Ant Man & The Wasp is a bit on the sentimental side and certainly no Black Panther, but it’s all harmless fun.

Succubus Shadows & Succubus Revealed, by Richelle Mead

In the fifth book it seems the Succubus series is running out of steam as yet another rival succubus comes to town to threaten Georgina Kincaid, who is subsequently kidnapped – again. The validity of Georgina’s contract with hell is once again brought into question, but she seems no closer to getting those questions answered. Her relationship with author Seth reaches a new level and the stage is set for a final novel that will tie up all the loose ends and resolve the clues scattered through all the books so far. Hopefully Mead can pull it together is a satisfying way. In the final book Georgina and Seth are back together, with a somewhat uneasy compromise on sex. No longer working at the bookshop, apparently the only job the succubus can get is as a Santa’s helper at a mall. Suddenly Hell gives notice that Georgina will be transferred to a new post, which seems to promise her everything she has ever wanted – except Seth. Her housemate Roman is suspicious and, with help from angel Carter, decides to investigate Hell’s nefarious purposes. The story takes a slightly unexpected turn from the previous all-action to become a courtroom drama that will decide Georgina’s fate. Unfortunately this leads to a rather anticlimactic ending; a case of succubus deflated rather than revealed.

The three of Us, by Kim Lock

It is made clear from early on that this book will deal with the topic of polygamy. Thomas has a terminal illness and doesn’t know how to tell his wives of 50 years. He has been referred to a psychologist for help with this and so the story unfolds. Unfortunately what could be an interesting tale is undermined by a lack of credibility in almost every element. Over exposition and clunky dialogue make it tedious. The voice of Thomas, in particular, does not ring true but the whole story reads more as propaganda for plural relationships rather than a genuine story. The few interesting aspects include the setting of Gawler - a small country town on the outskirts of Adelaide - and insights into Australia past, such as the marriage bar. But these are not examined in any detail or developed with the story as a whole. There is little drama or conflict within the central relationship or the extended family. All the angst is external.There is hardly any individual jealousy or conflict within the threesome. Children and grandchildren are totally accepting – even those who live overseas and therefore have had limited contact with the strange relationship. The only source of pain is the necessity for secrecy and the lack of public recognition available to them. The surprise twist at the end is the least credible story element of all, leaving a sweetly saccharine finish that could not come soon enough.

The Good Place (Netflix) seasons 1 & 2

Eleanor Shelstropp has died and finds herself in the Good Place, destined to meet her soul mate and enjoy a blissful eternity. But something is not quite right and all is not as it seems. Her ‘ideal’ home is small and not at all to her taste; she has nothing in common with her soul mate Chidi, an ethics professor; and everyone seems to think Eleanor was a saintly environmental campaigner rather than a selfish and ruthless peddler of dodgy medicines. Can she learn from Chidi and earn her place in the afterlife? Or will she be found out and sent to the Bad Place? Clever and funny, the show sneaks in a good amount of ethical dilemmas and moral philosophy lectures, in the most entertaining way possible. Ted Danson is perfectly cast as Michael, the architect of the Good Place, whose motives are increasingly suspect. Kristen Bell sustains a fine balance between annoying and loveable as the ethically challenged Eleanor. Created by Michael Schur, who was also responsible for Parks & Recreation and Brooklyn Nine Nine, the episodes are all around 22 minutes and filled with visual gags, smart cameos and snappy dialogue. Season 2 turns everything on its head, with Eleanor and her friends again battling for a toehold in the Good Place and risking a torturous eternity in the Bad Place. The season final again sets everything up for an interesting season 3.

Circe, by Madeline Miller

In the vein of Kerry Greenwood’s women of Troy series, this novel gives a different take on the Odyssey by telling it from the point of view of the witch Circe. Daughter of the Titan Helios, Circe is an outsider in her family and among the gods generally. Scapegoated and exiled, Circe builds an idyllic but essentially lonely life on the island of Aiaia, honing her skills over the centuries. As well as the Odyssey many of the major myths are touched on, with Circe somehow having a hand in the stories of Prometheus, Scylla and Charybdis, Daedalus and Icarus, the Minotaur, Jason and Medea. Some of these tales are more effective than others, with the focus more on their effect on Circe than the details of the stories themselves. The suffering of Prometheus and his influence on Circe is profound, but the treatment of Jason and Medea seems perfunctory. There is no sugar coating of the brutality and general indifference of the Gods in their interactions with mortals. Circe confirms her outsider status by behaving differently from her fellow immortals, confirming this ultimately by her choice to become her true self.

Thorn Queen, by Richelle Mead

Storm born Eugenie Markham is living a dual life. In the human world she is a shaman, banishing ghosts and other supernatural creatures that cause problems. In the Otherworld she is the reluctant Thorn Queen, trying to come to terms with her new responsibilities and her growing powers. Torn between two worlds, she is also torn between two lovers – Fox man Kiyo and charismatic Oak King Dorian. Eugenie finds herself drawn more deeply into the life and troubles of the Otherworld as the land needs her personal attention and she uncovers the mystery of young women going missing from small villages. Frequent and graphic sex scenes are tinged with BDSM but they are not included just for titillation. Mead cleverly juxtaposes the active sex life of her heroine with the central theme of power and consent.

That’s Not Me (2017), directed by Gregory Erdstein

Polly Cuthbert is an aspiring actor who is a little too selective in her choices. Considering herself too good for commercials and soap operas, she misses her chance, which is eagerly snatched up by her identical twin sister Amy. What follows is a difficult year where Polly finds herself in Amy’s shadow and completely loses her own identity. Co-written by the director and the lead actress Alice Foulcher, the film is smart and funny. It was made on an ultra low budget, but clever filming choices mean this doesn’t really show. Cameos from Isabel Lucas and Richard Davies lend a tiny touch of star power and an awesome original soundtrack adds joy. The film ends a little abruptly but leaves with a laugh created by a disclaimer that was probably included for legal reasons but is actually very funny. Aspiring filmmakers must despair when they see some of the crap that gets greenlit, especially through Hollywood. Films like this deserve an audience and it will be interesting to see what this talented couple do next.

The Crown (Netflix) season 1

Casting universally well-known characters is always difficult. When those characters are the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, even when portrayed in their youth, it must be almost impossible. Claire Foy and Matt Smith were inspired choices; they inhabit their roles completely and convincingly, obliterating memories of Dr Who, Anne Boleyn and all other previous roles. Foy is a wonderful actress and she superbly evokes the “ordinary young woman of modest ability and limited imagination”, who must grow into a role she is not ready for that will compromise her marriage and her close relationships. Smith is a revelation as Prince Philip, a man of his time who can’t seem to find his place as Mr Queen. Perfectly sumptuous costumes and settings help bring to life an era that is still within living memory for many. Alas the rest of the casting is hit and miss. Too many well known British acting faces seem to be there for their names rather than their prowess; with many you never forget they are actors playing a part. Eileen Atkins and Victoria Hamilton, as Queen Mary and the Queen Mother respectively, do improve as the series progresses. John Lithgow is surprisingly convincing as the increasingly decrepit Churchill, clinging to power. Alex Jennings is very good as the Duke of Windsor, portrayed as a rather nasty man who nevertheless garners some sympathy for his horrible situation. Ben Miles is totally miscast as Peter Townsend – it is not at all believable that young Princess Margaret would have fallen for a much older married man so devoid of looks and charm. Nuanced and subtle, sometimes a little slow, The Crown gives a fascinating insight to the monarchy that even a confirmed republican can find absorbing. It seems likely that those involved would not be pleased with their life being examined in such excruciating detail and who could blame them, but as The Crown makes clear, such is the price of monarchy – for better or for worse.

The Princess Bride, by William Goldman

A classic novel that purports to be about a classic text, the affectation of the author abridging that classic is well sustained but also tediously unnecessary. It is a conceit that really doesn’t add anything but length to the story. The characters are memorable - beautiful farm girl Buttercup, dashing pirate Westley, steadfast giant Fezzik and vengeance-fuelled Inigo Montoya, evil six-fingered Count Rugen and dastardly Prince Humperdink. It is impossible to not see them as portrayed in the film. The story is ridiculous, but told with amusing irony. Billed as an adventure/romance/fantasy, it is actually quite violent. All in all and unusually, the film is better than the book.

Precious and Grace, by Alexander McCall Smith

Traditionally built Mma Ramwotse and secretarial school star graduate Mma Makutsi have expanded their Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency. Their somewhat prickly professional relationship sometimes hampers their work. Canadian visitor Susan is seeking a sense of home she has lost since leaving Botswana as a child, but the intrepid ladies sense there is more to her quest. Part time volunteer detective Mr Polopetsi has got himself caught up in a pyramid scheme that Mma Ramotswe must try to extract him from. And then there’s the problem of apprentice Fanwell’s stray dog. Long tracts of homespun of philosophy make the story a trifle dull, rather than low key and charming. This is embodied by the rather prosaic title, lacking the usual quirk. It seems the author and his lady detectives are rather running out of steam.

Peaky Blinders (BBC) season 4

The Shelby family is splintered. Tommy’s grand plans brought Arthur, John, Michael and Polly to the brink of death and the women of the family, particularly, cannot forgive. The past always comes back to haunt and an external threat brings the family back together, at least temporarily, with all their lives at risk. It is 1925 and Britain is riven with industrial unrest as revolution looms. Necessity creates some strange bedfellows and Tommy is torn between his business concerns and his working class roots. Glimpses of a softer kinder, more idealistic Tommy from before the war reinforce the irreparable damage ‘the war to end all wars’ had on individuals and on society. Ada is back from Boston to play peacemaker but her Communist past puts her at risk in these volatile times. But Polly is the key to pulling everything back together for the Shelbys or finally blowing up the empire Tommy has so painstakingly built at such great cost to them all. This season turns things on their head; while Tommy and the Shelbys are under threat it’s not so hard to be on their side, but the triumphant finish, with Tommy achieving his designs to go legit by finally selling out the working class, leaves a nasty taste. A fifth season has been announced and promises an intriguing new direction for the Shelbys, but is probably some way off as shooting has not yet started. This is just as well, despite the appeal of Cillian Murphy’s to-die-for cheekbones, a break from this violent crime family could be welcome.

Succubus Dreams & Succubus Heat, by Richelle Mead

The tables have turned on succubus Georgina Kinkaid. Something is sucking out her life energy while she sleeps, leaving her with bittersweet dreams in its place. At the same time there is a brand new succubus in town and Georgina is supposed to show her the ropes. But is Georgina in danger of being replaced in more than one aspect of her life and work? It’s all actually a bit of a nightmare. In mourning for her losses, a heartbroken Georgina is sent to Canada by her boss demon Jerome to help out another demon. But strange demonic politics are afoot and Jerome’s disappearance creates a dilemma for Georgina. A temporary loss of her abilities makes it possible to rekindle an affair with a former love, but what damage will it do to all involved? A strange alliance with a foe from the past restores Seattle to politics as usual, but big changes could be in store for our favourite succubus.

Useful, by Debra Oswald

From the start this novel reads as though it was written to be filmed, with short, provocative introductions to each of the main cast of characters. This is probably not surprising, as the author is the creator of such television gems as Offspring. Unfortunately the book has more in common with the dodgy first season of that series, rather than the stronger later seasons. The characters are a little too self-consciously quirky and most of them are unpleasant or exasperating or both. It is all about the redemption of Sullivan Moss, who is basically a dickhead loser. As the novel progresses he becomes slightly less of a dickhead loser, via means that are not terribly credible. All but one of the marriages are awful; almost everyone behaves appallingly; the only truly appealing character is a dog.

Tully (2018), directed by Jason Reitman

Charlize Theron is Marlo, an exhausted mother of three, including a newborn and a five-year-old with challenging behaviour. Her loving husband helps out but is content to leave most of the responsibility for running the family to her. Life changes after Marlo’s wealthy brother offers to pay for a night nanny to give her a break and the spirited and supportive 20-something Tully comes into her life. Written by Diablo Cody, who also wrote Juno, the script is smart, wryly funny, heart wrenching and totally convincing. The story takes a strange turn around two-thirds in, but a twist at the end ensures that everything makes perfect sense. It is Theron’s film and she shines, but she is well supported by Mackenzie Davis as Tully and Ron Livingstone as Marlo’s husband. The marketing for this film clearly went into the too hard basket and got left to word of mouth, which means not many people have seen it. This is a great pity because it deserves an audience and audiences deserve to see more well crafted, thoughtful films that tackle difficult subjects in a sensitive and evocative manner.

The Avengers: Infinity Wars (2018), directed by Anthony Russo & Joe Russo

The action is fast and furious right from the start in the 18th Marvel outing. The film is well structured to cope with all the superheroes in it, with most getting ample screen time for a satisfying story arc and some unusual groupings pulling the various strands together. There is a lot of love and self-sacrifice, all to no avail so the message is a little unclear. Two hours forty is an awfully long film and although the story doesn’t flag it is difficult to remain fully engaged for the whole running time. It is easy to miss important cues, such as those that explain the bizarre choices of Dr Strange, who appears to just give up the fight and trigger disaster. In the end there is so much death and destruction it is hard to keep track of exactly who is lost, but its is safe to assume a figure of half. Largely entertaining, the film nevertheless finishes with more questions than answers, quite deliberately as it is part one of two. Stand by the sequel next year.

Storm Born, by Richelle Mead

This reads like an earlier effort from the prolific fantasy author; it contains all the elements of her more successful novels, but it doesn’t quite hang together. Eugenie Markham AKA Odile, Dark Swan is a shaman, who protects her world from Fae incursions. She has a deep suspicion of what she calls the Gentry, instilled by her stepfather who has trained her to combat them. Discovering her true origins calls into question her whole life and she needs to reassess her relationship with the Gentry. The central romance with a shapeshifter is unconvincing, possibly intentionally so as a lead in to future books. The dramatic shifts are clearly signalled and so less interesting for the reader than for Eugenie. We don’t find out why she’s called Dark Swan until near the end and the Swan Lake allusion seems spurious. The sex is copious and full on throughout the book and it will be interesting to see if this is sustained throughout the series.

All the Crooked Saints, by Maggie Stiefvater

Straying from her usual brand of quirky romantic fantasy, Stiefvater ventures into the weird and wonderful territory of magical realism. The Soria family has long been the guardian of miracles in the small Colorado Desert town of Bicho Raro. One of the family serves as Saint to help pilgrims acknowledge their inner darkness and bring on the first miracle. The pilgrims must then bring on the second miracle by healing themselves. The Sorias cannot help with this part, for fear of bringing out their own darkness. In recent times the delay between first and second miracles has stretched longer and longer, with damaged pilgrims hanging around Bicho Raro like a bad smell. Touched by sadness, the Sorias themselves are disunited and disaffected and the three youngest family members – Saint Daniel, emotionless Beatriz and devilish Joaquin – want change. It takes a young man with a hole in his heart and no darkness in him at all to bring the Soria family together and help out the hapless pilgrims.

Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life (Netflix)

Ten years on from the end of the much-loved series, four movie-length episodes – Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall – show a year in the life of the inhabitants of Stars Hollow. The Gilmore women are grieving the sudden death of Edward. Emily is behaving erratically; Lorelei is in a holding pattern; and Rory is in a career crisis and finding it hard to quit old bad habits. All eventually find their way and are ready to move on, but getting there is a torturous journey. Most of the supporting characters are back for at least one of the episodes; the Palladinos write and direct; and all the ingredients are there for a satisfying catch-up with old friends, but somehow it just doesn’t come off. Possibly trying too hard for the quirky, the script is rarely funny and the storylines just not very interesting. Very occasionally there is a spark of the former entertainment and a belly laugh, but it only serves to point out how few and far between such moments are. In a word - disappointing.

Succubus on Top, by Richelle Mead

The continuing adventures of Seattle succubus Georgina Kinkaid sees her battling her essential nature by dating a mortal she can’t have sex with for fear of killing him. Georgina feeds off souls, but she and author Seth are in love so she has to remain chaste with him and suck life force elsewhere. Awkward much? Meanwhile an old incubus friend is in town – her male equivalent, who may have a hidden agenda. And then there is her bookshop colleague Doug, whose music career is taking off, possibly under demonic influence. An entertaining supernatural mystery story, with plenty of sex and romance – what’s not to love?

Love, Simon (2018), directed by Greg Berlanti

In this high school comedy with a difference closeted teen Simon develops an email-only relationship with Blue, a fellow student who is also hiding his sexuality. Simon is delaying coming out until he goes to college but discovery of his secret by a schoolmate threatens this plan. Martin blackmails Simon into setting him up with a good friend. Low key and understated, the film is not terribly profound but that’s what makes it ground-breaking, because it treats a teen coming out story like any other high school story. There is a nice exploration of Simon’s imagination as he tries to figure out the identity of Blue, but some aspects of the story are not quite credible. It is hard to believe that with such a supportive family and good friends Simon would not have confided in a soul, particularly his best friend Leah and especially when the blackmail starts. Nick Robinson is suitably appealing as Simon, who learns that being his authentic self is the most important thing, especially with his friends. Australian actress Katherine Langford does a good job as the thwarted Leah. The secret of Blue’s identity is kept from everyone, including Simon, until the very end, providing an appropriate reward.

Longitude, by Dava Sobel

An attractive and unusual cover and rave reviews bely the rather sparse contents of this non-fiction account of the long hard road towards measuring longitude – the vital ingredient for safe navigation of the oceans. It has all the elements of a good tale – hard working hero, vindictive snobbish villain, a long battle after which good finally triumphs – and yet the whole is somehow less than the sum of its parts. For a slim volume there is a surprising amount of repetition and some of the science gets very abstruse, making it difficult to maintain interest in the story.

Succubus Blues, by Richelle Mead

Georgina Kincaid has been a succubus for centuries, feeding off the life force of mortals through sex, and she’s kind of over it. These days she limits her feeding sources to the morally dubious, which is not as satisfying but squares better with her conscience than literally sucking the life out of good people. She works in a Seattle bookshop and counts humans among her friends as well as like-minded fellow immortals - vampires, imps, angels and demons. Life gets very complicated when her favourite author comes to town and a violent crime wave sweeps immortal ranks. Georgina can’t resist investigating the crimes and she is having trouble resisting the charms of the author, despite the potential perils. Mead employs a tongue in cheek style familiar from her Vampire Diaries series, but this succubus story is funnier and sexier.

Personal Shopper (2017), directed by Oliver Assayas

An American in Paris, Lewis, has recently died from complications of a congenital heart defect, which also affects his twin Maureen. She is working in Paris as a personal shopper for an unpleasant celebrity while waiting for a sign from her dead brother, as they had promised each other. Kristen Stewart does her surly best to inhabit the morose Maureen; the remaining cast are peripheral. Her strength is unfortunately not sufficient to carry a film that has more than its fair share of WTF moments. There is minimal dialogue, some of which is swallowed by the muddy sound mix, and far too many long lingering shots of nothing very meaningful. Dreary rather than suspenseful, the only genuinely shocking moment jars against the general mood of introspective moodiness. The previous award-winning collaboration between writer-director Assayas and Stewart, The Clouds of Sils Maria, was complex, mysterious and thought provoking. He has attempted something similar here but the result is an unconvincing ghost story that ends up disappearing up its own backside.

Ash & Quill, by Rachel Caine

Out of the frying pan and into the fire describes the continuing saga of the group of scholars in rebellion against the tyranny of the Great Library. They have fetched up in the Burner HQ of Philadelphia, which has been under siege by the Library for a century, but find that the enemies of their enemy are not necessarily their friends. Escape comes at an enormous cost to all and the next fire awaits in the form of Jess Brightwell’s family of ruthless book smugglers, who will help the rebels but at a very high price. Jess must think three steps ahead and even betray some of his friends to ensure the rebellion continues with some chance of success. But will any of them survive? And if they do can they forgive each other for what they have had to do to get there?

Force of Nature by Jane Harper

In this follow up to The Dry Federal finance cop Aaron Falk and his new partner have been putting pressure on a corporate whistleblower to pass on the hard evidence they need to prosecute. When the woman disappears while on a company team-building exercise Falk is left wondering if their pressure put her in danger. The Feds remain on the fringes of the search party, in rugged, damp bushland; with every day that passes making it less likely she will be found alive. The narrative alternates between the present day investigation and a day-by-day account of what actually happened on the corporate hike. A Lord of the Flies dynamic begins to emerge and it is clear that the other women on the team have not been entirely frank with the searching police. Harper is very good at evoking a sense of place; the steep, damp terrain of this novel provides a stark contrast with the parched paddocks of The Dry but is just as influential on events and characters. In solving the case Falk himself goes through a physical and emotionally cathartic cleansing process, which allows him to come to terms with his difficult past and prepare to move on. It will be interesting to see what kind of physical and emotional landscape a third novel takes him to.

Big Little Lies (HBO) directed by Jean-Marc Vallee

Transported from Sydney’s northern beaches to California’s Monterrey, this series is otherwise very faithful to the bestselling novel by Liane Moriarty. The casting is pitch perfect – the women, their husbands, the kids and the Greek chorus of parents commenting throughout. Showered with awards and accolades, the all-star ensemble is fabulous – Rhys Witherspoon, Nicole Kidman and Laura Dern leading the pack. The tension of the who-is-it and whodunit aspects, building to a reveal at the end, is naturally diluted for anyone who has read the book, greatly reducing the impact. Nevertheless they are well done and the journey there is enjoyable. It departs from the book somewhat towards the end, mostly to the benefit of the drama, although it does neglect the why to some extent – it doesn’t make sense why one person in particular gets involved with the action, or why they are shielded by all the others - something that is explained clearly in the book. The choice of music to punctuate the action is particularly notable – once again pitch perfect. There has been talk of a second series and it will be interesting to see where the writers and producers take it without the strong source material of the original.

The Break, by Marian Keyes

Amy is a busy 40-something with a business, three children and a lot on her plate. Following the deaths of his father and his friend, her husband Hugh has been sunk in a depression he can’t break free of. Hugh decides he needs a break from their life and their marriage; he will leave behind all responsibilities and go travelling in Asia for six months. But he’ll definitely be back. There is nothing Amy can do to dissuade him and she is left to deal with everything, torn between rage and heartbreak as she tries to stay afloat. But Hugh’s selfish decision means Amy is also on a break, with the opportunity to explore what she wants in life too. Keyes trademark wry funny style has the reader firmly in Amy’s corner, even while questioning some of her choices. The predictable conclusion is inevitable but a bit annoying, with the story very much about the journey rather than the destination.

And Fire Came Down, by Emma Viskic

The second novel featuring hearing-impaired investigator Caleb Zelic, And Fire Came Down once again bounces between Melbourne and the fictional coastal town of Resurrection Bay. Caleb is suffering undiagnosed PTSD from the events of the first book, which is not helped by witnessing the death of a young woman seeking his help at the start o this one. She had a connection to his home town and Caleb can’t leave it alone, despite increasingly violent warnings to do so. Throw in problematic relationships with his ex-wife, ex business partner and ex junkie brother and searing summer temperatures to make life even harder. The gripping read races to a slightly unsatisfying conclusion, which lacks credibility even though it leaves Caleb with a conundrum that will radically affect his future – and no doubt future books.

Lady Bird (2017), directed by Greta Gerwig

A mother and daughter story rather than a coming of age story, Lady Bird is sweeter and sadder than expected. The humour is wry and random rather than laugh out loud and the sad moments could require tissues, especially for those who have experienced similar fraught relationships. Christine ‘Lady Bird’ McPherson is more like her mother, Marion, than either of them is comfortable with. The film follows a year in their life in Sacramento, Lady Bird’s last year at her full on Catholic high school before going to college. She is desperate to get away to somewhere more cultured and sophisticated, while her mother is determined to hold on tight. It is 2002; the US is in recession and the yawning gap between the haves and the have nots is growing ever wider. From a cash-strapped family on the ‘wrong side of the tracks’, Lady Bird aspires to more. The year is full of milestones and experiments, including first love, passing the driving test and first sexual experience. It has a very good ensemble cast but the film rightly belongs to Saoirse Ronan and Laurie Metcalfe as the fierce and strong daughter and mother. Ronan makes Lady Bird loveable despite her many flaws and Metcalfe constantly redeems the hard-edged Marion. The bittersweet tale demonstrates how it is possible to love people but not really like them, especially when they are your family.

The Trials of Morrigan Crow, By Jessica Townsend

Morrigan Crow is a cursed child, destined to die at the age of 11 after a short lifetime of being blamed for everything that goes wrong. On her 11th birthday life suddenly takes a new turn when an eccentric stranger seems to offer her a way out of her fate by entering the weird and wonderful world of Nevermoor. Can Morrigan adapt to her new circumstances and take the chance of a new life or will she be dragged back to her dark fate? Owing a great debt to the dark fantasy of Harry Potter, there is also an element of Willy Wonka about Nevermoor. There is too much exposition in the first third of the book – it takes a while to get to the fun stuff. It holds some nice messages about friendship and community and how people live up – or down – to expectations. The scene is firmly set for inevitable sequels and it will be interesting to see where Morrigan’s journey takes her next.

Midnight Jewel, by Richelle Mead

Part companion novel and part sequel to The Glittering Court, Midnight Jewel tells the story of Mira. She is a refugee in search of a brighter and a better life in the colonies via the marriage agency that is the glittering court. Mira’s story is just as improbable as incognito aristocrat Adelaide’s, involving spies, pirates and treason, but it is interesting to view the story from a different perspective. Minor characters from the first story take a more prominent role in this one and several blanks are filled in. Mead manages to avoid too much repetition in the overlap of the stories, meaning Midnight Jewel could not stand alone. One exception is the remarkable survival skills of the third jewel, Tamsin, which are reiterated – no doubt to set up the third thrilling instalment of the saga.

Obvious Child (2014), directed by Gillian Robespierre

Aspiring stand-up comedian Donna mines her own life for her material, with an honesty that is confronting and sometimes alienating to the people in it. Dumped by her boyfriend for a supposed friend, her day job at a bookstore threatened by closure, there is lots of material to draw on. She is a smart woman with many options who chooses a creative life because she has to. Supportive, if challenging family and friends help her through. Jenny Slate is annoying, appealing and compelling in the lead role. This is an unflinching look at a woman’s choice of an abortion – brave and unusual in a Hollywood film. Why don’t smart writer/directors like Robespierre get more work? Probably because they are female. Hopefully times are a changing.

Wilder Country, by Mark Smith

The post-apocalyptic collapse of society has seen wilders consolidating into vicious gangs in this sequel to The Road to Winter. Finn, Kas and Willow have survived a harsh winter and must now turn their minds to protecting themselves from the likely return of the wilders to wreak vengeance. They also need to fulfil their somewhat unrealistic deathbed promise to rescue Kas’s niece from her wilder father. Along the way they need to liberate Willow’s family from slavery to a wilder gang and find out what happened to Finn’s friend Ray, whose house has been torched by wilders. The grimly realistic tone is countered by the stirrings of young love between reclusive Finn and damaged Kas. Unfortunately it all gets a bit silly as Finn battles between his morals and his survival instincts and the teens miraculously get through every challenge without major loss.

The Immortal Crown, By Richelle Mead

Book two of the Gameboard of the Gods provides an intriguing mix of politics and religion as a backdrop to the action and romance. This time investigator Justin and super soldier Mae join a diplomatic mission to Arcadia, formerly the south of the USA. The region has become a religious autocracy along the lines of the Handmaid’s Tale and Mae has a personal agenda in going there – a rescue mission. Both are struggling to come to terms with their destinies as elected by the Gods and how this affects their working lives and relationships, especially with each other. Of course many problems would be prevented if they could only trust each other and communicate, but this is something they are still learning to do. The gameboard is getting crowded, with all kinds of gods and their devious representatives bobbing up in supposedly religion-free RUNA to complicate everything for Mae and Justin. Will be interesting to see where book three takes them.

Black Panther (2018) directed by Ryan Coogler

Wakanda is a self-sufficient, technologically advanced African nation, which keeps apart from the world and disguises itself as an impoverished third world country to protect its vast resources. The death of the king exposes internal conflict over whether to maintain tradition and isolation or engage with the world and share Wakanda’s advantages. A visual feast of colour and movement, Black Panther features gorgeous scenery, fabulous technology and effects, plus stunning makeup and costumes. Martin Freeman is a strange choice to play a CIA agent, not least because his accent frequently slips, but the rest of the casting is pitch perfect. Chadwick Boseman is almost understated as the Black Panther, T’Challa, mourning his father and finding his way in replacing him as king. Michael B Jordan and Andy Serkis are satisfying villains; Lupita Nyongo is wonderful as activist and Wakandan spy Nakia; and Angela Basset is lovely as T’Challa’s mother. While Black Panther is the centre of the film, the character is not dominant but part of a well-rounded and diverse ensemble. Several strong female characters are particularly engaging, including the general and the king’s tech nerd sister. Like Guardians of the Galaxy, Black Panther sits securely in the Marvel Universe but also stands alone as a thoroughly entertaining film.

Paper and Fire, by Rachel Caine

Jess Brightwell and his friends have been absorbed into the fabric of the Great Library, with assignments that suit their various talents, except for Jess who has been marked as a troublemaker. He has discovered that their brilliant engineer Thomas, thought to have been executed, is actually being held prisoner. The team plans an intrepid rescue, becoming outlaws in the process. All sorts of family loyalties are tested to breaking point as the embattled young people realise that revolution requires sacrifice. Suspension of disbelief becomes increasingly difficult with many inexplicable and terribly convenient plot twists. But the relentless action pushes through to a bitter end, where unexpected and uncomfortable allies are found.

Conversations With Friends, by Sally Rooney

Irish student Frances is a talented poet and her best friend and former girlfriend Bobbi helps out with her spoken word performances. The pair attracts the attention of 30-something writer Melissa, who draws them in to her social circle with her actor husband Nick. Poor little rich girl Bobbi has a crush on the glamorous Melissa, while damaged Frances develops an altogether more real and dangerous relationship with Nick. A problematic timeline should have been picked up in editing – Nick is 32, but appeared on a TV program in 1992 at the age of 10, so what year are we in now? The technology available would suggest the current era so that doesn’t compute. The story essentially belongs to Frances, who becomes more sympathetic as it goes along, but is ultimately revealed to be stuck and self-destructive – pretty sad at 21. The central love story is twisted and self-indulgent with nothing learned from the toxic relationships that are set to continue, to everyone’s detriment.

Spy (2015), directed by Paul Feig

All the elements are present for this send-up of the spy genre to work, but for some reason it raises only smiles rather than full-on laughter. Melissa McCarthy is on point as background girl Susan Cooper, who evolves into an awesome action woman when she is the only agent whose cover has not been blown. Jude Law is suitably smooth as the James Bond-type who is not half the agent Susan is. A strong supporting cast includes Rose Byrne as the villain, Jason Statham parodying himself as a rogue agent and Miranda Hart as another background girl made good. The problem probably lies in the script, which is often lame and predictable. Overall the movie is fun light entertainment, but it is hard to escape a feeling that it should have been funnier.

Soundless, by Richelle Mead

A village at the top of a mountain has been cut off from the outside world by a landslide. A zip line that brings in supplies and transports the metals mined by the inhabitants is their only tenuous contact. The villagers all lost their hearing generations ago and now they are starting to lose their sight too. It is up to a young woman, Fei, to overcome traditional barriers and save the village and its people. This interesting concept is developed a little patchily, with some minor plot holes that jar. For example how would a deaf person with no knowledge or memory of oral language learn how to lip read? The story contains strong messages around class, greed and discrimination that are at times heavy handed. A touch of magical realism comes in a bit too late for credibility; it appears more a useful device to explain a central mystery rather than imbuing the whole tale. A sweet love story holds it all together, with heroism and self-sacrifice winning the day at the end.

The Glittering Court, by Richelle Mead

In quite a departure from Meade’s previous books, she ventures into a historical setting. This alternate world is based on 19th century Europe, with its defined class system, new world colonies and limited options for women. We don’t learn the heroine’s real first name until near the end, to what purpose is not clear. She is Lady Witmore, Countess of Rothford, who takes on the identity of her former ladies’ maid, Adelaide, to escape an arranged marriage. The main problem is that although this story is based on situations more realistic than, for example, vampires, it is somehow less credible. Plot twists are largely predictable and the characters lack depth and substance. It starts as a kind of regency romance and morphs into a western, neither is convincing, not least because the modern American language is jarring. A lot of time is spent introducing new and strange tribes and religions, with a kind of pick’n’mix of history and geography rather than the true inventiveness of newly created cultures. An example is the Icori, who seem to be a weird cross between Picts and Native Americans. It is difficult to imagine how a series could be spun out of this rather strange girls’ own adventure but the sequels are apparently stories in the same time frame from the point of view of Adelaide’s friends, which might be more interesting if this first story was better. After the success of her early series, Mead may be focusing more on being prolific than good. This book is not terrible, but a strong editor was required to produce better, as fans deserve.

Pitch Perfect 3 (2017), directed by Trish Sie

Not as good as the first one but better than the second just about sums up this third outing of the a capella Bellas. Now graduated from college, the Bellas are finding the real world not so fun. A reunion sees them off on a tour to entertain US troops, along with a DJ, a country rock outfit and a badass girl group called Evermoist! The lame plot is punctuated by too few funny moments, but the saving grace is the music. The riff-offs particularly are always fun. It is somewhat bizarre that a tour to entertain US troops is in Spain, Italy and the south of France, rather than where troops are actually serving, but the rather important plot device of the super yacht wouldn’t really have worked in Afghanistan. The message of family first, whatever shape it comes in, is sweet but heavy-handed. A lowlight is John Lithgow’s awful Australian accent – like they couldn’t have found a real Aussie in Hollywood. Highlights include Rebel Wilson in full ninja mode and Ruby Rose performing Zombie. The Pitch Perfect franchise has contributed to the evidence that women-led movies can make lots of money. It has been a fun ride but it’s time to grow up and move on. Hopefully the talented troupe of singing actors will find more success and the studios will invest in more women-centred films.

Ink and Bone, by Rachael Caine

Imagine if the great library of Alexandria had not been destroyed; how would the world be different? Caine brings to life the evolution of an autocratic nation state that controls the world’s information and its info tech. Private ownership of books is outlawed and the library has an army to enforce its laws, which override those of nation states. It is opposed by the fanatical burners, who want to destroy the perversion the library has become, and by a network of book smugglers, for whom profit is all. The library recruits trainees from across the world to become future archivists, librarians and armed guards. Jess Brightwell is from an English crime family that has a secret agenda in getting him into the library’s training program. Several of his fellow students have their own secrets, which could prove deadly. Can the young trainees learn enough to oppose the great institution from the inside and how much will they risk to do so? This gripping and complicated alt-history is dark and dystopian, with the possibility of friendship and love the only shining lights of hope.

Twentieth Century Women (2016), directed by Mike Mills

The women in question are Dorothea, a 55-year-old single mother; Abbie, a 24-year-old photographer who boards with her; and Julie, a 17-year-old neighbour. Dorothea is worried she is not doing well enough raising her 15-year-old son Jamie and, somewhat strangely, enlists the two other women to help shape him into a good man. Their influence turns out to be not quite what she envisioned and Jamie also has a few ideas of his own. This uneven film is a semi-autobiographical and somewhat self-indulgent nostalgia piece, set in 1979, from writer/director Mike Mills. The performances are good, with Greta Gerwig outstanding as vulnerable punk Abbie. Annette Bening looks older than 55, which is kind of refreshing in a Hollywood film. Conversely, Lucas Jade Zuman looks a young 15, which is problematic given some of the sexualised subject matter. Awkward use of real life stills and premature playing forward of the story are irritating directorial device. But there is something charming that particularly resonates to a #metoo audience in a young lad learning about life from women a little older than him and declaring himself a feminist.

Gameboard of the Gods, by Richelle Mead

Billed as her first adult novel, the main difference from Mead’s other books is that the main characters are a bit older. There is the same attention to detail, complex social and political structures and difficult family relationships. One other difference is a plunge straight into a sexual encounter, rather than an extended build-up to an earth-shattering climax, which is possibly more realistic if not necessarily more adult. Devastating genetic illnesses have caused a massive world decline and a major restructure and realignment of countries, alliances and power. The two major powers are the Eastern Alliance and the Republic of United North America - known as RUNA. The RUNA is resolutely secular, with religions licenced, strictly regulated and policed. Former Servitor Justin March has been in exile for four years after questioning the status quo. He is brought back into the fold to help solve a series of gruesome murders with religious elements and the possibility of regaining his citizenship. The very intricate political and social structures are not initially explained but rather left to unfold with the story, which is at times confusing but ultimately more entertaining and respectful of the reader than heaps of upfront exposition. The story owes a debt to Neil Gaiman in its concept of a multiplicity of Gods, whose existence is fluid and dependent on human belief, as well as interfering with human action. Billed as an Age of X book, this would seem to be the start of yet another intriguing series from this prolific author.

My So Called Life

This ground breaking television series never made it to Australia, possibly because it was cancelled after only one season. Engaging, warm and ahead of its time in many ways, the show developed a passionate following but was too outside the square for network television. The main teen characters at first glance may seem like stereotypes – the dumb cool guy, the slut, the overachiever and the nerd. But all of them have hidden depths and quirks and there is also a sexually ambiguous teen and several fully realised parents. All revolve around Angela, the smart, sensitive, weird, difficult, beautiful 15-year-old as she navigates the trials and tribulations of adolescence. High school crushes, zits, pressure to have sex, homelessness, changing friendships, hair dye – large problems and small are covered without becoming ‘issue of the week’. A perfect showcase of early 90s life, including the terrible grunge fashion, the show kick-started the careers of Claire Danes and Jared Leto. Most episodes are painfully real, but also contain humour. You don’t always know where a story is going or how it will be resolved. Quite a lot of the school scenes take place in the girls’ toilets, which is often funny and always real – who knew girls actually pee! In some ways it’s a pity that no more series were made, but it’s also great that the show didn’t outstay its welcome, like so many that jump the shark. It remains a perfect limited edition that has become a classic. After all, how many TV series made in the 90s are still available on DVD?

Sweet and Deadly & A Secret Rage, by Charlaine Harris

These two novellas read like the early attempts of an aspiring writer that have been rejected and shelved until later success has made them publishable. The Harris trademark strong female protagonists are present, with good character development, but plot and dialogue needed a lot of work, especially in the first story. Lack of technology places both stories firmly in the past, with typewriters and fax machines dominating, while computers and mobile phones are notable by their absence. This is only an issue because the tales are written as though contemporary, which they undoubtedly originally were. They would have benefited from an update, not necessarily to the present but so they were more firmly placed in the past, with some necessary explanation or bridging of time for a modern audience. Cashing in is all very well, but it is a cheat on readers not to invest some time and energy in rewrites and editing of inferior material.

How to Stop Time, by Matt Haig

Tom Hazzard is 439 years old, but looks middle aged. He is not a vampire, nor immortal, but an ‘Alba’, one of many humans with a condition that dramatically slows ageing after puberty. He has to constantly move and start over to avoid detection and the inevitable ensuing outcry and opprobrium. A measure of protection is supplied by Hendricks, the alpha Alba, who has contempt for the mayfly lives of ordinary humans and has founded a society of Albas. But the price of membership could be too high. Tom has avoided love since the loss of his wife in the 16th century, but 400 years later he finds himself falling for Camille. How will he protect her from Hendricks and the society? Slow and not very engaging, the ennui of an overly long life is convincing but not especially interesting, despite the obligatory encounters with famous people through the ages – Shakespeare, Captain Cook, F Scott Fitzgerald, just to name-drop a few. In the end it is clear that how to stop time is to live in the moment, but the message is rather heavy handed and it is a long slog to get there.

Spotlight (2015), directed by Tom McCarthy

Difficult subject matter is treated with restraint and sensitivity, without evading its horror, in this acclaimed film. This is achieved by making the story the story, that is the investigative journalism that outed the massive cover-up of child sexual abuse in Boston by the Catholic Church over decades. Michael Keaton, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams, and Liev Schreiber lead a very good ensemble cast. After a rather slow start a deeply involving tale develops, with no-one exempt from complicity with the church’s crimes – the police, lawyers, schools and even the newspaper itself. This is a very good film that deserved its Oscars for best film and original screenplay and so much more. Extras include a round table interview of the actual Boston Globe reporters and editors, which is fascinating. The film highlights the importance of investigative journalism in uncovering scandals and holding public institutions to account, especially in current times where resources for such journalism are fast disappearing.