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.