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.