The Queen’s Weapons, by Anne Bishop

The latest in the Black Jewels series sees an ugly threat from the past rear its head in the land of Kaeleer. Early warning signs enable Warlord Princes Daemon Sadi and his brother Lucivar prepare to deal with the growing danger. But how will they combat the manipulation of their own family and train their children to come into their own? The answer is with the help and guidance of their Queen, whose presence still lingers beyond death to meet the needs of those she loves. As ever in Bishop’s books, power comes with a price. The rich and deep worlds she creates have their own idiosyncrasies, but also mirror familiar themes and issues. She deals with complex family relationships; containing the storms and risks of adolescence; and setting and maintaining boundaries. All within a realm of dark fantasy, where sensuality and violence are balanced on a knife’s edge. At the same time she makes you care deeply about her characters and fear for their fates. The Queen’s weapons takes old favourites and new into a different era, with room left for further chapters in the Black Jewels saga as the next generation of the Sa Diablo and Yaslana families matures and faces fresh challenges.

Never Rarely Sometimes Always (2020), directed by Eliza Hittner

Autumn is 17, living in rural Pennsylvania with her mother, deadbeat stepfather and two, much younger stepsisters. There is something NQR about the stepfather, which probably explains why Autumn can’t turn to her seemingly loving mother when she hits trouble. Talented and sensitive, life in a small town doesn’t offer her much and the only person totally in her corner is her resourceful cousin and best friend Skylar. The two scrape up the money to get to New York, two very long bus rides away, but the task turns out to be even more expensive and difficult than they realised. It’s one thing to be aware of how difficult it can be to access abortion in the US, especially when you are underage, poor and live in a rural area, it’s quite another to watch it unfold in all its stark reality on screen. Getting basic health care is a monumental quest for these young women, on top of the constant low to mid-level sexual harassment that is a daily hazard for them. The film gives a bleak view of their world that rings heartbreakingly true. The minimalist and matter-of-fact style, with little dialogue, feels almost more like a documentary than a drama, especially in the sequences featuring NY health care professionals and the local ‘women’s centre’. Compare and contrast. Newcomers Sidney Flanigan and Talia Ryder excel as the cousins; Theodore Pellerin is very good as the least worst option; and Ryan Eggold plays against his TV type as the creepy stepfather. This is a timely exposition of an intolerable situation, in a country where women’s rights are increasingly under threat. It makes an interesting companion piece to Promising Young Woman. The film underlines the vital importance of female friendship, support and advocacy as the key to survival and to making change to a society not built for women.

When He Was Wicked, by Julia Quinn

In this novel we belatedly hear about Francesca Bridgerton’s marriage to John Stirling, Earl of Kilmartin. His cousin and heir, Michael Stirling, has been in love with Francesca since the day they met, shortly before her wedding. He has a reputation as a charming rake and he buries himself in that persona to hide his feelings from his cousins and the world. When John dies after only two years of marriage, Michael cannot allow himself to comfort the grieving widow and flees to India. His return to London several years later coincides with Francesca’s reluctant decision to remarry, in order to have a child. Can the new Earl possibly inherit the widow as well as the estate? Well duh! As usual the timeline is all over the place and the dialogue and word usage is, at times, cringeworthy. But the romance storyline is stronger and more credible than the last few efforts, with a return to the steamy scenes that made the first Bridgerton novel so successful. The action takes place almost simultaneously with the last two books, covering Colin’s and Eloise’s stories, which is odd and seems to require some retrofitting that doesn’t quite work. One reason that Francesca’s tale is more successful than the other two is that little of it has been foreshadowed in earlier books. It is a pity then that the extra epilogue contains huge spoilers for the next two books.

Dune (2021), directed by Denis Villeneuve

The Emperor has granted House Atreides sovereignty over the desert planet Arrakis and its lucrative natural resource, Spice. But this seeming generosity sews discord with the dispossessed and brutal House Harkonnen. The complex political, social and cultural machinations of this classic sci-fi tale have made it notoriously difficult to film, with many previous attempts falling short. Villeneuve does a great job of transmitting enormous slabs of background information, vital to understanding the story, using a variety of narrative devices to largely avoid extensive dull exposition. But it is hard to pack so much book into one film and at 2 hours 40 minutes it is way too long; it has a slow start and drags in several places. Although the visuals are beautiful there are too many long lingering shots of desert, brooding and militaristic displays. Judicious editing could have shaved at least 10 minutes without losing anything important to the story. Timothee Chalomet is just right as the Atreides heir and portended saviour; Rebecca Ferguson grows into the role of witch and mother after a shaky start. The star-studded supporting cast includes Zendaya, Stellan Skarsgard, Javier Bardem, Charlotte Rampling and Jason Momoa. The look is great, with some interesting choices in the colour palette; it’s a pity about the sound. The score is portentous and overbearing and at times obscures the dialogue. The film explicitly states that this is part one and just the start, so it will be interesting to see if the box office justifies the cleverly foreshadowed sequels that will hopefully give Zendaya more to do.

The Galaxy and the Ground Within, by Becky Chambers

The fourth and final instalment of the Wayfarers saga takes place on a barren planet that serves as a waystation for interstellar travellers. Laru Ouloo and her adolescent child Tupo run a ‘truck stop’ on the planet – a rest space providing food, fuel and creature comforts for all species. When a mechanical malfunction shuts down traffic and communications, three diverse travellers are stranded at the Five-Hop One-Stop. As with the previous sequels, the link to the original Wayfarer novel is with setting and theme rather than characters, although one of the stranded travellers is making a reappearance. Aeluon Pei is on her way to visit her Exodan partner Ashby and is agonising about whether to go public with their taboo interspecies relationship. She and her fellow travellers, Quelin Roveg and Akarak Speaker, could hardly be more diverse in species, occupations, circumstances and personalities. In their enforced rest stop, with limited access to comms, they and their hostess find common ground and even friendship by sharing skills and resources to help everyone. Becky Chambers does an amazing job of blending the fantastical with the fundamentally relatable, to demonstrate how much better life can be for everyone when difference is accepted and accommodated. She covers a huge range of issues, including bodily autonomy, balancing work and family and post-colonialism, against a backdrop of a complex political system. Kindness is the key to the Universe; if only that message could be spread far and wide.

Shadow in the Cloud (2020), directed by Roseanne Liang

Set in 1943, during the war in the Pacific, Flight Officer Maude Garrett is tough, competent and smart, but that cuts little ice with a misogynistic crew that disdains and denigrates her at every turn. She is transporting a top secret and confidential package from Auckland, New Zealand, but it is never quite clear to where or with what aim – something about Samoa. A blessedly short 79 minutes, the film swings wildly between action, horror and cartoon, its absurd plot bolstered by a credible tension. Chloe Grace Moretz pants her way through the action, kicking ass as only she knows how - daintily. The film contends that the female of the species is deadlier than the male, especially when she is protecting something precious. This trite trope undermines Maude’s position as heroine in her own right, but it is notable that the only male survivors are those with some vestige of decency and compassion. It was filmed in New Zealand, which provides some lovely scenery although it makes little sense to the plot.

Victory of Eagles, by Naomi Novik

Following their return from delivering the dragon plague cure to France, Temeraire and Will Laurence have been separated by the authorities. The dragon has been banished to the breeding grounds in Wales and the aviator has been convicted of treason and sentenced to death. Bonaparte’s invasion of Britain changes their circumstances, as the pair marshals a guerrilla force of dragons, managing to negotiate improved working conditions along the way. The relationship between man and dragon is tested by the fallout from their treason, with Temeraire’s gradual realisation of the consequences of their actions signalling a maturing of the dragon-human bond. Novik has hit her straps in this fifth novel of the saga of the Napoleonic wars with added dragons. She skilfully weaves fantasy with history, using her unique characters to change the course of events but arrive at a similar outcome. Helping to save the day isn’t enough to ensure the two can benefit from their efforts, with Laurence’s sentence commuted to transportation. And so the scene is set for the next book in the series as they set sail for New South Wales.

Dark Pines, by Will Dean

Journalist Tuva Moodyson works at the newspaper of a very small Swedish country town. She moved there from London a couple of years before to be near her ailing mother, but she doesn’t plan to be there forever and needs a big story to boost career options. This sees Tuva turn investigative reporter when a local man is found murdered in the woods; a case with disturbing similarities to unsolved serial killings two decades earlier. This has all the elements of a cracking crime thriller but somehow it doesn’t quite hang together. The stilted style is reminiscent of a poor translation, which is ironic as Dean is an English writer living in Sweden. He has an interesting take on Tuva’s deafness, touching on its advantages as well as disadvantages to her life and work. Unlikely plot elements stretch credulity and although Tuva is an interesting character, she is not a credible one. Her motivations, actions and decisions are often baffling, serving the plot rather than the overall story.

Eternals (2021), directed by Chloe Zhao

There is an awful lot going on in this latest iteration of the Marvel universe. The 10 Eternals have been around for 7,000 years, influencing human development and history. A worldwide earthquake triggers a crisis that makes the Eternals question their purpose on Earth. While there are many references to events and characters of previous movies, it is essentially a standalone story. It is however a very complicated tale, with many characters, requiring much explanation. This makes the running time of almost three hours both too long and not long enough. It’s a very long time to sit still for one story and not long enough to do it justice, with much skimmed over and not explained. It would have worked better as a six-part series, allowing the space to flesh out each character and their complicated skills and stories. There is a nice blend of action and drama, and a few laughs, with a truly diverse cast including Salma Hayak, Angelina Jolie, Gemma Chan, Richard Madden and Kumail Nanjani.

Triple Juniper Gin - Never Never Distilling Co

A neat sip of this McLaren Vale boutique gin is absolutely delicious. In a G&T with ice, lemon and bog standard tonic, at first the flavour gets a little lost, overtaken by sweetness. But the deep rounded juniper base persists and eventually shines through, making this a very pleasant aperitif. With a quality Mediterranean-style tonic it’s very good. Take care not to accidentally buy low-sugar tonic, because it’s horrible, with this or any other gin. Lemon only enhances the flavour.

The Octopus Man, by Jasper Gibson

Tom has been living with a schizophrenia diagnosis for more than 20 years, since a drug binge in his 20s. He doesn’t think he is ill – the voice that talks to him is the Octopus God, who is training him to help save the world. When Tom diverges from his God’s path he is punished and this can lead to a meltdown and hospitalisation. His devoted sister is literally at her wits’ end when she helps coerce him onto a drug trial that will silence the voice. But what next? Tom misses his God and it’s not like he is suddenly, magically cured of all his underlying problems. The story moves back and forth in time between Tom’s current predicament and episodes in his childhood and young adulthood that help to explain how he found this path. It is told with humour and empathy, which helps lighten an otherwise bleak tale of mental ill health and, despite some good people trying to help, the total inadequacy and often downright cruelty of mental health services. A somewhat unlikely ending was probably necessary to offer a note of hope, rather than the painful and heartbreaking reality for many people diagnosed with schizophrenia.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, by VE Schwab

As a girl in 18th century France, Adeline LaRue’s options are limited and she longs for a wider world. Running from an unwanted marriage, she is offered an escape but gets both more and less than she bargained for. Addie has been cursed to never leave her mark and so can form no kind of relationship; she suffers but can’t die. It has been a hard, long and lonely 300 years, learning to survive while exploring the world, taking pleasure in art and music and books and stubbornly resisting handing over her soul. The story moves back and forth between 2014 and Addie’s past, detailing the early years of learning to adapt to her circumstances, her annual battle with the darkness that wants her soul and the loneliness of her life. Everything changes when she meets Henry, the first person in 300 years who can remember her. But is this real, or the latest in a long line of dark tricks? Although the novel is more than 500 pages the action never flags. The flashbacks, in mostly short sharp chapters, gradually build the reader’s understanding of both Addie’s and Henry’s lives, characters and decisions. Addie’s story mirrors how women have slowly and painfully educated and raised themselves by subverting the control of men. This makes the final twist in the tale all the more satisfying as patience and diligence pay off.

The Great (Hulu) Season 1

Catherine the Great ruled Russia for more than 30 years in the late 18th century, bringing the European renaissance to a country stuck in the medieval era. Billed as an occasionally true story, The Great takes some events, characters and the broad brush of history to create a story that reflects the spirit of the remarkable Empress. Naïve and optimistic Catherine, from a minor branch of German royalty, has an overly romantic idea of her marriage to Emperor Peter of Russia. He is a charming, spoiled and brutal tyrant, who can never live up to the legacy of his father - Peter the Great. His debauched and depraved court is tolerated by the church as a means of retaining its power by keeping Russia in the dark ages. The two form a brick wall against Catherine’s modern and progressive ideas of enlightenment and education. She has to find a way to survive and subvert the powers that be, but will the personal price of Greatness be too high? Production design and costumes perfectly complement the story, as history embellished. The magnificent ensemble cast of mostly British actors is led by Elle Fanning and Nicholas Hoult, who are indeed Great. The darkly comic tone is deepened by touches of philosophy and poignancy, providing a very entertaining account of the true cost of power. Here’s hoping for a second season that maintains the Greatness. Huzzah!

Playing Beatie Bow, by Ruth Park

Damaged by her parents’ divorce, introverted 14-year-old Abigail has a yen for vintage clothing and disdain for the usual preoccupations of teen girls. Observing a dark children’s game draws her into an unfamiliar Sydney and a terrifying adventure that teaches her a lot about herself and about what is truly valuable. It’s always interesting to revisit favourite books of childhood or teen years to see if the appeal holds. Time travel, first romance, teen angst – what’s not to love? But it’s the quality of Ruth Park’s writing and the attention to historical detail of 1870s Sydney that really holds interest. The story has a lovely circularity, with elements of folklore and superstition and an examination of the changing face of Sydney over a century – for better and for worse. The film version is very faithful to the story, possibly too much so - lifting whole slabs of dialogue. While it’s fun to see the young Peter Phelps and Nikki Coghill in action, generally the script, acting and cinematography are all sub par. It would be good to see a new version, or better yet a four par series, although it could be a struggle to find suitable authentic locations 40 years on – irony indeed.

On Politics and stuff, by Mark Humphries and Evan Williams

The latest in the On series of little books with big ideas sees ABC satirists Humphries and Williams take the piss out of Australian politics. A comprehensive run down, or take down, of the workings of the Senate, House of Reps and political parties dives into a bit of history but focuses mostly on this century. It possibly should have been titled On Federal Politics as the actual federation – the states – is a glaring omission from the text. A very east coast perspective sees rather too many rugby league references included, but it’s an entertaining, quick read.

Eiffel (2021), directed by Martin Bourboulon

Gustav Eiffel was a talented engineer, feted for building the Statue of Liberty and various innovative bridges and buildings worldwide. He wanted to build the Paris Metro, but France wanted him to build a monument for the 1889 World’s Fair. The result was his famous tower and the film tells the story of the various hindrances, tribulations and complications involved in building it. Not the least of these was Eiffel’s discovery that one of his main supporters and facilitators is married to his long lost love. Eiffel was not only a pioneer of engineering, but of workplace safety and his story is well worth telling. The tragic tale of love sits somewhat uneasily alongside it and is not helped by an obtrusive score and too many long, lingering shots and meaningful silences. Romain Duris does his best Daniel Day Lewis as Eiffel, while Emma Mackey is more convincing as younger Adrienne than the mature version. The timeline is fuzzy, which doesn’t help, but the evocation of fin-de-siecle Paris is beautiful and the writers do a reasonable job of explaining the complex engineering without veering into boring.

A Weekend with Oscar, by Robyn Bavati

Jamie’s dad died less than a year ago and he has been bottling up his grief to protect his mum and younger brother, Oscar. It’s a lot to deal with when you’re 16, in an accelerated learning program and Oscar has Down syndrome (DS). When Mum is called to a family emergency interstate, Jamie steps up and offers to take of Oscar. It’s only for a weekend, how hard could it be? The answer is not easy – and when Mum doesn’t return as planned Jamie doesn’t know what to do. Bavati builds well the tension of Jamie’s dilemma over seeking help and caring for his brother, at the same time trying to be a good friend and exploring his growing feelings for Zara – the new girl in town. It’s great to look at issues of disability and the pressures on carers and family, but Bavati is maybe too ambitious – trying to cover too many topics. In a slim volume she touches on racism, prejudice and discrimination, tiger parenting, artistic expression and the benefits of counselling, as well as DS and autism. It’s all very earnest and worthy, with some very unlikely dialogue, especially between teens, to ensure absolutely all the information is provided.

The Absolute Book, by Elizabeth Knox

Taryn and her sister Bea always loved books and libraries as children and then as adults. After Bea is violently killed, Taryn goes into a dissociative state for several years that is only partly alleviated by triggering a dark revenge. Several years and a divorce later, after writing a book on the history of libraries, Taryn’s public profile attracts dangerous attention. How will she discern who is friend or foe, in this world or another? Psychological crime drama meets fantasy in this unusual novel, but an initially intriguing read becomes a slog after the halfway point. Exposition and description, heavy with obscure symbolism, take over the convoluted story. Its digressions and diversions into the worlds of demons and angels, Sidhe and Norse mythology become more rambling and less interesting with every page - and there are 653 of them. No doubt there is some deep allegory intended of love and sacrifice and redemption and faith, but it gets lost in the myriad of words and bewildering actions. In the end it was apparently all about unconditional love and saving the world, as outlined in a bizarre epilogue.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021), directed by Destin Daniel Cretton

Slackers turned superheros, cute and terrifying magical creatures, family drama, martial arts as dance and a runaway bus. What a strange mash-up is the latest expedition into the world of Marvel. When his immortal father sends a gang of goons after him, San Francisco parking attendant Shaun must reveal his true self to his best friend Katy and to the world. First stop Macau and his estranged sister and then on to the magical world of his mother’s people, which is threatened by his father. The film has faint echoes of Black Panther, with its mystical hidden world and non-Western culture. A largely Asian cast and settings indicates an orientation to the large Chinese market. But despite its fun blend of action and comedy there are some interesting messages about finding your own path, female empowerment and questioning how much power will ever be enough. Canadian actor Simu Liu makes a different kind of hero and Awkwafina makes a great sidekick. Michelle Yeoh is always a class act, while Ronnie Cheng gives a fun cameo and Ben Kingsley a weird one. At 140 minutes, this is one of the shorter Marvel movies but it is still too long. It is entertaining and often amusing, but it could easily have lost 15 minutes without lacking anything.

Romancing Mr Bridgerton & To Sir Philip with Love, by Julia Quinn

Previous extended epilogues have already disclosed that Penelope Featherington is Lady Whistledown and that she marries Colin Bridgerton. So the only tension left to reveal is how she is exposed and how the couple comes together. The answer to both is not in a very interesting manner. The best aspect of the story is that there are plenty of other Bridgertons involved, in particular some trailers to the next novel, which covers Eloise’s romance. In passing it is dropped in that the third sister, Francesca is already married and widowed, but it’s not clear why the story of her marriage to a Scottish earl has been omitted from the family saga. Presumably we’ll get the tale of her second marriage after Eloise’s story, as they go strictly in birth order. The fifth book of the Bridgerton series overlaps slightly with the previous novel, rather than leaping forward several years. It also takes place over only a few weeks, meaning the journey to love for Eloise Bridgerton is (literally) unbelievably rapid. Apparently that’s ample time to overcome doubts and buried trauma, deal with damaged children and develop a committed relationship. The best part id the extra epilogue, which for once does not give spoilers but gives glimpse into the future through a secondary character. It may be time to give up on the Bridgerton books and just hope the Netflix sequels are better.

Empire of Ivory, by Naomi Novik

Finally arriving back in Britain, Laurence and Temeraire discover why they received no help getting there. The dragons have been laid waste by a viral disease; many have died and there is little hope. The news has been kept secret – if Napoleon finds out he will invade with little resistance. This puts on hold their plans for political change to improve the rights of dragons; even with the dragons ravaged by illness there is little consideration for their care or comfort. Temeraire seems to be immune to the disease. He had a cold on their journey to China and there is a theory that he actually had the deadly virus but ate something that cured him on one of their stops. So the aviators are off to southern Africa to search for a cure. Novik explores rich territory, geographically, politically and philosophically in this fourth Temeraire novel. Slavery, colonialism and conflicting loyalties inform the personal and professional conflicts central to the plot. Impossibly honourable Laurence remains just too good to be true - taking the fall for everyone else, including his dragon companion. With several more books in the series he will clearly be extracted from the dire situation he faces at the end of this story. An epilogue gives a glimpse of an interesting alt history for southern Africa and a hopeful note for a refugee sponsored by Laurence.

Days of the Bagnold Summer (2019), directed by Simon Bird

Daniel is 15, a metalhead and off to Florida for the summer to stay with his dad and stepmother. When the trip is called off at the last minute Daniel sinks further into teenage angst at the prospect of six weeks at home with his mum. She is Sue, a self-deprecating librarian who was quite looking forward to the break herself. This small British film is warm and funny, with Monica Dolan and Earl Cave making a great mother-son duo. It cleverly sets up stereotypes and then undoes them by showing fully rounded characters with nuanced relationships. Rob Brydon and Tamsin Greig are notably amusing in supporting roles.

Sunburnt Veils, by Sara Haghdoosti

Tara’s first day at Uni plunges her into the middle of a campus bomb scare. It’s all a misunderstanding of course; this is what happens when you wear a hijab. A total nerd, Tara plans to focus exclusively on study so she can transfer into Medicine. But Uni is full of distractions and she finds herself an accidental activist, in league with a crew of supportive misfits. Oh and one very hot, privileged white male, helping to battle the forces of intolerance. Haghdoosti paints a clear picture of the day-to-day grind of being marginalised and suspected because of what you wear and the colour of your skin. Her heroine is a little too good to be true, but Tara’s relationships with her mother and her best friend are nicely depicted, showing how difference doesn’t have to mean dispute. The relationship with the hot boy doesn’t work quite as well, its abrupt twists and turns not really making sense, but maybe that’s what it’s like being 18 these days. Despite its serious subject matter the novel’s tone remains light, with plenty of humorous touches.

A Comedy of Terrors, by Lindsey Davis

Flavia Albia and her husband Tiberius have taken his young nephews into their growing household after the death of their mother. This makes the imminent Saturnalia celebration of the winter solstice a little different from usual, although the lame practical jokes and drunken debauchery remain the same. Tiberius is approaching the end of his magistracy and wants to make his mark before he finishes, while Albia is facing a seasonal drought in her informer work. Meanwhile, someone is supplying Rome with poisonous nuts and there is a power play taking place amongst the city’s organised crime figures. Can the dream team sort it all out? Of course it can. Albia’s family makes a welcome appearance, especially Falco and Helena Justina providing timely professional and personal advice.

Shiva Baby (2020), directed by Emma Seligman

Shortly to graduate from college without a major because she has changed it so frequently, Danielle has few job prospects. Her parents pay her rent and bills and think she earns her pocket money from babysitting. After a problematic sexual encounter she attends a shiva, the wake following a funeral, at the behest of her parents. There she is shocked to find both her ex-girlfriend and her current sugar daddy, with his wife and baby. Negotiating the round of family, lovers and family friends becomes an exercise in claustrophobic panic, which triggers Danielle’s fraught relationship with food. A compact 90 minutes, the film somehow feels longer. It’s slow pace and repetitive action indicating the material is stretched to fill time. It has a few wryly funny moments, but not enough of them. Rachel Sennet is very good as Danielle, working hard to attract some sympathy for a character that represents the worst aspects of the millennial stereotype. The expectations of her and pressure on her are immense, but so is the financial and emotional support provided to her. This makes her actions and decisions beyond questionable, especially in contrast to her delightfully together ex.

An Offer from a Gentleman, by Julia Quinn

Cinderella is the clear inspiration for this third Bridgerton novel, focusing on second son Benedict Bridgerton as Prince Charming. Sophie is the illegitimate daughter of the late Earl of Penwood, relegated to servant status by her wicked stepmother and two ugly-hearted stepsisters. Infiltrating a masked ball as the silver lady, she enchants Benedict then disappears. Will the magic remain when they finally meet again two years later and how will they deal with their social disparity? The story touches on some interesting themes – the downside of being a second son; class mobility; and the economic vulnerability of women. But the romance is the dominating force, regardless of plot holes, dodgy timelines, behavioural inconsistency and jarring anachronisms. More Bridgerton siblings feature in this story - to its benefit, as the heart of the novels is the strong and loving bond of the central family.

The Lady with the Gun Asks the Questions, by Kerry Greenwood

This is not a new Phryne Fisher novel but a collection of short stories, some of which have been recycled. They are set across all incarnations of Miss Fisher but all somehow take place in 1928, which makes it a very long drawn out and busy year for the intrepid sleuth. Of varying lengths and quality, the stories provide an agreeable dip into 1920s Melbourne. They ignore the world of the television series, which is a good thing as it is a very different place. An entertaining place, but not a patch on the world of the books, with its rich and varied cast of characters.

The Rose Maker (2020), directed by Pierre Pinaud

Crusty rose grower Eve Vernet is determined to maintain her father’s legacy, but her business is slowly going broke. Corporate pwerbroker Lamarzelle has seemingly cornered the rose market and he wants to take over Eve’s business and use her name for credibility. Her trusty offsider Vera has been doing everything possible to keep the business going and she arranges for some cheap rehab trainees to join the company. Fred, Nadege and Samir have no clue about roses, but they each have hidden talents that could help out if only Eve can be flexible enough to recognise them. It is slow going at first, but the film’s pace and charm grow as Eve recognises her shortcomings and learns to live more for the future than the past. Dodgy subtitles were seemingly written for the American market by someone not entirely fluent in English, as there is a strong disconnect between what is written and spoken at times. A bittersweet ending underlines the importance of family and the realisation that you can choose your own.

Bridgerton: The Viscount who Loved Me, by Julia Quinn

It’s interesting how trashy tv can be so much more enjoyable than trashy novels. The novelty of the first Bridgerton novel wears off very quickly in book two, despite its appealing heroine. In a preamble to the second book, Quinn says she wants her readers to fall in love with the hero, but Anthony Bridgerton is not very loveable. In the first book Duke Simon has his faults, but he can be forgiven some because of his terrible childhood. The Viscount has no such excuses for his violence and arrogance. The inconsistencies of behaviour are really annoying - the Viscount previously triggered a duel to defend his sister’s honour, but behaves even worse himself. Incidental character Nigel Berbridge has apparently returned to being a harmless idiot, where he was previously portrayed as a predator ready to ruin a woman to force her into marriage. This loathsome and pathetic man gets more page time than many of the Bridgerton siblings, most of whom only get cameos and some don’t appear at all. The writing is sloppy, with misplaced adjectives and jarring timelines. All in all, book two does not encourage hanging in for the long haul of six more. Hopefully series 2 of the TV adaptation will do better.

Free Guy (2021), directed by Shawn Levy

Guy is a bank teller, a non player role in a video game simulation. He basically lives the same day over and over as background visuals for the real world players. It’s an ultra-violent but humdrum groundhog-day existence. His world changes when he encounters Molotov Girl, the avatar of Millie, who is trying to find evidence for her copyright case against the game developer. Their meeting is literally a game changer for both of them, as Guy becomes a hero rather than a bystander and Millie finds more than she bargained for. Ryan Reynolds and Jodie Comer have great chemistry and it is good to see her get a Hollywood opportunity to do the dual role thing she does so well. She is equally believable as tech nerd and action avatar. Taika Waititi makes a comic book villain, but that seems appropriate for this film. It offers lots of sly and funny visual and musical references to other films and roles and there are several funny cameos from the likes of Channing Tatum and Chris Evans to add to the fun. Reynolds possibly overdoes the self-sendup routine, but it is mostly amusing and entertaining. There is more to life than money; don’t get lost in a fantasy and ignore good things in the real world; freedom is being yourself and making your own choices. The messages are unsubtle but wholesome and not unwelcome given the current state of the world.

Upright (Foxtel)

Tim Minchin stars in this eight-part series about a road trip across outback Australia with a piano. Millie Alcock is startlingly good as the troubled teen Meg, whose world literally collides with that of washed up musician Lucky. Short, sharp episodes are packed with interest and entertainment as the odd pair develops a kind of friendship. Through flashbacks we slowly discover their troubled pasts and where they might be heading. By the fourth episode the plot starts to stretch credulity as the two continually face disaster and find rescue from increasingly unlikely sources. Not to mention the seemingly indestructible piano. Nevertheless you just roll with it as it’s all so much fun. A very strong supporting cast includes Heather Mitchell, as Lucky’s sick mum, Ella Scott Lynch, Daniel Lapaine and a host of fabulous guest characters. The Nullabor and the outback of South and Western Australia are almost characters in their own right. Kate Mulvaney, (Chaser) Chris Taylor and Tim Minchin developed and wrote the show, which switches between dark sorrow and absurdity with ease. It features laugh-out-loud moments and a fabulous soundtrack, as you would expect from the multi-talented Minchin.

The Spiral, by Iain Ryan

Erma Bridges is an overachieving young academic with a ruthless nature. Dragged back from an international conference to face a harassment inquiry, she discovers that her research assistant is her violent enemy. After recovering from a traumatic attack, Erma becomes obsessed with finding out why she was targeted. Meanwhile her dreams take her into a fantasy world where she is a character who battles obstacles and slays enemies, based on the choose your own adventure books she loved as a child. These books are the basis of her academic research, their author an elusive interview subject. Through her investigations Erma stumbles into Brisbane’s dark underbelly, where dark secrets from her past emerge as a link to an ongoing misogynist conspiracy. Erma is a complex character, attractive but unlikeable, who becomes more comprehensible as her past emerges. Ryan pulls together the disparate strands of the story into a logical, if horrifying climax where Erma becomes her own avatar. It’s unfortunate that the consequences are just not believable, especially given Erma’s past. Something of a cliffhanger ending opens the way for a sequel or perhaps just indicates uncertainty about the path Erma will choose next.

Black Powder War, by Naomi Novik

Volume three of the Temeraire chronicles opens where two ended, with the Celestial dragon and his crew preparing to leave China for a long voyage home. A dispatch from England prompts a decision to take the much faster, but treacherous, overland route to collect three eggs from the Ottoman Empire. An adventure ensues via mountains and desert, leading to encounters with tribal raiders and feral dragons. Then there are political troubles to deal with in Istanbul and battles with the old foe Bonaparte in Prussia – will they ever get back home? Novik seamlessly blends her world of dragons with historical detail of the Napoleonic wars. The pace of this journey is a little brisker than the previous one to China, with interest maintained throughout. But it is still light on character development; Captain Laurence and his crew remain, ironically, vehicles for the dragons rather than fully rounded protagonists. Volume four will hopefully focus on the crew’s reintegration into British military life, allowing development of relationships on the home front. Or maybe they will just jump off on another all-action boys own adventure. It’s called Empire of Ivory so probably the latter.

Black Widow (2021), directed by Cate Shortland

There is a lot to like about the long overdue standalone Black Widow film that tells the origin story of Avenger Natasha Romanov. It has an engaging story about the nature of family, with a strong but subtle underlying theme about combating the abuse, control and trafficking of women and girls. Florence Pugh as Yelena provides a fabulous counterpoint to Scarlett Johansson’s Natasha, the script allowing them some emotion and humour to lift the often-dour Avenger. In flashbacks their child versions represent great casting. Rachel Weisz and David Harbour are great as the main supports, while Ray Winstone makes a suitably evil villain. The plot draws on the TV show The Americans, which fits neatly into the broader Marvel Universe of super soldier rivalry. The film’s style is very Bondish – cheekily referenced at one point, which doesn’t fit quite as well. In an otherwise real-world story the wham bam, barely-a-bruise excessive comic book violence, OTT extended action sequences and ever-conveniently provided hardware and infrastructure sits awkwardly. There are no gods or superheroes to justify the schlock aspect, so while the film is mostly entertaining it does drag in parts, despite running a very reasonable (for Marvel) 140 minutes. Fewer violins on the soundtrack and more songs like the Nirvana cover would also have improved it. But how refreshing it is to see a female-led action film; there should be more of it.

Winter, by Ali Smith

The second of Smith’s seasonal quartet again explores themes of ageing, interaction with the natural world and society’s decline. Similarly to Autumn, it features an old person having weird hallucinations that hark back to their past; fraught parent-child relationships; and profound winter-spring romances, always with an older man and much younger woman. Another overlooked and forgotten female artist is also thrown into the mix, apropos of not much. Sophia lives in a huge, empty house in Cornwall. She has made no preparations for the visit of her son and his girlfriend for Christmas. In London, Art has been dumped and trolled by his girlfriend and his solution is to find a substitute for the visit, rather than explain or deal with his troubles. Sophia’s estranged sister, Iris, is called in to rescue the situation, but it is up to the substitute, Lux, to help heal old wounds and bring the family together. Autumn has more funny moments than Winter, but also contains quietly horrifying casual references to the degradation of living standards and services such as libraries and housing in contemporary Britain. It demonstrates the fallacy and self-destruction of people who claim to have no interest in politics, because everything is politics and truly the standard you walk past is the standard you accept. It questions the way people are valued and how this translates to an increasing divide between the haves and have-nots. Will Spring bring hope of change and renewal, or continue the theme of the long slow spiral downwards? Lockdown is possibly not the right circumstance to find out.

Autumn, by Ali Smith

Ancient Daniel Gluck is in a nursing home, seemingly hovering between life and death. His unconscious mind roams around his past and possible future, exploring history and potential afterlife, visiting his younger sister and old loves. Elisabeth is a young academic with insecure work and little hope of improving her circumstances. Daniel was a formative influence on Elisabeth as a child, fostering her love of art and learning, providing refuge from a neglectful mother. She visits Daniel in the nursing home, patiently reading second hand classic novels while he sleeps, hoping that he will wake. The setting is southern England, immediately following the Brexit vote. Autumn perhaps symbolises winding down and decay, a bridge between the brightness of summer and a looming stone-cold winter. At the same time the book compares and contrasts the current divisive and difficult times with similar periods in history, focusing on how it all affects individuals – like Daniel’s long-lost sister. Interwoven with all this are references to artist Pauline Boty, a largely forgotten pioneer of pop art, who is important to both Daniel and Elisabeth. Smith’s style is elliptical, sometimes whimsical, often poetic and occasionally frustrating, as it hints and omits, using nature as metaphor and ultimately offering just a glimmer of hope.

Killjoys seasons 1-5, Syfy

Michelle Lovretta has made a career of writing twisty, action-packed sci fi centred on kick-ass women and featuring remarkable lead actresses. First Anna Silk in supernatural thriller Lost Girl; then Tatiana Maslany in scientific thriller Orphan Black; now Hannah John-Kamen in space thriller Killjoys. Raised as a princess, Yala ‘Dutch’ Yardeen was trained to be an assassin then reinvented herself as a galactic bounty hunter, in partnership with her trusty tech-head offsider Johnny Jaqobis. The series follows their adventures around the Quad; a dwarf planet and its three moons - aristo homeworld Cresh; agricultural Leith; and industrial Westerly - located in a star cluster known as the J. Dutch’s dark past and Johnny’s estranged brother D’avin cause complications and political problems, but they have to set aside differences with family, friends and even enemies when the Quad is threatened with invasion by alien species. As is usual with Lovretta, a strong vein of humour underpins the fantastical, with a great mix of political and social elements to broaden and deepen the story. The camera loves Hannah John-Kamen, but she is ably supported by Aaron Ashmore and Luke McFarlane as the Jakobi brothers and a diverse and interesting cast of characters throughout all five fun and satisfying seasons. Canadian TV is seriously underrated and underexposed. Next please Michelle.

Bridgerton – The Duke & I, by Julia Quinn

It is interesting going to the source material of the epic Netflix series success. It’s possibly harsh to judge the first book as a standalone, given Shonda Rhimes had all eight books of the series to draw on. Book one focuses in on the primary relationship between the eldest Miss Bridgerton, Daphne, and Simon, the Duke of Hastings. Although Daphne’s mother and three elder brothers feature in the story, her younger siblings are barely mentioned. There is enough here to eliminate aspersions of a Jane Austen, or even a Georgette Heyer wannabe. Yes, it is a regency romance, but there is more to it. Undeniably sexy, the story quietly champions women and their right to autonomy and choices about their own bodies. There are a few jarring Americanisms and the continual threats of violence between the men is a bit overdone, but the book is mostly true to the period. The downside of this new edition of the book is that, as well as its original epilogue an extended one has been added that contains significant spoilers to future books. This is totally unnecessary and really annoying.

The Emporium of the Imagination, by Tabitha Bird

The emporium is a shop that magically appears in the place it needs to be for as long as it is needed by the community. It has a custodian, Earlatidge Hubert Umbray, who is nearing the end of his 10-year term and must find a replacement. The shop has fetched up in regional Queensland and he must also identify a local shopkeeper, who will help the townsfolk find what they need. The novel seems to have the admirable goal of assisting people feel their grief and move on from death, disaster and tragedy. The means used involve a brand of self-conscious magical realism, with an interesting, if derivative, idea, poorly executed. There are many plot holes that are not adequately filled by magic, among a confused melange of ghosts and disasters. Characters are not well realised and the whole is vaguely unsatisfying.

A Discovery of Witches series 2

Vampire Matthew and witch Diana have timewalked to Elizabethan England to find the Book of Life and escape their enemies. History brought to life is fascinating for academic Diana, but Matthew has lived this time before and that brings a lot of complications. The couple must navigate tricky politics and family issues while Diana finds a mentor to help harness her powers so they can get back to their own time. Meanwhile, back in Oxford, Marcus struggles with his new responsibilities and meets his match while dealing with multiple threats. With author Deborah Harkness as an executive producer it’s no surprise that series two remains very faithful to her All Souls trilogy. The costumes and historical detail are exquisite and the central love story is convincing, with great chemistry between Matthew Goode and Teresa Palmer. The supporting cast - of mostly veteran British actors – is uniformly excellent. It ends as all good adaptations should – leaving the audience hanging out for the next series.

Tanqueray 10, Tanqueray

A small-batch version of the famous brand, Tanqueray 10 is said to be different because it uses whole citrus rather than dried peel and botanicals that round out the juniper. But the dominant flavour is almost aniseed rather than citrus. This may not be to all tastes but it at least heads off the overly sweet tendency of many botanical gins. The aniseed retains the upper hand regardless of tonic style. It’s different, unusual and almost certainly an acquired taste.

The Throne of Jade, by Naomi Novik

It takes quite a long time to actually get to China and the jade throne of the title, in this sequel to Temeraire, almost two-thirds of the book. Along the way are adventures and misadventures galore before the young dragon encounters his origins and must decide where his future lies. The Temeraire series has all the elements required for a great read – dragons, battles, culture clashes and alt history. Somehow it falls short and the story tends to drag in places. Possibly it’s because the main character, William Laurence, is not very interesting. He anchors the story as a naval officer, turned accidental aeronaut, in the early 19th century. But his character is totally reactive, serving as a foil to the almost childlike dragon and as a kind of interpreter of his times. He is a thoroughly decent and honourable man, with little light or shade. He generates goodwill in the reader, but not passionate attachment as with the feisty heroines of Novik’s other books. She does a good job depicting the developing relationship between man and beast, as Laurence comes to terms with Temeraire growing up. She throws in a teaser at the end that hints at the dragon becoming an activist, which could be tricky in the aftermath of the French Revolution with a government crackdown on dissent. It could be a girl thing, it could be a war thing, but this series just does not hold the appeal of feminist folk tales or murderous schools of magic. With many more books to come, perhaps persistence will pay off.

Temeraire, by Naomi Novik

Hornblower meets Anne McCaffrey in this tale of the Napoleonic Wars, with added dragons. On the high seas Captain William Laurence and his crew capture a French ship that contains a rare prize – a dragon egg. When it becomes clear that the egg will hatch before they can make land, one of the sailors must bond with the hatchling to prevent it going feral. But this means the bonded man must leave the navy to become an aviator – relinquishing family, friends and naval career. The aviators are an odd bunch, who do things their own way and keep very much to their own. The development of Laurence’s relationship with Temeraire and his adaptation to aviator life is interesting, if a little slow. Alt history can be tricky but Novik does a good job with the setting. Adding the aviator branch of the armed forces provides an opportunity to mix things up a bit, such as adding female captains to shake up the gender dynamics. The world and voices of the dragons are not quite as convincing, with Temeraire in particular too much of a prodigy. You might think dragons would make naval battles more exciting, but they are still battles, depicted in mind-numbing detail and strictly for enthusiasts. This is the first in a series of nine and it will be interesting to see if there is enough momentum in the story to sustain them.

Cruella (2021), directed by Craig Gillespie

Billed as an origin story of the villain from 101 Dalmatians, the film starts by building sympathy for Estella, a bullied and different child who is orphaned and winds up on the streets of London in a small gang of petty criminals. But it’s difficult to maintain that sympathy when her inner Cruella takes over and in order to defeat her nemesis, the evil Baroness, she becomes just as monstrous. It’s good to see a film with two strong female leads - Emma Stone and Emma Thompson look fabulous and ham it up to the point of bacon. There is loads of OTT action, fabulous fashion and a great soundtrack, but while it’s clever and sometimes entertaining the film is too long and, despite playing for laughs, just not very funny. It’s a struggle to cheer for a psychopath who treats her friends and allies as badly as her enemies, especially when you know she will go on to be a mass dognapper with the aim of making fur coats. Joel Fry, Mark Strong and John McCrea provide diversity and strength in support, while Bluebell the chihuahua provides most of the few laughs.

Uncook Yourself, by Nat’s What I Reckon

Subtitled A Ratbag’s Rules for Life, this is part memoir, part self-help from the YouTuber comedian who has become a surprise celebrity chef. His no-nonsense, sweary cooking videos became essential viewing during COVID restrictions and helped propel him to international stardom. The self-taught cook aims to demonstrate that it’s not that hard to cook good food from scratch. He encourages people to give it a go and ditch processed monstrosities such as pre-made jar sauce. The book details some of the serious physical and mental health issues Nat has faced since childhood and offers his thoughts on how he has overcome them. His honest and down-to-earth style is endearing, with an underlying philosophy based on kindness. The overall tone is one of casual cheerfulness, which accurately reflects his on-screen persona – complete with swears. So anyone uncomfortable with the F-word should steer well clear. The striking yellow and black cover design is echoed throughout the text, which is interesting and useful on the illustrated pages, but annoying and unnecessary when used to highlight random paragraphs. Recipes punctuate the chapters, depicted in an amusing and entertaining graphic novel style. Fuck jar sauce!

Girl Woman Other, by Bernadine Evaristo

It is interesting that this book was joint winner of the Booker Prize with Margaret Atwood’s sequel to the Handmaid’s Tale. While both champion women they could not be more different in tone, structure and style. There is no plot, but a jerky series of narratives from multiple points of view. The vast majority of these are of black women and girls. Some know each other, many are related, some paths cross briefly. They are mothers and daughters, grandmothers and godmothers, sisters and aunts. Several jump back in time to the 50s and 60s when many Caribbean immigrants arrived in the UK. The disjointed structure features minimal punctuation, with sentences ending midway and restarting on the next line, but never with a full stop. It’s not apparent what purpose this serves – perhaps to parallel the disjointed and dysfunctional nature of many lives? The novel starts and finishes with Amma, a lesbian scriptwriter coming into her own in her 50s. In between it moves around a plethora of friends, acquaintances, allies, adversaries and ancestors. It stays mostly in south London, occasionally venturing to the north of England and to the Caribbean. These are women with lives, loves, hates, jobs, careers, children, who have experienced sexual assault and discrimination. They encompass all shapes, sizes and shades. An epilogue provides a twist that reinforces the theme while simultaneously explaining an anomaly in the cast of characters.

The Dig (2020), Directed by Simon Stone

In the summer of 1939 widow Edith Pretty hires excavator Basil Brown to investigate mounds on her Sussex property. The amateur archaeologists defy experts and authorities to make one of the most important historical finds in Britain. This very quiet, slow and restrained film has a muted colour palette of grey, beige and brown, occasionally enlivened by a flash of green or gold, which perfectly suits its tone and pace. Carey Mulligan and Ralph Fiennes, as Edith and Basil, create an affinity that rises above age and class to develop mutual respect and friendship. Johnny Flynn, Lily James and Ben Chaplin feature in a subplot that reinforces the gentle theme of being true to oneself and taking opportunities for happiness when they arise. This thoughtful and well-crafted film demonstrates that Netflix is doing a better job than some studios at this kind of historical tale that is loosely based on a true story.

Lanny, by Max Porter

An unusual child who lives in his own sppecial world, Lanny is for the most part loved or tolerated in his English village, rather than bullied. His mother Jolie is a former actress, who impelled the move to the country for a better lifestyle. His dissatisfied father, Robert, commutes to London. Lanny spends a lot of time learning from Mad Pete, a well-known elderly eccentric artist. Old Papa Toothwort, some kind of ancient earth spirit, is drawn to Lanny and this could mean trouble for the village and the family. Told in three parts, this story has an unusual structure, with frequently alternating voices of Jolie, Robert, Pete, Old Papa Toothwort and a kind of Greek chorus of villagers. Toothwort’s thoughts literally slide around the page, presumably to emphasise what a different being he is, but it is really physically hard to read. Many aspects of society cop a serve in this tale, including the media and people’s tendency to assume the worst and pile on. A down-to-earth evocation of love, fear and tragedy is cloaked in almost poetic magical realism in this rather strange book.

The Thursday Murder Club, by Richard Osman

Elizabeth, Joyce, Ibrahim and Ron live in a luxurious English retirement village that is about to undergo its next stage of development. The former spy, nurse, psychiatrist and union leader, all aged between 70 and 80, keep their brains active by solving cold case murders from old police files. When the thuggish business partner of their village’s smarmy developer is murdered, the club leaps in to help the police with their inquiries. The local police are not always appreciative of this expert assistance, but another murder increases the mystery of the first and all hands are needed to get to the bottom of it all. The phrase ‘this will be fun’ is used rather too often by rather too many people and the dialogue doesn’t always work. But the characters are appealing and the pace speeds up as the plot becomes more convoluted and the red herrings get juicier. At times the tale is gripping, even if the many coincidences are far-fetched. Third person narrative alternates with newbie Joyce’s diary entries, which is a little odd but does allow greater insights into her thoughts and actions than those of the others. Rapier sharp natural leader Elizabeth is the most intriguing of the unlikely gang of four, but no doubt they will all be further teased out in the inevitable sequel.

Six Minutes to Midnight (2020), directed by Andy Goddard

The Augusta-Victoria School in Sussex was a real place that served as a finishing school for the daughters and god-daughters of the Nazi high command. It operated from 1932 to 1939 on the south coast of England. This is an intriguing setting for a film in the febrile summer prior to WWII, when war seemed inevitable but there were strong Nazi sympathies and a movement for appeasement rather than conflict. The schoolgirls make ideal political pawns for both sides, with the potential for a great war story from a different angle. Unfortunately the script is an unholy mess, with yawning plot holes and increasingly unlikely actions. The underlying theme of how difficult it can be to tell the good guys from the bad is overdone and heavy-handed. Judi Dench performs as expected as the headmistress; Eddie Izzard makes a suitable teacher/spy, but is an unconvincing action hero. This film has style but just doesn’t deliver on substance.

Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik

Three very different young women find their lives entwined in this rather different take on the Rumpelstiltskin tale. Myriam is the daughter of an unsuccessful moneylender who must chill her heart in order to take over the business and feed her family. Wanda is the daughter of a violent drunken farmer, brought up in poverty with her two brothers. Irina is the daughter of a wealthy duke who is valued only for her potential as a political pawn through marriage. Despite their social and religious differences these three have a lot in common. None are considered beautiful but all are talented, resourceful and resilient, which they need to be to survive. They must all battle the patriarchy and rely on each other for support and assistance. Like Novik’s first novel, Uprooted, Spinning Silver is strongly influenced by folk tales and set in feudal eastern Europe, in an agrarian society. The supernatural elements include the Staryk, who terrorise mortals and want to bring winter all year round, and a fiery demon who has possessed the Tsar. Our three heroines find themselves caught between these two powers, in a battle that may result only in bitter losers. Novik does a good job of distinguishing between the voices of the three young women, so the reader always knows which is speaking. This success is diluted when she introduces a myriad of other voices as the story develops. There is not enough difference in tone and it sits oddly when first the little brother, then the nursemaid and finally even the Tsar get a first-person narrative. It may have worked better to put them in third person to help distinguish them from the main three. Neverthless it’s an intricate tale that takes the reader on a wild ride before reaching a satisfying conclusion.

Just Like You, by Nick Hornby

Lucy is an English teacher and a 42-year-old, white, middle class mother of two in the process of divorcing her addict husband. Joseph is a 22-year-old, black, working class aspiring DJ who lives with his mum. Hornby charts their unlikely romance in North London against the backdrop of the Brexit vote. The two forge a relationship that transcends barriers of age, race, class and education in an increasingly divided society. Hornby’s trademark humour makes this an entertaining tale, despite the topical political references feeling somewhat shoehorned into the story. The central relationship stretches credulity from the start and more so as it continues beyond the obvious. Perhaps the intention was to provide a note of hope in dark times. Given the subsequent pandemic it falls a little short.

Nomadland (2020), directed by Chloe Zhao

Depicting a little over a year in the life of Fern, a modern hobo, Nomadland is a meandering and beautiful film that shows a different aspect of America. After she was widowed Fern stayed in the mining town of Empire, keeping the memory of her husband alive. When the mine closed the town literally died and Fern put most of her belongings into storage and hit the road in search of work. There she finds a community of itinerant workers who look out for each other and makes some good friends. Everyone has different and complex reasons for being there, but for most it boils down to lack of money. The story seems romanticised, touching only lightly on the potential dangers and insecurities of nomad life and focussing on its freedom and connection to nature. There is mention but no exploration of the impacts of extreme job insecurity, the failings of corporate America and the appalling fact that many Americans in their 70s and beyond can’t afford to retire. In fact Amazon apparently pays well and is a great place to work the Christmas rush each year, with no dodgy practices or worker exploitation. Frances McDormand is faultless as ever as Fern; her portrayal is direct, honest and sympathetic. Much of the supporting cast is drawn from the nomad community and while this strikes a clear note of authenticity, some of the performances are patchy. The film presents ‘houselessness’ as a lifestyle choice and is consequently deceptively shallow, more about the journey and the picturesque countryside it travels and trivialising the underlying issues. Somehow less than the sum of its parts.

Uprooted, by Naomi Novik

Agnieszka lives in a small village near the ominous wood housing dark creatures that threaten all the villages in the district. The Dragon is a wizard who protects the region and every 10 years selects a young woman from the local villages to be his companion in his remote tower. Everyone knows he will choose her best friend Kasia this time, because she is the brightest and most beautiful, so it is a shock to all when Agnieszka shows signs that she is a witch and must take precedence. Despite its elements of Beauty and the Beast and Rapunzel, Novik subverts the classic fairy tale tropes with this tale of strong women battling a malevolent force and educating all around them while they do it. Agnieszka and Kasia grow, change and adapt, supporting each other through thick and thin. The Dragon learns to share and work with others and the leaders of the kingdom pays a heavy price for failing to curb their ambition and arrogance. Eastern European folk tales underly the narrative, enlivened by delightfully different characters and exciting magic that is deeply entwined with the natural world.

The Dry (2020), directed by Robert Connolly

An horrific murder-suicide in a drought-stricken country town brings federal finance detective Aaron Falk back to the place he was drummed out of 20 years earlier. His childhood friend Luke is accused of killing his wife and son before turning the gun on himself, leaving only his baby daughter alive. Luke’s parents beg Falk to stay in Kiewarra and investigate. Could there be a link to the crime he was accused of long ago? The film is very true to Jane Harper’s bestselling book, possibly too much so, as it emulates the plot elements that stretch credulity. The cinematography is spectacular, painfully evoking the parched landscape. Frequent flashbacks threaten to become intrusive but just manage to punctuate Falk’s state of mind and provide a heartbreaking contrast between then and now. Ironically the only jarring note in the casting is Eric Bana as Aaron Falk, he is visibly older, darker and somehow less vulnerable than the character as written in the novel. But an actor as good as Bana makes it work. The film is as dark and downbeat as the book, leaving many issues realistically unresolved.

Death in Daylesford, by Kerry Greenwood

While the TV series is fun, the Phryne Fisher of the books is a much more interesting and competent character. So it is a pleasure to find her back in the saddle in Hepburn Springs. The novel offers two stories in one; the first examines Phryne and Dot’s pursuit of a serial killer in Daylesford; the second sees Phryne’s adopted children assist copper Hugh Collins investigate the drowning death of the girls’ schoolmate. Switching back and forth between the narratives makes both disjointed, especially as they sometimes run into each other’s chapters. The focus on food and fashion is always enjoyable and the historical detail is fascinating, but the plot of the Daylesford story is more than usually fantastical and quite convoluted. Miss Fisher triumphs, as ever, in every aspect and it appears she has several detectives in training to join her in solving future mysteries.

The Silver Arrow, by Lev Grossman

Readers familiar with Lev Grossman’s Magicians trilogy, and expecting something similar, should be aware that this is very much a children’s book. On her 11th birthday Kate receives a steam train from her mysterious uncle. She and her younger brother then embark on a magical journey, transporting animals to places of safety. Along the way they experience excitement and adventure, making new friends in unexpected places and learning resilience by using their initiative. This well-meaning story has the worthy goal of educating and empowering children. Unfortunately, it does so in a heavy handed and didactic fashion, with a tone that talks down. Although the heroine is 11, the simple language and unsubtle messaging seem pitched at a much lower level. It might be admirable that Grossman seeks to inspire the next generation of Greta Thunbergs, but it is hard to see this book achieving that high aim.

Isn’t it Romantic (2019), directed by Todd Strauss-Schulman

Talented architect Natalie lacks self-confidence and self-esteem, rendering herself almost invisible at work. Totally rejecting the tropes of romantic comedies, she also excludes any possibility of love or any kind of happy ending for herself. When she is mugged and knocked unconscious, Natalie wakes to find herself in a utopian version of her life in New York and her worst nightmare – a romantic comedy. How can she escape it? Rebel Wilson is very funny as Natalie and she is ably supported by Adam Devine, Liam Hemsworth, Betty Gilpin and Priyanka Chopra. There is a nice underlying message about loving yourself before worrying about finding love with anyone else. The film has a lot of fun poking at the extremes of the genre like waking fully made-up, breaking into song, stopping weddings and stereotypical gay best friends. While enjoyable and at times laugh-out-loud funny, the film ends up succumbing to its own tropes by reinforcing that people should stay in their own lanes and insisting on a trademark happy ending.

Troubled Blood, By Robert Galbraith

The latest Cormoran Strike novel by JK Rowling’s alter ego is more than 900 pages long. It’s not a difficult read, but it is so fucking long it’s hard to keep track of the multitude of characters and plot twists. There is an awful lot going on. Cormoran and Robin continue to navigate their tricky personal and professional relationship while managing their expanding business. Robin is trying to finalise her divorce and deal with her anxious family. Cormoran’s aunt in Cornwall is dying of cancer and his estranged father is trying to establish a relationship, much to Cormoran’s fury. His ex, Charlotte, is still sending provocative texts and trying to inveigle him. And that’s before we even get started on the convoluted murder mystery – the cold case of young doctor Margot Bamborough’s disappearance in 1975. Was she an undisclosed victim of a notorious serial killer? Did she run away from a cold and uncaring husband? Was her ex boyfriend involved? And what about the complicated relationships in her GP practice? Galbraith canvasses all this and more in minute detail, which is for the most part interesting but occasionally excruciating. Several storylines and one whole section (concerning a visit from Robin’s brother) could have been omitted without losing anything relevant to the main plot. A good editor would have done so to the book’s benefit and would also have corrected a few grammatical errors, but who would edit JK Rowling? She draws together most of the various threads pretty well in a satisfying conclusion, but it takes so long to get there it’s kind of anti-climactic.

The Left-Handed Booksellers of London, by Garth Nix

After turning 18 Susan Arkshaw moves to London to prepare for art school and to find the father she has never known. She is immediately plunged into a secret world of booksellers, who are guardians of the intersection between the old world and the new. Things are out of balance in the old world with a malevolent old power growing its influence while the Booksellers have been asleep at the wheel. But what has Susan’s absent Dad got to do with it and will charming but deadly Bookseller Merlin help or hinder her quest? Set in the 1980s, where Thatcher is the second female PM, this novel adds an alt history dimension to its fantasy premise. The alt is subtle, rather than a major a plot component, expressed mainly via women cropping up in positions of strength and authority. Susan is an endearingly grounded heroine and Nix skilfully blends the tropes of myth and magic with the day-to-day of 80s England, tossing in humour to keep it real. The Booksellers are an intriguing organisation and it will be interesting to see if this is the start of a new series.

Firestarter (2020), directed by Nel Minchin & Wayne Blair

The story of the Bangarra Dance Theatre is also the story of the three brothers intrinsic to its development – Stephen, David and Russell Page. Founded in Sydney in 1989, Bangarra has been a triumphant success story, culturally, artistically and socially, but at what cost? Stephen Page was appointed artistic director at the age of 24. He has led the way ever since in reconnecting to country and culture and demonstrating this through dance. Grainy home movies and amateur videos show the early days of the Page brothers, their start at NAISDA and the early years of Bangarra. Later interviews and footage demonstrate the amazing talent of the three brothers and the incredible sadness of Russell and David’s paths. The narrative matches the dance company’s history with high and low points of Australia’s modern history, including featuring at the Edinburgh Festival, a US tour, Bicentennial celebrations, the Sydney Olympics, Keating’s Redfern speech and the Howard government’s denialism. The doco is a little slow in parts and could possibly have been edited more tightly. Continuity and hope are demonstrated through Stephen’s tenacity and through his and Russell’s sons, as well as the new generation of Bangarra dancers.

It Sounded Better in My Head, by Nina Kenwood

Natalie is 18 and living in that tense interim period between receiving Year 12 results and getting Uni offers. At the start of a series of big life changes her parents announce their separation, throwing her a curveball. Excessively introverted and self-conscious, Natalie’s last couple of years at school have been made bearable by her friendship with Lucy and Zach. But she has become something of a third wheel since they coupled up. Navigating an unexpected romance is difficult when you have zero experience and your family and friends are not totally supportive. But Natalie’s humour sees her through extreme anxiety and her tendency to over analyse everything. Occasional flashbacks explain her loner status and underline the true pain many teens experience from literally feeling uncomfortable in their own skin. A deceptively simple tale of teenage angst, the tongue-in-cheek style disguises a note perfect depiction of vulnerability and growth.

A Deadly Education, by Naomi Novik

In a very different kind of boarding school story, the Scholomance is as far from kindly Hogwarts as it is possible to be. Constantly under attack from dark magical creatures, its students have the best incentive to learn and pass assignments – it is literally do or die. Galadriel ‘EL’ Higgins has been so well brought up by her hippy mother that she wouldn’t dream of using her considerable powers for evil. This is despite the fact that she has the potential to be the strongest dark sorcerer ever known and that it would make her life considerably easier and more secure. In her penultimate year at the Scholomance, El’s spiky personality makes it difficult to make friends or allies, which limits her chances of surviving to graduate. But incurable hero lifesaver Orion Lake changes the odds considerably when he realises El won’t use him or lie to him and he won’t leave her alone. El is often her own worst enemy, but her moral code shines through as she struggles to do the right thing regardless of her own best interests. There are a lot of characters to keep track of and a lot of exposition used to explain how the Scholomance works, which makes the story slow going in parts. But El and Orion are well realised and relatable against a backdrop of class and privilege in the magical world. There is a nice cliffhanger to whet the appetite for the sequel, which should be a bit zippier now that the scene has been set.

Summerland (2020), directed by Jessica Swale

During WWII in a small town on the south coast of England, academic Alice Lang is the town witch, taunted by children and ostracised by adults. Her reclusive and unpleasant demeanour doesn’t help her situation, but as we learn, she is lonely and miserable – mourning the parting from the love of her life years earlier. Her hardened heart softens when an evacuee child, Frank, is forced on her and she remembers how to love. A small and slow tale of dealing with grief and loss, the film offers some laughs and some beautiful moments. Gemma Arterton is wonderful as Alice and Penelope Wilton is well cast as older Alice. Lucas Bond does a great job of Frank.

The Survivors, by Jane Harper

A small coastal town in Tasmania hosts the action in Jane Harper’s latest murder mystery. Three young people died when a catastrophic storm hit Evelyn Bay more than a decade ago. Kieran Elliot moved to Sydney for Uni not long after and returning to his home town has always been bittersweet. Along with reunions with family and friends come memories, regrets, questions and long-held survivor guilt. Kieran’s father has dementia and this visit, with his partner and baby, is to help his parents pack up their house. The death of a young woman on the beach is shocking and painful for everyone, triggering a wave of suspicion and fear and dredging up old secrets, lies and resentments. Harper once again perfectly captures the light and shade of an insular Australian country town. Evelyn Bay’s population triples in the tourist season, bringing its own pressures, with insecure seasonal employment and inadequate infrastructure. Many satisfying layers reveal damaging family dynamics, convoluted dysfunctional relationships and an underlying culture of toxic masculinity that literally kills. This allows lots of fat and juicy red herrings as the novel rushes to a slightly anti-climactic ending that is tied up rather neatly for Kieran and his family.

The Dictionary of Lost Words, by Pip Williams

Esme has been brought up in the scriptorium – the engine room of the new Oxford English Dictionary, where her kindly father is a senior editor. The huge undertaking is well behind deadline, taking decades to complete. Immersed in a world of words, Esme aspires to her father’s role, even though she is a girl. As she and the dictionary grow she starts to realise that the age, class and gender of the editors determine the words and definitions that are included or omitted. Influenced by the developing suffragist movement and a sense of justice, Esme collects many of the ‘lost’ words and secrets them away. Esme’s story is punctuated by social change at the turn of the 20th century and the First World War. Even though written in the first person, she remains a slightly shadowy personality, almost peripheral to the dictionary and events. This may be because she is one of the few fictional characters, so she exists as a vehicle for ideas and a representation of women overlooked. The book provides a clear and compelling illustration of how a dominant culture excludes and divides, in the process losing of a richness of thoughts and ideas and contributing to the misery and subjugation of ‘others’.

Promising Young Woman (2020), directed by Emerald Fennell

Turning 30, Cassie works in a coffee shop and has lived with her parents since dropping out of medical school some years earlier. Her life is seemingly aimless, but she actually has a clear focus and purpose. She regularly pretends to be pass-out drunk in clubs, and then turns the tables on the men who inevitably try to take advantage. Her behaviour is frighteningly risky – a reaction to a traumatic event in college, but it is an extreme method of education rather than revenge. A chance meeting with an old classmate puts Cassie at a crossroads – will she take a path of direct action or can she finally move on from the past and contemplate a brighter future. Carey Mulligan is never less than excellent and she is compelling in this role. The uniformly strong supporting cast includes Bo Burnham, Alison Brie, Connie Britton and Chris Lowell. Bleakly funny and whip smart, the twists and turns provide unexpected tension, turning the film into a thriller. The music and production design are sublime. It has been described as a #MeToo film, but is actually one step beyond that, exploding the myth of the good guy and using examples from real life to clearly articulate that the standard you walk past is the standard you accept. Cassie deals savagely with enablers, but always gives them a chance to repent. Knowing the premise and the director you expect this film to pack a punch, you just don’t realise it will land such a hard blow as to leave you gasping. Confronting, shocking, funny and emotionally devastating, this is not a comfortable film but one that is very necessary.

The Cruel Stars, by John Birmingham

Humanity has taken itself far beyond evolution in the far future, where a neural network links most people; sophisticated AI knows all; and gene modification incorporating animal traits is as common as tattoos, The rich can achieve immortality by downloading into a new body when theirs wears out and mega corporations with their own royal dynasties rule the galaxy. Generations ago some humans rebelled against the excessive interference with nature. They lost the Great War but formed their own Human Republic in exile, allowing only ‘pure’ humans to live. Now the Republic is back, using their own technology against their enemies and aiming to ‘liberate’ the few pure humans who remain among them. It will be up to a diverse bunch of individuals to fight for their version of humanity against the invading ‘space Nazis’ known as the Sturm. It takes a while for Birmingham to introduce the disparate people who will form the Resistance and it gets a bit confusing keeping track of so many characters and storylines. Eventually it becomes clear that there are five main resistors to lead the charge as their stories converge. Birmingham never paints in black and white. The society our heroes are defending has many flaws and although the Sturm’s methods and ideology make them the clear villains, they do perhaps have a point. The first of a purported trilogy, the story is fast paced and entertaining. Roll on number two.

Wild Citrus Gin, 5Nines Distillery

Very citrusy indeed, it was odd to find this Adelaide Hills boutique gin paired with ginger beer; a Moscow Mule is all very well, but it’s not a G&T. It actually was a good combo but, as officially recommended on the label, Mediterranean-style tonic is better. As promoted this gin is simply delicious on its own over ice, but take care on the pour because it packs a punch. The sweetness of the citrus, especially the mandarin, dominates the spices and teeters on the verge of overwhelming a drier palate, but this would make a refreshing summer drink with plenty of ice. Do add the mint leaves as advised by the makers.

Euphoria, by Lily King

In the 1930s wunderkind American anthropologist Nell Stone braves the wilds of Papua New Guinea with her less talented Australian husband Fen. They join up with English counterpart Andrew Bankson, who has been alone in the field for too long and needs their company as much as they need his guidance. The behaviour in the developing love triangle is brilliantly compared and contrasted with the anthropological study of the ‘primitive’ cultures the trio is immersed in. Anthropology was a developing science and the three western researchers bring very different perspectives and methodologies to their work. Gentle Bankson’s approach is academic; dominant Fen is almost his opposite in every way; Nell focuses on women and children. They unite their strengths to create great work, but their strengths are also their weaknesses and bring about their downfall. The novel poses the question: are western values, mores and actions so very different or more sophisticated than those they study? The answer seems to be that passion, jealousy, possessiveness and violence, both tribal and domestic, are universal traits; it only how they are viewed and described that is different. Inspired by the early life of Margaret Meade, Lily King’s story is multifaceted and engrossing, beautiful and tragic.

Woman on the Edge of Time, by Marge Biercy

Ostensibly utopian feminist sci fi, this 1970s novel is actually a searing expose of mental health care, particularly for women and marginalised people. Connie is a 30something Latina in New York whose hard life shows on her face. Her first husband was murdered; the second abandoned her and their daughter. Violence and abuse have undermined the few opportunities she has had to improve her lot and she has winds up in a mental institution, subjected to brutal treatment. When she somehow makes contact with a person from the future Connie is treated with respect and care for almost the first time in her life. Her visits to the future are her escape and her education, where she gains some sense of agency. She is shown a vision of what the future could be, for better or for worse, depending on the choices made in the present – and the issues are as relevant in 2020 as they were in 1976. This is a hard read on many levels. The proposed utopian future is less than perfect but has a lot to recommend it. Particularly interesting are the prescient approaches to gender and to the environment; areas where there have been improvements since the 70s, although there’s still a very long way to go.

The Constant Rabbit, by Jasper Fforde

An anthropomorphising Event fifty-odd years ago has given several species human characteristics, with more than a million enhanced rabbits now living in Britain. A radical right-wing government is constantly eroding rabbit rights and demonising the species, generating hate and rabid anti-rabbit policies. Peter Knox is a spotter with the Rabbit Compliance Taskforce. He is a kind of everyman who is not on board with the fascists, but does little to resist them or to be an ally to the oppressed. When an old University acquaintance re-enters his life, Peter is forced to open his eyes to the reality of the work he does and the society he benefits from. He finds he must choose a side and decide once and for all whether or not to be a good human. This absurdist tale often goes well beyond farce, but also hammers home multiple points about prejudice, ’othering’ and exclusion – all wrapped up in the form of toxic humanity. Another Event conveniently winds up the story, but it is almost anti-climactic and feels like something of a cop out.