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.