A Winter’s Promise, by Christelle Dabos

Following the Rupture the world has been reduced to around two-dozen scattered arks, connected only by airship travel. Each ark has an immortal founder and has developed according to the personality of this spirit and the genetic talents of its people. Ophelia lives on the peaceful and egalitarian ark of Anima, ruled by a Matriarchy of Doyennes. She runs a museum and her talents include reading the history of objects and the ability to travel via mirror. Quiet, scruffy and clumsy, Ophelia is an unlikely candidate for a diplomatic marriage with a man from the remote and icy ark of Pole. We never do discover why the alliance is so vital that she must be forced into it or why the Doyennes sabotage her chances of success by providing no information or support. It can be difficult to criticise novels in translation because you don’t know if any problems with the story are from the original writing or are a fault in translation. This tale has been a bestseller in France, which is no guarantee of quality, but may tend to point to issues with the translation. There is a problem with some of the tenses, which may be technically correct but don’t read well in English, with excessive use of passive voice. The book plunges straight in to the plot with minimal exposition, which demonstrates refreshing respect for the intelligence of the audience. The quiet and unobtrusive heroine flies under the radar most of the time but nevertheless flies. Lesser characters tend to caricature and the baffling behaviour of Ophelia’s fiancé Thorn is not satisfactorily resolved. This is possibly because the novel is the first of a planned quartet and we will discover if he is hero or villain in later books.

Sometimes Always Never (2018), directed by Carl Hunter

Despite some laugh-out-loud moments this is not a comedy, but a rather sad exploration of father-son relationships and the nature of grief and regret. Bill Nighy employs a slightly dodgy northern accent as Alan, a man searching for his son who walked out on a family game of scrabble and never came back. It only gradually becomes apparent that this must have happened a long time ago, as Alan’s other son now has a teenage son of his own. The timeline seems to be deliberately confusing, as although the use of smartphones places the film firmly in the present, the clothes, décor and even cars evoke a past era. Sam Riley as the second son is excellent; Jenny Agutter is beautiful as a temporary love interest; and Alexei Sayle provides a quirky cameo. A laboured metaphor of the prodigal son and the one left behind is tedious in its repetition and there is some truly terrible camera work, with weird angles and close-ups, wide sweeps and many shots out of focus. This is probably meant to be arty but is just annoying. A seemingly gently feel-good ending contains a baffling final image, which is an odd, unsettling way to finish the film – posing questions that didn’t need to be asked.

The Lost Girls, by Jennifer Spence

Empty nester Stella suddenly finds herself 20 years back in time, in 1997, and involved with the life of herself and her family at that time, when she was in her 40s with two teenage kids. To explain her presence in their lives she adopts the persona of her aunt Linda, who went missing as a young woman. She hopes to influence the choices of her daughter Claire, who is 12 at this time and whom Stella knows will die at the age of 16. Can she, should she alter the past and therefore the future and what will be the consequences if she does? Stella tries hard not to let on about her advanced knowledge of technology and future events, except for telling the truth to her mother – the real Linda’s older sister. In fact her very presence in the past is altering the present as well as the future and her memories of it are changing as it happens. The time conundrum gets convoluted and starts to do your head in after a while, especially when the point of view suddenly changes from that of Stella from the future to Stella in 1997 and then back again. It is cleverly done, although the story of what happened to the real Linda doesn’t quite mesh with the main tale of Stella’s influence – past and present – on her kids, Claire and Julian. Memory and regret, care and responsibility, sadness and acceptance haunt this book, but Stella remains somehow a remote figure who keeps a distance between thought and feeling.

The Rosie Result, by Graeme Simsion

Rounding out his story from The Rosie Project and The Rosie Effect, socially awkward Professor Don Tillman has come into his own and could now be regarded as succeeding at life. After 12 years in New York his wife Rosie has landed her dream medical research job back in Melbourne and it’s time for her career to take priority over Don’s. Unfortunately the change is a bit much for their son Hudson, who seems to be following very much in his father’s footsteps. So Don initiates the Hudson Project to help his son gain essential life skills and learn to fit in with ‘neuro typicals’. Along the way the family encounters some challenges including anti-vaxxers; societal labelling; and how schools deal with diversity and bullying. Everyone learns and grows, including the reader, but it’s a course of study that is a lot of fun for all involved.

After Life (Netflix)

It would be easy to dismiss this latest six-episode offering from Ricky Gervais as a middle-aged man using his grief over the death of his wife as an excuse to behave like an arsehole. Indeed some critics have. But it seems likely they did not watch beyond the first episode, which does point that way. All that is keeping Tony going after Lisa’s death from breast cancer is his obligation to their dog. He continues to walk through motions of doing his job, as a journalist covering pointless stories on a community paper; visits his Dad in a care facility; and sees a useless psychiatrist in an attempt to address his deep depression. He resorts to drugs and alcohol while watching videos of and from his dead wife and is several times brought back from the brink of suicide by his dog. Dark, clever, funny and sad, After Life expresses some bleak themes, but ultimately offers hope of a way through. A few scenes are quietly devastating, but they contrast with a gradual move towards a lighter time for Tony as he sheds some of his self-absorption. What gets him there is the quiet support of his colleagues and some new friends; a random array of supportive women – among them a nurse, a widow and a sex worker - who demonstrate that a little kindness goes a long way. Penelope Wilton, Ashley Jenson, Roisin Connaughty and Kerry Godliman add depth and strength to a solid supporting cast. The final episode is a tad preachy in a departure from the more nuanced approach of those earlier, but all in all After Life is a worthy successor to Derek.

Into the Fire, by Sonia Orchard

Heavily pregnant with her first child, Lara visits her friend Crow and his three kids in the country. His wife and her best friend since Uni, Alice, died in a house fire a year ago. Lara goes back over their friendship in her mind, recalling how they met at University, and how their friendship changed when Alice met Crow. It is somewhat dismaying that all relationships in this book – familial, romantic and platonic – are dysfunctional and damaging. For someone who studied psychology and frequently references it, Lara seems totally unable to apply any of that knowledge to gain understanding of herself, or her family and friends. Similarly she calls herself a feminist and judges her friend for seemingly abandoning feminist principles, while demonstrating little awareness of how her own behaviour falls short. Firmly set in Melbourne, with frequent geographical references, it’s jarring to get a sudden mention of a racecourse in Sydney and the occasional clearly made up town, in what appears to be an editing fail. None of the characters are sympathetic in what is ultimately a bleak read. The big reveal at the end only reinforces the depths of Lara’s self-delusion, with no indication of how she is likely to proceed with the information and the possible insight she has gained. The only certainty is the likelihood of the damage and dysfunction continuing to another damaged generation.

A Discovery of Witches (Sky Vision)

It begins with absence and desire. It begins with blood and fear. It begins with… a discovery of witches. Author Deborah Harkness was involved in the production of this series based on her trilogy, which is probably why it is quite a faithful adaptation. American academic Dr Diana Bishop, who specialises in the history of science, is in Oxford to research old texts on alchemy. Traumatised by the death of her parents when she was a child, Diana denies her heritage as a witch and tries to ignore her powers. She finds an old book that may explain the origins of the three magical species and finds herself the target of large numbers of witches, daemons and vampires, including charismatic ancient vampire Matthew Clairmont. This is the start of an epic love story and a search for The Book Of Life, with plenty of violence, politics and magic to spice it up. Teresa Palmer and Matthew Goode are well cast as the leads and most of the support cast is great, only Alex Kingston as Diana’s Aunt Sarah and Lindsay Duncan as Matthew’s mother Isabeau not quite filling the bill. The former’s American accent just doesn’t cut it and the latter is too old for the part. The array of characters and locations may prove confusing for those who have not read the books and it is not really made clear what daemons are and how they are different from vampires and witches. But like the novels the series builds momentum with each episode to become just as addictive. Roll on series two.