The Bookshop of Buried Pasts, by Sarah Clutton

Phyllida Banks has owned and run an antiquarian bookshop in a small town in the New South Wales southern highlands since the 1970s. In planning to leave the world, she sets her beloved granddaughter Lottie on a quest to find a mysterious figure from her past. This is an ambitious book that doesn’t succeed in any of the many things it tries to achieve. It touches on domestic violence; mother-child relationships; herbal lore and wise women; genealogy and DNA; and much more, doing none of the topics justice. The story is bookended by the voice of a bookshop, which is bizarre. The meat of it is told from multiple points of view; the most accessible that of Lottie in the present day. Unfortunately this is all too often interrupted by dips into the past – the 50s, 60s, 70s and 90s – overexplaining the secrets of Phyllida’s past with a plot that becomes increasingly ludicrous. Never mind, it’s all tied up neatly with a sickly pink bow at the end.

Hamnet (2025), directed by Chloe Zhao

Based on an acclaimed novel, this film offers a different take on William Shakespeare from the point of view of his wife. It starts with their courtship and moves through to a year after the death of their 11-year-old son, Hamnet. Agnes is portrayed as a woman of nature and an herbalist, which is why she and their three children never moved to London. Will had to go there for his career but she needed to stay in the country, so they were apart for much of their marriage but their love never wavered despite a rocky patch after losing their son. Jessie Buckley embodies forest woman Agnes and deserves all the accolades she won for this film. Paul Mescal has almost a peripheral role as Will, but his understated performance has been underrated. The film has been described as grief porn, which is a wild exaggeration, but it is a little slow in places and could effectively be 10 minutes shorter. Emily Watson and Joe Alwyn provide solid support and the child actors are very good.

Winifred Peters is not Sorry for her Loss, by Louise Jensen Duffy

Newly widowed Winifred Peters can’t wait to start a new, low-stress life with a modicum of independence in her small outback town of Bittamilla. Discovering she has not been provided for in her husband’s will is a bitter blow, but an unexpected windfall changes her fortune and puts her at odds with her awful adult children. In rescuing a neighbour from domestic violence, Winnie almost accidentally runs away to the big smoke and finds a new way to live. Set in the 1930s, Jensen clearly depicts the grinding poverty and limited options for women in Depression-era Australia and the huge gulf between city and country. There is an issue with tone, particularly at the start of the story, with an uneasy balance between tragedy and farce and the children depicted as too monstrously unsympathetic as an obvious device to facilitate the heroine’s escape. Some plot holes are too deep to fill and a dark twist at the end sits a little uneasily, but Winnie is an engaging character and her navigation of new wealth, false and fair friends and city life is a fun read.

The Paradise Heights Craft Store Stitch-Up, by Kate Solly

Felicity ‘Fleck’ Parker loves solving puzzles; crosswords, wordplays, sudoku, acrostics – all types keep her brain alive while caring for her three small children. When fellow school mum Trixie is accused of stealing from the charity craft shop where she volunteers, Fleck puts her brain to solving the mystery of who is really responsible and clearing Trixie’s name. The initial chapters of this novel were so ‘mumsy’ it was tempting to just chuck it. For sure having three kids under five would be exhausting and mind-numbing but it’s really not interesting to read about. Fortunately things improve as the action gets underway. The plot, involving people trafficking and money laundering, is patently absurd, but for the most part this is an entertaining and undemanding read as Fleck and Trixie solve everyone's problems along the way. Cosy crafting crime.

Song Sung Blue (2025), directed by Craig Brewer

A Vietnam veteran and reformed alcoholic, musician Mike Sardina’s stage name is Lightning and he wants to perform as himself, rather than as an impersonator. When he meets Patsy Cline interpreter Claire, they develop a Neil Diamond tribute act as Lightning and Thunder and start to do more than just scratch out a living. As success beckons fate intervenes, threatening to derail them and when they overcome a huge issue for Claire it’s then Mike’s turn. This is a story of people with talent struggling to make ends meet doing what they love; State’s Fairs, theatre restaurants and karaoke nights, small gigs and the occasional bigger break. Most in their community will never make it to the top, or anywhere near it, but they all keep trying. Hugh Jackman and Kate Hudson bring warmth to the lead roles, allowing wrinkles and love handles to make their imperfect characters real and relatable. It’s a great showcase of Neil Diamond songs and there is strong support from the band and a great performance from Ella Anderson as Claire’s daughter. It’s an unexpectedly small film, moving and well done.