The Mars Contingency, by Mary Robinette Kowal

It is 1970, 18 years after the meteor hit the earth and triggered ecological disaster, in this third tale of Lady Astronaut Elma York. She and her husband Nathaniel are among those trying to establish an alternate habitat on Mars to provide a refuge from the dying home planet. There they battle sabotage from the Earth-first terrorism movement and a lack of support from their political masters. Elma is also finding herself on the outer among colleagues who were in the advance expedition to Mars and she starts investigating what happened on that mission and why it is being covered up. There is a lot going on here, but the intriguing plot lines are hampered by the lead character’s annoying persona. Elma’s religion has always been a significant element of the Lady Astronaut story, but in this one it is unnecessarily obtrusive. There are some ludicrous story elements – it’s a strain to believe scientists use the rhythm method of contraception and that, in a 48-year-old woman, a missed period triggers a pregnancy scare rather than suspecting peri-menopause. The politics are always interesting, especially those of race, gender and environment and Kowal does a good job of balancing alt-history with likely projections.

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.