Wild Country, by Anne Bishop

This latest outing in the world of The Others focuses on the frontier town of Bennett, which was cleansed of its human population following the massacre of the local Wolfgard by the Humans First and Last movement. This is definitely not a stand-alone novel, as readers will need to comprehend that first sentence to get the most out of it. Wild Country both follows and runs alongside previous books in the series, introducing new characters such as the feisty police rookie Jana Paniccia to work with the known, such as town mayor and vampire Tolya Sanguinati. At one level the book is a fascinating examination of the delicate politics of human-Other relationships following the reclamation of Thaisia by its naturally dominant species. At another level it is a depiction of the plight of settlers in a Wild West frontier town. There is possibly a bit too much going on for there to be a truly satisfying story arc. Confusion about boundaries clouds Bishop’s usually razor sharp plot and narrative. It’s not the most engaging of The Others novels, which may signal the series has come to the end of its natural life.

My Father’s Shadow, by Jannali Jones

Kaya is suffering from PTSD after a violent incident involving her father. Her mother has taken her into hiding – at the family’s holiday house – and imposes strict rules of seclusion that leave Kaya isolated and lonely. Things start to change when she makes a friend – against the rules – in Eric and she starts to recover her memories of what actually happened to her and her father. This is a prime example of a book that needed at least one more draft and some serious editing before it was published. There are things to like about it; Kaya is an appealing heroine and the tension builds nicely as her returning memories gradually reveal the truth. But so many things just don’t add up, including details of Kaya’s age, her grandparents, and her psychiatrist. Serious questions should have been asked of the author by an editor to make the plot hang together and to flesh out important characters like Kaya’s mother.

Frozen 2 (2019), directed by Chris Buck & Jennifer Lee

We start with a flashback to Elsa and Anna’s childhood with a story their father told them and a song their mother sang to them. Back to the present and their home of Arendelle is under threat from the spirits of air, water, earth and fire. Elsa must follow a siren call only she can hear to right an old wrong, but Anna, Kristof, Sven and Olaf will not let her go alone. When you don’t know what to do just do the next right thing, trust and help your friends, don’t let bad things in the past wreck the future – the messages are strong and sweet. The animation is beautiful and the music is solid, but parents everywhere are probably grateful there is no outstanding song like Let it Go from the first Frozen film. The singing is sublime, especially Kristen Bell as Anna. It is never clear why the girls’ mother would not have told them of her mysterious origins, except as a driver of the rather thin plot. But there is a whole herd of singing reindeer, in support of the franchise's best character, Sven, so who could want more? Where Frozen was all about winter, Frozen 2 is painted in autumn tones, which begs the question – may we expect Frozen 3 and 4 to be summer and spring?

Bruny, by Heather Ross

Set in the not-too-distant future, the events of Bruny are all too believable. Astrid ‘Ace’ Coleman is a UN conflict resolution specialist based in New York. When a contentious bridge between the Tasmanian mainland and Bruny Island is blown up she is called in to facilitate a rapid rebuild, using foreign labour, in time for the upcoming state election. The fact that her twin brother is the state’s premier and her half sister is the opposition leader complicates her role and only slightly stretches credulity. Ross absolutely nails the complicated politics and economics of protest and activism and is eerily prescient on the topic of foreign interference in Australia’s governments. The tone is lively and amusing, which make the undertones of dark deeds all the more menacing. The characters and family relationships are satisfyingly complex; the romance is sweet, but perhaps introduces one layer too many; the climactic storm is terribly convenient. The last two chapters serve as an extended and unnecessary postscript—not all loose ends need to be tied up neatly with a bow. But they also serve as a warning against complacency, with the sense that the extreme actions depicted in the novel have only bought time until something even worse happens.

The Heavens, by Sandra Newman

Dystopian future, time travel, love story, this is a strange book that jumps between Elizabethan England and various iterations of the modern day. It comes mostly from the point of view of Ben, a young man in modern New York, which is odd as he is largely peripheral to the action. This centres on Kate, a young woman who literally does not live in the real world. They fall in love, but again their romance feels almost secondary to the ‘real’ story. Kate has recurring intense dreams of her life as Emilia, an Elizabethan courtesan, and a compulsion that she as Emilia must take some action to save the world. She begins to wake from her dreams to find her world has changed radically – different president, different customs, products and even parents. Her family, friends and Ben doubt her sanity and as the dream/delusion continues so does she. Seemingly flimsy Kate gradually becomes more of a sympathetic character as what is behind her dilemma becomes clearer. At the same time Ben becomes less sympathetic, even though his frustration is totally relatable. If the book has a message it is to live in the moment, because neither the future nor the past really matter.

Knives Out (2019), directed by Rian Johnson

Wealthy and successful crime novelist Harlan Thrombey dies after his eventful 85th birthday party. Was it suicide or murder and who among his extended family stands to gain from his death? Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Toni Collette, Chris Evans and Daniel Craig are just the start of the stellar cast list for this stylish whodunit spoof. So what could go wrong? It starts slowly, with a few too many yeah, right moments of plot convenience. But momentum gradually builds as the twists and turns keep coming and the audience is kept guessing to the end. Craig’s southern gentleman accent as detective Benoit Blanc is ludicrous, but he just about gets away with it because of the send-up elements of the film. Chris Evans is good in the unusual role for him of the wayward grandson, while Ana de Armas impresses as the seemingly naïve and innocent nurse Marta. There are laughs as well as shocks, with some lovely visual humour in the accoutrements of the grand house and its gardens and a running joke about the family’s ignorance of Marta’s origins. It’s not as good as its cracked up to be, but Agatha Christie would probably approve.

A Universe of Sufficient Size, by Miriam Sved

This is a tale of two Eszters – the younger version a student in Hungary in 1938 and the other an old woman in Australia in 2007. The early narrative is riveting, the joy of a group of friends united in their passion for maths and their trepidation about the future in a world going mad. It sheds light on the little-known story of the Jews of Hungary although it doesn’t quite make clear the complicated relationship between Hungary and Austria, which put them at such risk. How did Eszter escape Hungary for the US? Who did she marry? Why did they move from the US to Australia? What happened to her friends? The suspense is well extended, leaving the reader wanting more as the story of young Eszter rolls out. The modern narrative seems inconsequential in comparison. This is probably because it is told from the points of view of Eszter’s daughter Illy and grandson Josh, whose travails are not especially interesting, while the focus on granddaughter Zoe’s sex life seems prurient. In both stories the details of the maths is mind boggling, occasionally to the point of mind numbing for the maths-challenged reader, but it can mostly be skimmed over without losing the gist. The process of Illy gradually discovering the truth of her mother’s past after the death of her father is often an annoying interruption of the story of Eszter’s youth. The personalities and relationships in the modern world don’t ring as true as those in 1938. When the stories finally come together, with a conveniently timed visitor from the past, an unexpected twist explains much about the modern day family relationships that was difficult to understand. In the end the truth sets everyone free.