Review: Did You See Melody

Did You See Melody?

I’ve read a few thrillers this year, which is pretty excellent actually because I love a good thriller. I really actually do. I think I say this every time I come to review one, like, there’s some weird part of me that feels like a can’t possibly write a review unless I’ve made it absolutely clear that DO YOU KNOW I REALLY LIKE THRILLERS AND I WISH I READ MORE OF THEM. What’s that about. Anyway, whatever, it is what it is and like every other time it segues (oooh good use of ‘segue’) nicely into this little chat about Sophie Hannah’s Did You See Melody which I read over the Easter weekend on my great Easter readathon. Hush. I know it was only 3 books and I care not a jot. I am totally calling it a readathon and thou shalt not raineth on my readthon-esque parade.

Anyhow. The book.

Review: We Come Apart

I read three books over Easter weekend. Three. I cannot remember the last time I read three books in one weekend and actually I’m not entirely sure how I managed it this particular weekend because man, I did a lot of things over Easter. So many of the things, roadtrips and walks and food and drink and family visits and fun on the park and somehow in amongst all of that I still squeezed in three whole books.

Clearly reading is my superpower and WHY DO I NOT HAVE THAT ON A TSHIRT ALREADY? Next stop: Redbubble.

Soooooooooo. This post was going to be a bookish catch up post because that seemed to make the most sense to me right now except that when I sat down and started talking about We Come Apart I realised I had quite a bit to say and that if I had the same amount to say about the other two than this post would be wordy. So I’m not going to talk about them all right now other than to say that all three of these books were good books and I have things to say about them all.

Review: The Trouble With Goats and Sheep

The Trouble With Goats and Sheep

Ah, The Trouble With Goats and Sheep. Question: have you ever wanted to hug a book? Like, to wrap it up in your arms and just squeeze it, in the way those slightly over zealous relatives would hug you when you were a child, so that you screwed up your face and were sure you’d cracked a rib or three? I want to hug this book. I want to hug it, and then like Cyrus Rose in Gossip Girl I want to say ‘not enough, not enough’ and hug it some more. I loved it.

It’s set in the great English heatwave of 1976, which, well it actually for reals was hot that summer, just ask any English person who was around then. Not me. I wasn’t born but that summer was hot enough that I’ve heard about it. We’ve not had a summer like that since. So I’m told. Anyhow, it’s set that summer when Grace (aged 10) and her pal Tilly decide to search the avenue for Mrs Creasy who has gone missing, and also for God. I love that, there’s something just so endearingly innocent about it you know, about these two children who think they can just Solve All The Mysteries. They’re so serious about it, this isn’t just a game to them, this is not a way to pass the time or Keep Out of Trouble. They actually believe 100% that both God and Missing Mrs Creasy are can be found and they’re the ones who can do it and it made me miss being 10 and the summer holidays and those endless days stretching out in front of you and how actually grown up you actually thought you were even though actually you obviously totally weren’t at all.

Review(ish): Not A Book. A Show

Things I review: books.

Things I don’t review: everything else. Like theatre shows.

That’s just a thing, I just don’t ever. Mostly because I can talk about books and what I like and don’t like and not look like a dick, or if I do look like a dick (which I might) then I don’t really care that much because I’m confident enough about what I do and don’t like and what I do and don’t know to throw my opinions out there in the general direction of The Internets and not be all that bothered whether anyone else agrees.

When it comes to anything else though I’m not sure I can get beyond ‘yes nice I like it’ and ‘yak 0/10 do not recommend’ and so I just…don’t. Hush. I see you there, reading this at your computer screen eyebrows raised quizzically and wondering what, actually, I am talking about because all of these words, do they even have a point?

Review: Paper Butterflies

Paper Butterflies

This book made me cry. For real. Actual tears people, actual tears. I read it on holiday, alone in my hotel room after a day skiing. Or rather, I started it on the plane and then finished it in my hotel room and I had to text my friend and tell him I needed rescuing because I had a massive sad. When he rang me to ask what on earth I was talking about I burst into tears, which, well way to go Jo, way to go.

‘What’s it about,’ he asked me when he came to save me and take me for vin chaud, and then ‘Jesus Christ’ when I told him.

‘What happens in the end?’

I don’t know,’ I told him, ‘I’ve got a few percent left to go.’

Then a pause….’is it not a true story?’

‘No.’

And then he laughed, because (and this is not the first time this has happened) it's apparently hilarious that I can get so emotionally attached to things and people that aren’t even real, except of course they totally are real in my head and I kind of feel like it’s a testament to how good a book is, if it can move me like that.