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.