To Be Taught if Fortunate, by Becky Chambers

In the mid 22nd century citizen science organisation OCA has revived space exploration, sending out six missions under its Lawki program. Each crew of four long-haul space explorers go into torpor for decades while travelling between stars, ageing only minimally over this period. While in the torpor state they undergo body modifications to adapt them to the environment they are heading for. The intent is to make minimal impact and not impose Earth values or bacteria on other moons and planets. Theirs is a purely scientific expedition to gather as much information as possible about life on other worlds. It takes 14 years for communications to go back and forth each way, so any news is old news and their experience and initiative must get them out of any trouble they meet. Apart from its strikingly poetic and profound title this slim novel is a departure from Chambers’ Wayfarers series, not least because the focus on hard science can be heavy going at times. She teeters on the edge of didactic exposition. Its very human orientation places the story as a long distant precursor to the earlier books. It does contain very interesting ideas and ask important questions. It will be fascinating to see if Chambers’ next novel is a sequel that answers some of those questions, or introduces a new world entirely.

The 22 Murders of Madison May, by Max Barry

The multiverse theory posits an infinite number of universes, all just a little different from each other. Max Barry posits a loose group of people who have found a way to travel through the various universes, taking with them small positives to try to make small improvements in each new world. But what happens when one of them goes rogue – an incel determined to kill and keep killing the woman who keeps failing to meet his ideal image of her? Felicity Staples is a political journalist on a New York paper, who stumbles into the group of travellers after reporting on what turns out to be the 20th murder of Madison May by Clay Hors. Cast adrift from her own world, Felicity manages to stop one murder. But how many more can she prevent and will she lose herself trying? This novel has a strange structure; starting with Maddie’s story, before switching emphatically to Felicity and then finally bringing them together. It gets confusing at times as to which universe we are in, especially when Barry appears to transgress his own rules of movement. He doesn’t inflict the full details of all 22 murders; the few depicted are sufficiently horrifying to make the point – no matter the scenario, it always ends with Hors attacking the object of his affection. The story touches on several moral and ethical dilemmas without delving into them. The one definitive statement that resonates puts responsibility firmly with the assailant rather than the victim, not allowing the classic ‘look what you made me do’ defence to stand. It seems ridiculous that such a statement is necessary in 2021, but so it is – presumably the raison d’etre for the novel.

His Dark Materials (HBO) Series One

Lyra is 12 and has grown up with the academics at Jordan College, Oxford, since her uncle left her in their care as a baby. But this is a different Oxford in a different world, where the sinister Magisterium rules a religious dictatorship with an iron fist. Lyra sets out on a quest to rescue her kidnapped friend, meeting an array of unexpected allies along her journey to the frozen north. There she discovers she is not actually an orphan and may have an important role to play in changing the world. Casting and CGI are the cornerstones of success in adapting Philip Pullman’s trilogy of dark fantasy novels for the small screen. The cast is outstanding and uniformly excellent, featuring Ruth Wilson, James McAvoy and Lin-Manuel Miranda. Dafne Keen as Lyra holds it all together. The CGI is also very good, bringing to life the daemons that represent souls that take on a fixed form at puberty – oh and then there are the armoured bears. The books are extremely complex, with a large array of characters, challenging concepts and a twisty plot. For the most part these have translated well, but there are a few coincidences and unexplained elements that leave a gap in the narrative despite having eight episodes to map it all out. A second series may well resolve some of these mysteries and a third is planned.

The Housemate, by Sarah Bailey

In a share house in Melbourne one young woman is dead, one has been arrested for her murder and one has disappeared. Investigative journalist Oli Groves was on the scene of the housemate murder, 10 years earlier. Now the missing woman has turned up and Oli is assigned to work on a podcast, as well as the news, with Cooper, an eager young digital journalist. As they dig up more about what did and didn’t happen 10 years ago, the mismatched pair find themselves in danger and unsure of who to trust. Oli’s approach to work and life is informed by childhood trauma, its impacts slowly revealed as the story progresses. Now engaged to the man she was having an affair with 10 years ago, Oli struggles to balance work with family commitments. They reunited after the death of his wife, who was coincidentally the police detective on the housemate murder case. The investigation sparks doubts about her fiancé’s controlling ways and his possible involvement in a crime. Can their relationship survive? There is a lot of complicated stuff going on here and a few too many coincidences and interconnections that are a bit of a stretch in a large city. The story spirals continually darker and is all rather grim by the end.

Secrets of Happiness, by Joan Silber

Written in first person from multiple points of view, the segments of this book have a sameness of tone that fails to differentiate the individuals, regardless of differences in gender, race, or sexuality. Gay Ethan tells of the discovery of his father’s long-tern infidelity and the fallout from it. Mixed race Joe fills in the details of his family’s experience, but never do the two half-brothers meet. Then we jump to Maribel, Rachel, Bud, Tara and back to Ethan. Their tales tell us that families are complicated, relationships are complicated; the irony is that none of them has any clue to the secrets of happiness. It is less a novel and more a series of, very loosely, connected short stories, that seem to be about a bunch of characters in search of a story. It’s like an Altman film and about as satisfying.

Ellie and Abbie - and Ellie’s Dead Aunt (2020), directed by Monica Zanetti

School Captain Ellie wants to ask Abbie to the formal, but it’s a big step when she’s not sure that Abbie likes her that way and she hasn’t even come out to her mum yet. It’s not necessarily helpful when the spirit of Ellie’s aunt Tara appears to offer advice. She was a leading gay rights activist who died before Ellie was born and times have changed since her day. This is an LGBTQI story that could be anyone’s story in its essentials. The simple coming of age/coming out tale gains depth from Tara’s historical perspective, without labouring the issues. The relationships all come across as authentic and it is refreshing that the lead characters in an Australian film are all women. Sophie Hawkshaw as Ellie is a young Virginia Gay; Marta Dusseldorp brings extra class as her mum; and Zoe Terakes as Abbie has a natural appeal. The film was crowdfunded and while it is a pity that was necessary the result vindicates the faith shown by the generous crowd.

Sugar Town Queens, by Malla Nunn

Amandla is 15 and living in a one-room shack in a shanty town on the outskirts of Durban with her mother Annalisa. They are an oddity in Sugar Town in many ways; Annalisa is white, has holes in her memory and a sometimes tenuous grip on reality. Mixed race Amandla knows nothing about her origins or how they came to live in the slum she desperately wants to escape. The accidental discovery of her mother’s family leads Amandla and her good friends on a quest to find out Annalisa’s history and her own. What they discover forges new and rewarding relationships and sets them all up for a different future. Nunn paints a really interesting picture of modern ‘rainbow’ South Africa from the point of view of a teenage girl. The story has an almost fairy tale quality, despite or perhaps because of the real world threats and dangers that are part of everyday life in the city. Amandla and her crew are sharp and funny; they take the reader along for the ride, feeling the highs and lows along with them.