Book Review: A Little Unsteadily Into Light

A Little Unsteadily Into Light is a collection of fourteen new short stories that were specially commissioned for this anthology. Each explores the experience of living with dementia but from a variety of perspectives. It grew from a project being run by a small team of academics at my alma mater, Queen’s University, Belfast. The team also included a practising writer, Jan Carson, whose role was to ensure the research had a meaningful impact on the wider community. She read widely to familiarise herself with fictionalised accounts of dementia already published. As she writes in her introduction:

“I soon realised there was a distinct lack of diversity in the dementia novels and short stories which have so far emerged. This anthology … is a small attempt to redress the existing balance of dementia fiction.”

While this academic background is of interest, not least because it provides the promise of authenticity in character portrayals and development, the collection offers stories from both emerging and established writers that are, quite simply, a pleasure to read. So many people, including myself, have been touched by this distressing illness and, within these pages, will find resonance. As well as carers, friends and family members, voice is given to the patients. Not all of them were nice people even before diagnosis, although some hid this well. It is also made clear that dementia does not just affect the elderly, or the white middle-classes.

The first story, This Small Giddy Life by Nuala O’Connor, focuses on two sisters, Sharon and Imy, whose mother has recently died with dementia. Their upbringing was peripatetic leading to feelings of resentment towards their single parent. Imy now lives in Spain and left Sharon to provide whatever care their ill mother needed. Feelings of duty, if not love, are not always shared by siblings.

Downbeat by Chris Wright also features two sisters who do not always agree on the care they should provide for their ill father. The man can be difficult to deal with as he attempts to assert agency. Caring for him is stressful, affecting the sisters’ home life – including a husband trying to be supportive but also requiring attention for himself.

Some stories are set in care homes where staff must deal with those in the later stages of dementia.

Our Dear Ladies Have Outnumbered Us adds a touch of humour when a well ordered facility faces disruption in the form of a spirited new resident.

Fingerpost by Mary Morrissy explores how the illness can affect lifelong friendships when normal social filters break down.

“Was this the illness talking? Or was this what Delma had felt all along?”

Immurement by Sinéad Gleeson features an attentive daughter – turning to sex and alcohol as coping props – whose mother now talks critically of her as if she is not there.

“A good girl. Had loads of potential but messed it all up. And she’s putting on weight now too”

Some of the authors adopt slightly surreal approaches. A New Day, Tomorrow by Henrietta McKervey explores memory and loss. The Portal by Caleb Klaces uses a story within the story to show a young man how an older one views his world.

Children looking after ill parents reflect on their relationship over time, how damage caused by words or attitudes has cast shade over decades. Coming and Going by Paul McVeigh was particularly poignant, especially around the time the protagonist came out to his parents.

“My sister told me that I had no right to tell him and Mum. That it would be selfish of me … It was exhausting pretending to be someone I wasn’t.”

Caring for a relative with dementia requires that lies are gone along with to avoid upsetting the patient – pretending to share what is their current reality.

Of course, not all the families featured are fractured. The final story, My Way Home by Caleb Azumah Nelson, has two siblings willingly caring for their father in shifts, with occasional crossover.

In the Afterword, Jane Lugea writes of the research project and how information was gathered.

“The most significant thing I learnt is that creative writing offers ways of understanding dementia that medical factsheets, media representations or casual conversations cannot.”

In offering the reader such a wide variety of fictionalised experiences, this anthology provides an understanding of behaviours – which some actively embrace while others find they need to walk away from. Just as the ill are individuals with personalities and differences, so too are those whose lives they have affected, before and after diagnosis of dementia.

A fine collection of short stories that happen to have a theme of living with dementia. It will foster empathy in the reader, and that is vital if society is to help the growing numbers who will come to need it.

“These characters might have dementia, but dementia’s only a small part of who they are.”

A Little Unsteadily Into Light is published by New Island Books. My copy was provided gratis.

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Robyn Reviews: The Falling in Love Montage

‘The Falling in Love Montage’ is a cute sapphic romance, but also a moving coming-of-age story that deals with grief, family, and making the most of the time you have. It balances the saccharine sweetness perfectly with hard-hitting character development, producing a novel that’s both entertaining and moving.

Saoirse doesn’t believe in happy endings. If they were real, she and her ex-girlfriend would still be together. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name. If they were real, Saoirse wouldn’t be at risk of inheriting the very condition that’s confined her mum to a care home in her fifties. The last thing Saoirse is looking for is a new relationship – no point in starting one if its doomed to end. Enter Ruby – a rom-com obsessed girl only visiting Ireland for the summer. She has a loophole: for the next few months, they do all the swoon-worthy activities from her favourite rom-coms, then at the end they break up and never see each other again. Its the perfect plan aside from one tiny flaw: at the end of the falling in love montage, the characters always fall in love. For real.

Saoirse is a highly flawed character – cynical, angsty, and prone to verbally lashing out – but she’s also deeply caring, and trying to navigate the complexity of the teenage-to-adult transition with a lot on her plate. There’s her mother – in a care home with early onset dementia, a disease which is often genetic. There’s her father – unbeknown to Saoirse, in a new relationship despite her mother still being alive. There’s her future – she’s secured the envy of everyone, a place at Oxford, and she can’t quite bring herself to admit that she isn’t sure she actually wants to go. Not to mention there’s the huge breakup that has cost her both her girlfriend and her best friend. Saoirse is too proud and mistrustful to ask for help, or even admit she needs it – but for all her flaws, her intentions are good, and her growth throughout the book is amazing. She’s also a highly realistic teenager with many relatable struggles and snap reactions.

While this is a love story, there are several key relationships in this book. There’s Saoirse and Ruby – but also Saoirse and her father, Saoirse and Ruby’s cousin Oliver, and Saoirse and her father’s new partner Beth. Romantic love is important, but this also explores other forms – love between family, between friends, and love and acceptance of one’s self. Some of the book’s strongest moments involve Saoirse’s father or Oliver rather than the Saoirse and Ruby dynamic.

“I do believe there’s a right person for you at different times of your life. Whether that relationship lasts a week or fifty years is not what makes it special.”

The writing is excellent – Ciara Smyth creates a wonderful sense of place, and her pacing is spot on, the story moving quickly but also slowing for some poignant moments. There’s the right balance of romance, humour, and harder hitting content, and each character feels three-dimensional – while this is Saoirse’s coming of age story, her father also shows significant character growth, and both Ruby and Oliver have their moments. All in all, this both strives for and succeeds in weaving an additional layer of depth over the stanard rom-com structure.

If you’re looking for a fun, quick read that’s also poignant and moving, this is the book for you. Recommended for fans of sapphic romances, coming-of-age stories, and stories that explore the complexity and emotion of family dynamics.

Published by Andersen Press
Paperback: 4th June 2020

Robyn Reviews: Beartown

‘Beartown’ is a powerful novel from a master of character-focused fiction. Along with ‘A Man Called Ove’, ‘Beartown’ is probably Fredrik Backman (and translator Neil Smith)’s most famous work – and for good reason. Where ‘A Man Called Ove’ focuses on one man, ‘Beartown’ focuses on an entire community – what makes it, what ties it together, and what happens when those ties start to fray apart. Its a brilliant piece of literature, and while it doesn’t quite have the emotional impact of ‘A Man Called Ove’, it’s a thought-provoking and worthwhile read.

Beartown is a nowhere town – a tiny town in a Swedish forest growing smaller year by year as its residents gradually up sticks in search of work and opportunity. It’s also, like so many towns in the area, a hockey town: and therein lies the town’s greatest hope of a future. If their junior hockey team can reach the finals, Beartown will finally be put on the map. When that future is threatened by one person speaking up, battle lines are drawn. What matters more: the future of the town, or the truth?

The novel switches between a large number of perspectives, with Maya, Amat, and Benji probably the strongest. Maya, a fifteen-year-old musician, can’t understand the hockey obsession of the town – she’d much rather be playing her guitar. She can, however, understand their obsession with star player Kevin Erdahl. Maya is sweet and naive but also strong, with an integrity and maturity beyond her age. Its impossible not to like her, and as the mood of the town turns, to both admire and pity her.

Amat, also fifteen, lives in the poor part of town – and for that, his immigrant status, and his small stature, he’s looked down upon. His escape is ice hockey – ever since he first put on a pair of skates he’s adored it, and thanks to his obsession his hard work is finally starting to pay off. He’s been awarded a coveted place on the junior team as they aim for the national finals. Being a part of the team comes with new acceptance and community – suddenly he’s a star, his name cheered instead of sneered at, his teammates protecting him from bullies instead of bullying him themselves. But there’s a cost – and as Amat leaves his old life behind, he starts to feel uncomfortable at the new one he’s thrust into. Like Maya, Amat is sweet and naive – but unlike her steel, Amat is pliable, unable to stand up for anything when the time comes. He has a good heart, and while it’s easy to villainise those who don’t speak up, Amat shows just how hard it can be.

Seventeen-year-old Benji is the backbone of the junior ice hockey team, known for his fierce fighting and protection of Kevin, the team’s star. He’s the cool kid – but Benji has more heart than most, and while he’s crafted himself into whatever Beartown and Kevin need him to be, he’s increasingly uncomfortable with that image. Benji’s character arc is one of the strongest, a compelling secondary narrative to the main story.

Of course, there are major adult characters in the novel too – Peter, the hockey club’s general manager and Maya’s dad, roles which eventually put him in conflict; Kira, Maya’s mum and a high-flying lawyer who, as an outsider to Beartown, still doesn’t understand it; Sune, the adult team’s elderly coach and increasingly ostracised by the club’s ambition. Each of these has a part to play – but it’s Maya and Amat who have the novel’s heart.

The town is central to the story, and Backman crafts a wonderful sense of place, emphasising Beartown’s isolation and accumulating state of disrepair. Like a Swedish winter, it’s a cold and unforgiving place, not fond of outsiders or those who threaten the status quo. This is superficially a book about ice hockey, but anyone who has lived in a small town can recognise the atmosphere of it.

If you’re looking for a thought-provoking novel that captures person and place perfectly, this is the book for you. Recommended for those who enjoy books about human nature, community, and just generally good reads.

Published by Penguin
Paperback: 3rd May 2018

Jackie reviews ‘A Man Called Ove’ here. Robyn reviews Backman’s latest release, ‘Anxious People’, here.

Robyn Reviews: My Dark Vanessa

‘My Dark Vanessa’ is a challenging book – immensely uncomfortable to read but impossible to look away from. It’s also a powerful one, brilliantly written and thought-provoking. As a debut novel, it’s an exceptional achievement, establishing Kate Elizabeth Russell as a literary force. This is the sort of book you have to be in the right mood to read, but one that lingers long after the final page.

Aged fifteen, a scholarship student at an exclusive boarding school in Maine, Vanessa Wye entered into a sexual relationship with her forty-two-year-old English teacher. Seventeen years later, the same teacher is publicly accused of sexual assault by a former student, and Vanessa’s entire world turns on its head. He can’t be an abuser. The relationship he and Vanessa had was love, the greatest love story of her life – wasn’t it? As the world shakes with the #MeToo movement, Vanessa grapples with everyone’s insistence in painting her a victim – and the man she has never shaken free from a villain.

Vanessa Wye is a brilliant protagonist, but not a likeable one, which is at the heart of what makes this book such a powerful read. Aged fifteen, she’s an outcast – she’s lost her best friend, Jenny, to a new boyfriend, and as a poor kid from rural Maine she doesn’t really fit in her polished, exclusive school. Her connection with Mr Strane feels like fate – he’s the only one who truly sees and understands her.

Aged thirty-two, she’s still an outcast, but an outcast with sharp edges. Her entire life has been defined by one teenage relationship, and she can’t seem to extricate the broken pieces of herself from him; she isn’t sure that she wants to. She fills in the gaps with alcohol, weed, casual sex – men who make her feel like she did at fifteen. Sometimes, in the dead of night, she still calls him. She hates herself after, but it’s the only time she ever feels at peace.

The story is set across two timelines – Vanessa at fifteen, and Vanessa at thirty-two. The entire book is told from Vanessa’s perspective. Russell mentions in the author’s note at the end that she was advised by editors to explore Strane’s perspective, but she refused, and I think it’s all the better for it – Vanessa’s head is an uncomfortable place to be, but there’s a real tension and atmosphere from being constantly submerged in it. It forbids the reader any escape from the horrors of Vanessa’s life – after all, she has none.

“Because if it isn’t a love story, then what is it?… it’s my life… This has been my whole life.”

The writing style is exquisite, but also challenging. Vanessa struggles with seeing her relationship with Strane through a negative lens – part of her knows it was wrong, but she’s also always seen it as a love story. He’s the most important figure in her life. Accordingly, parts of the novel are written very much like a romance, albeit a twisted one, a narrative choice that won’t agree with every reader. This is an explicit book, and while some elements are clearly abusive, Vanessa sees others quite differently, forcing the reader to consider them through that lens too. The writing is highly readable, flowing beautifully and painting incredibly detailed imagery – but its strength forces the reader to take a step back during certain scenes because of its sheer visceral and discomforting nature.

A big part of the novel focuses on what it means to be a victim. Vanessa struggles to see herself in any of the victims splashed across the media in the #MeToo era. Can you still be a victim if you didn’t say no? Can you still be a victim if you enjoyed it? Can you still be a victim if you love your abuser? Vanessa has been groomed and moulded until she can’t look at herself without also seeing Strane. To hate him would be to hate herself. Her musings are painful but vital – it’s easy to sympathise with abuse victims in an abstract way, but far more challenging to consider the marks left behind and the effects those have for the rest of a person’s life.

This definitely isn’t a book for everyone. Anyone with sensitivities around abuse, especially sexual abuse or abuse of minors, will likely find this book too much. Similarly, those who need a likeable protagonist they can connect to won’t find that here. However, for those with interests in human psychology or who want to understand the impact of abuse, this is a powerful read. Highly recommended.

Published by Fourth Estate
Hardback: 31st March 2020
Paperback: October 2020

Robyn Reviews: Ace of Spades

‘Ace of Spades’ is a searing thriller exploring institutional racism in US private schools. It’s a powerful read exploring some hard-hitting topics, but despite the difficult subject matter it’s incredibly fast-paced and readable.

Niveus Private Academy is one of the most elite US schools, attended almost exclusively by the super-rich and churning out students destined for Harvard or Yale. Amongst these students, Devon Richards doesn’t fit in. He’s an exceptionally talented musician – but his father’s in prison, and his mother can barely scrape together enough money to pay the fees even with his hefty scholarship. Not to mention the fact he’s one of only two Black students in his year. The other, Chiamaka, has generational wealth thanks to her Italian father – but she still straightens her hair and puts on a persona every day to try and make herself fit in. She’s fought her way up to Head Girl, but her fight hasn’t made her many friends. When the two find themselves the target of an anonymous texter, Aces, determined to spill their darkest secrets, they must band together if they want to keep their future – and possibly themselves – alive.

Devon is an exceptionally likeable protagonist. He struggles with school – struggles being around people who have too much when his family struggles to even pay the bills – but he loves his family, and his passion for music is incredible. He’s desperate to make it to Juilliard to make his mother’s sacrifices for his education worth it. He’s also gay, but terrified of that coming out – terrified of how his mum might react. Devon skips classes and sometimes deals drugs to try and make sure there’s enough money in the house for the bills to be paid, but he has a good heart and does everything with the best intentions and to try and make his mother proud. He’s the sort of character you want to give a hug to for the majority of the book.

Chiamaka takes longer to warm up to, but she’s a complex character and very well crafted. She wears masks in every moment of her life – a Head Girl mask at school, a Good Nigerian Daughter mask at home with her parents, a Bubbly Fun Girl mask with her best friend Jamie. Beneath the masks, Chiamaka just wants to be good enough – to make it into medical school at Yale and prove that she deserves it. She wants so badly to be liked and respected that she forces herself to be other people because she isn’t convinced that she deserves it as herself. Her battles with self-esteem are hugely relatable, and exacerbated by being the only Black girl at her school and hyper-aware of it. Her growth throughout the book is excellent and it’s amazing seeing her confidence gradually change from a crafted, false confidence to a genuine sense of belief in herself.

The plot is fast-paced and twisty, with a constant sense of tension and unease. It starts as simple high school drama – an anonymous texter spreading gossip – but quickly takes on a more sinister tone. There are side plots dealing with homophobia, incarceration, gangs, and internalised racism. These are all dealt with very well, provoking a great deal of thought without being too heavy for a YA reader. They also fit into the flow of the story, never distracting or coming across as preachy. For a debut novel its an assured and impressive read.

There are a few minor quibbles. There’s a sapphic relationship between two bisexual female characters which comes out of nowhere and has absolutely no on page chemistry – a shame, as every other relationship in the book is well-crafted. The plot is also a bit over-exaggerated which can occasionally take away from the important messages it puts across – but then again, this is fiction, and thriller as a genre is often over-exaggerated. Still, these are tiny blips on an otherwise resoundingly excellent copybook.

Overall, ‘Ace of Spades’ is an excellent YA thriller tackling some important and heavy issues in a powerful yet readable way. Recommended for fans of both YA and adult thrillers and anyone who enjoys TV shows like Gossip Girl.

Published by Usborne
Paperback: 10th June 2021

Robyn Reviews: Full Disclosure

‘Full Disclosure’ is a delightful contemporary YA novel about navigating school, identity, and relationships with a slight twist – the protagonist, Simone, has HIV. A debut by a teenage author, it keeps the perfect balance between a fun YA contemporary and providing an honest look at the struggles of living with HIV – not because of the disease, which is easily controlled, but because of the stigma surrounding it. Simone makes a delightfully relatable protagonist, with authentic teenage worries compounded by the added stress of her secret. This is an incredibly important book, and highly recommended to teenage and adult readers alike.

Simone Garcia-Hampton has only been at her new school for a few months, but she’s determined that things will be different. Here, she finally has best friends, she’s respected and using her talents as the director of the school play, and she’s got a crush – Miles, the only Black boy on the school lacrosse team. She’s doing great – which is why it’s paramount that her HIV status stays a secret. After all, last time it got out, things got ugly. However, when it becomes apparent that Miles actually likes her back, things get complicated. She knows that undetectable means untransmissible – but will Miles still like her when she tells him her status? Then she starts receiving threatening notes – someone in the school knows, and if she doesn’t break up with Miles by Thanksgiving they’ll tell the whole school. Now Simone is juggling a new relationship, her classes, the school play, and desperately trying to keep her secret – and sooner or later, she knows it’ll all come tumbling down.

Simone is a fantastic protagonist. Brought up by two gay dads, who adopted her as a young child, she’s had a liberal and loving upbringing – other than having to take medication every day to control the HIV she was infected with by her birth mother. Her dads and doctors have always impressed the importance of taking her medication and being careful – and she is. But now, at seventeen, she’s ready to start exploring relationships and sex – and with her diagnosis, that’s a whole can of worms beyond what most seventeen year olds have to deal with. Simone is a strong, intelligent young woman, but having bad experiences with people finding out her HIV status before has knocked her self-esteem, and she’s terrified of the idea of having to disclose it to anyone else. She’s scared to confide her worries in anyone because that would either involve having to disclose her status or talking about sex with her parents. The stress of Simone’s predicament is wonderfully portrayed. It’s clear that she always wants to do the right thing but is terrified of being hurt again, especially when her life seems to be finally going well.

Being written by a teenager, all the characters feel believable. Simone and her best friends – Lydia and Claudia – are accepting and sex-positive, yet simultaneously awkward about sex and relationships in a way that feels completely authentic. Claudia is an asexual lesbian and Simone bisexual, and its great seeing them navigate those identities and figure out which labels suit them. There are also discussions on exclusion within queer spaces – being not bisexual enough when being in a male-female relationship, for example – which are important, and it’s great seeing them handled so well in a YA book. They’re not perfect – Claudia has a very black-and-white worldview common to teenagers figuring out the world, and Lydia can be passive and indecisive – but their imperfections make them three-dimensional and generate discussion.

The most impressive thing about this book is how, despite covering some important and heavy-hitting topics, it always remains first and foremost an enjoyable YA contemporary. It never feels preachy, and it’s packed full of lighthearted and fun moments as well as the more difficult ones. Discussions around the stigma of an HIV diagnosis, bisexual exclusion in queer spaces, the importance of safe sex and consent, and the difficulty of navigating school cliques and stereotypes are woven naturally and seamlessly into the overarching plot, enhancing rather than detracting from the central story about a girl navigating her first serious relationship. It’s an incredibly mature novel yet accessible to its teenage audience.

Overall, ‘Full Disclosure’ is a powerful YA contemporary covering some crucial topics in an engaging and enjoyable way. Highly recommended for all teenagers and young adults, anyone who works with them, and anyone who wants to educate themselves on what growing up with HIV is like while enjoying a great read.

Published by Penguin
Paperback: 30th October 2019

Robyn Reviews: Don’t Breathe A Word

‘Don’t Breathe A Word’ is part YA mystery in the vein of ‘One of Us Is Lying’ and part dark academia along the lines of ‘Plain Bad Heroines‘. Like the latter, it takes place across two timelines – the present, where Eva has just started at a new, exclusive boarding school, Hardwick Academy, and 1962, where six students enter a bunker built under the threat of the Cold War – but only five emerge alive. It’s an engaging, twisty tale with plenty of surprises. There are elements that require a bit of suspension of disbelief but, taken at face value, this is a solid mystery with a highly satisfying ending.

Eva has always felt like she doesn’t belong. An accidental pregnancy, she was replaced in her mother’s affections as soon as her husband and legitimate child came along – and the final straw has seen her shipped off to boarding school against her will. At Hardwick, she’s on the outside of established social groups and more of an outsider than ever – that is, until she receives an invitation to join a secret society known as the Fives. With the Fives, she’s finally part of something – finally seen as special. But there’s more to the Fives than there first seems, and the more Eva learns, the more uneasy she becomes. Just how many secrets are the Fives ensuring stay buried?

In 1962, Hardwick Academy has constructed a nuclear fallout shelter to counter the escalating threat of the Cold War – and to test it out, six students are invited to volunteer to stay overnight. Connie would never have volunteered – except the exercise is being run by Mr Kraus, her best friend Betty’s latest obsession, and school golden boy Craig Allenby has also volunteered. She can’t pass up the opportunity to spend four days locked in with him. However, it quickly becomes apparent that there’s more to the exercise than they first thought – and as things start to escalate, Connie starts to worry that everything will end in disaster.

Both plotlines are engaging. Reading about the threat of the Cold War and the psychological impact on those growing up in the sixties is fascinating, if horrific, as is the difference in gender roles and the way authority figures are treated. The politics of high school are incredibly familiar, and its hard not to feel for Connie. While it’s never stated on page, Connie also has a clear anxiety disorder, and it’s great to see this not glossed over and have a significant impact on how she acts. In the present day, it’s initially unclear how the timelines will intersect – but as reveals are slowly made, it becomes obvious that there’s a massive secret, and the tension steadily ramps up. At the same time, Eva must deal with the joy of being chosen for the first time in her life alongside the growing fear that the Fives are far darker than she initially thought. The way she grapples with her innate clinginess and fear of being alone is well portrayed, and while its always clear which side she’ll choose Woods does well to make her decision a difficult one.

The characters are delightfully complex. Initially, Eva can come across as hard to like – as a result of her childhood, she has an outward air of irreverence combined with an internal clinginess so strong its off-putting – but as the reader gets to know her, she flourishes into a practical girl with great instincts and a strong moral compass. Her character arc is excellent, and its wonderful to see her start to find happiness despite the circumstances. In contrast, the reader immediately feels sorry for Connie – the anxiety she suffers with is overwhelming, and she’s led along by her friend Betty who seems to mean well but doesn’t always go about things the right way. Connie is sweet and quiet, but also naive – and as events unfold, it becomes apparent that her view on things is far too black and white. Again, she has an excellent character arc, and its impossible not to root for her.

The supporting cast fall a little more into stereotypes, but they play their roles well and have enough dimension to avoid being caricatures. The story as a whole isn’t the most original, with elements reminiscent of other stories in the YA mystery genre, but again it holds its own well enough to prove a worthwhile read. Some parts are wildly implausible – its unclear how the original secret was covered up so well – but this is fiction, and allowances can be made. The story reads on the lighter side, so detailed criticisms of possibility seem unfair.

Overall, this is an enjoyable entry to the YA mystery genre with a highly effective two-timelines structure and two complex and compelling protagonists. The historical elements with the Cold War lend this a dimension which sets it apart enough from its compatriots to be highly worth a read. Recommended for fans of YA mystery and the lighter end of dark academia.

Thanks to Harper360 YA for providing an ARC – this in no way affects the content of this review

Published by HarperCollins
Hardback: 24th June 2021

Robyn Reviews: One Last Stop

‘One Last Stop’ is the second book by Casey McQuiston, author of the massively popular Red, White, & Royal Blue. Like their first, its wildly implausible escapist fiction – this time with a time traveling twist. However, its also a delightfully emotional read, packed with humour, sadness, and profound observations on modern life. McQuiston has a gift for perfectly capturing characters and relationships, creating complex individuals who couldn’t feel more real. You want to believe their stories are true. If you’re looking for a queer book this summer, you won’t find better than this.

At twenty-three, life has taught August that the best thing to be is alone. After a string of college transfers as she tries to figure out what she actually wants from her life, she’s ended up in New York – complete with a dodgy flat, potentially even dodgier flatmates, and an accidental job at a diner that she’s completely unqualified for. She’s determined to make it through the year sticking to her status quo – keeping her head down and avoiding attachments. But her new roommates are surprisingly stubborn – and then, there’s a girl on the train. Jane. Her devastatingly attractive hero in a leather jacket. Except, Jane doesn’t just look like a 70s punk rocker – she actually is one, accidentally displaced from time to the 21st century. August will have to delve into her own past and skills she thought she’d left behind to help her – and she can’t get too attached. After all, Jane has her own time to get back to.

McQuiston’s cast of characters is utterly delightful. There’s August, our protagonist, clinging determinedly to the armour her life has demanded she wear. August is a mess, but the sort of mess that’s intimately relatable to anyone who’s ever been a twenty-something trying to figure out what they actually want from their life. There’s Jane, our love interest, a tall dark and handsome Chinese punk rocker who’s left a trail of broken hearts from here to 1970. Jane is cool, calm, and collected, the sort of woman who’s got everything figured out – except that it’s just a front for someone who’s not entirely sure who she is anymore, and hiding it behind headphones and a smirk. Then there’s the roommates – Myla, Niko, and Wes, an eclectic collection of misfits who form a fierce little family. Myla is a talented Black electrical engineer who chucked it all in to become an artist, with a bluntness about her that’s both admirable and regularly hilarious and a heart of solid gold. Niko, her boyfriend, is a trans psychic and terrible bartender, in many ways Myla’s opposite but also heartwarmingly perfect for her. Wes hides behind prickly silence and the distraction of his dog, Noodles, but is just as much of a softie as the others. The friendship they form with August is beautiful and heartwarming, and their banter is incredible – the little in-jokes and one liners are laugh out loud hilarious.

There are equally charming more peripheral characters, from neighbour Isaiah (who moonlights as the drag queen Annie Depressant) to grumpy pancake chef Jerry, but they’re best discovered organically. They’re also mostly queer. McQuiston captures how queer communities tend to form, outcasts spotting each other and banding together with bonds stronger than blood. There are references to homophobia and bullying, but for the most part the tone is hopeful and triumphant. This is a tale of queer joy, and it’s beautiful to read.

This is 99% a contemporary novel, with 1% the supernatural time travel element which offers only the most superficial justification. This doesn’t matter – it’s the sort of story that invites the reader to suspend disbelief, not requiring any real believability. The contemporary elements are brilliantly constructed. New York is constructed with electric atmosphere, from the grime of the subway to the customers at an all-night pancake diner at 4am. Behind the love story, the characters tackle family dramas, gentrification, coming of age dilemmas, and learning to trust after always being let down. There are several subplots, each beautifully written and complimenting rather than distracting from the overarching narrative. The way they tie in is foreshadowed – sometimes too obviously, but always allowing them to slot in neatly and satisfyingly. There are a few loose ends, but each allows the story to feel more real. Life, after all, rarely concludes tidily.

The ending is obvious but beautifully satisfying, and the way it’s achieved is over the top but glorious to read. McQuiston goes for entertainment over realism and overwhelmingly succeeds.

The representation is excellent. Jane is Chinese American, Myla Black with a Chinese adoptive mum. Niko is trans, and there are two drag queens with prominent roles. August is bisexual, Jane a lesbian, and there’s a secondary relationship between two men neither of whom label their sexuality on page. August never goes as far as to call herself fat but is written as a larger woman, delightful to see in a romance.

Overall, ‘One Last Stop’ is a brilliantly entertaining read, possibly even better than McQuiston’s first novel. It’s a bit cheesy and over the top, but it knows that it is, turning this to its advantage and creating a novel guaranteed to make you smile. Recommended for fans of sapphic romance, contemporary fiction, and found families – plus books that are just fun to read.

Published by St Martin’s Griffin
Paperback: 1st June 2021

Book Review: Everything Happens for a Reason

This book all but broke me with its mix of lonely sorrow and dippy behaviour. It tells the story of Rachel, a mother whose much wanted son, Luke, died in the womb at full term. Structured as a series of emails, Rachel writes to her dead child about her daily routine – people she encounters, how she is thinking and feeling. Mostly set over a five month period, it opens just a couple of weeks after Luke’s stillbirth. Rachel is on maternity leave and grieving deeply. What comes to the fore is how difficult it is to say anything appropriate to those suffering such a devastating experience. Rachel is upset by well meaning friends who use words she finds empty, yet there is no hint as to how one may do better – other than to never say the death of a child happened for a reason.

Rachel lives in London close to both her parents and her in-laws. She is married to Ed and they are comfortably off materially. The marriage appears to be a happy one although the loss of their child has, obviously, taken its toll on both of them. Ed is doing his best to support his wife but she is not sharing with him her coping mechanisms.

On the day Rachel discovered she was pregnant, while travelling by tube to meet Ed and give him the news they had both longed for, she prevented a potential suicide. Although she had no further contact with the young man involved, she now gets it into her head that Luke died because, due to her actions, he lived. She sets out to track the man down and in doing so meets Lola, an underground worker, and her feisty seven year old daughter, Josephine.

In what must be a breach of protocol, Lola provides Rachel with the details recorded about the young man on the day of the incident, when he tried to jump in front of a train. Internet searches enable Rachel to track him down remarkably easily. Her behaviour towards him – Ben – although well meant verge on stalking and harassment. Somewhat surprisingly, he mostly puts up with this.

Lola also allows Rachel into her life, entrusting her with Josephine after just a short acquaintanceship. Rachel turns to these strangers rather than her family, who have proved themselves painfully tone deaf to her current needs. She dreams up schemes to ‘help’ give Ben a better life, as a mother might her grown child. Rachel treats him as her mother treats her – overpowering with good intentions without taking in and adjusting for negative reactions.

The author suffered the heartbreak of a stillbirth so could write aspects of this work of fiction from personal experience. Knowing this undoubtedly coloured how I read the tale – why I tried to accept that certain responses might realistically occur. Rachel’s grief is palpable which makes it hard to condemn her inappropriate behaviour. Nevertheless, how she forces her plans and needs on Ben made me squirm.

Structuring the story as emails maintains pace, providing pithy updates on Rachel’s day to day plans and activities. The writing throughout is focused and heartfelt. Rachel’s dealings with her wider family provide lessons in how not to treat the recently bereaved. However, certain plot developments felt contrived, particularly in setting up for the denouement. It was not this that I found almost too difficult to read. I came close to abandoning the book several times because of how vexed it made me feel.

Rachel undoubtedly deserves much sympathy but I still found her character irritating – particularly how she used her wealth, and treated Ed. The depiction of her in-laws came across as two-dimensionally stereotyped – insular, instagrammable, yummy mummy and self-entitled granny – the oft depicted privileged and blinkered London set. Ed was developed better, highlighting how lonely grief can be even within a loving relationship. Lola’s reaction to Rachel, given their differing circumstances and the fact that she too had family close and willing to help, was hard to give credence to – I was curious about how Rachel made her feel with the over the top gifts to Josephine. Also, this is possibly the only story I have ever read where a dog died and I just couldn’t care.

Other reviewers have written about how much they enjoyed this tale. Some found humour amidst the poignancy. I wanted more depth and less ditzy behaviour from a protagonist supposedly successful career-wise – even if knocked sideways by tragedy. This story simply wasn’t for me.

My copy of this book was provided gratis by the publisher, Orenda Books.

Robyn Reviews: Felix Ever After

‘Felix Ever After’ is a delightfully moving coming-of-age story. It grapples with themes of identity, purpose, class divides, and marginalisation, managing to weave together a tale that’s both heartwarming and bittersweet. The ending is simultaneously satisfying and ambiguous, suiting the narrative perfectly. This is a must-read for any teenager grappling with their identity and what they want from life.

Felix Love is struggling. At seventeen, he wants nothing more than to get into Brown College to study art – but his father can’t afford the fees, so his only chance is to get his school’s scholarship. Unfortunately, his worst enemy – Declan – is also after the scholarship, and whilst he might be an asshole he’s an exceptional artist. Meanwhile, Felix is watching all his friends get into relationships and fall in love, while he himself – despite his surname – has never been in love. Can anyone fall in love with him when he isn’t even sure he loves himself? At the same time, Felix is grappling with his own identity. He’s identified as a trans man for several years, but he isn’t sure that label is right for him anymore. His struggles are thrown into the spotlight when someone carries out a transphobic attack at school. With so much growing on, Felix feels like his life is falling apart – but could his happily ever after be just around the corner?

The best thing about Felix is he feels so much like a teenager. His struggles, his attitude, his mistakes – all of them feel so genuine and believable. Felix is a bit self-centred and lazy, but only in the way that all teenagers are as they figure out their place in the world. At the end of the day, Felix is a great guy with a big heart and a huge amount of loyalty – he’s just emotionally fragile and prone to rash overreaction. At the start of the book, Felix can be a little hard to like. Some of his actions are questionable, and he leaps to conclusions without any evidence. However, as time goes on, it becomes clear why he is the way he is, and his true character starts to shine through. Felix isn’t perfect, and it’s this humanness that makes him such a brilliant protagonist.

A core part of the book is Felix’s relationships – with his friends, with his family, and romantically. His relationship with his father is fascinating, with both clearly loving each other yet having serious issues. Felix resents that his father hasn’t fully embraced him as his son rather than his daughter; Felix’s dad struggles with his son pulling away and trying to take so much independence at seventeen years of age. Neither communicates clearly with the other, and the way this falls out is cleverly written. In contrast, Felix’s relationship with his best friend, Ezra, seems amazing on the outside. The two care for each other deeply, with a level of physical and emotional comfort only seen between the closest friends. However, as the story goes on, it becomes clear how much they’re both hiding from the other, and cracks start to develop and widen. Once again, all the friendships feel incredibly authentic of teenage friendships, with a level of intensity and desperation. Felix’s difficulty as friend groups and those within them change is well-handled, and the ending is lovely.

There is a love triangle – not something I usually like in books. The love triangle here is obviously unbalanced, and the ending is always relatively clear. That said, whilst its inclusion isn’t entirely necessary, the way it ends does add an element of sadness and dissatisfaction inherent to life, and it fits the realistic vibe of the rest of the story. There are always those who are unhappy in love and in life. The love triangle is my least favourite part of the story, but I’ve read far worse.

This is not always a happy story. The ending is heartwarming, and there are cheerful elements throughout, but there’s also a dark plotline about transphobia and bullying that hits hard. I found this exceptionally well-done, adding to the realism and making the ending even sweeter, but readers should be warned that they may find parts difficult to read.

Overall, ‘Felix Ever After’ is a brilliant coming of age story that captures a slice of contemporary teenage life. A highly recommended read.

Thanks to Faber Children’s for providing an ARC – this in no way affects the content of this review

Published by Faber Children’s
Paperback: 18th May 2021