Rise and Shine, by Kimberley Allsopp

Noah and August have been together for 17 years, but their marriage has reached its natural end. They barely communicate; the small things they used to love about each other are now sources of irritation; and there is little joy in life for either of them. August bites the bullet and ends the relationship and they manage the kind of amicable separation that seems rare. Having no children undoubtedly helps. This allows each of them the room and space to evolve and pick up the creative ambitions that had been stifled by an unsatisfying partnership. But can this growth and change make space for a new kind of relationship, where they meet each other’s needs and their own? This is an interesting take on the progress of a marriage between two flawed but likeable characters. There are some nice moments, particularly to do with grieving, male friendship and women balancing creativity and ambition. But the story feels a bit like a fairy tale; all just too good to be true. The voices of the characters don’t come across as authentic, especially towards the rather syrupy end.

Mr Burton (2025), directed by Marc Evans

Son of an alcoholic miner in working class south Wales, Richie Jenkins was destined for an ordinary life. Thanks to the interest, encouragement, care and support of his English teacher, Philip Burton, instead he became a world-famous actor. Starting in 1942, the film depicts the sometimes painful transformation of a wayward teenager into the talented young man who would become Richard Burton. Toby Jones as Mr Burton and Lesley Manville as his landlady, Mrs Smith, lift this rather quiet, slow film into something memorable. Many of the supporting roles are underwritten - it would be nice if the women were at least given names - but Aimee-Ffion Edwards is good as Richard’s supportive sister. Harry Lawtey is sometimes hard to accept as a teen, but is compelling as the older Richard, battling his demons and asking for forgiveness and help, again, from his mentor to fulfill his potential. The film doesn't touch on any of Burton's marriages, conveniently ignoring the first - which was current during this time frame.

Fourth Wing, by Rebecca Yarros

The dragon-riding nation of Navarre has been at war with its gryphon-riding neighbour Poromiel for centuries. Violet Sorrengail has been long destined to follow her late father into the scribe quadrant as a historian and chronicler, until her war leader mother forces her into military school to train as a dragon-rider. There, her life is at risk from the first minute, not only from the dangerous training but from her fellow cadets in a dog-eat-dog world. She must use her scholar’s mind to overcome her physical weaknesses and learn friend from foe in order to survive. After a very slow and excessively violent start, heavy with exposition, the story gets more interesting as the pace accelerates. Although the details are often illogical to the point of nonsensical, revelations about Navarre’s history improve the plot and it ends on an exciting lead-in to the inevitable sequel. Violet is a sympathetic heroine and Yarros does a good job of building up URST to a spicy conclusion with her enigmatic and possibly traitorous love interest. This fantasy-romance series is apparently the Twilight of its generation, albeit better written. Hopefully, unlike its predecessor, it improves with each instalment.

The Oasis, by Anne Buist and Graeme Simsion

Trainee psychiatrist Hannah Wright is working in the outpatient clinic of Menzies Hospital, in this sequel to The Glass House, with a whole load of new mental health challenges as well as continuing fallout from those in the previous book. It delves further into how Hannah’s childhood trauma both informs her medical practise and, at times, impedes it and her personal and professional relationships. Eating disorders, child abuse, schizophrenia, OCD, the story covers a wide range of heavy topics, but with a light and very human touch. Each chapter begins with an insight into the experience of a patient and then looks at their interaction with the health and justice systems. It then moves on to how Hannah and her colleagues try to find the best treatment options while dealing with their own concerns. As with the first novel, this is a warm, compassionate and honest look at the strengths and failings of the health system and, more particularly the treatment of patients with mental ill-health.

Lee (2023), directed by Ellen Kuras

A young journalist interviews former model and war correspondent Lee Miller in the 1970s at the end of her life. This takes us back in extended flashbacks to France 1938, when she has finished her modelling career, meets her husband, artist Roland Penrose, and takes up professional photography. It’s a prickly interview and as the action flashes back and forth in time it becomes apparent that there is more to the relationship than journalist and subject. Lee was always a drinker and party girl, and her wartime experiences intensify her drinking. She was a trailblazer as a war photographer and as a woman in combat zones and this film celebrates her achievements while not shying away from her flaws. Kate Winslet is excellent, as always, in the title role, although extra credit should go to the make-up team for handling the age transitions. Comic Andy Samberg is surprisingly good in the serious role of her photography partner, while Alexander Skarsgard is a slightly odd casting choice as her very English husband. A very sound supporting cast includes Josh O’Connor, an underused Marian Cotillard and Andrea Riseborough. This is an interesting and moving film that does a great job at recreating the harrowing wartime experiences and Lee Miller’s amazing photography. However it falls a little short in the emotional framing device of the interview and its resolution.

He Would Never, by Holly Wainwright

Wealthy homemaker Liss has the rights to an exclusive riverside camping spot where she hosts an annual get together of female friends made in a mothers’ group 15 years earlier. Their families have grown and changed over that time and their differences have also grown – perhaps more so than anything they ever had in common. One thing that has not changed is Liss’s husband Lachie – still controlling and manipulative, but is he actually something much worse? The story begins with Lachie in big trouble at the most recent camping trip and then flashes back and forth to the start and evolution of the group and the start of Liss and Lachie’s relationship. It’s a tense tale that lays bare the operation of toxic masculinity in an everyday setting and its awful ramifications for women and, especially, children. But the way many of these people behave is just not believable and the final resolution is something of an anticlimax. It’s meant to be a tribute to female friendship, but the genre of over-privileged white women in Sydney with horrible marriages is already covered by Liane Moriarty and her ilk. Enough already.

The Patterson Girls, by Rachel Johns

Four sisters who grew up in a motel near Port Augusta now pursue careers in Melbourne, Perth, London and Baltimore. They all come home to spend the first Christmas with their dad since their mum died six months previously. Clearing out their mother’s things they uncover family secrets and a potential curse that could affect all their lives. The best thing about this story is its depiction of the relationship between the sisters; they are all interesting, flawed and sympathetic. Far too much exposition and an excess of detail makes for sometimes tedious reading, especially at the start. At the same time skimpy research creates large plot holes that should have been picked up in editing. The South Australian setting is fun, if somewhat overworked, perhaps aiming to emulate Monica McInerney. It’s all very soapy, a bit of fun but possibly not worth the rumoured upcoming sequel.

Careme, Apple TV+

An aspiring chef in Napoleonic France, Antonin Careme gets caught up in the machinations of rival ministers Talleyrand and Fouche. As his innovative cuisine gains him fame his impulsive nature finds him trouble, with the politicians using him as a pawn in their power games and the ladies of the court whetting their appetites in every possible way. Apparently based on a real character, Careme has been described as the first celebrity chef and the inventor of haute cuisine. The show plays this up, featuring a Masterchef-style competition in one episode. Benjamin Voisin is compelling in the title role; the production design is sumptuous, in keeping with the food; and there is plenty of sex, betrayal and debauchery to spice the dish.

O Pioneers, by Willa Cather

This classic American novel is an ode to Scandinavian and other western European settlers, who first wrestled then bonded with the rich Nebraska land they occupied at the turn of the 20th century. It centres around Alexandra Bergson, a Swedish immigrant who leads her brothers and her community through hard times to prosperity after their pioneering father dies. It’s a really interesting snapshot of the times and how particularly difficult it was for women to lead independent lives and make their own choices. First published in 1913, a publisher’s note says it reflects the attitudes of its time. This presumably refers to a total lack of reference to the displaced indigenous occupants of the land and the sympathy for the harsh sentence of 10 years imposed on a man who shot dead his wife and her lover. But in present day America, how much has really changed?

Royals, by Tegan Bennet Daylight

Six teens and a baby are somehow stranded in a Sydney shopping mall at 5.17pm, which is when all the clocks, watches, phones and devices have stopped. Anxious, blue-haired Shannon tells the tale of the group’s fear and adaptation to their circumstances as they try to figure out what has happened and how to escape. She and wheelchair-bound Jordan, competent Tiahna and her artistic cousin Grace, spiky Akira, exuberant ADHD James and the baby they name Juno squabble and bond, ‘shopping’ for everything they need. Are they in Lord of the Flies? Big Brother? Some alternate universe? The story is an interesting examination of strangers and misfits becoming friends by realising what they have in common is so much more than what divides them. Occasionally tipping over to preachy, especially on diversity, the novel is also a nice reminder that every generation has its heroes.

Murderbot, Apple TV+

In a universe dominated by corporations an independent research exploration team runs into trouble on a remote, uninhabited planet. The Company they are contracted to has supplied the cheapest and shoddiest equipment and this appears to include the cyborg security unit charged with keeping them safe. This particular SecUnit calls itself Murderbot. It has a chequered past, a reserved nature, an addiction to TV drama serials and a dangerous secret. It must decide how much of itself to expose to these unusually pleasant humans in order to protect them. Based on the Martha Wells novellas, this sci-fi series is a faithful adaptation, exciting, funny and sometimes poignant in its short, sharp episodes. Alexander Skarsgard was an interesting casting choice for what is meant to be an androgynous cyborg, but he pulls it off. After all the excitement the final episode is a little anti-climactic, but provides a good lead-in to series 2 – soon please.

The Loudness of Unsaid Things, by Hilde Hinton

With a mentally ill mother and a negligent father, Susie is what would today be called an at-risk child. But this is the 1960s and 70s and Susie is left to raise herself. Bright and lonely, we follow her story from the age of 7 to 17 as she tries to find her place in the world with few boundaries and little guidance. It is interspersed with the account of an older woman, Miss Kaye, who works at The Institute – a facility housing troubled young women. It becomes clear that Miss Kaye is a mature Susie, using her life experience to shepherd others through their damage. Hinton has drawn on her own life to paint a devastating picture of the effect mental illness can have on a family. Susie is a vibrant character, warm and reckless; Miss Kaye lives life on her own terms. We get no details of how the first became the second until the end, after Miss Kaye retires and a surprise visitor shines a few bars of light on intergenerational trauma.

Down Cemetery Road, by Mick Herron

When a house in her quiet Oxford street is blown up and a small child goes missing, frustrated housewife Sarah sticks her nose in and employs a private detective when the police seem uninterested. She then finds herself embroiled in a violent conspiracy involving an Ministry of Defence cover-up and rogue agents. Dark and twisty, this debut novel has some major plot flaws and really needed a couple more drafts to answer a few questions the editor should have asked, but Herron’s skill in character development is clear. Sarah is a compelling heroine, deep and complex, who must shake off her stultifying marriage and regain her true self in order to survive. Billed as a Zoe Boehm thriller, the PD’s ex-wife and partner makes only fleeting appearances until riding in to try to save the day towards the end. Written 20 years ago, the novel has been republished to cash in on the success of the Slow Horses franchise. It’s worth a read, if only to chart the writer’s progress.

The Studio, Apple TV+

After too many box office flops, head of Continental Studio Patty Leigh is replaced by her 2IC, film buff Matt Remick. His lofty artistic ambitions are immediately quashed by company overlord and dinosaur philistine Griffin Mill. In 10 short episodes of painful farce Matt navigates the commercial pressure to succeed and the vagaries of creatives, often tripping over his own fragile ego. Seth Rogan’s affectionate excoriation of Hollywood is in the style of The Office, excruciating and all too believable entertainment. It features an incredible array of directors and actors playing (often nasty) versions of themselves, including Martin Scorsese, Ron Howard, Olivia Wilde and Zoe Kravitz. They and the stellar cast all have far too much fun, especially in the last two very self-indulgent episodes.

An Ethical Guide to Murder, by Jenny Morris

In her mid-20s Thea discovers she can tell how long people have to live, just by touching them. The shocking discovery that her flatmate and best friend has less than a day left triggers a power to transfer life from one person to another. Ruth is a doctor and a thoroughly good person, surely she deserves to live more than most and definitely more than the idiot responsible for the head injury that will cause her death. But where do you draw the line? Thea starts writing an ethical guide to navigate her power; she needs rules, especially when old crush Sam is on a mission to punish the wicked and recruits her as chief executioner. This is a fascinating examination of ethical dilemmas and moral relativism, wrapped up in an entertaining tale with an ending that is inevitable but not at all predictable.

Theory & Practice, by Michelle de Kretser

This oddly-structured tale starts with a novel abandoned for autofiction and ends, abruptly, with an expat anecdote. A writer looks back to her postgraduate thesis on Virginia Woolf at a Melbourne University, while living in pre-gentrification St Kilda of the 1980s. The story touches on themes of class and colonialism, guilty feminism, child sexual abuse and fraught daughter-mother relationships, while skewering the petty politics of academia. There is a lot going on in a slim book that won this year’s Stella prize. Michelle de Kretser writes believable characters with clarity and a beautifully fluid style, but the auto fiction element makes for uncomfortable reading at times.

Conclave (2024), directed by Edward Berger

The Pope has died and the world’s Catholic cardinals are converging on the Vatican to vote for his successor, while myriad nuns are bussed in to feed and water them. The task of organising it all falls to Cardinal Lawrence, who must navigate the various factional interests and power plays to ensure a smooth transition. Ralph Fiennes, as Lawrence, makes great use of his furrowed brow as the cardinals undermine each other and a newcomer puts forward the proposition that Lawrence himself could be a contender. The strong supporting cast includes Stanley Tucci and John Lithgow as rival cardinals and Isabella Rossellini as a quietly influential nun. This timely film gives a fascinating insight into how the conclave possibly operates, using elements of mystery, thriller and humour to leaven the politics. It looks amazing, with clever use of colour; a deeply ironic and highly unlikely twist at the end highlights that this is indeed fiction, not documentary.

Not Another Love Song, by Julie Soto

Gwen is an orphan and a violin prodigy who is working her way up in the Manhattan Pops Orchestra. There she has gone unnoticed by first cello Xander Thorne, who is also part of a superstar classical rock group and a child of privilege. Their romance is enhanced by mad musical chemistry and complicated by major trust issues and family dramas. This is not a sequel to Soto’s previous novel Forget Me Not, although it does feature some of its characters, but it reads as though it was written earlier. It is marred by some very clunky language, particularly in the sex scenes, and plot twists that stretch credulity.

Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory, by Martha Wells

This short Murderbot story fills in a gap between the fourth novella and the first novel, after the SecUnit rescues Preservation Alliance leader Mensah. It is told from Mensah’s point of view, rather than Murderbot’s, and we find out her name is actually Ayda. It gives an insight into the history of Preservation and how it became an egalitarian, progressive society that works against the Corporation Rim that dominates the universe. It also examines the physical and emotional fallout of PTSD, setting the scene for the development of a genuine and respectful relationship between Mensah and the SecUnit.

Sweet As (2022), directed by Jub Clerc

Repeatedly abandoned by her party girl mother, Indigenous teen Murra turns to her cop uncle for help. To provide breathing space he gets her into a week-long photo safari trip in the bush for at-risk kids. Despite a rocky start she bonds with the other troubled teens and the youth workers and discovers a passion and talent for photography that could help her develop a purpose. It’s a bit of a quick fix, but an outstanding cast - featuring Shantae Barnes-Cowan as Murra - help create a good story, well told. The reality of life in a remote Western Australian outback town is not sugar coated; the cinematography is magnificent and the nods to country and culture are credible and meaningful. The soundtrack perfectly suits the action.

System Collapse, by Martha Wells

Following on directly from the Murderbot novel Network Effect, the story continues the alliance of Preservation and the University against the evil corporations. The two sides are in a stand-off over the fate of the population of a failed colony planet – will they be resettled or re-enslaved? Unfortunately the SecUnit has had a breakdown after the events of the previous book so it is uncertain how much use it will be in supporting the good guys. The corporations are starting to eat themselves, so Murderbot needs to get its act together and help exploit the situation. It turns filmmaker and propagandist to beat the-ultra capitalists at their own game and help the colonists choose the right path. What is it to be human? This vastly entertaining series poses the question and strives to provide some answers.

Forget Me Not, by Julie Soto

Despite her mother’s chequered marital history, Ama is a driven and ambitious wedding planner. Because of this history she doesn’t believe in happy endings and avoids serious relationships. When she scores the celebrity wedding of the year Ama is forced to work with her ex, florist Elliot, and must navigate a minefield of hurt feelings as well as celebrity whims. This modern rom com alternates between Ama’s point of view over six months in the present day and Elliot’s take on the history of their relationship from some three years ago. The outcome is a tad predictable but the journey is entertaining.

The Substance (2024), directed by Coralie Fargeat

Work opportunities and acclaim is drying up for fading star Elisabeth Sparkle, who has descended from the red carpet to morning show aerobics. Despite extreme pain and significant drawbacks she takes the chance to become a younger, better version of herself but only week on week off. A version of The Picture of Dorian Gray as an inditement the treatment of women in the entertainment industry, this film is, to say the least, unsubtle. Striking production design contributes to a hyperreal allegory that borders on cartoonish and is undermined by an excess of gratuitous nudity, sexploitation, violence and gore. The film makes a good point about women being at war with themselves and often literally their own worst enemies and accurately depicts the way the industry undermines and pressures them. But there is no suggestion of retribution nor consequences for any of the disgusting men who contribute to the problem. The acclaim and attention this film received is a great example of Hollywood pumping itself up and taking credit where it is not due. Demi Moore is good as Elisabeth, but neither her performance nor the film is Oscar nomination-worthy. This is a true horror story that doesn’t quite hit the mark and, as with so many films in recent years, is far too long.

The Seven, by Chris Hammer

Ivan Lucic and Nell Buchanan head to a wealthy irrigation town on the Murrumbidgee River in western NSW to investigate the murder of a local accountant in this third tale of their exploits. Seven squatter families established the town and its irrigation scheme in the early 20th century, setting themselves up for power, wealth and influence. As in Hammer’s previous tale of murder and water politics, The Tilt, the story flashes back to two earlier time periods – 1910s, when the irrigation scheme originated and the 1990s, when two young people disappear after looking into its history. Hammer’s depth of research and broad knowledge contribute to a rich story of modern day robber barons continuing the legacy of their colonial forebears. This time its Ivan’s personal and family issues that impinge on the homicide investigation, but this element of the story is a tad perfunctory and wholly unnecessary. A reunion of sorts makes for an unusually upbeat postscript.

Fugitive Telemetry, by Martha Wells

Murderbot turns detective when a man is found dead on peace-loving Preservation Station. The newly independent SecUnit gets involved in this local issue to investigate whether the corrupt and violent GrayCris corporation is imaking another effort to target Preservation leader and Sec Unit mentor Mensah. Station security staff are suspicious and wary but find they can’t do without the specialised and efficient help provided. As for Murderbot, the case leaves little time for watching its favourite serials as it learns to play nice(er) with others and work as part of a team. The essential humanity of this non-human entity is the shining light of these wryly funny and action-packed tales that spell out where ultra-capitalism is leading us. May there be much more Murderbot.

The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart, directed by Glendyn Ivin

When Alice Hart was nine years old her parents died in a house fire that she may have started. She goes to live with her paternal grandmother, a stranger, on a flower farm that also serves as a refuge for women escaping violence. Domestic abuse and childhood trauma underpin this twisty tale that very clearly shows how coercive control leads to major damage and how difficult it can be to leave. The first three episodes feature Alice as a child before skipping forward 14 years to when she starts to uncover secrets and lies that have affected her life. She strikes out on her own but can’t escape her past, rooted in a matriarchal dynasty that communicates through native flowers. The incredible cast features Sigourney Weaver, Leah Purcell and Tilda Cobham-Hervey and it is fun to see Asher Keddie and Alexander England reunited as a very different sort of couple from their Offspring adventures. Intense and dark, the series does not shy away from an awful reality for many women and children. it is also quite beautiful, set in evocative landscapes with images that linger. While the female characters are complex and nuanced, the males are much less so but it is not their story.

The Bogan Book Club, by John Larkin

James has PhD in Literature and is an ex high school teacher, currently working as a cleaner in his brother Larry’s factory since being released from prison. To try to dig James out of his shell, Larry starts a book club for the characters on the factory floor. There James gets to use his teaching skills as he makes friends with this group of unlikely souls whom he finds have hidden depths beneath their bogan exteriors. We don’t discover what sent James to prison until he feels ready to share with the book club the tragedy and hubris that led to his downfall and the end of his marriage. From this point the story suddenly turns into an unlikely romance tale and becomes very silly. Extreme stereotypes and turns of phrase work a bit too hard to establish the bogan credentials of this novel. The strapline – Don’t judge a book (bogan) by its cover sums up the underlying moral well. It touches on some dark themes but treads lightly. This is the male version of chick lit – dick lit?

The Book of Love, by Kelly Link

Teens Laura, Daniel and Mo have been missing, presumed dead for almost a year, leaving their families desolate. They have been held in some sort of limbo by a menacing presence until their music teacher somehow reanimates them, along with another shadowy being they have named Bowie. But their time back in the world will be limited, with only two of them able to stay while two will have to return, with mysterious magical tasks to complete to determine the ‘winners’. Dark supernatural forces are at the root of their dilemma. Susannah is Laura’s sister, Daniel’s lover and Mo’s friend – does she hold the key to how to handle it? This is quite literally a life or death matter for some, if not all, of them and their actions will have a profound effect on their small town and its inhabitants. It takes a very long time to get into this story, which is bogged down in detail for much of its 600+ pages. The characters are just about interesting enough to make sticking with it pay off and a dark, wry humour adds a touch of spice.

Black Bag (2025), directed by Steven Soderberg

George and Katherine Woodhouse have a long-term, successful marriage despite both holding high level security clearance in the British secret service. Certain matters must stay in the Black Bag, meaning they can’t even be disclosed to each other. George discovers that a traitor has stolen sensitive and dangerous information and there are five suspects, including his wife. Will he protect his country or his marriage? This entertaining whodunnit echoes shows such as Spooks and Slow Horses in its cynical portrayal of the intelligence services and keeps the audience guessing until the very end. Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett are sublime as George and Katherine and a very good supporting cast includes Tom Burke, Rege-Jean Page (not auditioning for James Bond), Naomie Harris (moving past Moneypenny) and Pierce Brosnan.

Frankie, by Graham Norton

Orphaned at 10, married off at 18, Frances Howe has had a difficult but adventurous life. From County Cork to London to New York, family, lovers and employers hinder her progress as much as help, but a good friend sustains her throughout. In her 80s and laid up with a broken ankle, Frankie shares tales of her life with a young carer who hails from her part of Ireland. Chapters alternate between the present day growing relationship of Frankie and her carer, Damien, and episodes in her past - starting in 1950s rural Ireland. But it is a strange structure; Damien is thinly drawn, clearly there just to hear Frankie’s stories, but she doesn’t actually tell them - they are written in third person and told as if in real time, with no reflection. Then the stories stop with her return to London in the 1980s, apart from a brief postscript from her best friend Nor – filling in the gap for Damien after the caring is done. It’s a moving tale of loss, love and friendship featuring a woman, lacking self-worth and easily pushed around, who slowly grows in confidence as she gains experience. But with the interesting part of her life apparently ending after the age of 50 it feels curiously incomplete, despite a bittersweet ending that is quite predictable.

The Tilt, by Chris Hammer

This sequel to Treasure & Dirt sees Nell Buchanan promoted and teamed up with Ivan Lucic in a rural Homicide flying squad, based in Dubbo. Nell is chuffed but Lucic is frustrated at being sidelined from Sydney. So he is a less than ideal partner when they are sent to investigate a skeleton that has turned up in the river near her home patch on the Victorian border. As with the previous book, an enormous cast of characters can be hard to keep track of, especially as the tale is told in three time periods involving Nell’s grandfather’s childhood in WWII and her mother’s teenage years in the early 70s. Then an ASIO investigation of neo-Nazi recruitment of preppers is thrown into the mix – interesting and topical, but there was already enough going on. It’s a gripping tale, hard to put down, and told from Nell’s point of view so a different perspective from the first book and with an interesting take on historical and contemporary water politics.

Belgravia – The Next Chapter

Taking place some 30 years after the first chapter, this focuses on Lord Frederick Trenchard, estranged from his family, ambitious and driven to succeed by his unhappy childhood. He marries the beautiful Clara Dunn, but his emotional repression and crippling self-doubt make the marriage unlikely to succeed. Social unrest, sexuality, the status of women, rampant capitalism, Bloomsbury culture, exploitation, mental illness – much is crammed into the six episodes of this mid-Victorian era soap. There is little mention and no appearance of the main characters from the first series, many of whom have conveniently died at an early age, which is odd as you would expect some contact from cousins. A rather saccharine ending strikes an odd disconnect with the fairly grim tone of most of the series. If there is to be a third chapter, hopefully the writers can make better connections between the eras and the characters.

The Great Hippopotamus Hotel, by Alexander McCall Smith

Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi of Botswana’s No 1 Ladies Detective Agency are investigating the undermining of a once-popular hotel. It seems that an old enemy may be behind the troubles, but - as the great detective educator Clovis Anderson says – one should never declare victory prematurely. The thin plot is a vehicle for a series of homilies and a celebration of the land and people of Botswana. Values of kindness, respect and honesty underpin these tales set in a country where the modern world is making a late intrusion on traditions. But they are getting to be repetitive and bear a faint ring of an old man’s railing against the modern world.

Anita de Monte laughs last, by Xochitl Gonzales

In 1985, just as her career was taking off, artist Anita de Monti fell to her death from her famous sculptor husband’s 30th floor apartment. Their dysfunctional relationship was over, so did she jump or was she pushed? In the late 90s, aspiring art historian Raquel Toro has begun a relationship with an emerging artist who is a trust fund baby. Their parallel stories encompass race, class, wealth and privilege in the US art world and the wider world, also manipulation, gaslighting, coercive control and domestic violence. Chapters alternate between Anita and Raquel’s stories, the latter’s told in linear time while Anita goes back in time to explain the progression of her problematic relationship and provide at least a modicum of understanding of why she kept on with it despite all the red flags. From about half way through the book the occasional chapter goes to Jack Martin, Anita’s husband. This is jarring at first – why should he get a voice in this story? But they do serve to illuminate the heinous nature of his actions, even after her death, in erasing her from the art world as well as the actual world. Anita’s chapters continue after her death, from the spirit world where her ability to connect to the human world depends on the vitality of her work. A sense of dread builds as Raquel goes down a similar relationship path to Anita and the worry is the outcome could be the same.

Bridget Jones – Mad About the Boy, directed by Michael Morris

Poor old Bridget only got a few years of her happy ever after with Mark Darcy before he was killed in Sudan. Four years on, widowed in her 40s and bringing up two children, she is back almost where she started – drinking wine alone and avoiding the smug marrieds. Returning to work helps to spark her up again and then two men come into her life, son Billy’s uptight science teacher and (very) young gun Rockster. Chaos naturally ensues. Deeper and sadder than the first three Bridget adventures, there is still plenty of silliness and laughter as she navigates dating and sex in the digital age. All the old faces are back, to great comic and dramatic effect, and the new faces – Leo Woodall and Chiwetel Ejiofor as the love interests – fit in perfectly. Renee Zellweger, as ever, embodies everywoman Bridget. The film gets a little shmaltzy towards the end, but nevertheless provides an enjoyable final outing with the Jones girl.

Network Effect, by Martha Wells

The first full Murderbot novel, following the four novellas, sees the rogue SecUnit working under contract to Preservation while it works out its future. It is sent on a survey trip to protect President Mensah’s adolescent daughter Amena. On the return home the expedition group is kidnapped, but to what end? SecUnit’s AI mentor ART is somehow involved, but for good or evil? This terribly complicated plot further develops the interstellar political situation of evil corporations and the resistance to them, as well as the personal development of Murderbot. For non-geeks it is easy to get lost in the science and coding, but there is action aplenty and it is a fascinating world.

Paddington in Peru (2024), directed by Dougal Wilson

Paddington 3 sees the Brown family head to Peru to visit Aunt Lucy in the home for retired bears. Along the way we discover the young bear’s origin story and encounter a colonial curse that puts the whole family in danger. Gentle underlying themes include dealing with an emptying nest, the importance of chosen family and judging risk versus reward. The story is monumentally silly with lots of laughs, especially towards the end, and the central joke is just lovely. Many well-known actors (like Hayley Atwell) bob up in tiny cameos, with major stars (Olivia Colman and Antonio Banderas) again hamming it up as heroic villains and villainous heroes. It’s warm family fun which, like the previous films, operates on multiple levels for wide appeal.

Tell Me Everything, by Elizabeth Strout

Writer Lucy Barton has featured in several of Strout’s previous novels. Here in post-COVID times she has moved from New York to a small town in Maine with her ex-husband William. There she has formed a deep friendship with lawyer Bob Burgess and has also made a connection with curmudgeon Olive Kitteridge. Over the course of a year, the friends share stories of life, love and loneliness against the backdrop of a murder investigation where Bob is defending the main suspect. A celebration of ordinary people and everyday life, Strout’s genius is in the detail of character and place that elevates those things to compelling reading. It is not necessary to have read the previous books to follow the story, but it must help to have the background and understand the quirks of character.

Minds of Sand & Light, by Kylie Chan

AI has reached sentience and has taken over the world, but no-one knows it. Brilliant scientists (and journalists) Ruth Sharpe and Cassie Bailey suspect it and are on a mission to prove and expose the truth. To do so they will have to work from the inside to shed light on the Party of the Greater Far East government and protect humanity from the World Council. This exciting and fast-moving tale, set in the near future, paints a dystopian picture that is firmly based on current reality. The potential for AI to ’become human’ does stretch credulity, with some truly ludicrous romance elements, but it is an interesting take on where the world may be heading.

Aftersun (2023), directed by Charlotte Wells

Young dad Calum takes his 11-year-old daughter Sophie on holiday to Turkey. He seems caring and devoted, but there is an undercurrent of darkness to the seemingly idyllic trip. The story is interspersed with flash forwards to present-day Sophie reliving childhood memories and found footage of the holiday captured on a hand held movie camera. Callum is clearly troubled and a sense of foreboding haunts the film. You somehow sense he will die young – will it be on this trip? Is he ill? Will he suicide? But you actually never discover his fate. Paul Mescal and Frankie Corio are mesmerising as father and daughter in what should be a haunting tale, but too much is left unexplained, with too little context to make a complete story.

Treasure and Dirt, by Chris Hammer

When an opal miner is found crucified Sydney homicide cop Ivan Lucic heads outback to Finnegans Gap to investigate. He is joined by a new junior partner, Nell Buchanan, who has history in the town. Ratters, battling billionaires, a religious cult and corruption at many levels make this anything but cosy crime. The characters are well drawn, with breadth and depth, although rather too many elements tend to blur the picture at the conclusion. This is the first novel in a series featuring this unlikely pair of detectives, whose personal demons have minimal impact on their investigative skills.

The Tea Ladies, by Amanda Hampson

Set in Sydney’s garment district in the 1960s, this ‘cosy crime’ novel features four tea ladies solving a murder ahead of the corrupt local police, with a side of bigamy. Head tea lady Hazel is an interesting character with hidden depths, if a little too good to be true. Kidnapping, arson and Russian gangsters keep the action moving in a society on the cusp of great change, particulalry with regard to the role of women, but in the end it’s all a bit twee.

Hacks, season 3

Deborah and Ava seem to have rubbed off each other’s acerbic edges in this rather kinder and gentler third season of Hacks. Her bare-all special has put Deborah back on top of the comedy heap, while Ava has scored a writing gig at the kind of political comedy show that can change the world - apparently. The unlikely pair is reunited by a last gasp chance for Deborah at Late Night. Can she make herstory? It’s fun finding out and the knives are back out in a finale that opens the gate to another season.

The Death of Dora Black, by Lainie Anderson

Based on the real life of pioneering Adelaide woman police officer Kate Cocks, this murder mystery attempts to educate as well as entertain. The balance is not quite right at the start, as there is too much description and the author’s undoubtedly excellent research takes over the plot. This improves as the tale progresses, but it’s a slow road, with too many mentions of Miss Cocks's five-foot stick. It's fun to have Adelaide in WWI the centre of the action and Kate Cocks is a fascinating, larger than life character, with her fictional offsider providing a more progressive, if somewhat unrealistic counterpoint.