The rom-com of the summer.

Maya rushes to the Tube train; she’s late for work again. As she puts her makeup on she notices the incredibly hot guy sat across from her is looking at her; they begin conversing. Noah only recognises they’ve reached his station when they arrive and he rushes off the train, gesturing to Maya to call him. But he didn’t give her his number – they didn’t exchange any details. Then Maya finds the notebook he’s left behind; when, later, her co-workers push her to open it, she finds it’s full of a ‘thirty things to do before turning 30′ list. With her friends’ influence, she decides to go through the list herself one thing at a time, adapting the goals as needed (Maya’s never going to be a physiotherapist and she’s not sure about jumping out of a plane), in the hope that she’ll run into Noah at some point, give him back his notebook, and maybe forge a lasting connection. But in starting the list she meets an irritating guy at an art class, and then when her parents find out she wants to pursue her Masters, they request she starts looking for a husband at the same time. Maya’s life has been monotonous for years; she’s going to change that right now.

The Thirty Before Thirty List is Tasneem Abdur-Rashid’s second rom-com following 2022’s Finding Mr Perfectly Fine. If you had been hoping that book 2 (well, book 3 if you count her pseudonym) would be just as good as the first you’re in luck – it’s not just as good, it’s even better.

Leaving that there before I end up in full Marks And Spencers puns territory, The Thirty Before Thirty List has everything: solid plot, solid character development, a highly satisfying case of author answering the reader’s questions when they have them, and good pacing.

Told in the first person, you get a great sense for who Maya is but Abdur-Rashid never shies away from letting the reader figure things out before Maya does when it makes sense. There is in fact only one place where it takes Maya too long and that is arguably to show how in her own head Maya is; flawed characters, highly realistic and relatable characters, are Abdur-Rashid’s bread and butter.

There are many characters in this book that in other books might be too large a number, but here each character is developed enough within the scope of their literary placement (main, secondary, and so on) that it never becomes difficult to keep up and you never forget any of them either. Shout outs should be given to Maya’s mother, Maya’s brother Malik, cousins Pinky and Pretty, and co-worker Lucy, whose role as ever-closer-friend as the journey continues is rather lovely. There’s another interesting thread of friendship throughout as Maya gets to grips with best friend Dina’s continued (but not large) distance as the latter takes more time for her growing family and Maya works with these changes, learning to turn to others when Dina isn’t available and taking the moments Dina is available as special. (Anyone who’s at or been through that age when your friends or yourself are going through the changes brought about by having children will appreciate the author’s approach.)

All these words and not one about the romantic aspect… like Finding Mr Perfectly Fine, there are a few contenders here. There’s obviously Noah, the guy from the train; there’s Zakariya from art class (because you know he’ll be there somewhere); and then there’s the man Maya’s parents set her up to meet in a dekha dekhi arrangement. There are also a couple of other men involved in romances. Please note, artistic license may have been used here to prevent spoilers.

You find yourself working out what you think will happen, Abdur-Rashid says, ‘not so fast’, and this repeats throughout. It’s exhilarating – when you put the romance thread together with the use of communication in the book, Abdur-Rashid’s priorising of reader questions, laugh-out-loud humour, and nods to popular culture (Bridgerton gets two nods, thank me for that info later) you get a book that you want to finish as quick as you can because you want to find out what happens. You also find yourself in a situation where you mourn the loss of your ability to read in a more measured fashion because you know books aren’t written over night and you’ve a long wait ahead of you for the next book because it hasn’t been written yet. (Unless you haven’t read the author’s first book in which case I’m very envious. You’re in for another treat.)

All that to say – okay, really I might just have got carried away with how well this book is written – the romance is top-notch, brilliantly done. You’re unlikely to disagree with who (if she does pick one) Maya chooses because the author again never shies away from details. There are no really bad guys here but there are definitely ones more suited than others.

So to the promised inclusion of what happens to Zara (the main character from the author’s previous book)¹ – you get a good number of pages to not just find out where Zara ‘went’ after her book was over but to enjoy a bit of the ride along with her. And perhaps the best bit – you’re not left hankering for more after she makes her exit. It’s a very decent closure.

Last thing – you’re going to get hungry reading this. Food is a big part of the novel. It’s there for the regular mealtimes, it’s there for gatherings, and it’s there when people need another person to lean on and talk to. It’s there for meetings and karaoke and post-shopping refuelling and potential in-laws all meeting for the first time.

The Thirty Before Thirty List is excellent. It’s fun, it’s well-written, and, as a bonus, it leaves just enough questions at your feet for you to spend a good time afterwards thinking about whether you agree with one or two characters’ actions. This is always a great thing to close a book on, and also a review – I’m still questioning one character’s resolution and I like the fact that I am very much.

I was invited to and attended the launch of this book.

Publisher: Zaffre Books (Bonnier)
Pages: 380
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-838-77818-7
First Published: 18th July 2024
Date Reviewed: 15th August 2024

Footnotes

¹ See my interview with Tasneem, episode 85 of the podcast.

Please note that this review uses ‘Jane Austen’ and ‘Austen’ to refer to the real writer, and ‘Jane’ to refer to Bull’s fictionalisation of the same.

Catherine Morland would be proud.

When Jane comes back to the ball from the glasshouse where she’d been talking to Tom Lefroy, no one is speaking. A woman has been murdered; no one knows who she is or, indeed, who’s done it. The magistrate starts to get on with it but Jane has her misgivings about him and as the days continue and he hasn’t reached a conclusion nor, as far as Jane is concerned, made a proper effort to find out whodunnit, she decides to conduct her own investigation. Her family aren’t keen – it’s a bit of a silly idea, and Jane manages to cause great offence in her efforts to find out the truth, but it becomes all too important to her to solve when her brother is arrested. But there’s also Tom’s likely impending proposal to prepare for and cousin Eliza’s coming to Steventon. Will Jane work it out before it’s too late and will Tom ever get down on one knee?

Jessica Bull’s Miss Austen Investigates (or The Hapless Miliner across the pond), is an utterly delightful fictional take on Jane Austen’s years in Steventon, largely influenced by Northanger Abbey. In essence it is a bit of a parody of an actual parody, one absolutely brimming with excellent research, immersive use of location, careful and comedic and sensitive handling of real families from the past, and interesting fairly evidence-based interpretations. And yes, all those adjectives were necessary to include – this book is one of the most well-produced literary works I’ve read in a long time.

It is obvious very early on that everything Bull does in this book, all the choices she makes, has or have been fully thought out. Let’s start with the general concept – the influence of Northanger Abbey on the text. Bull’s fictionalisation of Jane Austen is partly informed by what we know of Austen herself, and partly informed by Austen’s character, Catherine Morland. (This latter person is most in evidence when our titular character of the book this review is about becomes incredibly illogical and won’t be drawn by reason, much like our dear Catherine.) Bull’s balancing of the different personalities into one character – I say ‘different’ even though I myself believe it’s likely Austen herself was remarkably fun – won’t be for everyone, in fact it’s likely some readers may find her silliness too much, but I’d wager most people will ‘get’ it at the very least.

Of course it’s also in the element of the mystery here that Catherine Morland can be found; Bull’s novel is very much a mystery novel and well set in its time and society – Jane never goes around with the historical equivalent of a policeman and no one is shooting anyone, instead Jane’s investigations largely take the form of musings and a couple of brief questions here and there over a cup of tea and slice of cake at various houses.

(This in itself is something to remark upon – Bull’s setting Jane as the sleuth enables a look at how women were treated more as decorations and possessions rather than people. There’s a particularly sad scene wherein the funeral of the murder victim – a woman – is attended by just a few men and Jane hides herself outside because as a woman she cannot be at the funeral. See also the way Jane is asked to stop investigating – whilst this is in line with Catherine Morland’s experiences it also aligns with the historical treatment of women in her position.)

Looking at location and society – friends and family, mostly – this is arguably where most of the heart in the book can be found. Bull has recreated the village of Steventon and the now-lost Steventon Rectory where Austen grew up (it was torn down within a few years of the Austen family moving away) and looked at Ashe House and Deane House in the nearby villages of the same names (which still exist and are privately owned). The sense of place and time is fantastic and it’s easy to get lost in the world and carry on turning the pages. Bull also shows Jane’s time with her family and there is a lot of fun to be had in the dynamics between members, particularly baby Anna (made younger in this book than she would have been in real life) and Jane’s mother, Mrs Cassandra Austen.

What’s really lovely though, is that Bull has put so much work into the whole family that you’ll feel you know them more than you ever could have before. About half of Austen’s siblings are included in these fictionised forms, with James, Henry, and George paramount. (Sadly Cassandra isn’t here, but that is in keeping with her story and it allows for Bull to add an element of the epistolary novel to the book.)

George Austen is where it’s at. George is largely forgotten in our collective history, almost certainly because of what we would now call epilepsy, and the relative menial role he therefore played in society. (Case in point – there’s a Wikipedia link for every sibling, except him.) He plays a big role in the book, with Jane always thinking about him in context with what’s going on. Another character, Jane’s cousin, Eliza, who’s son has epilepsy also, is there to help her with her investigations and there is a lovely burgeoning romance with Henry Austen that’s based on the real history, too.

The writing is super, with most of the narrative in third person and Jane’s letters to Cassandra giving a first person perspective. Bull has used the format the late Deirdre Le Faye gave Austen’s letters in Jane Austen’s Letters which provides a lovely nod to study and research. Bull has also slipped her letters in the gaps between the letters that were burned by the real life Cassandra, and added her own nod to this unfortunate piece of history in the letters themselves.

I can’t end this review without mentioning Tom Lefroy; Bull has come to an evidence-based conclusion as to the nature of Austen’s relationship with him and explored it in her book. It is very well done and there are further choices made that increase her character’s agency.

There is a lot more that could be said about this book – it’s a treasure trove of parodies and references – but a review can only be so long. Miss Austen Investigates is one you certainly want to read if you are at all a Janeite, or/and if you like mysteries. It may even suit your general historical fiction fan, as well. It is an absolute delight, and joy or joys, book two is already on the horizon.

I received this book from the publisher in order to interview the author, which is something I set in motion.

Publisher: Michael Joseph (Penguin Random House)
Pages: 435
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-241-64208-5
First Published: 25th January 2024
Date Reviewed: 30th April 2024

Amanda Geard did not know much abut her home country’s role in the war. Everything she knew was about Europe, not Australia. With this book, she has fixed that, and taught us all, too.

The Moon Gate follows a number of characters but three in particular, across three time periods. In the 1930s-40s, Grace has travelled from London to Tasmania to get away from the war and whilst neglected by her chaperone – her mother’s favourite, Rose – and her aunt, finds peace in both the cultural and literal landscape of her new home. In the 1970s, Willow and Ben are surprised to be named the beneficiaries of a trust that gives them a house n the west coast of Tasmania, and Ben wants to find out who their benefactor was. And in 2004, Libby is looking to find out more abut her father, Ben, who died in the Moorgate Tube Crash when he was visiting London on a mission to find out about her mother’s family.

The Moon Gate is a superb tale of grief and rebirth, focusing on aspects of history that are not well known.

Geard has written an incredibly immersive story that is worth every line of its 495 pages. Looking at three time periods, changing perspectives when it will add context and interest, and adding twist after twist after twist, The Moon Gate is an exemplary example of multi-narrative fiction that will sate the appetites of a great many readers of the genre. (I’d also like to note that the book has no filler sections – I really do mean it’s worth all those pages.)

It would be difficult not to say this is not a character-driven book – it absolutely is that – but the plot is thrilling nonetheless. And the theme work, whilst certainly running behind them, is not far off. You have Grace, a resident of Mayfair who is neglected by her mother in favour of the housekeeper’s daughter. Grace’s mother is a member of the British fascists and gives us the most memorable line of the book: ‘You are very difficult to love’. Spoiler alert but not really: there’s nothing wrong with Grace.

Then you have Ben in 1974-5. (His wife, Willow, isn’t seen so much here but her life spans two of the time periods, so she’s fully involved.) Ben is on a mostly one-man mission to find Willow’s birth parents because it makes sense to his that they are the people who bestowed upon Willow and Ben the house on the west coast. Ben’s mission is informed by his life in the system – having never known any parents at all, he is doubly keen to find Willow’s birth parents. And Libby, who has lost both her father and fiancé, trades a Tasmanian summer for a British winter, to find out if she can find out more about her father – her mother doesn’t know much and is quiet about what she does know.

Geard’s focus, in the ‘first’ timeline WW2’s impact on Tasmania, lends the book a particular uniqueness; she looks at both civilian and military history. Geard has included a fair amount of information about West Coast Tasmania mining, Huon pine (a type of tree that doesn’t rot easily), and the book is pretty steeped in its historical local community, which is no mean feat when you consider that so much of the goings on happen at the house. As to military history, with one of the characters being involved as a soldier in the eastern theatre of the war, there is information as to the lives of Tasmanian soldiers, as well as the worries of the regular civilians.

And if we are to speak of the wider country, which we should, then we must include Banjo Paterson: Geard has woven the famed Australian poet’s work into her novel, using it to drive parts of her character’s lives forward as Grace starts to write herself.

Paramount to the book’s themes is the look at grief. Most people in The Moon Gate have lost someone, and there is a particular case where the reader witnesses a death themselves. Many people in the novel have lost a parent and some have lost their partners. Geard’s inclusion of the Moorgate Tube Crash warrants a mention because it is an absolutely important event in London to know about but certainly for this Brit, Geard’s book is the first she’s heard about it; much like Kate Thompson’s employment of the Bethnal Green Tube Disaster of WW2 (for The Little Wartime Library), it’s a piece of history that shouldn’t be forgotten. And talking of grief, Geard’s look at loss of one’s partner is wonderfully done in the form of Libby’s remembrance of Krish, which impacts the choices she makes.

The Moon Gate may deal with difficult subjects but the reading experience itself is absolutely sublime – I’ve used that word for this book before and I likely will again. And as I have also said before, this book puts Geard’s debut The Midnight House to shame; how she will continue to advance from here I do not know but I have every belief that she will.

Publisher: Headline Review (Hachette)
Pages: 495
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-472-28375-7
First Published: 14th July 2023
Date Reviewed: 18th August 2023

Ronali Collings had a fascinating journey to publication. Her children getting older, she realised how much of herself she’d given to everyone else and started writing and taking courses (an MA with Bernadine Evaristo as her mentor) before dropping out of her PhD, stopping writing, and then starting again under the mentorship of her now agent. She kept going this second time and Love & Other Dramas was the phenomenal result.

The book follows Tania and Priya – both in their forties – as well as Helen, Tania’s 66-year-old mother. Tania is newly divorced and looking to find herself (she’s somewhat based on Collings), Priya did not receive a much hoped for promotion after giving her all to her long-standing employer, and Helen is discovering herself after years as an unhappy wife (unhappy is an understatement). The book covers their transitions to new milestones.

There is something incredibly special about Collings’ book and, dare I say, utterly unique. (The more I read, the more I find that there is something unique about the vast majority of authors, but it still deserves a mention, particularly here.) To speak personally, I got to the end of this book, blissfully happy about the film scenes I had had playing in my head and the characters whose faces and general looks I had created and seen in detail, but couldn’t work out what I thought of the writing itself. It took a few minutes of further thinking before I realised that the fact that Collings’ book raced by, as well as the fact it was so easy to visualise, easy to feel deeply about the characters and the connections between them, whether romantic or familial, themselves summed up the writing. Collings is a superb writer. So as not to reiterate what I’ve just listed as positives, the author’s use of character (and with it development) is bar none. This is very much a character-driven book, and highly relatable – they are very British, very multicultural, and just like any person you might meet on the street. The very fact of their everyday-ness is a winning factor and with everything that happens to them being completely believable, it is impossible not to feel a lot for them.

This doesn’t necessarily equate to actively liking them. Tania in particular keeps making the same mistake which is frustrating, if incredibly realistic. Priya could often do with a bit more self-awareness. (Helen gets a pass here as she’s been through hell.) But perhaps that is part of the point – these women and, often, the other people around them, are just so true to life that they make you question your own life decisions, which isn’t generally a comfortable thing to do.

As well as the theme of women coming into their own, the racial backgrounds add a constantly-running background question about how British people of colour, particularly, in this case, people of South Asian heritage, are treated. Priya’s done very well in her job but she’s not done as well as she could due to being a British Indian; she’s the wrong colour. Tania wanted to do ballet when she was younger, but her skin colour didn’t fit the look. She also wasn’t able to cook Sri Lankan food at home without wafting the smell away because her white husband didn’t like it. It’s the things that keep adding up and adding up.

A mention must be made of Helen’s newly found happiness – she starts blossoming from the beginning but once she discovers love her story becomes perhaps the best. She represents an age group in women that is generally forgotten and Collings brings not only her story to life but shines a light on older women as a whole. Helen’s burgeoning relationship with Oscar is a joy to read and she is the character that ends the tale with the most tied threads.

The ending is interesting, both sudden – you’re likely to expect it to continue for a bit longer – and absolutely perfect. You’ll want to read more about the women whilst at the same time recognising and appreciating why Collings leaves it where she does.

Love & Other Dramas is simply wonderful. It’s a book with the power to hit you in a way you haven’t experienced in reading before and the amount is does within its limits of being a look at everyday characters and lives is incredible. Without a doubt, one of the best books of 2022.

Publisher: Embla (Bonnier)
Pages: 269
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-471-41308-7
First Published: 19th July 2022
Date Reviewed: 4th May 2023

Publisher: Jonathan Cape (PRH)
Pages: 279
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-787-33249-2
First Published: 4th March 2021
Date Reviewed: 21st June 2022

Our unnamed narrator recounts the time of her long-term toxic relationship a short while previously, showing us exactly why things happened and what happened, whether or not she fully understands it yet herself.

Acts Of Desperation is a compelling tale; the plot is scant and not much actually happens, however it is in the telling of the story that the interest lies – Nolan’s writing, both the literal words and the way she imparts meaning and uses subtext to very often show more to the reader than the narrator may even know herself, takes this far beyond the simple plot and character development it has (character development’s scant also) and elevates it to something unique, different, and of page-turning quality.

Others have produced a similar effect before but on a different ‘pathway’; the book that most reminded this reviewer of what she was reading in Nolan’s prose was Rebecca, the comparisons being in the extremely self-minded narrative (I hate to say ‘self-concerned’ because that’s not quite right) and the way the background context is so important. (There are no ‘ghosts’ in Nolan’s book and whilst there’s the equivalent of a first wife, it’s not something to be used in a comparison. Indeed liking the du Maurier is in no way a factor in how much you may or may not enjoy Acts Of Desperation no matter my comparing them.)

The book at hand is, then, the story of a young woman who is obsessed with the initial feelings of falling in love – or what she misinterprets her feelings of addictive ‘romance’ to be – who falls for a toxic older man who she thinks is a catch (unnecessary spoiler alert: he isn’t) and finds herself at the mercy of his whims. The ending that you hope for from very early on is the one Nolan delivers – that the plot is predictable may indeed be part of the author’s point.

On points, the predictability shows that women and people in general are apt to fall for the personality that we see in Ciaran (he is graced with a name when the narrator is not – likely another point), and arguably the biggest point of the novel is to show how often it happens, that it’s understandable, and to present the reasons why young people in particular get caught up in it, as well as showing hope for the future, even if that hope is tempered by the fact that true healing and personal growth away from the mindset that allows that kind of thing to happen (and its been noted many times that women are taught by society to expect certain things for a relationship to be true, so I won’t continue there) can take a while, much like this sentence. The narrator is not a completely new person at the end. She may make mistakes again – it’s likely. But they won’t be the same mistakes and it’s unlikely that she will fall for the same personality in future. We hope.

So our narrator is annoying, childish, ruminating, and utterly hard to enjoy reading about. She’s also someone to root for, understandably immature, and ‘writes’ well enough that you will speed through the book.

Is this story a thinly-veiled memoir? It’s difficult to say that it could be; unlike other novels that are situated in thoughts, there is a study here that suggests a lot of planning and research, a lot of consideration of many stories. It also doesn’t really matter.

The shortness of this review is owing to the plot and character development which, as said, by design is contained. Which is, especially considering a book tends to at least have one or the other if not both, a testament to Nolan’s talent. Is Acts Of Desperation actively enjoyable in that escapist way? No. Is it a stunning example of the literary fiction genre and enjoyable in that vein? Absolutely. This is a particular book for a particular mood and time, and you have to match those correctly. But do that and you’ll have an exceptionally literary experience.

I received this book during the promotion of the Young Writer of the Year Award.