She was supposed to be moving in with her new boyfriend Scott, but all she finds after relocating to Brighton is an empty flat. Scott has vanished. His possessions have all disappeared.
Except for his mobile phone.
Kate knows she shouldn’t hack into Scott’s phone. She shouldn’t look at his Tinder, his texts, his social media. But she can’t quite help herself.
That’s when the trouble starts. Strange, whispering phone calls from numbers she doesn’t recognise. Scratch marks on the door that she can’t explain.
And the growing feeling that she’s being watched
Ah, the humble smartphone. Where would we be without them? That constant ping of notifications – texts, emails, Twitter, Facebook. The socials. All to easy to get sucked in.
After reading this book, you may very well look at your little slab of glass in an entirely different way…
I went into Ghoster fresh, didn’t read the blurb, didn’t know what to expect. I’d heard great things about Jason Arnopp’s previous book, The Last Days of Jack Sparks from friends and fellow bookbloggers, so jumped in with both feet.
What starts off as a regular ‘what happened to Scott?’ thriller takes a very sharp turn in an entirely unexpected direction. Spoiler-free version: It’s dark, it’s very creepy, and entirely brilliant.
The story bounces between the then – Kate and Scott hooking up and their blossoming relationship – and the now, the ‘what on earth has happened to him?’. Arnopp has entirely too much fun playing with us – setting up little tidbits of information, scraps of their lives, another cliffhanger to entice you to keep turning those pages.
And turn those pages you will.
Ghoster is a cautionary tale at heart. We put so much of ourselves online, but never know quite who might be watching.
Highly recommended, though you might end up spending a little less time with your phone as a result.
Ghoster by Jason Arnopp is published by Orbit Books and is out now. Thanks to Tracy Fenton at Compulsive Readers for inviting me to take part in the blog tour
Every cheese tells a story. Whether it’s a fresh young goat’s cheese or a big, beefy eighteen-month-old Cheddar, each variety holds the history of the people who first made it, from the builders of Stonehenge to medieval monks, from the Stilton-makers of the eighteenth-century to the factory cheesemakers of the Second World War.
Cheesemonger Ned Palmer takes us on a delicious journey across Britain and Ireland and through time to uncover the histories of beloved old favourites like Cheddar and Wensleydale and fresh innovations like the Irish Cashel Blue or the rambunctious Renegade Monk. Along the way we learn the craft and culture of cheesemaking from the eccentric and engaging characters who have revived and reinvented farmhouse and artisan traditions. And we get to know the major cheese styles – the blues, washed rinds, semi-softs and, unique to the British Isles, the territorials – and discover how best to enjoy them, on a cheeseboard with a glass of Riesling, or as a Welsh rarebit alongside a pint of Pale Ale.
This is a cheesemonger’s odyssey, a celebration of history, innovation and taste – and the book all cheese and history lovers will want to devour this Christmas.
When I saw this book pop up on twitter, I knew it was going to brie really gouda. A grate book, some might say.
Ok, that’s enough of the cheese puns. I promise.
Ned Palmer, freelance cheesemonger (no, I didn’t know that was a thing either) and writer, takes us on a journey through British and Irish history, via the story of cheese in his new book, A Cheesemonger’s History of the British Isles. And what a journey it is!
Ned takes us from Neolithic feasts (4000 BCE – 43BCE), through the Romans, the impact of monks and monasteries on cheesemaking, the introduction of big cheeses in the 1500s, right up to factory production, the Milk Marketing Board, and right up to the current renaissance in artisan cheesemakers.
Be warned. There are a *lot* of cheeses in this book. And you will want to try them all.
Ned is a generous host on this meander through history – at times funny, always fascinating (did you know that Double Gloucester is so named because cream from the morning milk was added to the previous evening’s milk? Or that Cheshire cheese tends to have colour added down south, but up north we prefer it white?), his knowledge of cheese, and cheese making, is encyclopaedic.
Along the way, we’re introduced to a host of small independent cheesemakers around the country, who produce a mouthwatering array of delicious local cheeses, be they made from cow, goat or sheep’s milk. From Hawes Wensleydale (“As pale and creamy as a milkmaid’s shoulder.”) to Stichelton (“hints of malty digestive biscuits, marmite and bubblegum.”), Ned has an evident love of his subject which comes across on every page.
I devoured this book, lost in the history, drooling over the descriptions of the incredible array of cheeses on display. No more for me the anodyne generic cheddar sold by the block – I’ll be hunting out the local producers, the markets, and maybe even a pilgrimage to Neal’s Yard Dairy in London, where Ned learned his craft.
A fascinating read for any cheese lover. Get it on your christmas list (if you can wait that long!)
Many thanks to Profile Books for the advance copy of Ned Palmer’s book for review.
There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who hear voices, and those who want to silence them.
Pilgrim is a man with a past he can’t remember. When he wakes alone in a shallow grave, there is a voice in his head that doesn’t belong to him. It explains who he is and what he’s done. It tells him he has one purpose: to find a girl named Lacey.
As Pilgrim is drawn north to Missouri in search of Lacey, he must also travel back to where it all began – to those he left behind. War is coming, and Pilgrim is going to need all the allies he can get.
So here we are. Book #3 of The Voices, following on from Defender and Hunted, both of which made my Books of the Year for 2017 and 2018. A high bar has been set.
Survivors just smashed it. The first two books are brilliant, but in this, Todd has taken it to the next level. Hard to say too much without giving too much away – if you’ve read the first two then you’ll need absolutely no nudging from me to pick up this instalment.
If you haven’t read Defender or Hunted, then get yourself to a bookshop immediately, clear a weekend, stock up on tea and biscuits and settle down for what one book reviewer said about them:
It’s dark and brutal, and definitely not for the faint-hearted, but if you give it a chance, it’ll grab you by the hand and take you on a dust-soaked ride across the wilderness to some places you’ll not soon forget.
(ok, it was me)
Survivors takes us back in time to before the Voices, and we get to know a little more about how the world came to be in the state we find it in Defender. We also find out a lot more about the mysterious Pilgrim, and it was fascinating to learn his backstory.
As with the first two books, Todd’s worldbuilding is just superb, rich and gloriously imagined. I read Survivors on a road trip in the US over the summer, and couldn’t think of a more appropriate setting. Todd also does characters really *really* well, and despite the relative heft of this book, you find yourself lost in the pages, only emerging blinking into the daylight after the final page.
Book four just cannot come soon enough. Easily one of my favourite series of books, ever.
Survivors by G.X. Todd is published by Headline on 31st October 2019. Huge thanks to Caitlin Raynor and Headline for the review copy.
After a messy divorce, attractive young mother Sonja is struggling to provide for herself and keep custody of her son. With her back to the wall, she resorts to smuggling cocaine into Iceland, and finds herself caught up in a ruthless criminal world. As she desperately looks for a way out of trouble, she must pit her wits against her nemesis, Bragi, a customs officer, whose years of experience frustrate her new and evermore daring strategies. Things become even more complicated when Sonja embarks on a relationship with a woman, Agla. Once a high-level bank executive, Agla is currently being prosecuted in the aftermath of the Icelandic financial crash.
So, I’m late to the party. Lilja Sigurðardóttir’s third book in her Reykjavik Noir trilogy, Cage, has just been published, and here’s me not having read any of them.
Until today, that is. I practically inhaled book 1, Snare, over the course of an afternoon, and promptly kicked myself for missing out. At least I don’t have to wait for books 2 and 3, I suppose!
Snare follows three strands: Sonja, drug smuggler snared in a spiralling series of ever more dangerous strategies to get cocaine into Iceland. Agla, high-level bank executive under investigation following suspicious activity in the banking crash, and Sonja’s lover. Rounding off the trio we have the relentless Bragi, a customs officer determined to crack down on the drug smuggling through his airport.
I must admit that I found Sonja and Bragi’s stories more interesting than the seemingly drier financial investigations into Agla’s past, but it’ll be interesting to see how that plays out in the later books.
Sigurðardóttir has crafted an elaborate game of cat and mouse with Snare, though it’s not always clear who’s the cat and who’s the mouse. I’ve got a huge soft spot for a good twisty tale, and loved this one – from the brilliant characters to the Icelandic setting (huge thanks for the pronunciation guide!), I just couldn’t put it down. Right, now onto book 2!
Snare by Lilja Sigurðardóttir is published by Orenda Books. Translated by Quentin Bates (@graskeggur). Huge thanks as ever to Karen at Orenda for the review copy.
Delighted to be taking part in the blog tour for David Wragg’s The Black Hawks. More about the book later – first, a guest post!
Where did the Black Hawks come from?
Or “Whence came the Black Hawks?” if you like your titles pithy but archaic
Minor spoilers ahead, but if you’ve already read the blurb there shouldn’t be anything too destabilising
History was one of my favourite subjects at school. It’s no
secret that you don’t have to look far with many works of fantasy to see their
historical inspirations (cough Wars of the Roses cough), and I’m
no great exception to the rule – no matter what horrors you can imagine,
there’s always some historical bastard who got there first, often with
considerably more enthusiasm. The period that most fascinated me was the
Italian Wars of the 15th and 16th Centuries, featuring
treachery, intrigue, mercenary companies and wars by proxy, shocking assassinations
and an overmighty church intent on carving out its own territorial legacy.
Astute readers may be able to draw some parallels in the book.
I grew up immersed in Classic Quest Fantasy, from the Hobbit
onwards, and internalised much of what I read as How Things Should Be Done.
There should always be a journey, and a rag-tag band coming together to save
the day from a terrible threat. Against that, however, we must balance…
My spiteful nature
I’m a contrary sod, and have an alarming tendency to do the
opposite of what’s expected of me, simply because. The Black Hawks is the first
of a two-part story (the Articles of Faith series) – a bilogy, not a trilogy,
as my agent has begged me to stop calling it. I planned it as two instead of
three just to be different. Many of the book’s events and characters are
likewise a reaction to my much-loved fantasy tropes, starting with…
Fantasy has a tendency to put heroes front and centre
(especially Heroic Fantasy, for some reason), from common-or-garden chosen ones
to the Greatest Warrior Who Ever Lived to the Last Scion of the Bloodline and
so forth. I thought it would be satisfying to focus more on those at the sharp
end, who are just trying to scrape a living together while a fantasy plot-line
rages on in the background. What might happen, for example, if you or I found
ourselves caught up in the whirlwind of your standard fantastical intrigue?
Well, we’d almost certainly die immediately, so I had to
take a few liberties with the story.
It’s not a huge spoiler to say Chel, the main character in
the book, gets hurt.
As well as a genre fiction, I’ve enjoyed a bounty of chronic
pain in various forms since my teens. I thought it might be nice to share some
of that day-to-day unpleasantness with my protagonist.
(Hell is) Other people
I’m old enough to have had a lot of jobs and worked on many
projects, and in every one of them it’s been the people alongside me who have
made or wrecked the experience. It’s possible to perform horrible, mindless drudgery
and still look forward to a day of glorious chat with brilliant colleagues;
conversely, a shower of dreadful bastards can swiftly torpedo the dreamiest
posting. Given the chance, I’d assemble my own mercenary crew in a heartbeat.
But you don’t often get to pick your colleagues – and nor do my characters.
This modern world
The book, and its sequel, contain a few more modern
parallels than I’d first intended. Some will be obvious, some more subtle, but
it shows we can’t help being influenced by our creative climate. Black Hawks 1
was first drafted in 2015 in relative peace (then revised many times since),
but book 2 was written in the chaos of 2016. You can see what you make of it
The Black Hawks are unleashed on 3rd October.
The Black Hawks by David Wragg is published by HarperVoyager. Many thanks to David Wragg for the guest post, and to the publisher for the copy of David’s book for review. You can find David Wragg on twitter at @itsdavewragg, or at his website https://www.davewragg.com/
Life as a knight is not what Vedren Chel imagined. Bound by oath to a dead-end job in the service of a lazy step-uncle, Chel no longer dreams of glory – he dreams of going home.
When invaders throw the kingdom into turmoil, Chel finds opportunity in the chaos: if he escorts a stranded prince to safety, Chel will be released from his oath.
All he has to do is drag the brat from one side of the country to the other, through war and wilderness, chased all the way by ruthless assassins.
With killers on your trail, you need killers watching your back. You need the Black Hawk Company – mercenaries, fighters without equal, a squabbling, scrapping pack of rogues. Prepare to join the Black Hawks.
The greatest games in Godsgrave’s history have ended with the most audacious murders in the history of the Itreyan Republic.
Mia Corvere, gladiatii, escaped slave and infamous assassin, is on the run. Pursued by Blades of the Red Church and soldiers of the Luminatii legion, she may never escape the City of Bridges and Bones alive. Her mentor Mercurio is now in the clutches of her enemies. Her own family wishes her dead. And her nemesis, Consul Julius Scaeva, stands but a breath from total dominance over the Republic.
But beneath the city, a dark secret awaits. Together with her lover Ashlinn, brother Jonnen and a mysterious benefactor returned from beyond the veil of death, she must undertake a perilous journey across the Republic, seeking the final answer to the riddle of her life. Truedark approaches. Night is falling on the Republic for perhaps the final time.
Can Mia survive in a world where even daylight must die?
Holyfuck. Darkdawn: magnificent!
 It’s a story about gods. The gods of day and night, and what happens when they fall out. And boy, do they fall out.
 There is a *lot* of smut. No, I’m not complaining either.
 Book 3 of the Nevernight Chronicles. It has come to my attention recently that some of you (mentioning no names) haven’t read Nevernight yet. I have been talking about this book FOR EVER. I will pimp it to you at the drop of a hat. I will pimp it to a hat, given half a chance that it might actually read it. I recommended it to a friend at work last week when he spotted Darkdawn on my desk, and not only did he read it, he went out and bought Godsgrave *and* he’s nearly finished Darkdawn.
 Can you write a review in a footnote?
 I mean, what sort of pretentious arse would do that, gentlefriends?
 Let’s give it a go, shall we?
Darkdawn. Hooyah. It’s the final chapter in our murderous little Mia’s story. And no, that’s not a spoiler. Jay Kristoff did warn us, all the way back in Nevernight, page one.
This is very much the end. But what a glorious end it is. It’ll make you laugh, it’ll make you cry, it’ll make you put the book down and glare it at. It is a just and right finale to my favourite trilogy, and my favourite assassin/gladiati/pirate.
Oh yes. There are pirates this time round. Cloud Corleone, with his four bastard smile, is just a glorious, glorious character. And there’s a pirate king too.
Look, gentlefriend. You’re one of two sorts of people.
One – you’ve read Nevernight and Godsgrave, in which case you’ve almost certainly bought a copy of Darkdawn and read it already. Nothing I say, and no amount of footnotes will make the slightest difference to you.
Or two – you’ve not read Nevernight (or Godsgrave), in which case you need to rectify that IMMEDIATELY, at which point you’ll be the first sort of person, in which case this review will mean nothing to you, etc etc.
Go, read the books. Laugh, cry, blush at the smutty bits, and when you’re done, we can talk.
Talk about the stabby bits, the funny bits, the pirates and gladiators and assassins and cats made of shadows, of the mountain of murderers, the gods, everything.
Then we’ll go back to the books and read all about a girl called Mia. For we love her so very very much.
Thank you, Jay Kristoff.
PS – if anyone has a spare ARC of Darkdawn to complete my collection, I will love you forever. I might even send you a cake.
A serial killer is burning people alive in the Lake District’s prehistoric stone circles. He leaves no clues and the police are helpless.
When his name is found carved into the charred remains of the third victim, disgraced detective Washington Poe is brought back from suspension and into an investigation he wants no part of.
Reluctantly partnered with the brilliant but socially awkward civilian analyst, Tilly Bradshaw, the mismatched pair uncover a trail that only he is meant to see. The elusive killer has a plan and for some reason Poe is part of it.
As the body count rises, Poe discovers he has far more invested in the case than he could have possibly imagined. And in a shocking finale that will shatter everything he’s ever believed about himself, Poe will learn that there are things far worse than being burned alive…
I bought The Puppet Show following a load of my bookblogger friends raving about it. Serial killer, dysfunctional detective pairing, sounds right up my alleyway.
They were right. I stayed up far too late one night on holiday powering through this book more or less in a single sitting (if you ignore the break to go get some food). A proper page-turner, this one!
Washington Poe (and what a great name *that* is) is summoned back from suspension to investigate a murder in his patch of Cumbria. The victim, as with the first two, has been burned alive. But this one has something carved into his chest. Carved when the victim was very much alive.
Loved this from the start – the unlikely but brilliant pairing of Poe and Tilly really made this story shine for me. Along with the Cumbrian setting which Craven depicts so well, you can really feel the sense of place in the mist-shrouded hillsides.
The Puppet Show is a strong police procedural, with all that entails – plenty of suspects (and victims), and plenty of following the trail of breadcrumbs, toasted as they may be by the Immolation Man.
I particularly loved Tilly – ace analyst, genius at computers, data, stats and gaming. Socially awkward at first, it’s her growing relationship with Poe as he takes her under his wing and starts to shine that lifts this from your regular buddy cop pairing.
I’m looking forward to the further adventures of Poe and Bradshaw, and luckily book 2, Black Summer, is out already! There are some perks to being late to the party.
The Puppet Show by M.W. Craven is published by Constable, and is out now.