The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, by Becky Chambers

This is proper science fiction, in that it contains both good solid science and good strong fiction.
Set in the far future, when humans have long abandoned the Earth they have wrecked, our species is divided into the descendants of the wealthy who colonised Mars and the remainder who left on a fleet of great homestead ships.
But there are many other species in the universe: some humanoid, some not; some friendly, some decidedly not.
A daughter of Mars escaping her past, Rosemary Harper joins a diverse deep space crew of wormhole tunnellers aboard the Wayfarer, where she makes friends, grows up and has the adventure of a lifetime.
This ambitious novel achieves a lot via its imaginative world building and depth of character development. The road trip the Wayfarer embarks on for a dangerous contract enables multiple stops that add to the picture of the state of the universe and its various inhabitants.
Believable relationships, exciting action, geopolitics, the story has it all, along with a reassurance that the good guys are those with tolerance, empathy and loyalty, regardless of their planet of origin.
Thanks goodness there is a sequel so we can find out what the crew of the ramshackle Wayfarer gets up to next.

When We Were Vikings, by Andrew David MacDonald

Zelda is 21 and obsessed by Vikings. Her brother and protector Gert is struggling to make ends meet on a college scholarship.
The pair has done it tough all their lives, with an absent father; an alcoholic mother who died of breast cancer; and an abusive uncle they had to escape from.
To fund their escape Gert got involved with some dodgy people and it looks like that is leading to trouble.
With help from Gert’s ex girlfriend, Zelda needs to channel her inner Viking to get them out of a mess and let them live their own legends.
It takes a little while to accept Zelda’s voice as authentic, but her charm grows as the story builds and we discover both her disability and extraordinary abilities.
This is an unusual coming-of-age story that shows how bloody hard it is to overcome disadvantage, but how much more possible everything can be when you get the love and support of people who give a damn.

Love Sarah (2020), directed by Eliza Shroeder

Paris-trained pastry chef Sarah had a dream to open her own bakery with her best friend Isabella. When she dies the dream looks likely gone too, but her bereft daughter, friend and mother pull together to try to make it a success.
There are some nice ideas in this film, particularly around multiculturalism, but it is a slight story that would have been more interesting with a better script and a better cast.
Celia Imrie does a sterling job as former circus performer Mimi, but she can’t carry the load alone. Shannon Tarbet is appealing as her granddaughter and the two of them get the best lines.
The romance between Shelley Conn and Rupert Penry-Jones is unconvincing at best.
The plotting is often shaky and clunky, as is some of the dialogue, especially between the aforementioned star-crossed lovers.
It’s all fairly predictable, occasionally moving, mildly amusing and wholly forgettable.

The Perfect Location, by Kate Forster

Established actress Rose Nightingale, edgy action star Sapphira De Mont and up-and-comer Calypso Gable find themselves on location in Perugia Italy.
Each of them has demons and secrets and all are romantically challenged, all of which are addressed over the course of the film shoot.
This is chick lit taken to soap opera levels of drama. Drug addiction, stalking, rape, and sexual harassment, stage mothers – it’s all here.
There is an awful lot of clunky exposition to start and listing every detail of every label of every stitch the women wear gets tedious for the non fashion-forward.
Research has definitely been done – most of it is on the page.
Fewer characters and more character development would have made for a better story.
The actual film is peripheral to the plot, which it’s a pity as it’s refreshingly unusual to read of a Hollywood movie featuring three leading actresses.
The novel was published in 2012, so it was prescient on Hollywood’s me too issues – starkly portrayed here.
There is never any doubt that all three women will find their happy endings and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Grown Ups, by Marian Keyes

Johnny Casey’s 49th birthday sets the scene for a major family implosion, with many secrets spilled and three marriages put at risk, after a head injury leads to home truths.
Jump back six months to another family get-together and then forward through several more, all instigated by Johnny’s wife Jessie – the self appointed family matriarch.
They gradually reveal the complicated history of this large and messy extended Irish family that requires a gnarled tree at the start for reference as to how everyone is related, or not.
Sisters-in-law Jessie, Cara and Nell could not be more different, but then again neither could their husbands – the Casey brothers.
The sprawling tale of all their interactions, children, flaws, mistakes and shenanigans is warm and witty, if at times a little hard to swallow.
Keyes has never been shy of a cause, but she perhaps goes a bit overboard here, with asylum seeker policy, eating disorders, period poverty and gaslighting all getting an outing, along with something of a lecture.
She also veers into exposition a few times to fill in the very intricate back stories of so many characters.
Jessie’s aggressive and oppressive generosity, Cara’s body insecurity and Nell’s terrible decisions don’t make you like them any less. Good people sometimes do bad things, but they can redeem themselves and in the end family matters more than anything else.
Several of Keyes’ earlier novels were linked by one family – the Walshes; each focussing on a different family member. There is scope for the Caseys and Kinsellas to form a similar nexus; it would certainly be interesting to find out what happens next for the younger generation, particularly the luscious Ferdia.

The Personal History of David Copperfield (2020), directed by Armando Iannuci

It was interesting to find a number of people thought this film was about the American illusionist of the same name. This may be a sign that although many may know of author Charles Dickens they are not so familiar with his actual books.
It has been a while since the last BBC adaptation of one of his classic tales, so it is probably timely to see this rather different interpretation for the big screen.
The totally colour blind casting seems odd at first, only because of the 19th century England setting, but as the story is played almost more as fantasy than history it really doesn’t matter that aristocratic black women have white children. As the title says, it is a personal history and in these times the effect is kind of nice.
The production design is sublime and the costumes gorgeous, giving the film a sumptuous look and feel.
Despite its fantastical elements, the film makes some pointed jabs, true to Dickens, about class, snobbery, wage theft and child labour. So there is a little social history included.
Dev Patel does a great job of portraying the ups and downs of David Copperfield, a man of many nicknames who finally claims his true identity when he makes his own place in the world.
A wonderful supporting cast includes a slew of well-known British faces, including Hugh Laurie, Peter Capaldi and Gwendoline Christie, with Tilda Swinton outstandingly funny as aunt Betsy Trotwood.
Many laugh-out-loud scenes relieve the Dickensian sentimentality. There are no magic tricks, but plenty of magical moments in a film that puts a visual focus on the power of words.

The Girl Who Reads on the Metro, by Christine Feret-Fleury

Juliette leads a narrow and regimented life, escaping it only through reading a wide variety of books that take her anywhere and everywhere.
This self-imposed ennui is almost incomprehensible in an attractive and financially secure young woman living in Paris.
She is bored by her job and her main form of entertainment is people watching on her journey to work.
A sudden impulse to get off the metro before her usual stop leads her into an unexpected adventure that literally changes her life.
Soliman and his daughter Zaide offer Juliette a way out of her comfort zone, helping other people through books.
The story has an Amelie-style quirkiness, which is often charming but at times cloying and self-conscious.
It encompasses a mind-boggling array of books, from many countries and cultures. The tone is occasionally didactic; such when describing the Bookcrossing concept to introduce Soliman’s operation, but this may be a fault of translation.
It is a slight book, set firmly in the present and touching lightly on modern-day issues and problems, but with a timeless quality that is probably the secret of its success.