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A Genteel Black Hole

Tag: book-reviews

  • Bookish Ramble: Seacrow Island

    Ally

    Title: Seacrow Island
    (Seacrow Island #1)
    Author: Astrid Lindgren
    (Translated by Evelyn Ramsden)
    Year: 1964
    Country: Sweden

    Format: E-book
    Pages: 274
    Read: 17 – 29 March 2026
    First reading

    Melker Melkerson is a widowed father with an impulsive, childlike nature. He rents a cottage for the summer, sight unseen, just because he likes the name of the location: Seacrow Island. When Melker and his four children arrive on the island, they’re distressed to find the cottage cold, leaky and dilapidated. But over the summer they befriend the residents of Seacrow Island, grow to love the cottage, and gradually come to think of the place as home. Wouldn’t it be nice to live there all year round?

    I liked Seacrow Island well enough, I suppose: I read the whole thing… but it just didn’t sing to me. Perhaps I was hoping for too much. I found it in a list of recommendations for Moomin fans. Having recently finished the entire Moomin series, I was looking for something else to scratch that itch. Seacrow Island… didn’t. If there is another fictional family like the Moomins, the Melkersons ain’t it!

    They’re a sweet enough bunch of characters—especially the youngest brother Pelle, a devoted animal lover. But I found it hard to care much about the Melkersons’ adventures on Seacrow Island. The whole thing felt quite predictable to me. I could tell from the first chapter they would grow to love the island and decide to move there permanently. Watching that inevitable story unfold didn’t strike me as particularly compelling.

  • Bookish Ramble: Strangers on a Train

    Ally

    Title: Strangers on a Train
    Author: Patricia Highsmith
    Year: 1950
    Country: USA

    Format: Paperback
    Pages: 256
    Read: 20 – 28 March 2026
    Reread

    Two strangers, up-and-coming architect Guy Haines and wealthy drunkard Charles Anthony Bruno, meet by chance on a train. As the two men talk it becomes clear that Bruno is obsessed with murder. He outlines his plan for the perfect murder, or rather the perfect pair of murders. Each man would do the other’s dirty work, ensuring there’s no motive connecting him to his respective crime. Bruno even proposes the ideal victims: His father, and Guy’s estranged wife Miriam. Guy protests he’s not the type to commit murder. But Bruno insists there is no “type”, that any man can kill given the right circumstances. And when Bruno goes ahead and strangles Miriam for Guy, it sets in motion a series of events which lead inexorably to Guy fulfilling his half of the bargain.

    I first read Strangers on a Train just over a decade ago. Back then I found it faintly underwhelming, perhaps because the fun and thrilling Hitchcock film was fresh in my memory—as was Highsmith’s excellent book, The Talented Mr Ripley. Honestly I’m not really sure what I was thinking. This time I was able to better appreciate Strangers on a Train for what it is… and I loved every second!

    This is a remarkable debut novel, much deeper and darker than the film it inspired. It’s a study of the ugliest recesses of the human psyche, exposing how a perfectly ordinary man can be driven to kill. “What else do you think keeps the totalitarian states going?” Highsmith paints both Guy and Bruno vividly, with disturbing insight. Their thought processes are laid out in detail; every paranoid spiral, every hateful and violent impulse. It may lack some of the action set-pieces of Hitchcock’s adaptation*, but it had me constantly gripped by the guts.

    The story also has a strong homoerotic subtext. Guy and Bruno share a profound connection, one that must be repressed and hidden at all costs—yet they can’t keep away from each other. Bruno even plies Guy with gifts, desperately seeking his approval. These are compelling, queer, obsessive themes that Highsmith would revisit throughout her career.

    I’m not sure why I drifted away from Patricia Highsmith, having initially been so thrilled to discover her. Revisiting Strangers on a Train has suddenly reignited my enthusiasm in a big way. I’m excited to explore more of her books in the future, rereading the ones I remember fondly and trying some new ones too. My reading schedule is already looking pretty full, but I really hope to make time for more Highsmith this year.

    *Interestingly, the climactic merry-go-round scene in the Hitchcock film was taken, uncredited, from an entirely different book: The Moving Toyshop by Edmund Crispin.

  • Bookish Ramble: Maigret Sets a Trap

    Ally

    Title: Maigret Sets a Trap
    (Maigret #48)
    Author: Georges Simenon
    (Translated by Siân Reynolds)
    Year: 1955
    Country: Belgium

    Format: E-book
    Pages: 176
    Read: 9 – 16 March 2026
    First reading

    There’s a serial killer on the loose. Once a month or so he strikes in the Montmartre area of Paris, randomly stabbing a woman to death. DCI Maigret hatches a plan to lure the killer out of hiding. He stages a fake arrest and interrogation, tricking the local reporters into declaring the killer caught. Now, with plainclothes WPCs walking the streets of Montmartre as bait, Maigret hopes the killer’s next victim will be one who can defend herself. But will the plan work, or has he just sent an unwitting officer to her death?

    This is Georges Simenon’s 48th Maigret book but my very first. I’ve been meaning to try Simenon for a while but he’s so absurdly prolific, I never knew where to start. Luckily the decision was made for me when I found this ebook on sale for 99p—and I really lucked out! Turns out this is one of the most popular Maigret books, subject of multiple screen and radio adaptations. And I can see why.

    Maigret Sets a Trap is a gripping story of the hunt for a serial killer, and a psychological study of what drives him to kill. Ultimately it’s a portrait of toxic masculinity—of a weak, pathetic man trying to reassert himself by lashing out at women. If I had read this in my teens I might have dismissed it as outdated. Now, with the rise of the Manosphere, it feels disturbingly timely.

    Simenon’s writing style is simple, spare, but vivid. He captures his characters and their surroundings in three dimensions. It’s a quick, unpretentious read, but far from a shallow one. I’ll definitely be reading more Maigret.

  • Bookish Ramble: Lord of Light

    Ally

    Title: Lord of Light
    Author: Roger Zelazny
    Year: 1967
    Country: USA

    Format: Paperback
    Pages: 284
    Read: 1 – 11 March 2026
    First reading

    An alien world is ruled over by the Lords of Karma, Hindu gods with legendary names: Brahma, Kali, Vishnu, Krishna. But they’re not the true gods. In fact they are the First—human settlers who have colonised the planet. Their technology, so advanced it looks like magic, imbues them with the power and immortality of gods. The Lords of Karma abuse this power to reinstate the old caste system, placing themselves at the top, and imposing upon the planet a perpetual Dark Age. At every turn they are opposed by Sam, a fellow First who has rejected godhood. Sam assumes the role of the Buddha and, in various reincarnations across the centuries, spreads his message, slowly and patiently building a resistance movement. But is it enough to defeat these ruthless self-made gods?

    I was excited to read Lord of Light, having recently fallen in love with Roger Zelazny’s short stories. But Zelazny is a literary chameleon, his writing style ever shifting to fit the story, and Lord of Light is one that just didn’t click with me. On the surface it’s a religious myth, an epic tale of cruel and capricious gods. But that mythic tone is an ornate veil, concealing behind it a more rational, more “sci-fi” explanation. At first I was enjoying the process of peeking behind the veil, trying to glimpse the real story. But about halfway through I started to tire of it, and my enthusiasm never really recovered.

    For one thing, it’s hard to keep track of characters’ identities. Colonists often get reincarnated, taking on the mantle of different gods in different chapters. This made the whole thing feel quite disjointed to me, something compounded by the overall structure: Every chapter feels like an individual short story, each one centuries apart. (Two chapters were actually first published as short stories.) I love both novels and short stories, but for me “a series of interconnected short stories” is a hard sell. I had similar problems with A Canticle for Leibowitz—another beloved sci-fi classic with religious overtones.

    While I do appreciate ambiguous storytelling, Lord of Light is a dense text with very little space for interpretation. It felt more like something written in code, its one true meaning stubbornly obfuscated by Zelazny’s ornate, mythic prose—for “metal lotus” read satellite dish, etc. I found it an oppressive experience, and ultimately an exhausting one.

    That said, I do look forward to recording a discussion video with my friend Gavin from Genre Books. We buddy-read this as part of Gavin’s Century of Sci-fi project, in which he’s reading a sci-fi novel for every year of the last century. I get the impression he liked the book more than I did, so maybe he’ll be able to show me some of what I’m missing.

  • Bookish Ramble: Watership Down

    Ally

    Title: Watership Down
    Author: Richard Adams
    Year: 1972
    Country: UK

    Format: Paperback
    Pages: 472
    Read: 19 – 31 January 2026
    First reading

    Fiver, the runt of his litter, has visions. When an ominous man-made object appears in a nearby field, Fiver foresees the destruction of his warren—but the Chief Rabbit refuses to evacuate. Led by Fiver’s brother Hazel, a handful of plucky rabbits flee the warren and set out to make a new home on Watership Down. Along the way they cross hazardous streams, roads, predators, snares, and—worst of all—a ruthless, despotic rabbit called General Woundwort. It will take all of Hazel’s cunning, Fiver’s foresight and Bigwig’s courage to survive.

    Watership Down is notorious for its power to traumatise young readers. This is a story about rabbits, but it’s a world away from the cute and cosy tales of Peter Rabbit. It’s part epic quest, part war story… it just happens to star rabbits. Richard Adams keeps the tension consistently high. During the whole thing I felt almost as highly-strung as those nervous bunnies! But the really upsetting, gruesome moments are carefully spaced out. One rabbit’s encounter with a snare is the only bit that truly shocked me—I read those paragraphs through tears. I can easily see how it would be Too Much for a preteen reader.

    The story has a mythological quality, not least because the rabbits have their own folklore and language. Their name for the Sun, their God, is ‘Frith’. (As a fan of the experimental musician Fred Frith, this particularly tickled me!) The rabbits also boost their morale by sharing stories of El-arairah, a legendary trickster rabbit. These touches, along with the use of Lapine language, make the book rather immersive. It’s set on downland not far from my house, but it felt like another world entirely. By the end, those strange Lapine words had become second nature to me, so that I didn’t need any translation for Bigwig’s war cry: “Silflay hraka, u embleer rah!”

    There’s a lot to love about Watership Down. It’s a thrilling story, engagingly told, with memorable characters and strong commentary about mankind’s relationship with the natural world. The structure is very satisfying: Each obstacle teaches the rabbits a valuable lesson (wood floats in water, rope can be chewed through, etc) which helps them defeat the next. My only real complaint is that it’s maybe a little too long. I enjoyed it and admired it, but by the end I was ready for it to be over. I’d still definitely recommend it though… as long as you’re not too squeamish!

  • Bookish Ramble: Moominvalley in November

    Ally

    Title: Moominvalley in November
    (Moomins #9)
    Author: Tove Jansson
    (Translated by Kingsley Hart)
    Year: 1970
    Country: Finland

    Format: E-book
    Pages: 160
    Read: 11 – 19 January 2026
    First reading

    Moominvalley in November is the final book in Tove Jansson’s Moomins series. The Moomin family themselves don’t actually appear, having moved suddenly in the previous book to a remote lighthouse. Instead this book follows a disparate group of visitors who are disappointed to find the Moomin family home abandoned. The visitors (including Moomintroll’s mercurial bestie Snufkin) stay for a while, hoping for the family to return, while gradually learning how to be comfortable with each other… and with themselves.

    Snufkin padded along calmly, the forest closed round him and it began to rain. The rain fell on his green hat and on his raincoat, which was also green, it pittered and pattered everywhere and the forest wrapped him in a gentle and exquisite loneliness.

    The Moomins books always did have a streak of melancholy, but in this one it’s more pronounced than ever; most likely influenced by Tove Jansson’s grief at the loss of her mother. The Moomin family’s absence is keenly felt, especially by the young orphan Toft, a storyteller who yearns to be adopted by Moominmamma. Then there’s Grampa-Grumble, who has decided to make the most of his dementia by deliberately forgetting his family; and Fillyjonk, who struggles with anxiety after a near-death experience.

    These are troubled characters—and they don’t always understand, or openly express, their troubles. The whole book (apart from its quietly hopeful ending) is shrouded in sadness, loneliness, and unspoken loss. I can’t guess how younger readers would react to such a book, but my melancholic inner child (and my equally melancholic adult self) found it a moving and absorbing read. I love that Tove Jansson never patronises her readers. She trusts them to understand what remains unspoken.

    I’m sad to have reached the end of the Moomins series, but it certainly ended on a high note—albeit in a minor key. I still plan to circle back and read the very first book, so my personal journey through Moominvalley isn’t quite finished. (And the comic book series is starting to look mighty tempting too!) Ever since I read Comet in Moominland back in April of ’25, I’ve fallen completely in love with the Moomins. I fully expect to reread the whole series in the coming years.

  • Bookish Ramble: Some Tame Gazelle

    Ally

    Title: Some Tame Gazelle
    Author: Barbara Pym
    Year: 1950
    Country: UK

    Format: E-book
    Pages: 252
    Read: 30 December 2025 – 9 January 2026
    First reading

    “Some tame gazelle, or some gentle dove:
    Something to love, oh, something to love!”
    ~ Thomas Haynes Bayly

    Some Tame Gazelle is a comedy about two fiftysomething spinsters, the not-especially-venerable Bede sisters, Belinda and Harriet. For the last thirty years Belinda, the older and dowdier of the two, has been carrying a torch for Henry Hoccleve, the village’s married Archdeacon. Meanwhile Harriet, the more glamorous and outspoken sister, repeatedly rejects the advances of the melancholy Italian Count Riccardo Bianco, preferring instead to dote on a series of young curates. But when new guests come to stay with the Archdeacon, will they upset Belinda and Harriet’s comfortable life together?

    We really ought to love one another, she thought warmly, it was a pity it was often so difficult.

    This was my first time reading Barbara Pym and it certainly won’t be my last! Some Tame Gazelle is so good, I find it hard to believe it was her debut novel. I’m a big fan of bittersweet comedies and funny dramas, so it really hit the spot for me. Pym’s wry observations of village life made me chuckle and smile with recognition. (I grew up in a small Oxfordshire village myself, so it feels very much like my childhood home, albeit a few decades before my time.) There are several running gags that get funnier each time—especially “the Apes of Brazil.” But Pym balances this humour beautifully with pathos. My heart ached for poor Belinda, with her constant self-doubt and her comfortably hopeless crush on Henry.

    Belinda gave a contented sigh. It had been such a lovely evening. Just one evening like that every thirty years or so. It might not seem much to other people, but it was really all one needed to be happy.

    Nothing much actually happens plot-wise. Like a sitcom, the status quo is temporarily upended, then restored. The Bede sisters reject some unexpected suitors, then continue to focus their affections on people who either can’t or won’t love them back. The characters don’t grow or change; they confirm exactly who they always were. In the end, Some Tame Gazelle is a story about how having “something to love, oh, something to love!” is so much easier and more comfortable than allowing yourself to be loved.

  • Bookish Ramble: A Quiet Place

    Ally

    Title: A Quiet Place
    Author: Seicho Matsumoto
    (Translated by Louise Heal Kawai)
    Year: 1971
    Country: Japan

    Format: Paperback
    Pages: 231
    Read: 31 December 2025 – 4 January 2026
    First reading

    A Quiet Place is a crime thriller by prolific Japanese author Seicho Matsumoto. While away on a business trip, middle-aged bureaucrat Tsuneo Asai receives the devastating news that his younger wife Eiko has died of a heart attack. When he visits the small boutique where she collapsed, Asai is puzzled that his wife never once mentioned visiting the area. Nearby he notices several seedy couples’ hotels—quiet places. Was Eiko leading a double life? And was her death more suspicious than it first seemed?

    ~ Warning: The following contains significant plot spoilers. ~

    The cover of this book describes Seicho Matsumoto as Japan’s Agatha Christie. While that’s true for the other Matsumoto stuff I’ve read, I’d argue A Quiet Place is really more like a psychological thriller by Patricia Highsmith. Asai’s investigations reveal that his wife was having an affair—he’d been too devoted to his job to notice. Eventually he confronts Eiko’s lover and, provoked by the man’s apparent lack of remorse, impulsively murders him. From there, what started as a typical investigation plot pivots into Highsmithian paranoia. It’s an interesting development, and a genre I enjoy, so I’m not disappointed by it. But I do think it’s somewhat misleading to sell it as a Christiesque murder mystery. It’s not so much a whodunit as a howgetawaywithit.

    This is a quick and enjoyable read. Matsumoto’s social commentary is interesting—Asai is forced into impossible situations by Japanese social customs and his all-consuming dedication to work. And as a fan (and writer) of haiku, I love that a haiku plays a vital role in the investigation. But it’s not as evocative or as gripping as the other Matsumoto books I’ve read. In fact it’s probably my least favourite Matsumoto book so far. I’d recommend Inspector Imanishi Investigates or Tokyo Express as better starting places.

    (Just one more thing: The final scene unexpectedly made me laugh. Asai comes face to face with the very witnesses he’s been trying to avoid, and gives himself away by shrieking and running away. At that moment I couldn’t help but picture him as Homer Simpson!)